Pressure

Lizard's eyes popped open. Her first sight was her own knees and thighs, completely smooth and soft. She knew something was wrong instantly: her scars were gone.

    She tried to straighten her body but was met with resistance, folded into the fetal position and held there by something taut and membraneous. A tight knot formed in the back of her throat. What was this?

    She attempted to kick the sticky substance that clung to her body, but it only stretched as she extened her leg and it rebounded like some form of stiff, fleshy, elastic, pushing her right back into the same position.

    She kicked harder and harder, with legs that felt rubbery and foreign. She began to pant against her own will. Her lungs felt hard somehow, as if they were refusing to stretch, like the air wasn't satisfying enough. Her head began to spin, her thighs began to tremble. There was no air. She was breathing in nothing, or at least, it felt so.

    She attempted to move her arm, but something was inside of it, holding it still: a needle attached to a stiff tube, curved to fit the shape of whatever she was in.

    What was she in?

    It didn't matter, she had to get out.

    She pulled her arm away from it by stretching her body, fighting against the membrane. Lizard winced as it slid through her flesh. Her head was spinning. She couldn't stop herself from making wild, desperate movements.

    Just as the point of the needle passed her skin, a sound like a vibrating kazoo buzzed loudly.

An alarm. When alarms went off, trouble came. She had to get the hell out now or she might never have a chance again. She yanked the other needle out and clawed at the membrane, tearing bit by bit, holding her breathe to steady her nerves.

    She heard footsteps. Half a dozen feet were running towards her.

    The sound of her own pulse ringing in her ears began to drown out all rational thought. She dug more franticaly. Strips of the membrane began to hang like weathered fabric. Her nail beds burned.

    "Which pod!?"

    "Three Thirty-Six!"

    She folded herself backward and shoveled into the weakened spot with her feet. Soft orange light began to seep through the weakened membrane.

    Just a little more ...

    The red form of three men became visible through the shallow crater she created.

    Everything went black.

...

    Lizard's eyes popped open. She was in the fetal position, looking at her knees and thighs again. Still no scars. Her arms were restricted by the same contraption as before. The sticky membrane was holding her still. Why was there a bump on her lower abdomen, like a tiny, hard gut?

    Her body fealt foreign, Her heart was pounding again, her breaths were short but she held them until she could control them again. Maybe if the membrane was stretched thin, she could scratch through more quickly.

    But there was an alarm on the needles, which meant there were probably some elsewhere too. She stretched herself the way she had before, until the needles were near the end of her skin, readjusted her arms so that they were in front of her, then pressed her arms against the stiff membrane, jamming the needles back into her arms.

    It was unpleasant, but now she was in a better position.

    Lizard pushed hard with her legs, stretching the membrane as far as she could. It was stiffer amd more turgid than she remembered it being, but not as elastic. She attempted to scratch the membrane with her fingertips, but to her horror, her nails were completely gone. Only a soft, sensitive patch of flesh remained where each nail used to be.

    Her stomach lurched as she realized that someone was keeping her asleep, and doing things to her, things she had no idea about, that she couldn't control or prevent. As she glanced back down at the strange lump in her lower abdomen, a single thought flooded her head:

    I can't go back to sleep again.

    She balled her fist and pounded her fleshy prison with elbows locked at her waist, pounding furiously until she'd created a small dent. A flash of hope quelled her fear and fueled her desperation. She beat that dent with all the strength she could muster, until a tiny beem of light shone through, proof of a hole just large enough to fit a finger. She put her index in first and pulled, causing it to tear enough to pull more and more, until she was ripping the membrane open with both swollen hands.

    A blast of warm air slapped her slime covered face, and she found herself falling onto a hard metal floor with her legs and feet still in what she now recognized as some form of cocoon or pod. Around her were hundreds of identical pods stretching as far up as she could see, and as far as she could see to the left. To the right, off to the distance, was what looked like a white wall... and her best bet.

    She slid her legs out of the pod. The alarm went off again.

    Shit! She thought, as she tried to scramble to her feet, but she slipped on the goo that slid off of her naked body and out of the torn cocoon.

    She heard footsteps.

    "It's three thirty-six again!"

    She grabbed another pod, pulled herself up, and ran towards the wall, hoping their was an exit near it. Her legs felt like noodles as she tried to gain control of them. Her body was weak and against her in everyway, refusing to function the way she knew it should, refusing to help her get away. She was going to get caught at this rate. Lizard slid behind the nearest cocoon, gripping the outside of the membrane to fold herself up and lift her feet above the ground where they couldn't be seen. Here she waited, with aching arms, with her pulse pounding in her ears, watching the guards as well as she could from her hiding place..

    She skimmed over their uniforms and read their weapons: they carried some form of gun, what looked like a projectile weapon, and a tazer. It would be better for her to get close, not that she had a choice anyway, she couldn't access any of her belongings, which was rather disappointing. Her beetle camera would be quite useful right now.

    She let out a small breath as they walked away from her. She wasn't safe but perhaps she'd have a little more time to gain control of her body before she ambushed them. She couldn't let whoever was doing this to her and all these people catch her again. There would be an exit wherever the guards came from. She didn't know where that exit would take her but she knew it was out of here, and she couldn't stand being in here anymore, this hot room with sacks of sleeping people all lined in neat rows and columns, piled next to and ontop of eachother like books on a bookshelf. The room stank of dead blood and melting plastic, the stench of the goo that covered her own body and stuck her impractically long coily hair to her back, knees and thighs. It had been over a millenia since she had worn her hair black, and even longer since she'd worn it long.

Someone was doing things to her while she was unconscious. She needed to get away. She had to go now.

    She turned to run towards the direction the guards came in, but was grabbed and pulled from behind the pods by a gloved hand. She thought to strike him but her movements were slow, much slower than they should've been. A sharp pain ran through her body and everything went black.

.....

    Lizard became aware of the flesh like substance sticking to her body. She inhaled deeply to steady her neves, then opened her eyes. The bump was bigger. Worse than that, she had a sinking feeling that something was inside of her. At moments she was convinced it was going to eat her from the inside, at others, it was taking over her body.

    She layed there, folded by the membrane, the unused adrenaline in her causing her to quake from head to toe. Her last escape attempt didn't work because she couldn't move her body the way she was supposed to, so she lay there trying hard to become familiar with her body, trying hard to gain control again with small easy movements. Swing an elblow, clench a thigh, twist a bit to the right.

    She still felt weak, weaker than she'd ever felt in her entire life, as far as she could remember.

    Her gut moved. There was definantly something inside her and it was trying to burst it's way through her belly. Lizard imagined something amphibious with several legs in a pupa just like the one she was in now, kicking and struggling the way she had the last couple times she'd tried to get away. She didn't know what was happening to her, but she was sure she was on some kind of time crunch.

    But if she burst out before she was ready...

    Fuck it, she might as well go for it.

    She popped the cocoon open with one familiarly strong kick without even worrying about the needles in her arms or the new transluscant mask over her face.

    The alarm buzzed and a fluid poured into the mask, filling her nose, eyes, and mouth.

    Everything went black.

...

    Lizard's eyes popped open. She was in another membrane, elastic like the first one, with a gel like mask over her face. Those same needles were in her arms. Her hair wrapped around her, sticking to her slime covered skin. Her nails were growing back but they were still well under her nailbeds.Her gut had grown hard and round. There was definantely something growing inside her, she was sure of it. And whatever it was was probably going to kill her. She didn't know how she'd get rid of it once she was free but determination filled her regardless. She was going to be in conrol of her own body, someway or another.

    She yanked the mask off and the needles out, not caring about the alarm or the guards that would inevitably be coming, and bit through the tubes that the needles were attatched to. Those needles weren't anything like her trench knifes, but at least they were sharp. She punctured the membrane and tore it open with her old strength, unsure of how or why her body responded to her so well today but not the last few times. Not caring either.   

    The guards were already nearby.

    "Number Three Thirty-Six! Come with us and you won't get hurt!"yelled a guard, probably the boss.

    Lizard answered with silence.

    As the boss signaled his two partners to approach he said, "Remember, no lazers, no tazers, no projectiles! We're in the incubater! Nadine will have our heads!"

    Unbeknownst to Lizard, a grimy smirk twisted her face into something horrendous. Her legs were acting like they'd never held her body up before, so she'd waited for them to come to her, intending to puncture all of their throats.

    The first threw a well formed punch, a sign of formal of training. Before the next one came, she gabbed his arm, twisted it to her right and srtuck the back of his elbow, dislocating it. She stabbed his neck with the needle-tube as he howled in pain, turning his scream into a gargle.

    The other two cringed in time with his injuries.

    "Fuck it," said the boss, "Just use a sleeper. I don't get paid enough for this."

    "But it might-"

    Lizard charged, a mix of determination and terror fueling her. She would not be put back to sleep again. Absolutely not.

....

    Lizard's eyes popped open. The world around her was white, blurry, and rocking side to side and up and down like a seesaw. But through her altered vision, she made out an I.V. in her left arm, and her stomach had become more swollen and monsterous than ever. It was taking over her.

    She moved to yank the I.V. out but as she did a voice like chirping birds stopped her.

    "Those are there for your own good," she said in a melocholy tone.

    Lizard turned to see the owner of that songbird voice: a petite woman in a lilac skirt suit and an ice blue blouse that lasted from her ears and jawline to her waist. Her long lashes framed cold black eyes, her wool like hair was gathered at her crown with thin beaded braids littered without. A holographic I.D tag levitated over the right bossom of her square blazer, with words written in a language that Lizard couldn't read.

    "Who are you?" asked Lizard intending to sound demanding. She sounded more tired and worn down instead.

    "Interesting. I assumed your first words were going to be 'what's going on with my body' or something of that nature," said the petite woman looking down to her from beside Lizard's bed, "You just made me lose a bet."

    Lizard scowled at the woman until she got around to answering the question.

    "I am Nadine Washington, Moderater Nadine. I am the head moderater of the Gold Week program. Usually, I send a member of the incubation department to meet with people like you, however, you've been giving my guards a little trouble, so, I decided to personally give you a little information on what exactly is happening to you."

...................

    The villagers knew it wasn't safe, but neither was sitting out in the open. They returned to their bowl, setting up camp as close to the safest exit as possible, and relied on stray hunters to kill the demons. It was a risky decision to make, but Lily was adamant, and since Gatling's death, there was no merchant and no leader to guide them. No Man was a shy person, and River was a pacifist. Neither had any intention of stepping into this role.

    With Gatling gone, the villages' chosen few were changed to Lily's liking, and River happily retreated to the sidelines, salting meats on slabs over an open flame, doling out rations to families that either had no slab or no food of their own. Hatchet, a child who was known for her short temper and tenacity, took his place without complaint. But River couldn't stand the feeling of uncertainty each day brought. Each hunter that came into their lands was a threat. There was no way of telling who was a rogue and who wasn't. Any single one of these hunters had the ability to massacer everyone he loved.

    "Family of three," said Rose, a child with a notoriously powerful scream. An adult male and female teen silently waited in line with her, her chosen family. Rose was obviously head of house.

    "Fowl, Hare or Beef?" asked River, flipping the previous families cut of beef, and moving it to the side

    "We brought our own," she said as the male pulled out several long, relatively thin slices of something unfamiliar and handed to River tenderly, as if it was fragile. "Demon meat."

    River's stomach lurched.

    "Is this safe to eat?" he asked, scowling at the hunk of flesh.

    "We're going to find out soon."

    River wrapped the previous families' meat as Rose and her family stood aside to let the next in line speak. He was a tall man with more armor than a villager would need, and his face was startlingly unfamiliar.

    "Bird," he said.

    Before River could speak, a familiar froggy voice rang out: "That food is for civillians. We don't feed hunters here."

    River knew who it was before spotting him in the crowd: Lily.

    "Bird," repeated the hunter "Please."

    By this time Lily had made his way through the crowd and was standing next to him, sizing him, as if he thought he could win a fight against this man. An obvious bluff. Anyone with eyes could tell a hunter from a civilian.

    What was he thinking? River reached for the lower right side of a pre-quartered duck, but Lily signaled him to stop. He paused with one arm outstretched, looking beside him with wide eyes. He was sure this was not the right choice to make, but Lily was leading them now.

    But what use was a leader who couldn't protect them?

    "If we give them whatever they want, River, they'll just take and take until we have nothing left. Just like they're doing with the bowl."

    Light shown through translusant lavender leaves, cast a soft lilac light, spotted with gentle blues and pastel violets, making everything look delicate. It touched Lily's skin with delicate. Delicate reflected off of he hunters armour. In the dark reflection of River's eyes, delicate danced as he watched Lily and the hunter, with a thousand words caught in the back of his throat.

    The hunter stabbed Lily, and he died there, collapsing into the arms of Rose's chosen father.

    The villagers attacked.   

....

    River awoke without opening his eyes. Behind them he saw blood and bodies, severed limbs and lifeless eyes. Behind them he saw his own innards. He found himself hoping that everything he was seeing was a dream.

    "How many survived?" whispered a voice that he knew well.

    No luck.

    He opened his eyes.

    "I couldn't bring myself to count, but the survivors are mostly children," answered No Man, solemnly.

    "Is Rose one of them?" Hatchet asked before downing Nun's brew for resilience and courage.

    "She died in the rations massacre."

    River's heart dropped to his feet. How many people had died? What had he done to prevent it?

    River recalled the moment the hunter's wide, leaf shaped daggered entered Lily's stomach and everything that led up to it. All he had to do was give him the duck! River knew Lily couldn't protect them. He could've prevented all of this-

    "When do you think River will wake up," asked No Man.

    There was a long pause before Hatchet said, "No telling. Bugs are unpredictable."

    "It's a shame. Somebody could have a defect like that and waste it trying to be a farmer. He could be-"

    "Shh! I think he's coming to."

    River took that as his queue to stop laying their like a lifeless lump and speak.

    "Don't mind me," he said sitting up.

    "We're not," answered No Man with more venom in his voice than was natural for someone who was known for being pacient and easy going.

    Hatchet handed him a brew and waited for him to down it.

    He did so with great difficulty, then said, "So when did you find out that I was a glitch?" asked River, genuinely curious.

    "We knew from the beginning. Your points have been showing for as long as I've known you, and it's hard for a pacifist to keep a bounty on 'em," said No Man, scowling, "What we didn't know is what that bug was."

    Hatchet put a hand on his shoulder, wordlessly telling him to remain silent for the remainder of the conversation.

    "River, I'm going to be direct with you," said Hatchet, looking into River with eyes like cast iron with a bit of rust, "We need someone to find us a new merchant."

    River swallowed and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, she continued.

    "The neighboring territory has a tyrant merchant. We've already reached out to the next nearest territory and that merchant won't help us pass Balbus."

    River didn't need to hear any more to know what was happening. Living directly under Balbus turned out to be even more of a hinderance than he thought it was. If the villagers were spotted by Balbu citizens anywhere outside the bowl, they'd be captured and made to live as slaves under Oatmeal's rule. If the villagers somehow got by Balbus and made it to Randzui, Randzui's merchant Butcher would feign nuetrality, then turn the villagers in to Oatmeal. They had nowhere to go and no one to turn to.

    "We're sending you to find us a new merchant," Hatchet stated, matter-of-factly.

    River opened his mouth to speak again, but was stopped once more by Hatchet's interuption.

    "I'm not risking another life, River. You are the only one who could leave this bowl without that risk, so you are the one who's going to do it. I've had Plus and Wire pack a kit with everything you need to survive. We even pooled our point's together for you. In return, we expect you to be gone by morning."

    It was apparent that Hatchet had no intention of allowing River to speak, so he nodded and left the circle in silence.

    The breeze carried the scent of old blood and mourning incense. The cries of the grieving filled the tiny huddle the surivors called a village. There could be no more than two-hundred people in those tents. River choked back tears. He was going to fix this.

    He had no choice.

.....................

    The Monster groaned, rolling over on her wet back and scowling at the black holographic screen of her e-box. Was this the eight thousand and forty second time she'd checked the Lizard channel, or the eight thousand and forty third? Maybe she was done counting. All the other Lizardites had given up. They even had a little party in her name, their first and final in person meet up. Of course, The Monster didn't attend because she knew, she new in her heart that Lizard was alive and that that channel would pop back up again.Well, it was eight months later and the channel was still down.

    She should've went to that party, for the free food if nothing else. The Monster missed eating dearly, she even missed eating nasty food. One day, she nibbled a peice of that luminescent coral that grows everywhere, just to get some flavor in her mouth... and it tasted like nothing. Not good, not nasty, not even like water, just nothing. She'd get more flavor from chewing cardboard. She'd get more flavor from sucking her thumb. She'd get more flavor from holding her mouth open and sucking in air. It tasted, like absolute, nothing. How was that possible?

    The black screen of her hologram played an audio commercial, one she'd heard a million times by now. She found herself repeating every word an adopting it's cheerfuly robotic pronunciation.

    "If you are in need of anything at all, feel free to contact a Moderator. They are available twenty-four seven, and eagerly awaiting your call. Just go to your nearest puddle and say 'Mod!' Someone will offer you an opportunity to earn anything you need. It's super simple, super easy and super fun! Just go to your nearest puddle and say 'Mod!'"

    A male's voice spoke, and The Monster dropped hers to as low as she could and said,

    "I was in a terrible place, desperate, wet, I had nothing to my name except a shack and my e-box. I was a little nervous about asking for help at first but the moderator was really well mannered, really nice, and fair. One thing I'd like to say to anyone who's going through what I went through is, put your pride aside and call the mods. They are here to help you."

    The robotic voice returned, and she, The Monster and the man said in unison, "Call a moderator today!"

    The Monster glared at the puddle that was currently flooding her shack, and piling into a strange hump in the corner that she likes to pretend to shit in. Maybe she would try it. What did she really have to lose? Nobody had to know about this, matter of fact, who could she tell if she wanted to?

    She walked over to the pile of water, kicking and splashing as she went, and murmured, "Mod."   

    A doll sprang out of the water ; The Monster nearly jumped out of her skin.

    "What the f-" she started

    "What, my avatar scared you? Everybodies avatar scares everybody, calm down."

    By now the metallic doll was sitting with its legs crossed, filing its nails, probably a reflection of what the actual moderator was doing.

    "Which Mod did you want to speak to?" it asked, sounding uncomfortably meloncholy.

    The Monster was caught completely off guard. She didn't know what she expected, but she was filled with overwhelming joy at the sight of something she'd never seen before.

    "I'm taking that silence as a, you-don't-care-about-which-mod-you-get so I'm going to hook you up with whoever's available, also, I see that you're a child, which is great, Alex loves working with children aaaaaand they're free!" The moderator responded, "Mod Alex will be with you in a moment. Thank you for reaching out in your time of need we are always happy to help."

    With that, the doll withdrew into the water and everything went quiet again.

    The Monster stood totally still, her eyes shifting side to side as she waited for something else to happen. After several seconds, she thought to call the moderator again but before she could, another doll burst through the water, frightening The Monster again.

    "Hello!" it said, sounding dramatically cheerful, "My name is Mod Alex, how can I help you today?"

    The Monster hadn't thought about what she would say.

    "Um..." she started, "Well, I'm broke and my feet are always wet. And I miss tasting things."

    "Mmm hmmmm," the sack doll hummed, nodding as if it understood, as if she hadn't just made a strange statement, "I'm glad you're expressing your feelings, but lets narrow these feeling down to something we can resolve."

    "Well, the water bothers me the most."

    "So you'd like a pair of shoes?"

    "The kind that let's you walk on top of it?"

    "Of course!"

    "Then yes, I want shoes."

    "Greeeaaaat," the avatar sang, "Of course we can only give you the shoes if you complete a duty. Look at is as an act of charity, in exchange for another act of charity."

    The Monster looked down at her soggy feet, then back at the moderator's childlike doll.

    "That sounds good," she said looking into it's marbly eyes.

    "Greeeeaaaat! We just need your verbal agreement. All you have to say is: I, your name, am completing a mission for moderator Alex by my own volition. Any injuries aquired thereof are the responsibilty of myself and no other person or party."

    "I need to know what I'm agreeing to first," said The Monster, an eerie feeling creeping up her spine.

    The moderator laughed, much harder than neccessary.

    "Of course, of course! So, here's what I'd like you to do."