The Station, Part 15 cont.

It’s rising now, coming up into the shallows, blocking much of the sunless red light. It’s a mountain range of undulating flesh. The smaller ones on the beach are literally quivering. Is that excitement I see, or is it fear? I guess it’s the former, they would be fleeing already. This is something they’ve wanted to happen. They called the mountain to them. The massive thing and its much smaller look-alikes are calling to each other in rapid, staccato fashion now. Something’s changing in the larger ones. I see an opening forming from seemingly nothing. Giant, vaginal-like and cavernous. The line of creatures on the beach just thrust themselves into the waves almost in unison, as if cued by a starter pistol. I can see that the small ones far outnumber the large ones. Wow, it’s complete chaos now. The small ones are sliding and smashing into ones another, clamoring for a choice spot I guess. The squeals they make are so pig-like, it makes my skin crawl. Tight clusters have formed, roiling balls of flesh that are tumbling towards the gargantuan counterpart, right toward the immense vaginal openings. Some lay still in the surf, perhaps injured or dead. Casualties of the brief conflict. It’s survival of the fittest even here. The openings have become just mere slits now. A cocktease! Oh, I suppose that was a little out of line. Go ahead, write me up for violating official comm. channel protocols. And then come on in and get for disciplinary action. I dare you. No takers? Fine then. You’re missing out on something truly remarkable.

These balls of flesh have writhed their way up to the, well, I guess it must be female, and are climbing their way up their sides. Little boys trying to find their way back into the womb, quite literally it looks like. They’re concentrated around the slit now, I can make out wounds on many on them. The very short journey from beach to female really takes its toll. Even now, they’re still jockeying for a prime spot, ever closer to the slit. As they do, some fall off into the water, but they don’t stay long. A few lay still where they fell, probably too exhausted or injured to make a second attempt.

Something else is happening. An appendage of some kind has erupted from the middle of the slit stretching outwards and upwards like a smooth tentacle. The end is flatted and rounded like a spoon. The smaller males are bleating frantically in that piggish way. It sounded pleading, desperate. The tentacle appears to survey the vast crowd of tiny males on the female’s belly, looking them over carefully and methodically. Reminds me of a uniform inspection. It looks at each and ever one of the remaining ones. They’re the strongest, the ones who had what it took to get this far. She wants the very best. That must be it. And there it is. I think she’s chosen her boy. The tentacle has dipped down and scooped up a male in its cuplike end. Its withdrawing into the slit. And both tentacle and one lucky guy are gone. The bleating has stopped too. The losers are crawling back down now, into the water. The female rumbles, shaking off the stragglers. Apparently she has no time for slowpokes. She has her mate literally inside her. In her womb I surmise. Like the journey of the sperm to the egg on a grandiose scale. I would bet my paycheck they’re making babies right now. Making the next generation that will one day sit on this beach and wait for a female to approach like this one has. The rejected males lay in the water, most not moving or making a sound. I think they’re all dying now, their purpose served for this generation. It’s up to the happy couple now. The mountainous creature is moving off again, back towards the horizon. Maybe she’ll lays egg out thee somewhere. Maybe she gives birth to live young. Who knows? I’m making lots of assumptions and have very few facts other than my eyewitness testimony.