Reincarnated as a Mushroom?

The scalding kiss of steam curled against my neck as I leaned forward, palms pressed to the alloy tiles of the shower. After three days of bug bride stamina training with Kimchi, followed by warp travel and a casual brawl with human meat-sculptures, my body was done. Bone-deep fatigue sank in like a drug. Muscles softened. My brain oozed into stillness.

I let the water work its miracle.

When I finally stepped out — towel draped lazily across my neck, steam billowing around my shoulders like a divine aura — I walked straight into the kind of sitcom setup that would make a priest choke.

Kathrine was bent over in front of me, picking up a pen.

Her skin-tight utility suit might as well have been sprayed on by horny nanobots. It did nothing to hide the shape of her.

"Whoa," I muttered, casual as yawning. "That skin suit really doesn't leave anything to the imagination, huh?"

She glanced back, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, Irvine, naughty boy — were you checking me out while I was bent over?"

"Not really," I shrugged. "Just stating the obvious. Anyway, I'm ready to pass out. Where am I crashing tonight?"

"Your room's still being decontaminated, handsome. But don't worry — just for tonight, why not stay with me?" She pulled at her top with practiced faux-innocence, revealing the barest trace of cleavage. A look that said: I've already named the babies in my head.

I yawned. "Sure, works for me. Also, I don't mind if you want to crawl in too. It's your bed, after all."

My tone was so honest, so aggressively nonchalant, that it practically slapped her libido in the face.

I didn't register the seductive implication. I didn't even notice the mood.

I just collapsed face-first into the mattress, mumbled something incoherent, and promptly passed out.

Kathrine blinked at me from the foot of the bed.

"I thought he…? Doesn't he…? Ugh, whatever."

Her ego wasn't bruised — just slightly dinged. If a man that hot ignored her lingerie to sleep, he had to be genuinely exhausted. Or gay. But probably exhausted.

She left me to my unconsciousness and slipped out to go perform a ship-wide inspection.

---

Somewhere far removed from the greasy halls of the Thanatos, I slipped into the tranquil, twilit dreamscape of my Mindspace — where the stars were too close, the ground breathed beneath your feet, and your intrusive thoughts sometimes had names and teeth.

As soon as I arrived, I was tackled.

A blue psychic hippo launched herself into my chest like an affectionate bowling ball. Sapphire — my beloved psionic chonk — was in one of her "I need to squish you against my soul-fluff" moods.

"Hey there, gorgeous girl. Are you okay? Alright—hey, no teeth, get my arm out of your mouth—!"

Her version of cuddling was more like ceremonial bludgeoning with bonus saliva.

She dragged me around my inner realm like a prize, showing me off to trees and rocks that didn't give a shit. I let her. It was sweet in a slightly-deranged way. And besides, I had nothing better to do. Sometimes you just gotta let your psychic hippo walk you like a dog.

Hours passed like molasses on a warm plate.

Eventually she flopped beneath my Origin — the radiant sphere that hovered eternally above the central mesa of my Mindspace. Always pulsing. Always watching. Always vaguely judging me like a cosmic parental orb.

I lay beside her, gazing up at the Origin, comforted by its familiar presence… and yet vaguely disturbed by the fact that it and me were technically the same entity.

Then, the whisper hit.

> "Do not my universe."

I blinked.

The Origin stirred, wires and symbols flaring faintly.

And then she appeared.

Onyx. My resident psionic dominatrix. Manifesting from nothing like a deity with zero patience for philosophical navel-gazing.

"WHAT," she snarled at the Origin, "do you think you're doing whispering suicidal ideas into his subconscious, you glowing dumb baby?!"

Onyx turned to me, eyes searing with too much affection and far too much authority.

"My universe," she cooed, voice vibrating with threat and devotion. "Do not lower your defenses on this planet. Ever. I mean it."

She stepped forward, chains dragging behind her like accessories from an Eldritch goth catalog.

"I found something. Something big. There's a psionic force on this rock that's stronger than anything I've tasted in millennia. It's prey, but the kind that bites back. I'll deal with it — but until I give the all-clear, you keep your squishy ass wrapped in telepathic bubble wrap."

The Origin made a dismissive whum of disagreement.

It did not like being called a baby.

In retaliation, the dream-formed chains wrapped around Onyx's limbs went taut — then yanked — dragging her flailing and cursing down into the psychic soil like a goth carrot.

I sipped my mental tea and pretended this wasn't weird.

Then I leaned back onto Sapphire, used her flank as a pillow, and let more hours pass in serene meditation.

---

When I finally woke up, the ship was quiet.

I turned to my right. Kathrine was asleep — curled up at the far edge of the bed like a woman trying very hard not to accidentally spoon the war machine she invited in.

'Huh. That's refreshing,' I thought. 'Usually there's a horny bug cuddling my thigh and whispering about shared egg dreams.'

Curious, I lifted the blanket just enough to confirm a very scientific observation:

'Hmm. Not bad.'

Purple satin negligee. Lace trim. Silken cling. Definitely the kind of nightwear designed to accidentally flash someone reaching for the remote.

Kathrine stirred, blinking herself awake.

"Irvine? What are you doing?"

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you. Just checking if you were wearing clothes. That's a nice negligee, by the way."

"Oh, is that so, handsome?" she teased, voice still groggy. "Well it's only fair I get a peek at—oh my."

What she had seen, you ask?

Morning wood.

That noble phenomenon where testosterone throws a party while your brain is still booting up.

Kathrine had clearly expected me to get flustered. Apologetic. Or at least to notice the situation.

I did neither.

"Oh yeah, that happens sometimes," I said, waving it off like a sneeze. "Anyway I'm starving. Wanna grab breakfast?"

Kathrine's brain flatlined.

"Huh? Oh, right, yes—uh—you go ahead, handsome. I'll join you in five. Gotta put on my face and all that."

I nodded, scooped up Kiya from my armor like a phone with feelings, and sauntered out.

---

Ten seconds after I left, Kathrine let out a long sigh and rolled onto her stomach. She reached into her drawer, retrieved an old friend — an 8-inch vibrating baton — and gave it a reverent look.

"Oh Lysander," she murmured. "You've been a good boy. But after what I saw this morning… you may not make the cut anymore."

She crawled over to the side of the bed where I'd just been, biting her lip as she prepared to bid farewell to her ex with one final vibrating salute.

---

Meanwhile, in the mess hall, I found the early morning crowd still sparse. The scent of grease and overcooked protein wafted through the air.

"Oi! Irvine! Get over here, you slut!"

That was Ernie.

I turned. He and his brother — the beefy doppelgangers from last night — were seated with two other individuals.

Ernie was grinning like a dog that just found your shoe collection.

"Jaw feeling better?" I asked, sliding into the seat.

"Right as rain, good buddy. Just a dislocation. Shame though — this one's pissed I can't go down on her for a few days."

"ERNIE!"

The small brunette beside him turned beet red.

"Sorry, sir," she stammered, "he doesn't mean to be so—he's just—he's always like this."

I waved it off. "No big deal. I'm sure with those shovels for hands, he can make up for it."

Ernie nearly spat out his drink, his laugh booming like a war drum. "HA! Damn straight! Oh yeah — forgot to introduce her. This here's Janet."

I offered a half-bow and my best charming smile. "A pleasure to meet you, my lady."

Janet blushed so hard she nearly combusted.

Ernie leaned in. "Ohh-hoo, you're a lady now, huh? Bet getting kissed by pretty-boy over here got you all tingly."

"Shut up, idiot," Janet hissed, eyes locked on her plate.

I turned to the other twin. "You took a nap via knockout last night, so let's do this properly. I'm Irvine. Kathrine's personal hire for this mission."

"Pleasure's mine, pal. Anyone who can floor Ernie gets a gold star in my book. Name's Bertram — but just call me Bert."

He clapped the dark-skinned man beside him on the back.

"This tall drink of espresso is my husband, Paul."

I shook his hand — no kiss this time.

"Nice to meet you, Paul."

"You too, Irvine. And for the record — as much as I love watching Bert fight, it was extremely satisfying seeing you flatten Ernie after he sucker-punched him."

"Sucker-punch?! Bullshit!" Ernie barked. "He hit below the belt! Took out my manhood like a coward!"

"You were losing!" Bert shot back. "You always say that when I'm winning!"

They both stood up.

"You want round two, pussy?"

"You wouldn't know what to do with a pussy if it gave you directions!"

"Boys!" Janet squeaked. "CALEB said no fighting!"

The twins grumbled and sat.

I raised an eyebrow at Paul. "This normal?"

"Every damn day," he sighed. "It's how they love each other. Via fists."

"The purest form of love!" Ernie bellowed.

"If you can beat the shit out of someone and still be brothers," Bert added, "you'll never lose each other."

They man-shook across the table, suddenly bros again.

I stole some of their breakfast and joined the conversation for a while, getting to know them all.

"Hey, by the way," I asked mid-bite, "when do we take off?"

The entire table stared at me.

Ernie blinked. "Man, were you balls-deep in Kathrine or what? We left five hours ago. Ship shook like a bitch in a wind tunnel."

"Huh?"

I stood, walked to the nearest viewport… and sure enough: space.

Stars. Darkness. The glittering horizon of the upper atmosphere far behind us.

I walked back to the table sulking.

"What's wrong?" Bert asked.

"I wanted to see the launch," I pouted.

They all laughed.

Like a lot.

I didn't even care. It was a valid complaint.