Sylvia's eyes shot open in surprise, at the sensation of movement deep behind her sternum—All the light inside her chest disappeared in an instant as whatever idea she had of what was going on, changed. She choked and gagged, as the foreign substance slowly worked its way up her windpipe. It was sleek, and it was smooth, and it had tubers, like a leech.
Just as she began to panic, Derek's arms tightened on her shoulders, holding her in place. His eyebrows furrowed, and he stared more intently into hers as if to say "I tried to warn you!" but he simply kept on breathing into her opened mouth. He had warned her to follow his instructions carefully, and this was what the preparations were for.
His fierce hold upon her was a subtle way of grounding her—telling her that he understood what was happening, and she could trust him to keep her safe—He was there, all along. Yes, He was right there with her the entire time. Nothing would get between them ever again, if she just held still for a moment longer.
Her eyes pricked up with tears, and she wrenched them shut as per his orders. The tears rolled slowly down her cheeks, as sobs slowly escaped her smaller, toned body. Her fingers clutched desperately into the back of his shirt, wrenching it into a knotted mess of wrinkles, in an effort to somehow express the creeping, sickening sensation.
It slowly worked its way up her throat into the floor of her mouth, where it took a sudden turn into the soft bed of her tongue. The taste was vile, and black, like charcoal and tar, and it left a slimy residue as it crawled. She sobbed, and wailed, until the creature reached the front of her teeth. Snot was running over the top of her philtrum.
She resisted the urge to bite its head off, because whatever this strange thing was, it was inside of her, and it had lived there for a period of time that she had no clue of. Above all, she trusted Derek, and he hadn't told her to attempt to injure the thing. Odds are, knowing that guy, he probably had some plans for that parasite. She certainly wouldn't put it past him!
He nodded, which she perceived as a subtle shifting of his weight on her lap, as her eyes were still shut. He petted her shoulders affectionately, as if to say "Good job. We're almost there!" She nodded back at him, tugging on the coattails of his undershirt so ferociously that it began to rip, and tear.
The creature no longer seemed so small after all, as it continued to emerge from her throat, and he slowly drew his face away from hers. Solemnly, sorrowfully, sardonically, he paced backwards, out of the range of the transceiver. Its reach was always just barely micrometers away from coming into contact of the flesh of a new host. It wanted to leap from her body into his, for only a moment, and lay fresh eggs inside his gullet.
In a few weeks' time, the incarnation of some citizen above in the astral plane would burst from his chest in a shower of blood and viscera. Somehow, the boy had sensed the inherent danger of her attention from just the shift in her aura, and avoided this terrible fate. Somehow, he knew well enough that she had become a danger to public safety, and could neither let her out of his sight, nor allow her to have her way with him.
He patted her shoulder, one last time, as he attempted to climb off of her lap. She tugged on his shirt more fervently, not wanting to be without his touch in the deepest mires of her anxiety. He felt bad for her, and had to continue leaning backward to extend out of its range. He wrapped his fearsome mitts around her biceps, and squeezed. She had to let go!
His fingers left bright red welts on her arms as he squeezed her painfully. Her nails dug into the back of his abdomen, drawing forth a little bit of blood. He trembled, even just a little bit, and his breath hitched in the back of his throat, for only a moment. A moment was all it took.
The slender figure stopped starkly at the change in texture of the flow of air. It raised a stalk from the slimy texture of the oily black tendril of its head. A single vermillion eye peered out of its extremity, like a slug. A ripple in the texture of its body worked its way down her throat, like a wave of bumpy rashes appearing under its skin. The change in texture shocked Sylvia into opening her eyes again, and she saw a miserable sight.
The boy was a mess—tears streaming down his cheeks, as well. His face was wrought with stress, and frustration, and most awfully, terror. For a moment Derek feared the worst, so he immediately drew closer, allowing it to actually come into contact with his lips. His desperation, to save her, had forced him to take a risk he hadn't planned on; and in so doing allowed the most perverted instance of an indirect kiss in all of human history. It smoothed out, and resumed its glacial procession into his mouth.
He looked about as scared as she was, but she had nothing to lose. It was already inside her. He was risking everything for her. She had seen it all, and the lengths of his sacrifice clarified the gravity of the situation to her. So, she finally released him.
He closed his eyes in relief, and stroked her welts softly as his way of saying thanks, before leaning back on his haunches to get into a more comfortable crawling position—taking care to keep his mouth in the same point in space the entire time. There was no telling what might happen if he were to pull away now, and reveal to the creature the true state of his intentions. The book made it clear that it would not end well for the current host, at least.
The procedure went smoothly from there, and the creature hung in the air for about a solid two feet, before the weight outside her mouth grew too great for it to suspend. It slipped from his lips, and dropped to the ground below with a tepid splat. That was the sign he was told to look for!
He dexterously grabbed the body of the long tuber, and yanked it powerfully from her mouth, as quickly and as smoothly as possible! The creature flew threw the air with a languid squeal, wiggling about in his hand, furrowing into a bumpy texture across its entire form, and from within the bumps of its body, gleaming white ribs almost like sharpened claws shot out like a porcupine's quill.
These bony protrusions clattered against the ground as it scraped and slid along the rotten, gnarly wood. It writhed and wiggled across the ground, and they marveled at the sight of it. Those ribs emerged from the skin so quickly that if he still held it in his hand, it would have perforated his hand, like a cheese grater.
Each one was about the thickness of a finger, and as long as one, too. They numbered well over a dozen; maybe even a score. It seemed a physical impossibility for the spikes to fit into the slender space of its fusiform body.
It seemed designed to lance outwards in time of extreme duress, anchoring it within the body of its host by piercing through their flesh with its hooks. No one would be able to extricate it, at that point. Azathoth was surely a cruel, and dispassionate master.
"Whew!" He sighed, as the scuttling noise drew to a stop. He strolled over to his backpack, and pulled out a handkerchief, handing it to her congratulatorily. Still shell-shocked, she took the cloth and carefully mopped up herself. He continued, keeping an eye on the creature, in case it still had a few tricks up its sleeve. "Wow, I can't believe that worked! Great job, by the way, I didn't think we would make it."
"Uh huh."
"That did work, didn't it?" He asked, keeping his eyes locked on the collection of bones in a pile. "Like, how do you feel, Sylvia?"
"How do I feel?" She asked right back. He hadn't noticed the growing brightness of the aura filling up the room behind him.
"Yes, are you having any specific thoughts running through your head, right n-?" His words were cut off, as the young woman tackled him from behind, sending them both to the ground. "Wha- Hey!"
"How do I feel?!" She screamed, pinning him to the ground, underneath. Oops! He'd forgotten that she needed an outlet for all that anger. He let down his guard... and then everything went red.