Project Tendril Ch. 01

The life of a botanist isn't always sunshine and roses...

Author's note: This is Part 1 of a 3-part story arc and is a light look at alien botanicals rather than the usual Nonhuman Vamps, Weres and mythical creatures. It isn't intended to make the "Reality Check" some readers find crucial. Rather, it is an exercise in Willing Suspension of Disbelief. In the interests of Full Disclosure, this one is partly Erotic Couplings as well as Nonhuman. Please vote -- it is like applause. It lets me know how I'm doing, pleasing you, the reader.

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"Hey, Sonja! Would you dispose of specimen trays XA-12, 13 and 14 before you leave tonight?"

The woman asking was a middle-aged brunette in a white lab coat. "We're wrapping up the project and we won't need them anymore."

"Seriously, Marge?" Sonja asked in return. She was an attractive young woman with short red hair, also in a white lab coat. "They're really pulling the plug on the genetic crossing of that stuff we got off the meteorite?"

"Yeah, I know... it's stupid," Marge answered, letting her disappointment and irritation show. "The bean counters haven't got a clue what this is about, and the bloody NSA won't let us tell them it's actually alien RNA we're working with. DNA, really, with a hole in one of the O₂ chains. And we are so bloody close to getting a splice to actually take. But no... 'waste of time and money', 'other priorities', 'save your notes, preserve the primary genetic material, trash everything else'... I think that's all they know how to say! Like trained monkeys..."

Sonja smiled slightly as she shook her head. Marge had been Director long before Sonja had joined, and was as dedicated as they came. In a weird twist of bureaucratic irony, the super-secret labs doing research on acquired alien artifacts were managed under the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency and any covert operations managed by DARPA tended not to see the light of day. The researchers lived in their own little cocoons, unable to talk about their work to others -- or at least, others who weren't coworkers. It rankled Marge that the totally oblivious bean counters could fuck up the lab's hard work without a clue of what was really happening, and Sonja could appreciate her feelings.

"You know, Marge, that set of the various ivy strains would make really nice houseplants," Sonja mused. "You think it would be okay if I took a couple home with me? Add a little spice to the apartment?"

Marge thought about it for a minute.

"Yeah, I guess it'd be okay," she decided. "At least they'd get a decent home and not the incinerator. Swing by my office before you leave. I'll have a property pass for you. But keep it to less than a dozen, would you? We're not running a Plant Rescue Service here."

"I was only thinking a couple, Marge, honest," Sonja hurried to reassure her boss. "Of the ivy. Maybe three, with the others, at the most... or maybe four..."

"Yeah? That's what I thought..." Marge eyed her skeptically. "Four is your limit. Period. And no begging, wheedling, cajoling or other attempts to unduly influence me. I'm going to go clean up and get ready to head home. If I'm gone, Cynthia will have the paperwork waiting. Have a good night."

"Good night, Marge," Sonja answered her with a nod, then turned back to her work as the Director walked away.

That really sucks, she thought to herself as she finished cataloging the last of the new samples for Josie's new project. There's something about that meteor slime I really like... God knows I've been all over Hell's Half-acre trying to figure out what it is and how it works. And now they're just going to throw it all in the deep freeze until another somebody comes along with an inquisitive mind and budget clout.

This just really, really sucks... and with that final thought, she closed out of the catalog application and headed over to the Project Tendril workstation. It took her over two hours to collect all the alien slime samples and get them logged into the secure cryostasis storage. Then she went and looked over all the "Failure" samples to be trashed and picked out four she particularly liked.

Being a research botanist with dual B.S.'s in Phytochemistry and Genetics, and a Master's in Molecular Biology, her home looked like a terrarium that had exploded. Just taking a shower at her place was like stepping into deep, dark jungle. And she couldn't resist adding to her collection whenever she came across something particularly interesting. "Alien slime" had "interesting" written all over it. But she wasn't going to be allowed to take the samples home. The best she could do was take a few reminders of the very, very interesting subject matter.

In the end, she chose a variety of anthurium, Anthurium digitatum to be precise, and a Hedera Helix ivy, a wonderfully pink-tinged white Hibiscus arnottianus and a thriving, rich green Nephrolepis exaltata fern. All had been the subject of multiple attempts to splice alien DNA into them and although none had showed any evidence of success, neither did they get sick and die.

Sonja packaged up her "take away" and went in search of the official blessing she needed in order to leave the compound with them, idly thinking another kind of "take away" would be good to grab on the way home. She didn't feel like cooking, and her life as a researcher left her with precious little time to try the dating scene. She did admit to getting horny from time to time, but various toys and a few favorite porno movies took care of that. Unless she got really randy, but that only happened a couple of times a year, and she could usually hunt down a cooperative stud.

The few successful male relationships she'd had since college were generally coworkers, or worked in related fields, and they always seemed to get stationed in New Guinea or some shit, and it was impossible to keep the relationship going. Recently, she'd been seriously considering what it would take to get a combination girlfriend-roommate, to help with both the bills and the libido. But she'd set that particular line of thought aside when they'd acquired the alien slime.

Marge wasn't in her office, but Cynthia had the property passes made out and authorized, and all Sonja had to do was pick them up and head out through the guard station. She showed her passes and opened her carrier for inspection and did all the right things a good little worker bee should do in a Classified government facility. In the end, she was driving the Interstate back home and thinking about dinner.

When she reached her apartment and began her attempt to haul her backpack, plant carrier and brown bag dinner from Hung Phu's Vietnamese Emporium up the three flights to her Sanctum Sanctorum, she found her way blocked by two muscular young men carrying a sofa up the stairs.

"Moving in?" she asked, not bothering to mask the irritation in her voice as she stood there with her hands full.

"We're not," one of the guys turned around and told her. "He is." And he nodded up the stairs to the landing where a blond head and dazzling smile were looking down at her.

Oh... fuck... Sonja thought as she looked at him and got wet. Demi-god on deck... fallen angel... holy shit... I am in so much trouble...

"Hi!" the guy on the landing called down to her. "Sorry about the delay. We'll be out of your way in just a couple of minutes. Or you could use the elevator."

It took Sonja several breaths before she could form a coherent sentence. She was so not prepared to have her fantasy fuck materialize in front of her.

"Um, uh... uh, can't. It, uh, um... it's broken. Doesn't reach my floor," she explained limply while she tried to get her pulse under control.

"Oh, you must be on the fourth floor!" the fellow rejoined. "Like me. That's why we're hauling my furniture up the stairwell."

"That's why who is hauling it up the stairwell?" one of the muscular guys groused.

"Don't mind them," the blond went on. "I had to tempt a couple of my Neanderthal buddies into helping me. Promised them unlimited beer and pretzels, once I had all the furniture up. Maybe you'd like to join us later?"

"Oh, by the way, I'm Ken. I'm in 405. And the only large pieces left after the couch are the bed and the piano. We shouldn't be bothering you with our banging much past about eight."

"Sonja," she replied. "404. And I'd appreciate it if you'd take a break for a minute and let me figure out how to squeeze by you so my dinner isn't cold by the time I get to eat it."

"We can fix that," Ken smiled. "Hey, Joe... pass her stuff up."

One of the muscular guys, now known as Joe, turned and offered to take a bag. Sonja took one look at how narrow the gap on the stairs was and decided to take him up on his offer.

"Be careful," she told him. "There's some delicate plants in there."

Between the three guys, they got all her stuff up to the fourth floor landing, then turned their attention to her.

"If you trust us, we can get you past the couch, no problem," Ken told her.

"I'm a research scientist," she answered. "I know what 'no problem' really means. But I'll take you up on it if you're as gentle with me as you were with my stuff."

In answer, Joe turned and picked her up like she was a feather and handed her up to the next guy, Sam, and then he to Ken as if she were a piece of paper wrapped in a trench coat. She found herself falling into Ken's arms to get her balance at the top of the stairs and her body decided to have one of its "horny attacks," including but not limited to shortness of breath, rapid pulse, mesmerized gaze and swollen and dripping pussy. Marinated in a huge amount of flustered and embarrassed.

Oh, my God... crystal blue eyes... rock-solid abs... firm ass... was about it for Sonja's coherent thought as she felt herself pressed against his chiseled body.

"Are you okay?" Ken asked.

"What?" was Sonja's confused response.

"I asked if you were okay," Ken repeated, picking up her pack, plants and food. "Show me the way and I'll take these to your place for you."

Sonja fumbled a little and stood up, straightening the trench coat and trying to regain her composure. Then she walked down the hall to her door, fished in her pocket for her keys and opened her apartment, stepping in and out of the way so that Ken could put her stuff on the table just inside the door.

Ken set her plants and backpack down, then brazenly walked on into the apartment to put the food on her dining room table before returning to the door.

"You've got quite a lot of plants here," he observed. "Kind of like one of those nature conservatories. I'm impressed."

"Glad you like it," Sonja managed to answer. "Thanks for the help. I think I hear a couch calling you."

"Naw... that's just a couple of cavemen's stomachs grumbling," Ken smiled. "But yeah... I'd better get back to them." He stepped out into the hall.

"Cro-Magnon, by the way," Sonja told him as she started to close the door.

"Excuse me?" Ken asked, confused.

"Cro-Magnon, not Neanderthal. If you tempted them with beer and pretzels, they'd have to be a bit more civilized than Neanderthals. But not by much."

Ken smiled as Sonja closed the door on him, then turned her back to it and sank to the floor against it.

"Holy shit..." she muttered as she squeezed her thighs together. "He's my new neighbor???"

* * * * *

Sonja was severely distracted. She had been, since she'd gotten home.

She'd managed to eat her Bo Luc Lac over rice, Nem Ran rolls and Dragonfruit Che smoothie without really noticing what she was eating. She found places for her four new family members -- her plants -- scattered around her bedroom. And she had plenty of time to soak in her tub and play the shower head against her nethers as she daydreamed about the new "boy next door."

All her post-pubescent life she'd had one particular fantasy lover, made up of images from God knows where, and perfected over time to the image she most often jilled to, when daydreaming. Slightly tall, perfectly proportional, a very fit physique, Scandinavian blond hair and blue eyes... and a smile to blind you that just wouldn't quit. Not to mention a tongue and cock to drive you crazy with orgasmic bliss and a kiss that would own you, body, mind and spirit.

Now the image of the ideal was moving in across the hall.

Oh, my God... she thought as the first of a series of small orgasms rippled through her. Next door... my fantasy is moving in next door... (Oh, God!...) please don't let him be an asshole... please, let him be at least tolerably nice... I wonder how the hell I... (Oh! God!...) how I get to know him? He mentioned joining them for beer and pretzels... wine and cheese is more my... (Oh, Lord...) style...

Somewhere around her fifth or sixth orgasm, Sonja started to seriously ramp up to a big one. So she played it out, teasing herself and not cumming when she could have, making the desire build to the point of desperation. She was on the edge of a cosmic explosion, her back arching up out of the water, the nozzle firmly against her clit while she diddled herself with her other hand, ready for the relief she craved, when there was a very loud crash from the direction of her bedroom.

The distraction completely ruined the moment.

"Oh, fuck!" she swore aloud as she struggled to stand up. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

"Goddamn it!" she added as she stepped out and snagged a towel to dry with as she headed to investigate. "Why the fuck couldn't whatever the fuck happened wait until I fucking got off???"

She was royally pissed as she entered her bedroom and looked around. On the floor near the end of the bed, her newly acquired ivy plant lay among the shattered remains of its pot. It had somehow managed to fall off the shelf where she'd put it. She swore to herself again and started looking for another pot to put it in.

"I know the cat didn't knock it off," she muttered to herself as she cleaned up the mess, "because that damn animal went with Jerry when he left for Thailand. If Ken and his cavemen are shaking the walls so bad they could knock down a plant, I'm having words with them..."

She finally got the ivy repotted and was surprised to find it root-bound and that she needed a larger pot. She knew it was a healthy plant and had been growing in the lab, but she didn't remember it growing that much, that it could push itself off the shelf. She checked again and decided that she just hadn't been paying close enough attention... it was definitely larger than she remembered.

She moved it to the only place with enough open space to hold it at the time... the top of her dresser, next to her bed. The fern was already there, it also being too large for the shelves.

"You fall off of there and I'm calling Ghostbusters," she told the plant. "Now stay put! I've got a job to finish."

She went back to the tub, found the water tepid, swore again while she let the water out and decided to finish herself off in bed.

A couple of crashing orgasms with her trusty Pink Rabbit and she drifted off to sleep, thinking about Norse Gods on Earth and all the things she could do with them...

* * * * *

Sonja woke to the sunlight streaming in her windows and the soft chirping of her alarm.

Well, thank God it's Friday, she thought as she rolled out of bed -- and discovered she needed to wash up her Rabbit and put him away. Her thoughts immediately sprang to Ken.

I am in so much trouble, she thought as she dragged her body out of bed and headed for the shower. But at least I've got the weekend coming up to get things under control. First things first, though. Get your lazy ass to work, Sonja...

She finished her morning routine, got a burnt coffee to go from Raj, the Indian guy on the corner, then drove on in. When she got there, Marge was waiting for her.

"Did I miss something?" Sonja asked Marge as she hung up her trademark trench coat.

"Yes and no," Marge told her. "First off, thanks for cleaning up the Project Tendril stuff. Cynthia said you'd picked up the property passes. But I seem to remember telling you to keep it to four, and that's all I had authorized."

"I did keep it to four," Sonja replied, confused. "One anthurium, one ivy, one hibiscus and a fern."

"Well, there were eighteen samples, total," Marge informed her, "and only thirteen were logged into the incinerator. Obviously eighteen minus four does not equal thirteen, in anybody's math."

"Marge, I swear, I only took four," Sonja iterated, concerned. "There were only four passes and I used them. The rest of the trays were in an enclosed dolly over by the door for the cleaning crew, and it was marked Controlled Destruction -- Incinerate. Do we know which one went missing? Like, maybe one of the cleaning crew decided to adopt one?"

"One of the ficus plants," Marge told her. "Everything else was scanned as it went in the furnace. No one has seen as much as a leaf from the missing plant."

"Well, sorry, Marge, but I have no idea where it went. I'll take a polygraph if you want. I swear, I only took the four and everything else was on the dolly to get destroyed."

"Okay, fine," Marge relented. "We'll just have to keep looking. In the meantime, Josie needs help getting her baselines set up, so how about you help her out today. By Monday, I'll have something more permanent for you."

"Works for me," Sonja agreed. Josie was one of the coworkers she actually liked -- not necessarily true of all of them. In fact, Josie had been under consideration for the position of roommate, ever since Sonja found out through the grapevine that Josie was bi and unattached. They were pretty good friends around the lab. Whether it would carry through to outside the lab hadn't been determined.

Besides, Sonja had never been with a girl, but she was certainly bi-curious. Some of her more favorite jill-off material was hot girl-on-girl action. But all that was going to have to be set aside while she managed to focus and actually get some work done, while now being distracted not only by Ken, but the missing plant as well.

* * * * *

It had been a long, hard Friday and Josie hadn't made it any easier. If Sonja didn't know better, she could have sworn she was being hit on. They had to work in close proximity, getting the test subjects set up, and it seemed that Josie used every excuse available to make physical contact with Sonja.

Admittedly, it wasn't unwelcome. Josie was bright and cheerful, one of the younger members of the research team, very much like Sonja. She was a petite girl, sporting sandy blonde hair to her waist, with streaks bleached in, which she kept up in French braids when she was working. She was very friendly towards Sonja who had written it off to youthful enthusiasm until she started considering Josie for a roommate-with-benefits and realized that she'd probably been missing a whole lot of subtle seduction. The double-entendres about pistils and stamens, and how being "stigma"-tized was not necessarily a bad thing and so forth, definitely had to be aimed at teasing Sonja's interest.

By the end of the day, Sonja was happy to leave work and head for home, being a little uncomfortable at fabricating an excuse to turn down another after-work-drink invitation from Josie. On the way out, Josie had made a comment about how, if Sonja ever got a wild hair on a weekend, she had her phone number -- while making sure to hand Sonja one of her business cards. Sonja had taken the card graciously and said yes, if she ever decided to be something other than boring, she certainly knew who to call and the two had parted ways with promises to see each other Monday.