The Tales of the Legendary Mimic : Momo

whatsoever we take home, becomes a part of it

Her mind roared, but her body hung helplessly.

The muscular pillars around the gem began to move.

They converged, thick cords of living flesh curling inward like a closing fist. The gem vanished inside a sudden knot of pulsing mass.

When the flesh peeled back again, the gem was gone.

In its place, a single enormous eye stared at her.

The sclera throbbed with faint veins of light. In the centre, the pupil had been replaced with a grotesque, puckered sucker—like a leech’s mouth fused to the iris. From the outer edge of the eye, intestinal tentacles unfurled, thick and sinuous, writhing out into the fluid around her.

Siri felt a strange warmth spread through her underwear—fear tearing straight through to humiliation. Terror had pushed her body beyond its threshold.

The sucker‑pupil extended on a short, fleshy stalk and began to probe the fluid around her, sniffing without a nose, tasting the space.

“Move,” screaming her head as her lips were frozen as well. “Move!”

She forced everything she had into a single effort and managed only to jerk her head an inch to the side.

It wasn’t enough.

She felt exposed. Naked. Weak. Like a sacrifice laid on a slaughter table.

For a heartbeat, she could have sworn the sucker twisted into a cruel approximation of a grin.

Then it lunged.

It slammed against her mouth.

At first, there was only pressure. A horrible, rubbery seal over her lips.

Then her lips were forced apart.

Something cold and slimy pushed past her teeth, thick and blobby, writhing over her tongue and sliding down her throat. She tried to gag, to bite, to scream—nothing answered. Her body was a dead weight under someone else’s control.

The thing burrowed deeper, an invasive, living mass crawling into her, coiling inward until it settled low in her abdomen.

Into her womb.

Her mind lurched. No. No no no—

The psychic pressure finally eased. The gigantic eye blinked once, slow and satisfied, then withdrew into the shifting flesh. Darkness thickened. The nest’s rhythmic pulsing returned to its earlier, deceptive calm.

Siri’s consciousness wavered, black at the e

She woke again to movement.

Cold metal under her boots. Harsh light stabbing at her eyes. The distant roar of engines.

“Doctor Siri? Doctor—hey! Is that you? What happened? Where’s the rest of your team?”

A soldier’s voice broke through the blur. Hands grabbed her arm, steadying her as she staggered.

Siri’s vision doubled, then aligned. The facility’s loading bay stretched out ahead, a convoy preparing to leave. Vehicles idled, doors open, med staff shouting orders.

“Get me out of here,” she rasped. Her voice cracked into a scream. “GET ME OUT OF HERE, NOW!”

Her eyes burned, tiny lines of blood seeping from the corners. One hand clutched her abdomen on instinct.

The soldier followed her gaze and froze.

Her belly bulged unnaturally, the contour wrong, shifting as if something inside were… moving. A faint, seething fluid soaked through her clothes.

He didn’t understand. Couldn’t. But he didn’t hesitate.

“Med team!” he shouted. “We’ve got a survivor! She’s hurt—move it!”

They hustled her toward the nearest med‑vault vehicle, lifting her inside as the doors slammed shut behind them. Needles, straps, frantic questions—all blurred into a distant hum.

None of them knew.

None of them realised that whatever Siri carried inside her was no injury at all

only a disaster in gestation.

Siri slumped against the cot, the engine’s rumble fading into a dull, monotonous lullaby.

Please, she thought dimly, eyes fluttering closed. If death is listening… now would be a good time. Do what I begged you for before all this.

But death, as always, had other plans.