Clementina Chapter 2 – Symbiosis by JackDRipper

Clementina Chapter 2 – Symbiosis by JackDRipper

Dive into the tantalizing world of “Clementina Chapter 2 – Symbiosis” by JackDRipper, where passion and desire intertwine in an unforgettable adventure. Explore the depths of intimacy and connection as characters navigate their fiery encounters. Discover a story that pushes boundaries and ignites the imagination – perfect for those seeking thrilling escapism. Join the journey and awaken your senses!

When you open secret doors to dark places, you may find things that were better left untouched. Slimy, scaly, very possessive things…and ancient riddles that hold your fate in their hand.

If you haven’t read Chapter 1, you should go back and read it or you will be very confused.

This is Chapter 2, which comprises parts IX – XII. What happened to part VIII, you ask? That’s just an interlude and date between Clementina and Russell and, as such, slows down the story so I moved it to the end of this posting as an Appendix. You can read it if you wish, or skip it. Below, I start straight in on Part IX.

Just a reminder: this is partly a horror story, so consider yourself warned.

Clementina, Chapter 2 – Symbiosis

PART IX

“Well it’s about time you two lovebirds got back,” said Ona. “We’ve been planning on how you will make me a white queen.”

Ona outlined their plans, and showed some diagrams in the journal I had brought up from the front phallite chamber. We chatted about it a bit, then Clementina and I changed out of our previous night’s clothes, and all four of us walked out to the barn and took the back stairs into the rear phallite chamber – the one that had been the dark phallite’s domain until we purged it.

I had only been down in the rear chamber a couple times since the day we purged the dark phallites, and a sense of dread still haunted me when I entered. But the room now had a coating of healthy, clear slime everywhere and the pulsating, pink, vaginal tunnel leading back to the queen’s chambers glowed cheerful and healthy. White phallites sluiced happily in the slime that lay three or four inches deep in the chamber.

Ona and my mother began pointing out features and laying plans, but I was more just distracted by my memories – the memories of finding my father’s rotting corpse in a corner and of unknowingly fucking his dying paramour. I shivered and instinctively turned in that direction, wandering to the spot where I had found his body, touching the stone that had once been coated in thick dark phallite material and turned into a chamber of torture. A tear welled in my eye.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned. My mother stood behind me. She reached around and hugged me from behind.

“I know it’s been hard on you,” she said. “You loved him more than I.”

I nodded.

“But he was so distant,” I said. “I don’t think I really knew him at all.”

I ran my hand up the stone wall, now coated with a healthy layer of white phallite slime. With the chamber was cleared, and better lit from the glowing, gaping entry to the royal chamber, I could see the walls clearly. They were ancient limestone, and damp with their own moisture where the slime was thinnest. Long lines of impurities ran through the rock where cracks had formed and allowed water to trickle in. In places calcifications hung down or rose up from the base. Along the walls, some of the cubbies even had stalactites and stalagmites.

Something caught my eye. One of the calcified cracks almost looked intentional, or man-made. I followed it along and realized it ran completely around the chamber, connecting with each cubby. That was odd. I pointed it out to my mom, Clementina, and Ona.

Clementina walked around the chamber, tracing the crack completely around then stopping in front of the pink tunnel leading to the empty queen’s chamber.

“It seems to go in here,” she said.

I had only been in the royal chamber once – when I cleared out the dark phallite eggs then used the pump to suck out all the dark phallite slime and organic material that had lined the walls. It was another bad memory I wasn’t looking to repeat. But Clementina gestured to me.

“Come on, Russel,” she said. “Let’s go check it out.”

Because of the omnipresence of the slime that ultimately coated everyone and everything that entered, trips into the rear chamber were usually conducted in swimsuits, underwear, or nude. Clementina, my mom, and Ona had all opted for just thongs and bikini tops, and I was wearing swim trunks. As Clementina crawled down the tunnel to the queen’s chamber, I followed, staring at her phallite-induced ass in front of me, and the narrow cord of the thong that failed to cover her perfect, pink, puckered asshole that I had reamed out the previous night.

I felt my cock stir in my shorts, despite all the bad memories that had been flooding into me ever since we entered the rear chamber.

I pushed those thoughts to the side and focused on the task at hand. We slipped from the slimy birth-like tunnel into the royal chamber. The chamber was about ten feet wide. Clementina pointed to a spot on the wall. I followed her gaze. The crack we had been following in the rear chamber continued here, coming around the chamber wall and ending opposite the entryway. I approached the terminus of the calcified crack. At the very end there was a notch carved into the limestone, a few inches wide, and a smaller stone had been fit into place.

It looked like some kind of a button.

Clementina and I exchanged a glance and I pushed the stone. It slipped backwards, grinding into the notch.

From behind us, back in the rear chamber, we heard a loud crack and the sound of stone grating on stone.

“Whoa, fuck…” came my mom’s voice. “Guys, get back out here now!”

I dove into the pink birth-like tunnel and squirmed through the slime out to the rear chamber, Clementina behind me. When I emerged, my mom and Ona were staring at the first cubby to the left when facing the pink tunnel. I turned and caught my breath. The entire back wall of the cubby had pivoted backwards opening into a dark tunnel beyond. The tunnel door was raised about two feet off the floor I noticed, seemingly designed to make sure the slime coating the floor of the chamber stayed there.

The pink glow from the birth tunnel didn’t extend beyond the first two or three feet of tunnel. Past that there was nothing but blackness.

I looked around the room, counting.

“There are six other cubbies here,” I said. “Are they all doorways? If so, how do they open? The switch in the queen’s chamber only opened one. And if these are all doors, where do they go?”

Clementina looked around too.

“This room isn’t just a chamber for the phallites, it’s like a nexus where tunnels come together. But where do they all go? And, like you said, how do we open them?”

“Is there anything in your journals?” I asked.

“Not that I’ve seen yet, but I haven’t gone through the ones we just discovered.”

“Did you know about these?” I queried.

“No, we didn’t,” Clementina said. “And thank God we didn’t. If Ona had known about them and hit the button in there when she was dark queen we might still be chasing dark phallites all over hell and back.”

I shivered at the thought.

We grabbed lanterns, climbed up on the lip of the tunnel, and started down it.

The walls were damp with moisture – but not slime, just regular cave dampness. The tunnel continued straight for about fifty feet, then turned right, then left, and proceeded ten feet before opening into another chamber.

The room was about the size of the room with the statues where I had originally met the friendly light phallites. And there were other similarities. Against the far wall stood a large statue standing about twenty feet tall, almost bumping up against the vaulted ceiling that soared to a dome over our heads, barely visible in the light from our lanterns. Before I could approach the statue Ona said, “hey look” and suddenly the entire room was illuminated by a series of lights mounted against the stone walls a few feet below the ceiling.

I turned and looked at Ona, who stood next to an electrical switch on the wall.

“I guess we’re not the first people here,” said Clementina.

“So your forebears knew about this room,” I replied.

“I guess,” she repeated, and turned to Ona. “Let’s just not touch any more switches or buttons without investigating them first. I get the feeling not all switches may do things as benign as turning on the lights.”

We all murmured an assent and turned back to the statue that stood at the front of the room.

The statue was of a woman showing many of the typical phallite-induced features – large, milk-swollen breasts, narrow waist, wide hips. The woman’s mouth was open and a long, snake-like tongue extended from her lips, hanging down far enough that it stopped just below her navel. Had she leaned her head forward, she could have easily licked her own vagina.

Even more shocking than the tongue however, was the splayed snatch. She did not have normal labia – not even normal by phallite standards – instead she had six tentacles sticking outwards and forwards, reaching as if to pull something into gaping maw of the vagina in the center. At the top of circle of tentacles was a swollen clit. The tentacles were almost as long as her legs.

The woman was squatting down, her legs splayed, her vagina seeming to open about six feet above a stone carved platform that was shaped as if it were some sort of a reclining bed or such, where a person could lay down with their head and shoulders elevated. In front of that, there was wide urn or container that was carved from the stone between the statue’s knees in front of her. The way the urn was carved left me the impression it was some sort of well and that it went down far below the floor into the bedrock.

“Wow,” my mom said. She stepped forward, looking at the statue that dwarfed her. The container underneath the graven woman came up to about my mom’s navel. She leaned forward and looked inside.

That’s when all hell broke loose.

Something shot out of the liquid that was in the urn and grabbed my mother around the shoulders, pulling her downwards into the urn. The fluid that splashed from the urn wasn’t water – it was red – like blood, only thinner. My mother’s top half disappeared into the blood-like liquid and her legs flailed in the air as the thing – whatever it was – tried to drag her under.