Reincarnated as a Mushroom?-Chapter 92 - Ninety-One:Of Bloodsong and Morning Hunger: The Witch, the Knife, and the Sausage Divine

Chapter Ninety-One:

Of Bloodsong and Morning Hunger: The Witch, the Knife, and the Sausage Divine

—

The elevator chimed with mechanical cheer, as if it hadn’t just been used to transport two wildly incompatible energies in an enclosed steel coffin.

One of them was Elias, a high-strung culinary prodigy with the emotional grace of a stressed-out warthog. The other was Keyla—technically part of Sophia’s cult, more accurately a gleeful murder-pixie with an oral fixation and zero respect for personal boundaries.

The elevator ride had lasted thirty seconds. To Elias, it was an eternity of giggled threats and unsolicited commentary.

"You go whip up some brekky, okay, grumpy-pants?" Keyla chirped sweetly as she practically shooed the man toward the kitchen. "I’m gonna go wake up Mr. Apollo."

She didn’t wait for a reply. Elias was already speed-walking toward the opposite end of the apartment like he was being chased by a swarm of bees armed with daddy issues.

Keyla snorted. "What crawled up his ass and died?"

She glanced around. No signs of Irvine yet. Good. Very good. She still had time to make good on her very specific, very perverted mission: catching him mid-change, ideally shirtless, ideally flustered, and ideally with morning wood trying to break through his pants like an overachieving potted plant.

She crept up the stairs like an erotic raccoon, limbs soft, footsteps silent. Her hands reached for the doorknob of Irvine’s bedroom and twisted with reverent stealth.

The door opened.

The scent hit her like a truck full of pheromones and bad decisions.

A pungent mix of sweat, post-coital psionic residue, and male release. The kind of thick, cloying smell that only occurred after someone had either had an extremely good time or died very, very happily.

Keyla took a deep inhale like she was mainlining incense.

"Ooh. Someone got wrecked. Who’s the lucky bi—"

Something moved.

Before her instincts could fire, she was airborne—flipped upside down, mouth covered, hips supported, completely suspended by a creature far too fast and far too graceful for her to react to.

For a full five seconds, she dangled like a caught rabbit.

Then her captor—no, her evaluator—carried her downstairs without ceremony and deposited her on the couch with the calm detachment of a museum curator arranging an exhibit.

The creature spoke.

"Keyla is your name, yes?"

No time for answer. Just forward motion.

"You take joy in murder. You kill with aesthetic and rhythm. Even before Sophia inducted you, your mind was... volatile. Unstable. Erratic. Now those fluctuations are becoming patterned. Like my second form. Curious."

The creature—Onyx, she realized—spoke with glacial poise. Not cruel. Not kind. Just... focused.

"I would devour you to see how your mind tastes. But Irvine has taken a liking to you. So you are... exempt. For now."

Onyx’s obsidian eyes scanned her as if measuring every violent inch of her soul.

"Tell me, little wolf: why do you love killing your own species?"

Keyla blinked.

Then, she told the truth.

"Well, I was eight. Watched both my parents get gangbanged to death in front of me. Not the fun kind. Twelve guys. Horrifying for a little while. Then something inside me snapped. Or woke up. Hard to tell. Either way, I butchered all twelve. Used a dining fork and a rolling pin. Delicious."

She licked her lips, remembering.

"Since then, I’ve had this voice. Bloodcalls. A whisper at first, then a roar. Every time I kill, it praises me. Makes me stronger. If I get soaked in the blood? Temporary strength boost. Real berserker shit. And let me tell you, when I bathe in it?"

Her eyes sparkled.

"Orgasmic."

Onyx said nothing.

So Keyla continued.

"Before Sophia found me, I was this close to letting the voice take over. I was right on the edge. Ready to carve my name into the next twenty people I met. Then she dropped that parasite in my brain—ate half the voices."

She smiled.

"But then Irvine showed up. And the voices? Silent. Not gone. Not weak. Just... calm. They whisper now. They advise. They purr. He makes them... behave."

Onyx tilted her head.

"Truth."

Keyla laughed.

"Alright, alright, busted. Fine. That first part was true. Parents really did die in a gangbang. But I also killed them myself. Didn’t mean to—at first. I got carried away. Then I liked it. Then I couldn’t stop."

She leaned closer.

"The call of the blood is my psionic ability. I’ll show you later. I merged with the voices ages ago. Became their queen. Until Irvine showed up, they still tried to take over sometimes, but now? They listen. Like trained dogs. He tames even the insane."

Silence again.

Then Onyx nodded.

"I like you."

Keyla blinked.

"You what?"

"I like you. Irvine needs someone like you—someone not bound by convention. Someone who sees madness as potential. You are... necessary. I require an extra pair of hands. Interested?"

Keyla grinned wide enough to show teeth.

"Only if I get to bite."

—

Elsewhere—

I woke up to heat. Wetness. Pressure. The warm kind of pressure that you don’t dare move from in case it stops.

My eyes opened.

Green eyes stared back. Onyx. Smiling like a cat who knew exactly what mouse she was playing with.

I reached up, brushing her face gently. She leaned in for a kiss. Warm. Deep. Loving.

Halfway through, I realized something was still happening down below.

I pulled up the sheets.

Keyla.

Naked.

Determined.

Attempting—heroically, if not realistically—to devour the entirety of a biological weapon masquerading as my dick.

She was gagging rhythmically. A beautiful sight, if a bit concerning.

I looked up at Onyx.

"I told you girls to stop taking liberties with me in my sleep. That rule also applies to recruiting support staff."

"I tried to stop her. She insisted."

"Uh-huh."

"To be fair," Onyx added, voice smooth as psionic silk, "she is performing exceptionally. You should be proud."

"I am. But I’m also surprised. I expected you to be more... possessive. If Kimchi caught someone doing this—well, the room would be a blood sauna."

Onyx gave a smile that somehow glowed green.

"I care more for your pleasure than my jealousy. Besides—Keyla and I are working together now. And humans place great importance on team-building exercises."

I groaned.

Then sighed.

Then guided Keyla’s head gently, encouraging her depth like a proud but perverted coach.

Not long after, she received the reward she had worked all night to earn. She swallowed greedily, licked her lips, and smiled like she’d just completed a sacred rite.

"I only came over to watch you change. I didn’t plan on getting my tonsils obliterated by alien meat."

I patted her head.

"I’m assuming you wanted to do that and weren’t ordered to?"

"Oh no. One hundred percent consensual cock consumption."

Good enough.

I dressed casually—with Keyla’s help, because of course she volunteered—and headed downstairs. The table had already been set with two plates.

Keyla squealed.

"No Sophia? Hell yes! Second breakfast!"

She dove onto Sophia’s untouched meal like a starving gremlin. I sat down at my own place. Onyx hovered behind me, hands politely folded.

"You not going to eat?"

"I am sustained for another two weeks, my universe."

"That’s not what I asked."

I grabbed her wrist and pulled her down onto my lap.

"You wore yourself out last night. You are going to eat."

She hesitated. Then, voice soft and oddly shy: "Feed me."

I chuckled. Forked a thick bratwurst. Took a bite. Then fed her the next.

She chewed, cheeks pink.

"It’s good, right? Elias may be an emotionally constipated goblin, but the guy can cook."

"Mmh," she nodded. "Very good. Though I did have a much larger, tastier sausage last night."

Her hand moved to stroke said sausage.

I bonked her lightly on the head with the flat of my palm.

"No. We had fun last night. Don’t turn into the other two—my insatiable cum demons."

She held her head with exaggerated pain.

"Yes, my love. Apologies. Feed me the lesser sausage, then. I shall wait patiently for the divine one later."

While we played our ridiculous little lovers’ game, Keyla finished inhaling her meal and turned to watch us, a slow grin spreading across her face like ink in water.

She leaned back, fingers laced behind her head.

"You’ll look at me like that soon enough, my king."

---

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

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