ANGELIC TEMPTATION.

Dwarf trees here and there created oases of green. Volcanoes, shrouded in a blanket of clouds, slept deeply, their ragged jaws snoring with hot exhalations, and there was little sign that they would soon begin to sputter and spit bloody lava. Bulky creatures soared between the billowing clouds, at high altitude. They flapped their wings lazily and, riding the updrafts, spiraled higher and higher. They looked like colorful balloons released by carefree children at a fair.

Stew Ero, runner number eight, saw rocky terrain before him. He lifted the visor of his helmet and breathed in the air filled with volcanic fumes. He looked around and adjusted the suit, which hugged his broad frame tightly. He realized something was wrong with his body. He was stockier than he actually was.

"It doesn't matter anyway," he accepted the change in physical appearance. "I know I have complexes about my small frame and almost childlike appearance. I was rather afraid that I would end up in this world as a housekeeper, which is what my wife turned me into," he mocked himself to encourage himself.

The timer chimed and displayed the message: "START IN 10 SECONDS." Ero began checking the controls on the suit's belt. He pressed the "POW" button and lowered his helmet visor. He felt a rush of fresh air. He adjusted the thermostat to the appropriate temperature. He tested the night vision goggles by briefly lowering them to eye level. He turned the spotlights on and off, mounted on the shoulder straps in the shape of epaulets. Everything worked as it should.

Stew began running. He left his knife in its sheath. He drew and cocked his laser pistol. He checked the direction the compass was pointing. In the mirror, he spotted a bird out of the corner of his eye. He jumped to the side, avoiding being hit in the back. Predatory talons missed their target and dug into the ground, then tore up loose gravel, creating two parallel furrows. The creature bounced and turned in midair, but it was too late for any maneuver. Runner number eight had the bird in his sights. He fired. The bulging belly, or rather, the large, saggy chest, erupted into a shower of bloody shreds. Ero guessed the winged creatures were attacking in flocks. Half-turning, without aiming, he fired a burst in the direction from which the attacker had come. The sullen birds, deterred by the swift counterattack, puffed out their sagging breasts and soared higher, resuming their circular dance high in the air.

"A disgusting mixture of vulture and tit," Stew declared, his face twisting in disgust. "He burst like a hot-air balloon..."

The creatures circling overhead dived again, but surprisingly, the flock flew over the runner and into the nearby woods. He heard the sound of blaster fire and screeches. He decided to help someone, like himself, struggling to survive in this world. He pushed through the bushes. He stood in a meadow covered in bristling grass. In the clearing, a dozen or so birds were fighting for their prey. Runner number eight couldn't bear to watch the vultures torment their prey, whose shots were clumsy and often missed. He realized he'd almost been in the unfortunate man's shoes. He became furious, aimed at the flock, and fired, and fired. The startled creatures perished, their inflated bodies bursting with a bang, creating colorful umbrellas. Shreds of torn flesh flew upward like fireworks, then fell, slowly fading. He didn't care that he wouldn't get extra points, because they weren't attacking him. He released his anger and felt inner satisfaction.

"Yes, it helps, a lot," he admitted, swallowing hard and breathing a sigh of relief. "And that's exactly what I recommended to nervous patients. Sometimes you have to shout, vent, let out negative emotions to avoid going crazy..."

He approached his fellow runner. The birds couldn't penetrate the protective material, but the blows of their strong legs and beaks did the trick. The aching runner limped forward, shocked, unsure of what was happening to him. Ero set off in the direction indicated by the compass. His thoughts drifted back to the previous incident, and the suffering on his fellow runner's face left a lasting image in his mind; he unconsciously muttered to himself,

"So what if the suit saves my skin and helps me survive in this world? After all, suffering is what people fear above all. And death itself?" Well… from birth, we're condemned to solving this riddle. What am I doing?… Am I talking to myself? He mentally reprimanded himself for his psychoanalytic debates. Usually, when someone caught him in a monologue with himself, he'd explain, "… in times of unemployment, you have to train to stay in shape. Maybe someone else could use an unemployed psychosexologist..."

The slopes, gentle from a distance, now revealed angular shapes. Steep chasms threatened with precipitous drops. Maintaining the prescribed direction was almost impossible; sometimes he would meander, even backtrack, to overcome an obstacle or circumvent a sheer cliff from a different direction. Despite the obstacles, he moved forward, and the clock's counter displayed a decreasing countdown to the finish line. Suddenly, there was a roar, and an avalanche tumbled down the mountain. He pressed his back against the rock, but it didn't help. The impact of the rock fragments was deafening, and she dropped the gun. Panic gripped him as he realized he'd be waiting, sore and covered in dust, for at least another half hour to be drained. He thought maybe that was a good thing; this world wasn't exactly welcoming to visitors. He began to moan in pain and finally lost consciousness.

Stew Ero walked down the street, trying to remember the dream from which his wife's screams had rescued him.

"He moans like a castrated boar! Even in a pig's dream, he sounds like a pig!"

He unconsciously watched the colorful billboard ads, and the earring-shaped radio relayed the daily news. Nothing new, he thought. Just sensations and further natural disasters. A familiar commercial signal sounded.

"During experiments on time travel, a door to another dimension was discovered. The theory of hyperspace travel has been confirmed. The gate has been opened. Passage to another world awaits the chosen ones; perhaps you will be one of them… The Time and Space Institute proposes a selection test for candidates for the reconnaissance crew. In an age of overpopulation, famine, new virus mutations, natural anomalies, and other recently observed cataclysms, we must reckon with the fact that we will be forced to travel to another world, at least until our planet regenerates…"

Stew unconsciously recalled a poem by some haunted poet.

Or maybe

we already have beef, BSF,

this is what happens when cows are fed meat

and kept in cells

, or maybe

we already have chickens, SARS,

this is what happens when you feed chickens hormones

and save light

, or maybe

we already have excesses, AIDS,

this is what happens when you confuse him with your finger

and seek sensations

, or maybe desensitization

is already coming, something...

this is what happens when you think only of yourself

and against nature

, or maybe an embryo mask

. The commentator's voice boomed insistently.

"Today, the Time and Space Institute is announcing recruitment in the psychosexology specialty. To accelerate colonization, we want to select the best candidates to establish a base and prepare facilities for the next chosen ones. We need genetically healthy people, mentally and physically fit. Military training is welcome. We invite you for tests and a psychophysical test, in which we will assess your predispositions during a short visit to this newly discovered world. We invite volunteers."

Ero listened unconsciously, then suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. He was opposite a branch of the Time and Space Institute, whose headquarters were located on the moon. The towering building rose before him like a tree limb, disappearing at the top, swallowed by the smog of pollution that greedily devoured the city.

"Maybe we should take some time off."

Szczerz hated his current job. He worked illegally to avoid losing his unemployment benefits. He was a guard—or, as his wife called it, a construction worker—and earned peanuts. Ero decided to give it a try. Traveling to another, unknown world had been his childhood dream. He wouldn't forgive himself if he didn't try. Especially since the opportunity seemed real; he was, after all, a psychosexologist by training.

He entered the institute and registered for an initial examination. Many were willing, but it turned out that finding a completely healthy person wasn't so easy. After examinations involving a number of specialists, only twenty-something remained. The next stage was a psychophysical test. It turned out that the building, like an iceberg, had only a fragment of the whole above the surface, concealing dozens of levels deep within the earth. The candidates were led to an elevator, which turned out to be a magnetic levitation system. After a moment, he lost his bearings, having no idea where they were going or how fast.

Stew entered a bright room with others. Light emanated from the walls, ceiling, and floor. In the center of the room stood a circular desk, and around it were rows of strange armchairs. At first, he didn't notice the dwarfish man, whose large head barely protruded above the horseshoe-shaped desk. Then a voice, audible as an internal rumbling, turned everyone's faces in the direction it came from. It was one of them, a man with psychic abilities.

Scientists explained the birth of telepaths, clairvoyants, and telekineticists as mutations caused by environmental pollution. Initially, when these freaks began to emerge, they were kept in secret laboratories, as a freak of nature, where institutions, primarily military ones, exploited their abilities for experiments known only to them. Finally, after lengthy international discussions, an adaptation program was created for mutants, and they began to blend into a society that treated the misfits as a necessary evil.

The telepathic mutant glanced at the test participants, then gestured for the candidates to sit in strange, spindle-shaped chairs.

Ero chose the eighth seat. As he sat down, he felt like he was at the dentist's, as a tangle of wires with terminals of unknown purpose emerged from the chair. A long-legged beauty sat down next to him. She reverently adjusted her plump hips on the seat and tossed her curly hair back.

How pleasant it is to sit, Stew thought, and as always in such cases, a thought entered his consciousness. It's a good thing my jealous wife doesn't see me looking at her. I'd get a slap on the face with my purse and a nagging monologue. Meanwhile, the woman settled comfortably. She swayed her ample hips, which proved to be a delight to the eye and beyond.

Like a hen on a roost searching for eggs to incubate, he smiled at the images that involuntarily crept into his mind and took on a licentious form. Hey, black female, why are you so cozy?... Where have the eggs gone? They're right here. Right here, between my legs, he was thinking dirty thoughts.

She sensed her neighbor's gaze and gave her a challenging look. She was a mulatto with delicate features, and if it weren't for the color of her skin, one could say she had a truly European beauty.

"What a delicious chocolate," he muttered under his breath, and, wanting to ease the tension caused by the persistent stares, he said, leaning in close to her.

"Looks like we're going to have an adventure," he said quietly, so none of the neighbors could hear, while he absorbed the scent of exotic perfume. "I hope it's pleasant," he said cautiously, wanting, as was his habit, to conduct a little psychological reconnaissance. He winked teasingly.

The dark-skinned beauty looked him over with a haughty gaze, from head to toe, and snorted contemptuously. Then, with a mocking smile, she replied.

"You're uneducated, my dear. This will be more horror than erotica, and we won't be having fun there, just competing." She watched with satisfaction as her interlocutor's face took on the grimace of a scolded child. The woman continued her sarcastic remark with satisfaction. "You'll get such a kick out of it that you'll run the other way, and that's all we'll see of each other!" " she added finally, smiling with foxy satisfaction. After these words, she stopped paying attention to him and looked around the room curiously.

Stew was speechless. He hadn't expected such a brusque answer. The confusion slowly subsided, and he wondered what the dark beauty had in mind. He was overcome with anxiety, a bad feeling. The test he was about to participate in reminded him of a game, or a journey into a beautiful world, but lo and behold, surprise! A small man's voice came from the control console.

"This test is intended to select the best among you, both in terms of physical and mental fitness. The winner will be the person with the highest score at the finish line. For those unfamiliar, here are a few cold facts. After the gate opens, we must reverse the polarity. This time, measured in microseconds, causes the exit in the parallel world to be moved five kilometers. If a runner doesn't make it to the exit within an hour, their life is painfully sucked out. It seems simple, but at the beginning of the experiments, many fatalities occurred. It turned out that many dangers awaited the brave ones... Therefore, a number of modifications were introduced, including appropriate suits, weapons, and my humble accompaniment. We are still gathering experience and want to form a group of scouts to explore this unknown world, but this takes time, and as it turns out, it's difficult to find a completely healthy person these days... And that's all for the introduction... Here are the scoring rules... For every meter traveled, you receive one point, and for killing an attacking animal, you receive one hundred points. Physical damage and damage to equipment will be deducted from your points according to a specific scale... I warn you that those who make it in this world will have to overcome their own weaknesses. To survive, you must demonstrate resilience to stress, fear, and pain...

At these words, the cables came to life, crawling out of the seats and like living creatures, searching for suitable places to connect with the body. Stew jumped, offended by a wire. Surprised, he exclaimed,

"Aren't they going a bit overboard? Why did they hook my little one up to the cable? Damn, they'll electrocute you." His loud concerns were heard by his neighbor in seat number nine. A redhead with a feminine face.

"What am I hearing!? Some problem with the cable? Oh my goodness!" he asked cheekily. The expression on the man's face didn't discourage him; he continued the conversation, probably thinking it was interesting. He moved his red-haired head even closer to Ero. "But neighbor, there's nothing to worry about. I know a good plastic surgeon. He adjusts the length and thickness depending on your wishes. And as for the size... I can offer good advice," he whispered with a lecherous smile. He licked his upper lip lusciously, winked, fluttering his eyelashes, and continued buzzing insistently like a mosquito. "This is a serious matter, it's better to consult her. You can't take this lightly. Do I have medical training?" he boasted, waving his hands like a woman.

Ero interrupted his neighbor, who had shamelessly revealed his homosexual tendencies. The smile faded as the neighbor replied.

"I'd be happy to give you my little one to look at and surrender him to your filthy consultations. You just have to be careful, because if you come close, you might deepen your eye sockets, or at best, the black eyes will hurt. Oh, they hurt a lot! You might lose your teeth too if you keep snapping them up your ass... You polite faggot..."

The interesting dialogue was interrupted by the telepath, who turned to all the candidates.

"Does anyone want to resign?" he asked, looking around urgently, shuffling the audience with the gaze of a basilisk. "This is your last chance! Anyone with any doubts should withdraw? There are only two ways to end the trance. The first is to reach the finish line. The second possibility... This is waiting to be drained. You might end up injured and suffering, in pain, then time drags on forever." He paused, observing with satisfaction the effect of terror his lecture had created.

Fear and surprise were reflected in the faces of the listeners. The mutant with psychic abilities began to look around the room again, and when he noticed that no one was getting up, he continued his interrupted thought.

"The second purpose of this test is to uncover your most hidden deviations. As it turns out, there is some force that naturally eliminates sick, uninvited guests. All deviations and anomalies hidden in the subconscious will find their outlet and develop in this unknown world through mental, and even physical, transformation. You will be unable to hide anything."

The room fell silent, the candidates looked at each other, and whispers swarmed. The telepath allowed them to vent, scanned the room, and picked out a few people he recognized as displaying unhealthy tendencies. One by one, he entered their minds, smiling. A shiver ran through him at the mere thought of what he would experience during the test. Satisfied, he realized that pleasant experiences awaited him, and whispered to himself,

"This group of psychosexologists is a ragtag bunch of lunatics and perverts. As they say, 'A cobbler walks in patched shoes...' "

After a long pause, when the whispers had died down, the telepath continued his conversation.

"After this test, you'll be different people. You'll surely learn more about yourselves than you want to." "And now, since no one has withdrawn, we'll move on to the next stage of the training." I'll show you how to operate the suit, which will help you survive in the virtual world; it's practically indestructible... You're waiting...

The telepath's voice began to fade. Stew realized he was dreaming of what had happened before his journey and would soon awaken in another dimension. He began to scream.

"No! I want to dream! Dream! Dream!"

His legs, buried up to the knees, froze as if in concrete. The heavy stones stopped falling. The dust settled, revealing a blood-curdling sight. A pack of humanoid rats stood opposite runner number eight. They glared with furry eyes, snapping their tails, and raising their shaggy arms armed with spears. The crystal blades of their weapons dripped with some liquid and trembled in their hairy paws, ready to fly towards their target.

Ero was almost defenseless. The laser pistol lay buried somewhere deep within. He began hastily dusting his aching legs. He threw heavy stones at the herd, but this only momentarily deterred the armed procession. The creatures approached leisurely, certain of victory. The humanoid rats were short and broad-shouldered, males, short vests covering their protruding phalluses. They carried backpacks on their muscular shoulders.

Runner number eight finally freed his legs. He pulled a long knife from its sheath. He knew he had no chance, but he decided to fight to the end. Feeling like a condemned man on execution, he asked, not expecting an answer.

"And what about a last wish?" he joked, resigned to his fate; he thought that in the worst-case scenario, he would be taken prisoner. "Damn! And was this supposed to be so pleasant..." To his surprise, one of the rats, the one with the most decorations on his shoulder straps, spoke up.

"You're out of luck, stranger. We don't have a taste for boys, and unfortunately, we won't be able to provide you with any pleasure." The obese, dull-witted rat standing next to the commander licked his long tongue and lisped.

"Captain! The law is the law, everyone has the right to their last wish."

"The words of the Great Oracle are sacred!" they shouted simultaneously, and as if on cue, everyone stood to attention. The youngest smiled lasciviously, revealing a row of pointed teeth, and whispered, saliva spurting.

"I do! I can hold your head!" The youngest of the humanoid rats offered to help and smiled, his animalistic eyes clouding over.

"What, you young man?! You want to lose your dick? You think aliens don't have teeth?" the captain said mockingly, and everyone burst into uproarious laughter. They patted each other's broad shoulders for a long time. The embarrassed apprentice fell silent, embarrassed, curled his ears, and squealed pitifully under his breath.

One of the rats, with a scar on his almost human face, narrowed his eyes and added,

"We'll smash that glass soon, and those meager teeth of his will be easily removed.

" "Yes, really?" "—the young trainee asked with interest.

Ero couldn't believe what he was hearing; he watched the entire incident like a horror movie. What surprised him most was the logical conversation of these humanoid rats, which turned out to be sentient beings. He pushed aside the images of terrible torture his imagination had conjured up before him and decided to fight until he lost consciousness. He made a feigned attack on one of the perverted tormentors. The rat became frightened and, without aiming, reflexively threw his spear. He missed. The liquid from the spear splashed across the rock and began to eat into the hard surface.

Runner number eight doubted the suit was acid-resistant. He glanced at the timer and realized that the remaining half hour would be very painful. He became angry and wanted to kill at least one of the rats, but they were closing in simultaneously. They pointed the spikes of their sticks at their prey. Suddenly, Stew heard a rustling sound overhead. Before he realized what was happening, something grabbed his arms, wrapped its legs around his torso, and he found himself airborne.

The Ludo rats threw their spears upward, but they couldn't reach the man with their deadly weapons. Ero looked up at his unexpected liberator. What he saw was beautiful.

"And who do we have here?" he asked in awe. "This runner has wings on her back and looks like a bird crossed with a woman." She was helmetless, the wind ruffled her hair, which in the sun seemed like flames. She smiled pleasantly, and it seemed the weight she carried didn't hinder her flight. She wrapped her legs around her fellow runner's waist and her arms around his shoulders. He felt the warmth around his neck as she touched his breasts, and he felt the heat especially around her wing.

"Greetings, competitor," the winged beauty said. "I am your guardian angel. I couldn't stand to watch those vile creatures torment you."

"Thanks!" the rescued runner exclaimed with joy, lifting the visor of his helmet. "I'm truly grateful! You can't even imagine what those monsters wanted to do to me. They wanted to exploit me.

" "Oh, those filthy bastards! Oh, I've seen this whole land. It's beautiful and terrifying at the same time.

" "How did you get wings?" Ero asked, curious.

"As a child, I wanted to be a bird... In my youth, other desires arose, which in this world were materialized in a tangible way. It's incredible! Wonderful! Look how wonderfully I fly."

They soared higher. The sun shone brighter above the sparse clouds, revealing a different world. A blissful peace enveloped the runner, far from the ground, teeming with dangerous creatures. He glanced at the clock and saw that they were flying towards the finish line, their points count increasing, the line of the airborne route matching the direction the compass hand was pointing. They passed cumulonimbus clouds that towered like Himalayan peaks. They plunged into swirling canyons, through feathery tunnels, and pierced through cold clouds to greet the sun again. They switched to gliding and descended toward the volcano's crown, which protruded above the upper cloud base. At the edge of the cliff loomed an enormous nest, intricately woven from the branches of dwarf trees. The creature's nest trembled, and suddenly something terrifying leaped from within.

The creature resembled a fairytale dragon or a prehistoric reptile, a cross between a crocodile and a bat. The lizard lightly beat the air with its membranous wings. Its long, serpentine tail sinusoidally curved horizontally. Its entire muscular body was covered in scales that shimmered in the sun. A sinuous, spiny fin adorned its spine all the way to its tail.

The winged runner dove consciously toward the nearest clouds, but they were too far away to hide in. The dragon was already close, extending its toothed beak toward the candidate, scooping up saliva with its tongue, and screeching shrilly.

Stew realized the runner's hands were occupied and he couldn't draw his laser blaster. He tried to reach for her weapon himself. But when he made a sudden movement, she let go, and he understood that she had no choice but to save herself.

Air in the fall pressed into her mouth, clogging her, making normal breathing impossible. He closed his helmet visor. He flew along a vertical ridge, piercing the clouds. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the spot where he would soon crash. He realized he could see the finish line in sight.

"The center of the crater!" he shouted. "But I'm close."

Resigned to his inevitable fate, he braced himself for impact with the ground. He closed his eyes. He managed to console himself that the suit would protect his vital organs, but fear soon gripped him. There was no doubt he would die within several minutes, agonizing from bruises, perhaps even fractures. To his surprise, the impact with the hard rock proved gentle, reminiscent of his mother's firm grip, so familiar from childhood. He opened his eyes uncertainly and frowned.

"Oh, damn it, out of the rain and into the gutter! I definitely won't see my mother here. At most, a widow with a cross on her back.

" Ero fell into a huge spiderweb. He held the web of sticky threads tightly, and hung curled over the precipice. He swayed for a moment longer, then froze, trapped in a cocoon, like a giant black fly. He had been expecting her. In the blink of an eye, she entangled her prey, even more tightly in her web. From the front, she looked terrifying, but as she walked away, stretching her long legs almost into a diagonal split, she displayed, to a fault, her human charms. Before retreating back into the hole in the rock, the spider woman bumped into a neighboring cocoon. The agitated shape slowly turned, revealing a figure clad in a silver jumpsuit. The woman's helmet was shattered and her mouth was bloody. The blonde stared at her neighbor with blue eyes, filled with panic. The horrific sight made the runner realize just how dire a predicament he was in.

Stew half-opened his helmet visor. He wanted to speak to his companion in distress, but the runner was the first to scream:

"Please! Help me!

" "But what?" he asked, surprised.

"I can't stand it any longer! Cut me off! Have mercy! Cut me off!

" "Easy, easy. Just don't panic..." He tried to calm his companion. "Maybe not all is lost yet."

At his words, the woman began to thrash in her cocoon as if in a seizure.

"Cut it off!!!" she screamed. "Please!!! You wimp...

" "What do you mean? I lost my blaster.

" "And the knife?" she reminded him with hope in her voice. "If I had a weapon, I would have freed myself long ago and been lying on the bottom with a few bruises."

"Don't be so sure, there's no telling what's down there," the neighbor persisted, unable to understand her determination.

"Bullshit! Do it already! Stick out the knife and I'll swing and it'll happen itself. You ballless wimp? Is that thing between your legs withered from fear or what?

" "Calm down, maybe there's a way out."

"Calm down yourself! You bastard! You fucking coward. You..." she began to insult him fiercely. "I give up. Understand that, man. You...

" "Get lost!" I'm not a coward—he had had enough of her insults and screams.

"You phlegmatic failure… Do it already. You'll soon find out what's going on here… You…" she threatened in a tortured voice.

Ero with difficulty drew his long knife. He pointed the blade at the runner's cocoon. The runner's body swayed. She rocked harder, and the blade severed the thread holding the cocoon together.

"Thank you," she cried with relief. A

deafening silence fell. The runner swayed helplessly, and as he sheathed the knife, the hilt caught on a spider's web. He dropped the weapon, which clattered to the bottom of the chasm.

"Damn! I'm so clumsy... I'm defenseless... My body movements are limited to a minimum. So be smart and think of something," he admitted with resignation.

He remembered the spider, her insect-like eyes and large teeth. The head and long limbs ending in tentacles came from a spider, and the fur only covered the female body in certain places. He remembered her walking away, hips spread wide. One thing caught his eye: she had no breasts, and the question naturally entered his mind. I wonder how she feeds her offspring?

"You'll find out soon," he heard an internal voice from a consciousness alien to him. "I assure you, it'll be a nasty surprise. Well... unless you like love the French way?" he heard the telepath's disgusting chuckle.

Ero didn't have time to consider the meaning of these inner words; out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the spider approaching. He quickly lowered his helmet visor and froze, prepared for a bite. She climbed onto the cocoon, but strangely enough, she acted as if she wanted to get him from the feet.

"I doubt she'd break through the suit... And what's she doing with that ass? Oh no! Not this?" he whispered helplessly. "Careful, no biting. Help!!! Help!!!" A desperate voice rang out, muffled by the protective helmet. Runner number eight was gripped by a panic bordering on madness. He tried to control his frantic nerves. He began to struggle, but this only caused the web to further restrict his movements.

"Easy! Just calm down, no stress," he reassured himself. "Positive thinking should help me. I know I'll imagine I'm watching a movie. Maybe then I'll be less afraid." He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. He began repeating loudly:

"The helmet lens is a television monitor... The helmet lens is mo..." He spoke in a decisive tone, with a strong image of the home monitor. Probably currently being watched by his wife, who at this hour was watching one of those repetitive TV series that drain a person of all energy. Reflecting on everyday life was calming. He slowly opened his eyes, repeating further. "The helmet lens is..." He fell silent, surprised by the sight. The image of the cloudy landscape narrowed to a womb that clung to the faceplate of a protective helmet with an admirable squelch.

"Nooo... What do we have here? Hard porn! Interesting close-up. Could it be Mrs. Sromowsky?" he tried to joke about what he was seeing. He watched with distaste as fleshy lips clung to the flat surface of the glass, seeking contact with the victim's flesh. "Oh nooo!" he howled as he realized what the female was talking about. "I'll play the lead role in a movie called 'Alien: The Final Battle.'"

Stew panicked. Runner number eight closed his eyes and imagined turning off the TV. Positive visualization helped; he heard a smacking sound as if something had come undone. He opened his eyes. He saw a toothy maw. The black widow repeatedly slapped his helmet. Cracks appeared on the glass. Discouraged, she retreated to her hiding place, clearly irritated.

Ero felt like a convict waiting for his turn on death row. The sentence had been passed; it was only a matter of time. The constant tension and fear of pain brought him to the brink of a mental breakdown. As a psychologist, he knew the culminating effect of this state would be indifference, apathy, and suicidal thoughts.

He felt the pull of the spider's web; the female was approaching, clearly intending to make another attempt at her helpless prey. Suddenly, Stew heard the flutter of wings, and his hope for rescue turned to despair. Instead of an angelic runner rushing to his aid, he saw a cross between a lizard and a bat. The dragon flew closer to the web. For a moment, it hovered like a hummingbird over the runner. Finally, it decided to attack and retrieve its lost prey. It caught a few sticky threads in its talons, but only its strong muscles saved the aerial reptile from entanglement. The web proved to be a trap, capable of ensnaring him as well. The dragon performed a figure eight. He flew up again, but this time he caught the spider in his claws and flew away with a high-pitched screech. A deafening silence fell, broken only by the trapped human's sound of relief.

Ero began to consider once again the possibility of escaping the web. Unconsciously, he looked at the spot where the female was clinging to the web. Threads were stretched where she had been standing so recently.

"I got it!" the runner shouted triumphantly, full of hope. "That's clear! Temperature causes the web to stretch and weaken its stickiness... If only it would work!"

The runner hurriedly stretched the sticky threads to get his finger to the knob on his belt buckle. He succeeded. He set the thermostat to maximum. The heat rose quickly. He began to sweat profusely. He noted with joy that his body felt looser. The web melted on contact with his clothing, stretching like rubber under the weight of the trapped material. The cocoon slowly sank to the bottom of the stalagmite-filled abyss. He pushed off the sharp tip with his foot, and then he saw her. The suit seemed to have held, as the runner was still alive and moaning. Given the position and location of the impalement, the runner unconsciously began to wonder if she was really groaning in pain. After a moment, he chastised himself for these lewd thoughts and began to sympathize with her. Stew easily tore off the remnants of the submerged threads. He wasted some time searching for his knife, but eventually the sharp shape found its way into his hand. He jumped up happily and slapped his thigh with the blade. He checked the score and determined the required direction according to the compass. He wanted to set off, but he couldn't leave his running partner without help. He looked around. He found a dead branch and placed it under the groaning woman's feet, so she could support herself and get rid of the rocky peak that protruded between her legs.

He started running, time pressing.

"Only three hundred and forty-two meters to go, I have fifteen minutes. Maybe I can make it, I'm not far."

The ground had become muddy with loose cinders. Pools of thick lava flowed from the fissures of a recently extinct volcano. Here and there, the hiss of hot gas seeped through the cracks in the volcanic rocks. Stunted trees were wilting from the vapors rising from the depths of the crater. He had to stop. A river of steaming water stretched before him. It circled the flower-covered island like a moat guarding access to the longed-for, mysterious land that captivated with its otherness, as if it were otherworldly. He checked the displayed score on the clock.

"Yes! This is my finish line and escape from this terrible world." He roughly calculated the distance to the opposite shore. "In the center of the island lies my goal and the end of this nightmare. But how do I get there? I can't jump over it."

He hesitated, not wanting to make a rash decision. Swimming was risky; the water was murky, and who knew what lurked at the bottom. He ran along the shore. He searched for a bridge, or at least a narrowing that would allow him to jump. On the other side, he spotted a headland. A solitary, leafless tree grew on it. Its long branches hung down, reaching to the surface of the hot liquid. He approached the shore cautiously. A piece of rock broke off under the pressure of his boot and sank into the sticky mud. The blanket of vegetation gathered there rippled, forming a steep hump that began to move in the direction of the sounds. There was no doubt, something lurked beneath the surface. The solitary tree was Stew's only hope. He had to cross the river right there; only here was it narrow enough. He grabbed the longest branch with one hand, his knife at the ready in the other. He took a running start and jumped. The first stage went smoothly. He stretched his feet out in front of him and prepared to land on the other side. At that moment, with torpedo speed, a snail-like creature leaped from the water and seized the runner's limbs with its thick tentacles. The suit's glove held, but the rope plant dug into his hand. He endured the pain and struck with all his might, using his knife, between his legs. The creature tore with surprising ease. This time, the protective material held, but it didn't lessen the force of the blow to his groin. The feeling of dull pain convinced the runner that, without the suit, it would have been a suicide attempt. He fell limply onto the opposite bank. He fainted, but he didn't lose consciousness; the pain wouldn't let him; it grew and spread throughout his lower abdomen. He knew what was best in such a situation. He stood up and ran at a paralyzing trot. He stopped every now and then to bounce on his heels, stamping his feet, groaning loudly, and cursing.

"Oh fuck, you mother... My balls... Oh fuck! That..." he cursed under his breath.

Suddenly he heard a chuckle, thinking it was the result of weakness. However, after a while, he realized it was the voice of a telepath. "He's probably connected to me and can't stop laughing, poor thing." "You son of a bitch! You dwarf bastard! How can you laugh at a time like this?" the telepath burst into laughter in Ero's mind, who continued to insult him with unconcealed satisfaction. "You dwarf pig. You fucking little thing. Let me get my hands on you. I'll kick your balls if you have them. I'll rip your legs out of your ass...

" The insults were a relief. Stew pushed forward as fast as he could. He reached the center of the island and fell to his knees. The timer displayed the long-awaited "FINISH" and the eight minutes until departure. He felt relief; the pain subsided. Tired, he pulled off his helmet and, panting loudly, raised his head. An angel stood before him, legs slightly apart.

The dazzling feeling faded. It was the familiar candidate in the silver jumpsuit. Snow-white wings sprouted from her back, and the wind ruffled her red hair, revealing a face with delicate, almost childlike features. She had ample hips and a disproportionately thin waist, cinched by a belt. Her ample breasts were held together by the material of her protective suit. "We meet again... What happened to you?... How did you survive?" she asked, clapping her hands together like a little girl finding a lost doll.

"Never mind. The important thing is that I'm here?" He had no intention of recounting his experience; the mere memory made him feel nauseous.

"I escaped the dragon and flew to this clearing. I sit and wait for the test to end, and here I am, nothing but loneliness and boredom." She yawned, stretching her arms. Her hands were raised, revealing her breasts, trapped in the protective suit. She smiled poignantly as she did this, fluttering her eyelashes innocently, and continued her thought. "It was truly wonderful in the air, but what do I know about myself... How did you survive?"

The impatient runner sidestepped the question and, with growing apprehension, asked.

"Never mind me, what's your score? How many points did you get on that test?"

The runner looked contrite, clasped her hands together, and placed them on her lap.

"I apologize for my ramblings... This psychophysical test is easy. Of course, for those who can fly." As she spoke, she flapped her wings a few times, which was truly impressive. "I killed the plump birds that attacked me and scored." She paused to read the number. "About twelve thousand points," she tossed the number casually.

The unemployed psychosexologist, who had hoped to become a member of the reconnaissance team in the newly discovered world, looked with pity at the short number displayed on his monitor, at his pathetic score.

"It's impossible... Oh no!" he groaned, unable to believe his defeat. In an instant, all the hardships he had endured to reach the finish line flashed before his eyes. He remembered how happy he had been each time he managed to escape unscathed.

"But don't worry so much, I'll try to make it up to you," the winged beauty continued, winking knowingly. "We're in a world where all desires come true. Even those hidden deep in the subconscious. What are we doing?... It seems we still have time. Surely there are more pleasant things than self-pity," she remarked, impatiently digging up a root.

Stew became flustered, his face flushing, but he wasn't sure if from anger or excitement. He glanced again at the estimated losses displayed on the clock.

POINTS FOR DISTANCE TRAVELED + 5000 p

KILLING ATTACKING MINIONS + 200 p

SUIT DAMAGE - 1000 p

LOSS OF BLASTERS - 1000 p

HAND INJURY - 1000 p

DAMAGE TO BOTH TESTICLES - 2000 p

INSULT TO THE PHONE...

"Oh no! That much for my balls?! They don't hurt anymore!" he complained loudly, frightening the winged beauty, then admitted. "What do I care? I lost badly anyway." He nodded and waved his hand in resignation.

"What am I hearing? Is there a problem?" the red-haired angel asked curiously, suddenly becoming a she-devil, judging by the sparkle in her eyes.

"But nothing happened. My nuts were a bit bruised, but they look intact now," he explained hastily, slapping his swollen crotch with satisfaction. "I'm whole and ready again."

"I don't know, that requires my personal consultation, and it just so happens I have medical training," she boasted, pressing a button on the buckle, which deactivated the magnetic force of the suit's zippers. The tightly fitted garment split into four pieces. Her breasts, released, swayed. The runner unconsciously nodded in rhythm to the observed shapes. He eagerly stood up and also freed himself from the protective suit. The runner's cry of delight echoed in the nearby mountains. Before it died down, the woman was already on her knees, shifting the double burden from one hand to the other.

"My poor treasures. Oooooooooooooo... The naughty boy wasn't paying attention, you must have been in pain," she said, stroking his male organ as if nursing a favorite pet, which was just waking up and raising its sleepy muzzle. "Oh... I see you've recovered and want to play with the lady. How handsome are you? And how big... Well, what? Do you want to jump?" So… Hop!... What, faster? What, even faster? Come on, kiss me, don't be shy.

Ero waited a moment longer, but finally he couldn't bear such a pleasant consultation; his excitement was too great. He sensed he was about to explode with pleasure. He heard the telepath's insistent voice in his head.

"Man... Slow down! What are you doing? Is there a train?! Where are you in such a hurry? Where are you? You're at the finish line. We have time… Just a few more minutes," the voice rumbled in his head.

Stew tore the woman away. She fell onto her back, spreading her thighs wide. She sank onto the feathery wings. He slammed into her firm breasts, thrusting into her warm body, determined and impatient, but she nimbly turned and showed her round hips to her horny lover. Her ample buttocks hid the runner from a new world. They were large, round, soft… A cry of delight escaped the observer.

"Oooh!!! Rubens would have a field day!"

The feathery thing on her back didn't seem to bother her at all, quite the opposite. He grabbed her wings like reins and pulled her back. The angelic woman thrust her hips back even further, making it easier for her lover to aim. He pressed skillfully and hit the nail on the head. He moved slowly at first, then faster and harder, as if to spite the telepath. He didn't have to wait long for his inner voice to explode with anger.

"What are you doing? Are you kidding? This isn't an express train! Where are you going? To the rescue. There's no fire anywhere, not yet... Don't pretend to be the fire department?" the exasperated telepath sneered. "Slow down, slow down!!! Let me focus.

" Ero pulled the woman tightly by her wings, making her arch like a harp. He held her breasts and whispered in his lover's ear, simultaneously caressing her swan's neck.

"Looks like we're not alone, winged devil." Someone's connected to us. This smells like a telepathic triangle to me.

Her whisper turned into a scream.

"But there's nothing to worry about. It's quite interesting. Honey... No... be selfish!!! Eee... selfishmmmm!!!"

At the climax, he felt a sense of oneness with this mysterious land, a force that swept him into the tunnel, and he realized he was returning to his own world.

Most of the candidates were lying down, doctors bustling around them, conducting preliminary diagnoses. Only a few were able to move on their own, including one woman who was shamelessly rubbing her crotch and smiling at Ero. The beautiful mulatto woman looked nothing like the fiery angel. The neighbor, who had been so rude to the interlocutor before the test, now spoke with gratitude.

"Thank you for your help. I was helpless," she explained nonsensically, creating chaos in Ero's mind. "I couldn't stand it anymore." You have no idea how relieved I am... That was so huge... Thank you!

Stona was speechless. He couldn't gather his thoughts. He looked around the room as if searching for someone to explain the incomprehensible situation. The telepath interrupted his chaotic thoughts with words that finally sounded like an order.

"Losers who didn't reach the finish line, leave if they're able."

The mulatto woman stood up and headed towards the telepath.

"You sadist! I was writhing in pain, suffering, and you, you pig, were making jokes. You disgusting mutant! You..." she shouted insults with helpless regret.

The security guard escorted the vulgar hysterical woman away. Her scream reminded Ero of the woman he'd cut from the spiderweb, a beautiful blonde with blue eyes, who...

"If it wasn't you! Then where are you, my ginger angel? I have to shake your hand and more." He looked around the room, where only his left neighbor was standing unaided.

The telepath looked at the red-haired man with pity and spoke with contempt.

"We'll thank you too. Our reconnaissance team won't need a winged lover who longs to be a woman."

The red-haired man licked his lips and growled at his neighbor, who blushed like a turkey.

"And you denied consulting us. You're not so bad," he added sarcastically, playing with his fingers on his lips. "I recommend myself for the future?" the thin voice slowly faded behind the door, becoming just a memory to be forgotten as quickly as possible.

"Congratulations, Mr. Ero, you are the winner and a member of the reconnaissance team, the discoverer of a new world.

THE END. "