Last night, I found myself woefully underprepared for my scheduled sleep (not an uncommon occurence when you have an abnormally long sleep phase cycle).  I lay in bed, furiously meditating, attempting to drive the energy from my consciousness and squeeze in a few ragged hours of rest before work.

Try as I might, I was unable to manage more than two.  I was haunted by a particularly memorable vision of Zephy in those restless hours, half-dreaming.  It proved distracting at work, so I feel I need to preserve it here; not just for posterity, but so the thoughts can have a voice of their own, and allow mine to rest.


She stretched upwards beyond my field of vision, innumerable arms clutching at the spires of what felt like a cathedral, buried underground and yet open to all space.  Three successively larger feminine bodies twisted around one another in a rising spiral above generous hips. The smallest and least-curvaceous was huddled against the middle's heaving bosom, waifish arms and shapely rear dissolving into patches of discolored flesh over the larger body's toned abdomen; more tumor than distinct entity.  

Both had the same strikingly human face, pale and fine, with obsidian lips and eyes shrouded in cascading hair of the same color.  Lips and teeth glinted below those locks, ravening all over the scalp, yawning soundlessly.  The smallest nursed viciously at the massive breasts that were her pillow, breasts capped with plump lips like her own.  Their teeth were like shark's, and a syrupy molasses ichor drooled where tooth met black, darting tongue.  The other breast was attended by a kind of vestigial bud bulging from the smaller's neck, parting into a ragged maw that chewed more than suckled.

The middle body was more developed, merging into the largest only where the knees would have been, thick thighs pitching aloft an impressive set of male genitalia that stretched and stretched and ended abruptly where the smallest body began.  Her one arm branched and fanned into a great webbed wing that cradled her attendant in an astoundingly tender embrace.  The two rolled, bobbed, and bounced in a clear parody of coitus as greater wings closed around them both, securing them beneath the vast shelf of the largest body, whose shoulders bore the spanning array of arms that kept the beast upright against jutting towers that seemed all too frail against its bulk.  There they lie, pulsing like a distended external heart for the greatest of the three.

The largest body was in possession of by far the greatest abundance of sinew, bulging at every angle with mass and definition that threatened to shake off its vague suggestion of femininity, were it not for the sheer enormity of the mammary flesh overhanging the scene like a shelf.  What glimpses beyond I could catch were of darkness flecked with gleaming points, flickering brighter with soundless words.

Her flesh was largely the same pale ivory throughout, though in numerous places the translucence appeared to fail, betraying the slithering cords defining her frame.  The odd orange eye would wink and glint between the sinews from time to time, splitting the skin to stare before receding once again, leaving not a scratch.  These patches of transparency would glide over her form, tracing some inscrutable pattern in time with a biology not of this world.  Some eyes and mouths remained in place, soliton vortices in the roil of her frame.  Most were clustered under the arms, but not all.  

Below a flaring waist bulged abstraction, arms that stretched and contorted almost bonelessly to feel about the cold, marbled floor.  They draped a curtain before her, peeling apart and joining again, waving softly through the air, surmounting the pubic mound as hair would in human biology.  Her flanks flowered into sludgy walls of mammaries cobbled haphazardly atop one another, flowering ravenously against the walls, oozing the same black syrup.

The great canyon gash of her vaginal opening stretched far below and behind her, like the drooling chest cavity of some bifurcated giant, unfurling heavily against the floor before arching upwards behind on several pairs of legs.  The largest framed the beastly nethers and pushed the whole rear aloft, the rest splaying forward and to the sides.  The feet were, again, unnervingly human, and well-shaped at that, but for those of the largest pair of legs, decidedly saurian.  The nails were even polished, black as her many sets of lips.  

The very rear of the thing bore even more pairs of legs, stretching behind, seeming to serve as tails,  Their fat rumps were arrayed around a great puckered dome that seemed to expand and contract as if to draw breath.  Below heaved a massive, spongy pair of skin-wrapped boulders that she rested upon, forcing her legs apart and her back up, arching over the great tube that billowed bonelessly like a windsock, nuzzling around the floor below her.

This great nightmare, burgeoning against the walls and towering into the starry ceiling (I was increasingly convinced these walls and floors and roofs were those of reality encysting itself around my gracious host), was attended by a hooded cult, worshipped as some sort of fertility deity.  Supplicants would bathe in the constant flood of ichor from her breasts, or from the geysering tip of that bulging manhood, when the time was right; her testes would fill the back half of that great hall, arching her back into a freakish U-shape while the vast hose popped with furious veins thicker than my waist and snaked in loops around the room, hanging over the gathering of worshipers and burying them in what could only be described as a pile of nigh-solid chunks of alien semen.

Some wouldn't survive; they were ritualistically fed to the yawning pucker, but frequent as these these feedings were, the cult seemed to flourish.  The survivors were waited on hand and foot as priests and priestesses of their deity, their bodies consumed with the need to copulate, swelling out of control.  The males would breed fervently with her, once they were large enough, bloating her stomach until her legs could no longer touch the floor.

This didn't last long, however, as the rest of her would spasm and quiver and creak, swelling against her confines until she was on her knees, her pucker was scraping wetly against the walls, and her gash was looming like a second ceiling over her congregation.  The ladies, each so horribly pregnant as to require transport on a litter, came next, offering themselves to the ceaselessly writhing sheath.  It coiled and burrowed deep, smacking and slopping as it gorged upon them, emptying them of their fruit, filling her groaning gut until there was nowhere to stand, her flesh blanketing the floor and shoving at the walls, which squealed faintly as the world began to lose its fight.

The ritual participants, seeded and harvested, were consumed one by one, either cast into the yawning pit on either end of her body or sucked down to husks by the writhing snake that endowed them to begin with, gulping up the wads of skin that remained with slurps and cracks.

The final feeding had predictable results, and light flooded the room as it began to shatter against her inexorable spurt in size, failing against a body that flowered anew into a welter of limbs and genitals, losing all cohesion as I finally began to drift to true sleep.