Chapter 4: Catalyst
Telemachus was completely frozen as The Outsider brought him thousands of miles away from.. wherever they were. He shivered in fear as he was carried by several tentacles down to the planet. "C-careful there, pal. I'm not horny right now." He blushed slightly as a tentacle rubbed his crotch. "C-com'on, Outsider..."
"You humans use names such as "Daddy," don't you? Refer me as that for now."
Telemachus's blush grew deeper. "Seriously?" He jolted suddenly at the sudden grip on his crotch the tentacle had. "O-okay! Okay... F-fine.. d-daddy..."
The red dust and biting cold vanished, replaced by a humid, ozone-thick warmth that stuck in Tel's throat. He stumbled as the tentacles retracted, boots hitting a yielding surface that pulsed faintly with light beneath his soles. Grotesque chandeliers made of glowing, pulsating sacs hung from an impossibly high ceiling, casting shifting violet and green shadows across walls that seemed woven from living crystal and dark metal. "Great," Tel muttered, wiping his mouth again, the phantom slickness of Xylar’s kiss stubbornly lingering. "Horny space whale drops me in the world's weirdest spa."
Before him, the chamber opened into a staggering vista. It wasn't a room; it was a canyon carved into the living ship, walls stretching up into a hazy, glowing distance. Bioluminescent vines snaked across obsidian pillars, and the air hummed with a deep, resonant frequency that vibrated his teeth. At the chamber's far end, vast enough to fill his entire field of vision, loomed a section of Xylar’s true form. Not the entire entity – that was impossible – but an immense, curved expanse of iridescent, segmented hide. Embedded within it, like galaxies trapped in obsidian, were two colossal, swirling vortices of pure rainbow light: Xylar’s eyes.
`WELCOME BACK, TELEMACHUS.` The voice wasn't sound; it was pressure, forming words directly in his mind, in his bones. `YOUR DISCOMFORT IS NOTED. IRRELEVANT FOR THE TASK.`
Tel flinched, the enforced calm battling a fresh surge of terror as those cosmic eyes focused on him, each one larger than any building he’d ever seen. "Noted? That’s it?" he shot back, hands instinctively clenching at his sides. "You shove your tongue down my throat, make me call you… that… drag me across space clinging to your back like a goddamn tick, and ‘discomfort is noted’? Real empathetic, Daddy." The last word dripped venom.
A low, tectonic rumble vibrated through the chamber, shaking the very air. The rainbow eyes narrowed fractionally, light swirling faster. `YOUR LANGUAGE IS PETULANT. UNBECOMING. THE KALEIDOS RESONANCE REQUIRES YOUR SPECIFIC BIO-SIGNATURE. PREPARATION WAS NECESSARY. YOUR RESISTANCE IS… AMUSING. BUT FUTILE.` A single, impossibly slender tendril, gleaming like oiled obsidian, detached from the distant hide and snaked towards him with unnerving silence.
Tel backed up a step, his hand blurring instantly. Flesh and bone flowed like liquid metal, reforming into a sleek, matte-black energy pistol aimed squarely at the approaching tendril. "Stay the hell back, Xylar," he warned, voice tight. "Last 'prep' felt like getting reverse-vored by a freight train. We do this my way this time."
The tendril paused, hovering inches from the pistol’s barrel. The rainbow eyes regarded him, unblinking. `YOUR WEAPONS ARE MEANINGLESS HERE, CHILD. THEY ARE PART OF THE LOTUS. PART OF ME.` A pulse of pure will emanated from the eyes. Tel gasped as the pistol dissolved in his grasp, melting back into his flesh with a sickening, warm tingle. The tendril darted forward, impossibly fast. It didn't stab or grab. The cool, smooth tip pressed firmly against Tel's forehead.
Panic flared, white-hot, but Xylar’s enforced calm clamped down like a vice, smothering it into a numb dread. Visions exploded behind his eyes: not memories, but sensations. The swirling, violent colors of Kaleidos, magnified a thousandfold. A deep, resonant thrumming that seemed to vibrate his very DNA. He felt the planet’s chaotic energy like a physical pressure, a terrifying potential waiting to be unleashed… or harvested. He saw glimpses of structures – not built, but grown – pulsing with the same light. And beneath it all, a vast, shadowy presence, something immense and slumbering within the planet’s luminous core. `SEE. FEEL. KALEIDOS VIBRATES WITH PRIMORDIAL ENERGY. UNSTABLE. YOUR LOTUS INFECTION CAN ANCHOR IT. CAN HARNESS IT.`
The tendril withdrew. Tel staggered, gasping, the phantom resonance still buzzing under his skin, the vision of the planet’s chaotic energy imprinting itself on his retinas. "Anchor it? Harness it?" He leaned against a warm, humming crystalline pillar, trying to steady his breathing. "For what? What’s the point? Another of your fucked-up experiments?"
`HUMANITY’S CHAOS IS SMALL. PETTY.` Xylar’s mental voice held a contempt so vast it felt colder than space. `KALEIDOS IS RAW POTENTIAL. AGGRESSIVE. UNTAMED. YOUR PRESENCE… STABILIZES THE INTERFACE POINT. YOU WILL BE THE CONDUIT. THE FILTER.` The massive rainbow eyes seemed to intensify, the light within them churning violently. `PREPARE YOUR FORM, TELEMACHUS. THE RESONANCE CALIBRATION BEGINS UPON LANDING. WE DESCEND.` The chamber floor beneath him rippled, the view of the immense alien form shrinking as the section he stood on detached, accelerating towards the swirling, chaotic jewel of Kaleidos filling a newly opened aperture in the ship's hull. The vibrant, terrifying light washed over him. He braced himself against the pillar, the dread solidifying into ice in his gut. Conduit. Filter. He knew exactly what Xylar’s "calibration" felt like. The planet’s beautiful glow suddenly looked like a predator’s maw.
Telemachus felt The Outsider, I mean, Daddy begin to smother him with tentacles once more. "S-so... t-this r-requires... f-freaky stuff?" He stammered, his legs shaking.
The humid air clung to Tel’s skin like a second layer, thick with the scent of ozone and something sickly-sweet, reminiscent of rotting orchids. He was pressed flat against the yielding, warm floor of the chamber, the pulsing light beneath him throbbing in time with his hammering heart. A dozen obsidian tentacles, each slick with that faintly luminescent lubricant, coiled around his limbs and torso, pinning him effortlessly. "S-so... t-this r-requires... f-freaky stuff?" he stammered, his legs shaking uncontrollably as one particularly thick appendage slid up the inseam of his black pants, the rough fabric doing little to mute the invasive pressure.
"Deep resonance necessitates deep integration, Telemachus," Xylar’s voice purred inside his skull, a terrifying counterpoint to the physical violation unfolding. The tendril at his crotch pressed harder, insistent, the cool slickness soaking through the fabric. "Your fear enhances conductivity. Embrace it. Yield." The tentacles constricted, forcing a gasp from Tel’s lips as another slid beneath the hem of his white mini-hoodie, the bulletproof padding utterly irrelevant against this intimate assault. Its cool, glassy surface scraped over his abs, leaving trails of shimmering wetness on his skin.
Tel bucked, a useless animal reflex against cosmic power. "Fuck you! Get off! Not like this!" he snarled, straining against the unyielding coils. His right hand instinctively liquefied, bones shifting, keratin flowing into the familiar lethal shape of a plasma blade. Before the energy could even coalesce, a psychic command slammed into him, a white-hot bolt of pure inhibitory will emanating from the vast rainbow eyes watching impassively. His hand shuddered, the forming weapon collapsing back into trembling flesh and bone with a sickeningly warm pop. "Christ!" he choked, the failure a fresh wave of humiliation.
A sharp tearing sound echoed sharply in the chamber. The tendril at his groin ripped his pants open from waistband to knee, the tough material parting like wet paper. Cool air hit his exposed skin, followed immediately by the slick, chilling caress of the tentacle tip against his flaccid cock. It pulsed, vibrating faintly. "No! Don't you fucking—" Tel’s protest died in a ragged gasp as the tip pressed firmly against the base of his shaft, then began an unnervingly deliberate slide upwards, coating his length in that alien lubricant. The sensation was simultaneously repulsive and terrifyingly stimulating, the cool smoothness dragging against his sensitive flesh. He shuddered, a traitorous flicker of unwanted heat sparking deep in his gut despite the terror.
Another tendril, thinner and more agile, snaked lower. Its pointed tip probed, slick and insistent, at the tight furl of his asshole. Tel clenched instinctively, every muscle in his body locking tight. "Stop! Xylar, please!" he begged, the raw panic shredding his voice. "Not there! Not like this!" The probing tip pressed harder, relentless, the obscene lubrication easing the way despite his resistance. He felt the impossible pressure, a cold, violating intrusion breaching his clenched ring of muscle. It burned, a stretching, tearing sensation that made stars burst behind his eyes. "Ah! God! It hurts!" he screamed, tears pricking his eyes as the tendril pushed inexorably inside him, inch by slick, violating inch, stretching him wide around its unnatural girth.
The tendril around his cock tightened its grip, a slick, constricting tube that began a slow, rhythmic pumping motion. Up, down. Up, down. The cool smoothness against his heated flesh, the perfect frictionless glide combined with the stretching fullness invading his ass, created a bizarre, overwhelming clash of agony and unwanted, building pleasure. Electric jolts shot up his spine. A low, animal moan tore itself from his throat, betraying him utterly. "No... shit... feels... too much..." he panted, hips bucking involuntarily against the dual assault, a prisoner to the sensations wracking his body. The tentacle inside him began to pulse, vibrating intensely against his prostate. The shockwave of pure, undiluted pleasure that ripped through him was catastrophic. His vision whited out. "FUCK!" The expletive was ripped from him, a raw, guttural sound as his cock jerked violently in the slick tunnel encircling it. Thick ropes of cum erupted, splattering against his stomach and chest, the orgasm torn from him by force, a violent, humiliating spasm under the entity's cold scrutiny.
The tentacles didn’t relent. The one gripping his cock continued its slick, pumping rhythm, milking him through the brutal aftershocks, prolonging the agony-pleasure into a torturous plateau. The one buried deep inside him vibrated relentlessly against his prostate, ensuring the sensitivity bordered on pain, drawing choked whimpers from his throat. Above, the swirling galaxies of Xylar’s eyes drank in every detail – the sheen of sweat, the mess on his stomach, the tears streaking his cheeks, the raw dilation of his entrance around the obsidian intrusion. `GOOD.` The psychic word was a hammer blow of approval laced with detached satisfaction. `THE CONDUIT IS PRIMED. THE RESONANCE FLOWS THROUGH YOU. PREPARE FOR KALEIDOS.` The tentacles withdrew simultaneously: the pulsing invader sliding out of his aching hole with a slick, obscene pop, leaving him feeling gaping and empty; the slick tube releasing his spent cock.
Tel collapsed onto the pulsing floor, gasping like a landed fish, trembling violently, covered in his own release and the alien’s glittering lubricant. The raw ache, the lingering echoes of forced ecstasy, the profound violation – they coalesced into a suffocating wave of nausea and despair. He rolled onto his side, curling in on himself, retching dryly. "You monster..." he whispered against the warm, humming floor, the words thick with tears and exhaustion. The swirling colors of the approaching planet filled the vast viewport, their chaotic beauty now a terrifying promise of more violation. He hugged his knees to his chest, utterly spent, utterly broken, utterly prepared.
He hugged his knees to his chest, utterly spent, utterly broken, utterly prepared. The sticky mess on his stomach was cooling rapidly, the alien lubricant mingling with his own release into a tacky, shameful glaze. He kept his face buried against his forearms, the rough fabric of his torn pants scraping his abused skin. Anywhere but there. Anywhere but facing those swirling galaxies imprisoned in obsidian, those vast, judgmental eyes that had watched it all. The deep, resonant thrum of the ship, the pulse of light beneath him, the humid air thick with ozone and decay – it all pressed in, amplifying the raw ache in his core and the hollow, violated feeling where the tendril had been.
Silence stretched, heavy and charged. Not just the absence of sound, but a palpable shift in the psychic weight filling the colossal chamber. The oppressive, detached scrutiny faltered, replaced by… something else. A low frequency vibration, different from the ship's hum, thrummed through the floor – hesitant, almost questioning. It resonated in Tel’s molars. He tensed, expecting another command, another violation disguised as necessity.
"Telemachus." The psychic voice wasn't a command this time. It lacked its usual absolute pressure, sounding almost… tentative. Alien. "Your attention is diverted."
Tel flinched but didn’t look up. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter against his arms. "No shit," he mumbled, voice muffled, raw. "Give a guy a minute to scrape his dignity off the floor, huh?" He heard the tremor in his own words, hated it. "Or what’s left of it after you rip it out through my ass."
Another pulse of that strange, hesitant vibration. The ambient light in the chamber dimmed fractionally, the swirling colors within the distant eyes slowing, deepening to bruised purples and uneasy indigos. "The touching." The words formed slowly, deliberately, in his mind. "It… caused distress." A pause, vast and disconcerting. "This was not the intended primary outcome."
Tel froze. Slowly, painfully, he lifted his head just enough to peer over his arm. The colossal segment of Xylar loomed, unchanged in its terrifying majesty. But the eyes… the swirling chaos within them seemed… subdued. Contained. Not focused with predatory intensity, but watching him with a strange, alien stillness. He’d never heard Xylar qualify anything before. Never express anything resembling regret. Distress? Intended primary outcome? What the hell was this?
He uncurled slightly, wincing as the movement pulled at tender muscles. "Distress?" His laugh was a harsh, broken sound. "Yeah, Xylar. Call it that. Call it being turned into a fucking flesh socket you jammed your goddamn space cord into. Call it getting jerked off like a broken vending machine while you watched." He met the swirling indigo light, defiance warring with sheer disbelief. "‘Caused distress’ is winning the understatement championship of the fucking universe."
The chamber lights pulsed a soft, brief gold. The vibration under him shifted again, a complex ripple that felt… flustered? "The interface requires specific bio-signal amplification. Tactile stimulation proved… efficient." The words came faster now, almost defensive. "Your physiological response indicated… completion. Yet your attention withdraws. This… displeases." The last word resonated with a surprising depth of feeling, a low thrum of genuine annoyance, devoid of its usual terrifying power. It wanted his attention back. It was annoyed he was ignoring it after violating him.
Tel stared, mouth slightly agape. The absurdity was staggering. The cosmic horror that casually rearranged reality was pouting because its favorite toy wasn’t making eye contact after it broke him? He pushed himself shakily upright, ignoring the protesting ache everywhere. "Displeases? Oh, I’m so sorry my existential horror cramp is killing your vibe, Daddy," he spat the hated word. "You want my attention?" He spread his arms wide, displaying the mess on his hoodie, the tear in his pants, his own trembling exhaustion. "Here I am! Freshly calibrated! Ready to be your spark plug for the pretty glowy planet! Is this what you wanted to see?"
The massive eyes flared brighter for an instant – not with anger, but with… focus. Satisfaction? The hesitant vibration smoothed into a steadier, deeper hum. The swirling colors calmed, shifting towards cooler blues and steady greens. "Acknowledged," the voice resonated, regaining some of its usual certainty, though laced now with an undercurrent of… something almost placating. "The distress… is noted. The touching was necessary. But… its form caused unintended secondary effects. This is… suboptimal." It was the closest an entity of pure cosmic indifference would ever come to an apology. A report on operational inefficiency regarding his emotional state.
Tel just shook his head, a numb, hysterical chuckle bubbling up. "Suboptimal. Right." He wiped a hand across his face, smearing alien slick and drying tears. The dread hadn't lessened. The violation still screamed through his nerves. But the sheer, bizarre wrongness of Xylar expressing anything resembling concern, however clinical, momentarily short-circuited his terror. He felt untethered, adrift in a sea of incomprehensible alien logic. "Whatever. Just… get us down there. Let's get this fucking resonance party started." He braced himself against the pulsing wall, staring out at the kaleidoscopic nightmare of Kaleidos filling the viewport. Its chaotic beauty pulsed, hungry, waiting. Ready to flow through him. The conduit. The filter.
Beneath his feet, the deck plates thrummed with renewed purpose, a powerful surge vibrating up through his bones as the ship began its final descent. The swirling colors of Kaleidos rushed up to meet them, a maelstrom of light eager to pour into his shattered vessel. Utterly spent. Utterly broken. Utterly trapped.