Fiver ignored the bubbling moans, the stink of ozone and cooking flesh as he searched for, and found the scanner. He held his tattooed ID sequence in front of the glass eye and... screamed as the pit opened beneath him and everything dissolved in light.Somehow he was still on his feet, in a tube, a long cylindrical tunnel. Eyes adjusted to the shimmering pinkness and focused on translucent curved walls. Were they flexing? Yes, they seemed to ripple to the beat of his pulse. Now they were sinuously flowing, slipping past. No, he was moving -- the vibrolith transport strip underfoot was carrying him away. Ahead, he could make out a dark man-shape -- faceless, anonymous. In front of that, another. An unending file of bodies. Behind, the same. This, then, was the notorious Birth Canal.Now patterns of light flickered into being -- on all sides, overhead, in the air. Shapes, they were forming shapes, they were converging into images, scenes leaping out at him. Naked thighs, bare flesh --. As Tommy looked at his mother, his heart skipped a beat. It was like he was seeing her for the first time. For some reason she looked incredibly beautiful to Tommy, no make up, no sexy clothes, hair still wet; she was everything a woman could be.It was a very dangerous environment for a woman that had refused to consummate her incestuous relationship with her son.Mother and son played several games of Scrabble as they talked and laughed. They were sharing a warm and comfortable evening together. They could look out the window and see the snow falling, feeling safe and warm inside, enjoying the crackling fire and their closeness.When they tired of the game, Tommy moved the Scrabble board out of the way and brought some pillows down from the sofa. He put his arm around his mom and snuggled close. At the perfect time, Tommy turned to his mom and brought his lips to hers. It was the first of many passionate kisses. Tommy was using all the kissing skill his mother had taught him.The body.
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