Welcome Ceremony: Broken Wings and Plastic Nightmare

Hum. Hum. Hum.

The world was drowning in tinnitus. Hundreds of fluorescent tubes, flickering at the ragged end of their lifespan, seemed to scream in unison—a mechanical pulse that did not strike the eardrums so much as scrape the deepest folds of the brain with a steel chopstick.

"Nn... nngh..."

Lee Na-bi forced her heavy eyelids open. Her lashes trembled, and a blurred field of vision slowly resolved. The first thing she saw was the ceiling: yellowed, discolored tiles blotched with black mold, the damp wallpaper below them peeling away from the walls like skin in the grip of some wasting disease.

Where... is this?

Her thoughts moved as if the circuitry of her mind had stalled. She remembered nothing—not why she was wearing nothing but a thin hospital gown, not why she was sprawled across this strange, sodden carpet. A stench punched into her lungs. Rotten water. Old dust. And something coppery and unclean beneath it all: the smell of dried, clotted blood.

Instinctive terror seized her. She had to get up. She could not stay here. She planted a slender arm against the floor and strained to push her torso upright.

Her palm sank into the carpet with a wet, clinging squelch. The texture was repulsive—damp and sticky, like the fur of a soaked animal. She heaved her head up, trying to get her knees under her—

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

And something vast and cold pressed down on the crown of her skull.

It was not a human hand. There was no warmth in it at all: only an ice-hard, rigid weight. That overwhelming force drove Na-bi's face into the floor.

"Ah...?"

Her cheek scraped across the coarse carpet. A presence registered behind her. No breathing. But the pressure of an enormous mass standing at her back crawled up her spine. Frozen with terror, she rolled her eyes, wrenched her creaking neck around, and looked up.

Her heart seemed to stop.

It wore the shape of a man, but it was no man. A hulking frame well over six feet tall. Upper-body muscle swollen to a bodybuilder's grotesque extreme. Arms so freakishly long they hung past its knees. And worst of all was the skin: smooth, pallid plastic. A face as blank as a peeled egg, every feature wiped away, stared down at her without expression.

It wore no clothes. Between those smooth plastic thighs, a hideous mass of writhing red flesh hung and swung like a pendulum.

"H-hiiik?! S-somebody help—!"

Na-bi screamed and scrabbled backward. Her legs would not obey her; she shoved herself away on her ass, grinding over the filthy carpet. But the thing would not permit its toy to flee.

Slowly—so slowly—it extended one of those long arms. A plastic hand approaching as if in slow motion, every joint announcing itself with a mechanical click, click.

It closed.

"Aah!"

The Greeter's hand seized her right arm. Not the wrist—just above the elbow, crushing down as if it meant to powder the bone. The gesture might have been a handshake offered to a welcome guest. The grip was anything but.

"It hurts! It hurts! Let go!"

She hammered at the back of its hand with her free fist. It was like striking a block of stone. The Greeter cocked its head. That smooth face twisted at a grotesque angle. Then, the way a child might play with a doll's arm, it took hold of her elbow and applied force in the wrong direction.

A sound of bone screaming. Ligaments and muscle drew taut, reaching their breaking point—a rapid-fire popping, then a snap.

"Ah—aaagh!"

A wet, splintering crack tore through the silence of the lobby. Na-bi's right elbow folded to an impossible angle. The joint inverted, and white bone punched through the skin like a tent pole. Blood fountained from the torn flesh and spattered across the thing's smooth plastic face.

"AAAAAAAGH!!!!!"

She rolled on the floor, screaming like an animal. The terrible cold of marrow exposed to air. Severed nerve bundles firing a burning pain straight into her brain. The world strobed white. She could not breathe.

It was pain that would have dropped an ordinary person into shock. But her cursed flesh would not let her go.

It had no mouth, but a droning laughter welled from the hollow of its belly. As if it found the bleeding, writhing girl adorable, it stroked her face with a blood-slicked hand. Every pass of those cold, tacky plastic fingers over her cheek raised a crawl of gooseflesh.

Then it went for her clothes.

The cheap hospital gown tore like paper. Buttons popped and rolled across the floor. Na-bi's pale, starved body was laid bare under the jaundiced fluorescent light: a malnourished frame with the ribs showing, small breasts shrunk tight with terror, thighs shaking uncontrollably. Naked, she curled in on herself and trembled against the carpet.

The Greeter snatched both her ankles in one hand and hoisted her upside down like a side of meat in a butcher's shop.

"Aaaagh!"

Blood rushed to her head. The world inverted. Her shattered right arm dangled under its own weight, the torn wound splitting wider, and every time a loose shard of bone stabbed into muscle her whole body convulsed.

"Put me down... please... I'm sorry..."

Hanging in midair, she beat and clawed at its hard plastic arm with her one good hand. It was like striking a boulder with an egg. Her nails split. She could not so much as scratch it. The Greeter slammed her against the wall. Cold wallpaper met her back and her buttocks.

And then it took hold of the red muscle hanging from its groin.

It was less an organ than a weapon. More than a foot long, its surface bristled with lumpy nodules instead of veins—a crude, coarse mass of flesh that looked as if industrial rubber had been hastily mashed together. A yellowish lubricating slime dripped from the tip, soaking into the carpet below.

A wet slap. A tap. The thing's weapon kissed the narrow cleft between her legs. There was no foreplay. No lubrication. It had found a hole, and so it would fill it. The hot, massive head forced itself against her dry entrance.

"Hhk?! N-no! It'll tear—!"

A thick, wet punch of penetration.

The scream would not come. Something far too large was forcing its way through a passage nowhere near ready to receive it. A ripping. A tear. Her opening stretched past its limit, and she heard, with terrible clarity, the sound of her perineum splitting—the sound of skin bursting. Na-bi's eyes rolled back. Her breath locked in her throat. A pressure as if her organs would be driven out through her mouth clamped down on her ribcage.

The Greeter crushed her hips in both hands and hammered its waist into her, each thrust a blow from a mallet. Every time it buried itself, her small skull knocked against the wall.

"Ghhk! Nngh! Ah, aah...!"

The dangling bone of her right arm scraped raw nerves with every jolt, and between her legs a pain like fire tore her open. The hard nodules studding its shaft rasped down her inner walls like sandpaper. This was no smooth piston. It was a coarse file, shaving away tender mucous membrane, and into the scraped-raw flesh the thing's acrid slime seeped like salt water. The sting and the agony threatened to paralyze everything below her waist.

"Help... me... it's too... big... my stomach..."

Her lower belly rose and fell, bulging obscenely with every inward stroke. Her cervix was forced open. That hideous head slammed into it, shoving her uterus up against her stomach. A grinding, splintering noise as her pelvic bones were wrenched apart. Na-bi's mouth hung slack; spit and bile ran from the corner of her lips. This was not sex. It was a durability test performed on a living body.

It did not stop. Her refusal to die only fed its sadism. The Greeter rammed itself to the deepest point—to a dead end where nothing more could fit—and held there.

A pressurized gush. A long, shuddering pulse.

"Hhk! Nnnngh...!"

Her body bowed like a drawn bow. Its semen erupted like a high-pressure washer. Hot, rank fluid battered her wounded uterine wall, exceeded all capacity, refluxed into her fallopian tubes, and climbed her esophagus until she ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠could taste it.

A heavy, liquid slosh. Another. Her lower belly swelled taut as a pregnant woman's. Beneath the stretched skin, the waves of hot fluid were plainly visible.

The pumping went on and on. When it was done, The Greeter shuddered as if satisfied. Then, without a shred of mercy, it pulled itself free.

A wet, sucking tear. A long, viscous drag.

"Ah...?"

The sound of inner walls that had been vacuum-sealed around it being ripped apart. As that enormous weapon withdrew, the entrance it had forced so wide failed to close, twitching and gaping. The colossal volume of semen and blood that had packed her belly poured out through the uncorked hole in a sudden rush—a heavy splash, then a long, running spill. The flood ran down her thighs and pooled on the floor. A horrible, hollow emptiness. And the searing of red inner flesh turned inside out.

"Hah... hah..."

Na-bi's eyes were rolled to the whites, her breath coming in tatters. The Greeter did not let her rest. The way one disposes of trash after use, it took her by the ankle and began to drag her.

Her back scraped over the coarse carpet. Friction peeled the skin from it. Her broken arm bounced and struck the floor. Worse than the sting of the abrasion was the knowledge that she was being hauled along with her legs spread wide open.

Then, from the darkness, other mechanical sounds began to gather. A click. A clatter. A tick. Mannequins with twisted joints emerged one by one. The moment they saw the freshly broken-in newcomer The Greeter was dragging in, they cocked their heads at grotesque angles. Their attention was not on her face. It was fixed on the gaping, twitching space between her legs, and on the trail of semen painted across the floor.

Dozens of shadows reached for her. The Greeter tossed her into the middle of the pack—the way one throws out feed.

"Ah... ah..."

Na-bi tried to curl her shaking body inward, but the broken arm and the ruined lower half would not obey. Smooth plastic hands closed in from every side. Tonight, she was destined to take every last ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠monster in this lobby.