Reincarnated as a Mushroom?-Chapter 72 - 71: The Craving That Broke Crystal’s Composure

Chapter 72: Chapter 71: The Craving That Broke Crystal’s Composure

Chapter 71: The Craving That Broke Crystal’s Composure

Kimchi looked absolutely wrecked — not physically, no. The bitch was glowing as usual, thighs firm enough to decapitate a man and hair woven with bioluminescent threads like a goddess on combat steroids. But spiritually? Mentally? Emotionally? She was a collapsed lung in a silk dress.

"I’m issuing a cock embargo," I told them both bluntly. "Zero Irvine insertion. For the rest of the trip. Not negotiable."

Kimchi wilted.

Onyx, ever the actress, let out a soft sigh of faux melancholy and clutched my discarded spacesuit like it was a love letter soaked in pheromones. But I saw right through her bullshit. She already knew this was coming — after all, she never specified when she’d be "next." That little technicality had baited Kimchi into a libido-driven war she couldn’t win, and now Onyx got to play the innocent bystander while secretly laughing herself into her non-existent sleeves.

I maintained my supervision throughout the remainder of the ship’s night cycle. Miraculously, it passed without further seduction attempts or war crimes. I found myself musing — not for the first time — on how these two entities, both technically pieces of the same all-consuming Crystal, could be so damn different.

Kimchi and Onyx shared genetic code, psionic lineage, divine architecture. And yet one would stab a volcano to make me smile, while the other would impersonate the volcano and then ask if I liked the temperature.

Why?

Was it my boon — that cosmic cheat code baked into my soul? Was I shaping their identities through sheer narrative gravity? Or were they simply that good at mimicry? Did they mutate for me out of love, or out of survival instinct?

The thought had circled me like a lazy shark for weeks. Hundreds of hours spent gnawing on that philosophical bone, and I still hadn’t cracked it. Not even close.

Returning to the present, I found myself laying in bed — not sleeping, mind you, because relaxation was an endangered species on this ship — but resting. Onyx had turned her massive, plush chest into a pillow behind me, while Kimchi, straddling my waist, was executing a massage so criminally divine it was practically outlawed in seven systems.

She kneaded muscle and tension with the unerring precision of a sex-savant trained by ancient biomechanical monks. Occasionally, her inner thighs would just so happen to glide along my rapidly stiffening friend like a low-budget porn soundtrack waiting to happen. Subtle. Sneaky. Slutty. Classic Kimchi.

But I had trained under worse. I’d endured erotic brainwashing, erotic kidnapping, and at least one episode of erotic interrogation involving liquid latex and planetary war crimes. I would not falter.

So when Kimchi finally purred, "Orchid wishes for kisses as payment," I granted her a few. Harmless indulgence. Not technically sex.

Our mouths collided. It was sloppy and heated and tasted vaguely of whatever nutrient paste they’d shoved down her throat that day. She was delighted. I could tell by the way she glanced over at Onyx mid-makeout, clearly trying to one-up her like a toddler showing off a glitter macaroni drawing.

But Onyx? That bitch was smiling. Smiling like she knew something. Like she’d already checkmated the whole damn board.

That should have been my cue.

Before I could pull away, a hand slid down into my trousers — warm, insistent, familiar. "What are you doing?" I asked, deadpan, locking eyes with Kimchi.

"Orchid desires a nutritious drink," she said with a lust-soaked purr that could have melted steel.

I nearly cracked. But I didn’t.

Instead, I launched into disciplinary mode, grabbing the closest water bottle and doing what any rational man would do when confronted with two horny insects trying to commit war crimes against his groin: I squirted them like cats on a countertop.

"Bad bugs!" I said with each spray. "Bad!"

They did not resist. Kimchi, in fact, looked half-orgasmic. The punishment was foreplay. Of course it was. I should’ve seen that coming too.

Onyx opened her mouth to protest — probably with some smug self-justification about how she didn’t do anything wrong — but I cut her off.

"Don’t even try it," I said, voice dropping into Onyx’s own deadpan register. "Kimchi wouldn’t have started pawing at my cock unless someone was psychically whispering encouragement. And since there’s only three of us in the room, and I certainly wasn’t doing it to myself... I blame you."

Caught. She lowered her gaze like a chastised cat caught unraveling the couch.

Then, I deployed the ace up my sleeve.

"You may stay if you want," I told them. "But I should warn you — it’s about to get a little crowded in here."

The psychic portal bloomed like a blossom made of gravity and thought. With a squelch and shimmer, the room was suddenly filled with a lot more woman. Specifically, one incredibly fat, incredibly smug, chonky girl: Sapphire.

The walking mattress of mindspace herself slinked into existence, stretching with the grace of a cat that had just finished digesting a small galaxy.

"Sapphire," I whispered, "protect me from the two sexually devious women over there."

She did not need to be told twice.

Half her body collapsed on top of me like a sentient weighted blanket, the other half braced against the floor, her impossibly thick tail coiled in readiness. Muscles flexed like coiled plasma conduits. She turned to my would-be molesters, bared her fangs, and rumbled a warning growl low enough to rattle the bulkheads.

Kimchi let out a snarl in response and stormed out in a huff — not because she was angry at me, gods no, but because she was furious with herself for getting baited into screwing up again. Her pride bruised, her frustration palpable, she retreated to the kitchen for consolation in the form of refrigerated dog meat.

Meanwhile, Onyx did what she did best: guilt-tripped in total silence. "I thought we were bonding," she whispered, voice trembling, eyes misty. "Roommates. Allies. Sisters in semen."

And then she ghosted out, slinking into the ship to go scare the absolute fuck out of Ronnie again. Poor kid.

---

Scene Transition: Apollo Minor – Nest World

Crystal was suffering.

Not in the typical sense. Not in the "my empire is crumbling" or "my biomass is starving" way.

No, this was a dry spell.

She had not been touched by Irvine in over a week, and it was killing her. Metaphorically, yes. But spiritually? Existentially? She was a withered slut-god begging the void for relief.

She had considered possessing Kimchi for a brief joyride — just an hour. A taste. But no, that would look weak. Desperate. Disgraceful.

She even considered temporarily overriding that festering bio-cultist she’d absorbed last month. But that thing wouldn’t last a second. It would explode from sheer psionic exposure before her metaphorical clit even twitched.

So she distracted herself.

In front of her was a nest pod. Slow pulses. Internal twitching. It held the warrior Irvine had marked over a week ago — now growing, mutating, reshaped by his sacred energy alone.

Crystal made a mental note:

> "Seventh observation of warrior gene variant #5’875’162’126’026. Growth continues without supplemental biomass. Subject now matches freethinker-class in volume. Current pod no longer sufficient. Designing larger containment, equivalent to elite royal guard size. Overcautious? Perhaps. But excess biomass can be reabsorbed."

The note was filed in her mind — specifically, in the most secure sector of her internal memory web: the Irvine Archive.

Her Irvine data was more fortified than any throneworld. Triple encrypted. Quintupled. Sealed by self-destructing logic nodes in case of tampering. Her love for him had become its own defense protocol.

Leaving the pod to finish, Crystal vacated her throne-body and jumped consciousness to another shell. To distract herself. To manage her empire. To maybe find something — anything — to make her forget the ache between her psychic thighs.

She dispatched another wave of fleet-fingers through the void, chasing anomalies and stray psionic frequencies. Maybe she’d find a new war. Maybe she’d find a new god.

But what she really wanted... was her Irvine.

---

End of Chapter

Author’s Note: A Heartfelt Message from Me to You

Hey lovely reader, freewēbnoveℓ.com

Before you scroll away or dive into another story, I just want to take a moment to speak straight from my heart. If you made it this far into my story, then you are truly something special. Your time, your emotions, your thoughts and those few minutes you gave me mean more than I could ever explain. Writing is not just words on a page for me. It is a heartbeat. It is a dream. And seeing you here means I am not dreaming alone.

If you smiled, cried, gasped, or even got mad while reading, then I have done my job. And if you felt something — even the tiniest bit — I would love to ask you for a tiny favor that would mean the absolute world to me. Would you please vote for this story?

I know it might sound like a small thing. Just a little click. But to a writer like me, that click is louder than thunder. That click says, I believe in you. That click pushes me to write better, love harder, and keep building the world you are falling into.

Your vote is not just a number. It is a hug. It is a cheer. It is the light at the end of my most frustrating writing nights. Sometimes I stare at the screen and wonder if anyone out there truly cares. But then I see a vote, a kind comment, or a little heart and suddenly everything feels possible again.

So please, if you enjoyed even a single Chapter or if you want to see where this story leads, drop a vote. I am not too proud to beg. I am literally down on my knees — in my imagination of course — holding out my hands like a character in a romantic drama and whispering with puppy eyes, Please vote.

Thank you so much for reading. For caring. For being part of this journey. Every vote is like a tiny wish, and together we can make magic.

With love and a whole lot of hope,

Your ever-grateful author

Follow current novels on freewe(b)novel.c(o)m