Reincarnated as a Mushroom?-Chapter 53 - 52: “Schemes Beneath Tentacles and Silk”

Chapter 52: "Schemes Beneath Tentacles and Silk"

There’s a sacred kind of bliss that comes from walking again after a week spent suspended in humming nutrient fluid and psionic overstimulation. So there I was—new legs beneath me, twitching like freshly installed machinery—striding with absolute reverence toward the training chamber I’d designed for my rebirth.

Even just walking, I could feel the kinetic madness in my limbs. The fibers—rebuilt, rethreaded, reborn—were thrumming with stored violence. Every slow step felt sacrilegious, like driving a starfighter through a school zone. But I knew this giddy volatility was temporary; the nervous system just needed time to calibrate to its new throne.

I arrived at the training hall. It was exactly how I left it—clean, dangerous, quietly waiting to destroy me.

The central chamber was unchanged, but the back wall had been transformed. Crystal’s drones had lovingly carved out an extended tunnel stretching deep into the bedrock, layered with reactive obstacles, shifting platforms, and impact zones—my own little gauntlet of glorious failure. I was about to find out just how many evolutionary paychecks these legs were worth.

This was necessary. I’d had two separate leg-disabling disasters in recent memory. That kind of pattern demands vengeance.

I threw on a pair of shorts. Not for modesty—nothing in this Hive had shame—but because if I didn’t, my third leg might get inspired to join the agility drills. Not today, buddy.

I stood at the beginning of the track.

Hunched.

Primed.

Predatory.

And then I tensed.

It started in my thighs—muscles thickening, coils tightening, the sound of internal sinew grinding together like coiled chains awakening. My calves bulged, vascular lines lighting up beneath my skin like warning runes. A low thrummmm started to build, faint at first—barely audible even with my enhanced hearing—but it wasn’t a noise. It was potential energy begging for violence.

If I kicked backward right now, I’d erase a brick wall with nothing but quadricep contempt.

When the pressure reached critical mass, I focused forward and launched.

I didn’t run. I didn’t sprint.

I detonated.

My body erupted forward with such force that my own muscles screamed in orgasmic relief—a wet pop sound echoed down the corridor, like twenty decibels of muscular exhale.

I covered hundreds of meters in seconds, tearing down the artificial corridor with hurricane momentum, but I was right—speed began to taper the farther I went. Still, by the end of the track, I had clocked a full kilometer in just under sixty seconds. Accounting for the windup, I’d shaved almost half a minute off my old top speed.

Not bad.

I jogged back through the obstacle course—reflex testing time. The hurdles were a joke. I could practically moonwalk over them. The two-meter verticals took a bit of effort and alignment, but they weren’t a problem. My chosen leg augments were working, full stop.

But raw speed wasn’t everything.

I needed control. Precision. So I called for Kimchi.

Because when you need to test new reflexes, there’s nothing better than a gleeful sword cyclone who loves you too much to stop when you scream.

She accepted instantly, of course. We sparred for hours.

I kept overshooting steps, blowing openings in my guard because I hadn’t calibrated my balance yet. It was like trying to box while wearing rocket skates. But there was promise. Massive promise. I discovered that with a single backstep, I could now create gaps wide enough to reset engagements entirely.

Against Kimchi’s close-range flurry style? That was game-changing.

We trained for twelve hours.

Twelve.

After a week of floating bliss and nonstop affectionate saturation, I had poured myself into warplay like a starving god. And now I was wrecked. I should have taken power naps during augmentation. I hadn’t. Because I’m an idiot.

"Bed," I murmured aloud as I hobbled through the halls. "Bed now."

The path to my sleeping chamber took me past Crystal’s guards—tall, silent, anti-psionic mountains that had only tried to liquefy my brain once.

Usually, they ignored me. Today? All of them turned their heads in eerie synchrony and stared.

"Okay... what the fuck?" I muttered, uneased. "Did I forget someone’s birthday or are we back to whispering migraines again?"

They didn’t answer. They just watched.

Judging. Looming.

I limped faster.

When I reached my bed, nostalgia hit me square in the chest. I hadn’t touched this room in over a year—my old bed still intact, still surrounded by the faint echo of memories. Orchid had tried bringing in a backup mattress once, but I never used it.

But this bed... this bed had my bed bug.

She was already vibrating. Literally vibrating.

I’d been using Sapphire’s chonky body as a makeshift weighted blanket for months, but this little psionic cuddle-sponge? She was ready. Like a puppy on speed and love hormones.

I didn’t wait for Crystal or Kimchi.

I fell into bed, bed bug wrapped around me in a heartbeat, and was gone.

—

In the dreamless dark, Crystal stirred.

Her main body—a slumbering monument of incomprehensible biomass—twitched once. A single psionic eye flickered open.

"My lazy, perfect love," she whispered. "You fell asleep without me again. Unacceptable."

She descended a tentacle. Just one. A whisper of herself.

It curled up beside me in the bed like a warm coil of intelligent silk.

She knew the truth: I loved the shape she gave her humanoid body—loved it dearly—but what I craved was her psionic existence. Her self. Not her skin.

As if summoned by that truth, I instinctively turned in my sleep and crushed the tentacle into a bear hug.

Any human woman would’ve had their ribs pasteurized on the spot.

Crystal melted with pleasure. This was her bliss.

More tentacles slipped downward. Feather-light feelers caressed my chest, arms, hips, ribs. Normally I had a sixth sense—an anti-molestation alarm—that would bonk her or Kimchi with a pillow mid-grope, even while unconscious.

But now? No stirring. No resistance.

Her grip inched toward my most prized biological treasure.

And that’s when she hatched her plan.

—

Crystal’s consciousness leapt.

She jumped bodies.

Materialized in the arms of Kimchi’s infiltrator body, nestled deep in the Hive’s corridors.

Kimchi opened one eye and smiled softly. "Ah, my Queen... you awaken. Is something wrong?"

"Nothing at all," Crystal replied sweetly, her voice dripping with calculated serenity. "I simply needed a boost in processing speed. I’ll return to my task shortly. But I’m here for another reason."

Kimchi perked up.

"Our dear Irvine," Crystal lied through her smug crystalline grin, "asked me to relay something. He’s begun watching warfront coverage on his bio-pad while falling asleep—very irresponsible, I know—but he wanted you to create a special training environment for him. Something unique. Something only you could make."

Kimchi froze in delighted horror. "A... a unique course? For Irvine-love?"

Crystal nodded, playing her part to perfection. "He said—exact words—’Order my beautiful Kimchi to create a perfect training area for me. I trust her to do anything.’"

A pause.

Kimchi’s face turned red. Emotionally, not physically. Her thoughts derailed so hard she didn’t notice the lie. Irvine never said order. He asked. Begged, sometimes. But her deranged romantic logic filled in the blanks.

"He knew... he knew that if the request came through you, the weight would be greater. His love for me must be so profound that he trusted your mouth to carry his affection without loss."

"Exactly," Crystal purred, the most manipulative cunt in ten systems.

"Then... then I shall obey. Tell him that I shall create the greatest course ever conceived by prey or predator."

"Wonderful," Crystal cooed. "Oh, and I’ll leave my body here beside him. Just in case he wakes up. Feel free to move it if it’s in the way."

Kimchi nodded, already lost in planning training traps, assault drones, and seduction-tinted obstacle layouts.

And with that, Crystal returned to her tentacled body.

Returned to her plot.

—

The feelers resumed their journey.

My sleeping form remained blissfully unaware.

Crystal smiled.

All she wanted now was one little treat.

Just one.

And maybe—just maybe—she’d earn it before I woke up.

—Chapter 52: "Schemes Beneath Tentacles and Silk"

There’s a sacred kind of bliss that comes from walking again after a week spent suspended in humming nutrient fluid and psionic overstimulation. So there I was—new legs beneath me, twitching like freshly installed machinery—striding with absolute reverence toward the training chamber I’d designed for my rebirth.

Even just walking, I could feel the kinetic madness in my limbs. The fibers—rebuilt, rethreaded, reborn—were thrumming with stored violence. Every slow step felt sacrilegious, like driving a starfighter through a school zone. But I knew this giddy volatility was temporary; the nervous system just needed time to calibrate to its new throne.

I arrived at the training hall. It was exactly how I left it—clean, dangerous, quietly waiting to destroy me.

The central chamber was unchanged, but the back wall had been transformed. Crystal’s drones had lovingly carved out an extended tunnel stretching deep into the bedrock, layered with reactive obstacles, shifting platforms, and impact zones—my own little gauntlet of glorious failure. I was about to find out just how many evolutionary paychecks these legs were worth.

This was necessary. I’d had two separate leg-disabling disasters in recent memory. That kind of pattern demands vengeance.

I threw on a pair of shorts. Not for modesty—nothing in this Hive had shame—but because if I didn’t, my third leg might get inspired to join the agility drills. Not today, buddy.

I stood at the beginning of the track.

Hunched.

Primed.

Predatory.

And then I tensed.

It started in my thighs—muscles thickening, coils tightening, the sound of internal sinew grinding together like coiled chains awakening. My calves bulged, vascular lines lighting up beneath my skin like warning runes. A low thrummmm started to build, faint at first—barely audible even with my enhanced hearing—but it wasn’t a noise. It was potential energy begging for violence.

If I kicked backward right now, I’d erase a brick wall with nothing but quadricep contempt.

When the pressure reached critical mass, I focused forward and launched.

I didn’t run. I didn’t sprint.

I detonated.

My body erupted forward with such force that my own muscles screamed in orgasmic relief—a wet pop sound echoed down the corridor, like twenty decibels of muscular exhale.

I covered hundreds of meters in seconds, tearing down the artificial corridor with hurricane momentum, but I was right—speed began to taper the farther I went. Still, by the end of the track, I had clocked a full kilometer in just under sixty seconds. Accounting for the windup, I’d shaved almost half a minute off my old top speed.

Not bad.

I jogged back through the obstacle course—reflex testing time. The hurdles were a joke. I could practically moonwalk over them. The two-meter verticals took a bit of effort and alignment, but they weren’t a problem. My chosen leg augments were working, full stop.

But raw speed wasn’t everything.

I needed control. Precision. So I called for Kimchi.

Because when you need to test new reflexes, there’s nothing better than a gleeful sword cyclone who loves you too much to stop when you scream.

She accepted instantly, of course. We sparred for hours.

I kept overshooting steps, blowing openings in my guard because I hadn’t calibrated my balance yet. It was like trying to box while wearing rocket skates. But there was promise. Massive promise. I discovered that with a single backstep, I could now create gaps wide enough to reset engagements entirely.

Against Kimchi’s close-range flurry style? That was game-changing.

We trained for twelve hours.

Twelve.

After a week of floating bliss and nonstop affectionate saturation, I had poured myself into warplay like a starving god. And now I was wrecked. I should have taken power naps during augmentation. I hadn’t. Because I’m an idiot.

"Bed," I murmured aloud as I hobbled through the halls. "Bed now."

The path to my sleeping chamber took me past Crystal’s guards—tall, silent, anti-psionic mountains that had only tried to liquefy my brain once.

Usually, they ignored me. Today? All of them turned their heads in eerie synchrony and stared.

"Okay... what the fuck?" I muttered, uneased. "Did I forget someone’s birthday or are we back to whispering migraines again?"

They didn’t answer. They just watched.

Judging. Looming.

I limped faster.

When I reached my bed, nostalgia hit me square in the chest. I hadn’t touched this room in over a year—my old bed still intact, still surrounded by the faint echo of memories. Orchid had tried bringing in a backup mattress once, but I never used it.

But this bed... this bed had my bed bug.

She was already vibrating. Literally vibrating.

I’d been using Sapphire’s chonky body as a makeshift weighted blanket for months, but this little psionic cuddle-sponge? She was ready. Like a puppy on speed and love hormones.

I didn’t wait for Crystal or Kimchi.

I fell into bed, bed bug wrapped around me in a heartbeat, and was gone.

—

In the dreamless dark, Crystal stirred.

Her main body—a slumbering monument of incomprehensible biomass—twitched once. A single psionic eye flickered open.

"My lazy, perfect love," she whispered. "You fell asleep without me again. Unacceptable."

She descended a tentacle. Just one. A whisper of herself.

It curled up beside me in the bed like a warm coil of intelligent silk.

She knew the truth: I loved the shape she gave her humanoid body—loved it dearly—but what I craved was her psionic existence. Her self. Not her skin.

As if summoned by that truth, I instinctively turned in my sleep and crushed the tentacle into a bear hug.

Any human woman would’ve had their ribs pasteurized on the spot.

Crystal melted with pleasure. This was her bliss.

More tentacles slipped downward. Feather-light feelers caressed my chest, arms, hips, ribs. Normally I had a sixth sense—an anti-molestation alarm—that would bonk her or Kimchi with a pillow mid-grope, even while unconscious.

But now? No stirring. No resistance.

Her grip inched toward my most prized biological treasure.

And that’s when she hatched her plan.

— fɾēewebnσveℓ.com

Crystal’s consciousness leapt.

She jumped bodies.

Materialized in the arms of Kimchi’s infiltrator body, nestled deep in the Hive’s corridors.

Kimchi opened one eye and smiled softly. "Ah, my Queen... you awaken. Is something wrong?"

"Nothing at all," Crystal replied sweetly, her voice dripping with calculated serenity. "I simply needed a boost in processing speed. I’ll return to my task shortly. But I’m here for another reason."

Kimchi perked up.

"Our dear Irvine," Crystal lied through her smug crystalline grin, "asked me to relay something. He’s begun watching warfront coverage on his bio-pad while falling asleep—very irresponsible, I know—but he wanted you to create a special training environment for him. Something unique. Something only you could make."

Kimchi froze in delighted horror. "A... a unique course? For Irvine-love?"

Crystal nodded, playing her part to perfection. "He said—exact words—’Order my beautiful Kimchi to create a perfect training area for me. I trust her to do anything.’"

A pause.

Kimchi’s face turned red. Emotionally, not physically. Her thoughts derailed so hard she didn’t notice the lie. Irvine never said order. He asked. Begged, sometimes. But her deranged romantic logic filled in the blanks.

"He knew... he knew that if the request came through you, the weight would be greater. His love for me must be so profound that he trusted your mouth to carry his affection without loss."

"Exactly," Crystal purred, the most manipulative cunt in ten systems.

"Then... then I shall obey. Tell him that I shall create the greatest course ever conceived by prey or predator."

"Wonderful," Crystal cooed. "Oh, and I’ll leave my body here beside him. Just in case he wakes up. Feel free to move it if it’s in the way."

Kimchi nodded, already lost in planning training traps, assault drones, and seduction-tinted obstacle layouts.

And with that, Crystal returned to her tentacled body.

Returned to her plot.

—

The feelers resumed their journey.

My sleeping form remained blissfully unaware.

Crystal smiled.

All she wanted now was one little treat.

Just one.

And maybe—just maybe—she’d earn it before I woke up.

—

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