by
Bobby Derie
Jack fell through a fluid abyss, a vast warm darkness, carried along by an irresistible current. He could feel the wriggling things swarming around him, flagellating tails zigzagging back and forth, propelling them ever along the incredible channel. It was all so damn familiar. Like a past life regression.
Scale struck him suddenly, zooming out of himself. He saw the surging surf of pale wrigglers, began to comprehend the tremendous tidal action that causes the vast liquids to move in their strange fluid dynamics. Caught a glimpse of the massive phallus, grinding along at the pace of centuries, its spiked barbels scraping the exposed sensory ridges of the universal passage. It was coitus on the scale of continental drift. Giants fucking, giants the size of planets, ancient and terrible things with their own gravity, flesh indistinguishable on the local scale from smooth, living stone.
Jack's sense of perception expanded again, on another dimension. Time shifted into strange blurs, the thrusting of millenniums the back-and-forth rutting of continents colliding and receding. The fluid grew warmer, the listless riggers split, multiplied, attacked and fed on one another. Some clustered around the volcanic vents where microvaginal tears released unfiltered bloody nutrients into the clear, briny stew that was the aether of this weirdly organic universe. They competed, multiplied. The first six-tailed flagellant thing spread out a webbed hand and grabbed a stony, flint-like skin scale, and used it to strike down another. The things warbled, voices fluctuating throughout the liquid medium faded into strange, dull reverb-lased chanting in Jack's ears.
Civilizations rose and fell in time with the massive thrusts, the creatures stirring to rebuild after each epoch crushed their cities.Time slowed, the thrusts were shorter and shorter, and Jack felt with the expectancy of a sun watching a planet pup a moon that a titanic event was to occur...and then the invaders came.
Things of a different order, hostile and terrible, congeries of spherical jellyfish, alien as a man to a sponge. Their very chemistry was different, antithetical; they brought with them a more acidic flush that slowly mixed and dispersed into the general fluid. Where it stretched, the towers of the webbed-fingered things crumbled and fell; their children hatched brown and stillborn, the older ones, ageless and terrible, fell on their childer with an all-consuming hunger and lust, until they rose up against their elders with weapons that unleashed primeval forces of gravity and electromagnetism. Cancerous explosions marked the membrane of the colliding cultures...and still others gravitated toward each other in strange alliances.
Iridescent domes rose alongside the phallic spires, tubular aqueducts married the fluids into a joint environment. Webbed fingers crushed into grasping tentacles in love, not war, and from this union came forth hybrid nations, against which the old guards of both races recoiled. The terrible cycle ticked on, the orgasm-quakes of the Great Mother tumbling down structures indiscriminately, and all the creatures great and small continued in their endless struggle...yet Jack could discern a general flow, a movement in the direction away from one terrible origin to the other, a communion and exchange of genetic information, as the tiny creatures, a part and yet apart from their god-like parents, went about their intended purpose...
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Jack awoke, unable to move for a moment. At his feet, a one-eyed cat licked greedily at a blood-stained toe, the band-aid holding on only by dint of a sticky adhesive as sandpaper scraped into the gory wound. As he rose and swore, fingers clutching at the cyclopean feline, he could already feel the sudden revelation passing into the gray fuzz of morning.
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