Lucian Ch. 10

A spotlight flashed on, bathing the center of the stage in its glaring light.

"Got my feet," Nina went on, "got my toes, got my liverrr..."

The audience fell silent, crushed by the booming noise and the soul wrenching voice.

A lonely, pale figure stepped from darkness into the limelight, sparkling like a high-voltage light bulb. It moved forward with the churning, energetic movements of a well-trained catwalk model.

"Got my blood... Got my life, got my freedom, got my life..." Boom, boom, the music went on.

Gleaming heels flashed. The marching creature seemed to pulled the light forward with it, pushing it out into the open of the long, elevated catwalk that stretched out between the tables.

Until it stopped at the very edge, hovering over the entranced faces.

"I've got the life... and I'm gonna keep it...

I've got the life...

I've got the life..."

The pulsing beat stopped with the voice, and absolute silence ruled at the center of Norton's great front lawn -- silence, and an almost palpable, breathless anticipation.

"Norton's Academy made my body," an omnipresent sexless voice boomed, like the voice of a transgender God. "It also made my mind...creating my future...killing my past."

The words rolled over the silent figure in its pool of light. Its eyes looked in the distance, its face was blank.

Then its mouth opened wide, angry, and an ear-piercing scream echoed into the evening's gloom -- making hearts stop and eyes widen.

The figure bent forward, hands holding its stomach as the scream turned into a mewling sound that stretched and stretched until it died.

Rising again until it stood on tiptoes, the creature raised its arms. A smile opened-up its face; a smile like a painted sign -- the Smile.

"Good evening," the figure said in an electronically enhanced whisper, carrying into the farthest corners of the park. "Welcome yet again at the annual rrreunion of Norton's Academy of Excellence; the place where they kill little boys and turn them into flawed little girls."

The hoarse voice almost hissed the words, emphasizing 'kill' and 'flawed'.

"It's the place," it went on, "where children are injected and shaped by doctors and teachers to become creatures even God couldn't imagine."

The mocking, cynical words echoed into silence.

"Ffffreaks, they are called; ffffaggotsss... ssssissssiesss..."

The hissing s-es dissolved into the night.

"Instead of healthy, red-blooded American boyssss, they become sssick creatures like the blushing fashion models you only moments ago saw prancing past your table. Like the gracious ballet-dancers you saw, and the ssssoprano ssssinger you heard.

"Creaturessss... like me."

The pale figure in the spotlight made a mocking curtsey, softly chuckling.

"But don't feel guilty," it went on. "We were never asked to become what we are; we never had a choice, not at birth, not here. But we also never had an alternativvve."

The smile was back in force, and the figure went down on its haunches, looking around to meet people's faces.

"Four years, you know, are enough to change an awkward, scrawny boy into this beautiful pinnacle of graciousness. See? Watchchch meeee..."

The figure rose and went through a number of elegant moves with its hands, its head and its body -- pushing out its hip and doing lewd bumps. It looked coy from under its pale eyebrows, touching its cheek while pouting its lips, fluttering its lashes and doing the Smile.

Finally, it did another deep curtsey.

"And, you know," it said after one more mocking chuckle, "I am grrrrrateful. Oh yes, I am. For, you know, my youth was a time of hurt and humiliation, of bullying and bruising. And my future would be one of hiding and sssshame."

The figure rose again to its full six-feet length.

"Norton's," it yelled into the night. "Norton's sssaved me!"

A first murmur rose from the audience, but a series of loud, reverberating beats cut them off, followed by another of the creatures almost inhuman screams.

It sank to its knees, arms high and cried:

"And then they turned me into a ssslave!"

Deepest silence followed, as the figure crouched on the catwalk, arms folded around its head.

Looking up it turned its gaze from left to right and back, taking in the faces. Then he pointed a long, pale finger to one of the table guests.

"Tonight, you came to fuck the girl in the red dress, that's sitting on your lap right now. And you over there, with your obese belly, you plan to slam your cock into the tight ass hole of the girl that just a moment ago walked past in the pink baby doll dress, remember? The petite one that gave you a raging hard-on. And you, sir, you dream of having your crooked prick sucked by the sweet curly-locked doll ballet-dancer."

The voice had become lower and lower, until it petered out into a long, heavy sigh. Then the crouching figure rose to its knees again. Its face opened up; its mouth became weak, its eyes wide and sapphire-blue.

"You believe that is all right," it went on. "Because you've been told that all the little freaks Norton's creates are whores and can be fucked at will by the highest bidder. They love it, you heard, and they need your money.

"It is why you are here, isn't it? You spent a hundred thousand of your many dollars and that gives you the right to fuck any-and-all of us as often as you like. You buy us for your parties and your gang bangs. We are the exotic ssspice of your threesomes. You use us as gifts to your friends and business partners. We act in your sick home movies and accompany you on your so-called business trips."

The voice got louder as the creature rose, bathing in the glaring light, gesturing left and right.

Then a loud, shattering crack of electronic thunder split the night and in its dying rumble the creature said:

"No more."

The light dimmed to a pinkish glow, and the voice got softer, warmer.

"Good evening again," it said. "My name is Lucian Gaines. I am an alumnus of this Academy, and have been an international fashion model for the last two years. During this time, and for the next four, half of what I make must be paid to Norton's, notwithstanding the full tuition that my parents already paid, and notwithstanding that you, our sponsors pay three million each year."

Lucian allowed a murmur to rise, before raising his hand.

"But I'm the lucky one," he went on. "A sweet little friend of mine turns tricks for Arab sheiks because it is all she knows -- and she doesn't receive one cent for it. Another friend twirls around poles in Vegas, naked. She dances on laps and sucks cocks on the side for a minimum wage. Alumni of this school live in Norton-run brothels, others work in Norton-run beauty parlors for room and board.

"And when parents or family ask, they wait on tables.

"But as I said, I'm the lucky one, and so is Andrea Pejic, famous top model, and Nathalie Porter, Oscar nominee. We at least are allowed keep half of what we make. There are singers and musicians that are well-known in their field, dancers and acrobats that tour the world, but all of them still pay back Norton's...millions through the years..."

"Yesss," Lucian said, after a short pause, "it is slavery. But it stops here. Today is the last day Norton's will turn its students into sex-slaves."

He looked up and spread both arms.

"Girls," he said, smiling wide, "Come join me."

Chairs moved and glasses tumbled, as all the pretty dressed beauties left the laps and shoulders of the tuxedoed men on the lawn and walked to the stage to join the pale figure in the spotlight.

Lucian saw Kelly and Taylor. He waved at Mu, an exotic Asian beauty now in her long, silk, salmon gown. He welcomed Harper with a hug, complimenting her on her tight yellow cocktail dress that made her olive skin glow. He embraced tall and curvy Jay with her imposing afro hair and colorfully printed dress.

Then, surrounded by the cloud of their perfume, he froze as a petite, porcelain-skinned doll in a tiny blue dress climbed the steps, smiling a bashful smile as she looked up to him, her violet eyes flashing from under golden curls.

"Charlie," he said, feeling heat rise from his chest -- was it shame, guilt?

She walked up to him, rose to the tips of her toes and planted a soft kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you," she whispered, and melted into the crowd of girls.

Then he found Honor at his side, wearing a scandalous little corset suit that turned her body into a riot of fleshy curves. He put his arm around her and together they stepped to the edge of the stage, feeling the presence of all the Boobs and Barbs and Bobs behind them, like a wall of color and flesh and voices and giggles.

"Gentlemen," Lucian said, turning his attention to the confused men that were left at the tables, "as you see: we took over your whorehouse. You may leave."

A rumor of protest rose from groups that had formed amongst the tables. A voice cried out:

"We paid for this, dammit. Where is Parker?"

Lucian smiled.

"As of today," he said, "Ms. Gloria Parker, Dr. Kurtz and all the teachers of Norton's Academy are our employees. They will continue their good work under the oversight of a consortium of alumni. Your money isn't needed anymore. Every dollar Norton's might owe you will be returned."

The rumor seemed to drown in a shock of surprise.

"But, but you can't..." someone still tried.

"Oh, but we can," Lucian said, high-fiving with Harper. "And we did. You will all be informed tomorrow, but right now you must leave. Your cars are waiting at the gate. Thank you for your years of support, but as of now you'll have to find your paid sex elsewhere."

The first men reluctantly left the lawn. The rest stayed, talking amongst each other.

Then the colorful wall of girls opened and through the opening Parker stepped forward, holding a microphone.

"Gentlemen," she said in her clipped voice. "I must extend my sincerest apologies for what happened today. I was as uninformed of the intended management-change as you are, and as powerless to stop it.

"All I can say is that I'm glad that the future of Norton's Academy is secured. Thank you for supporting us all these years, and I assure you that you will be compensated for any damage this change might cause you. Good evening!"

"You fucking bitch!" a voice cried out from the darkness at the back, but more men started to leave. In a few minutes the lawn was empty, but for the abandoned tables and chairs -- and a smattering of dropped napkins.

A string of car lights threaded itself through the main gate, finding its way out to the road.

Lucian turned to Parker.

"Fucking bitch," he said, grinning. "I like that. Why don't you and your staff start cleaning up while us girls start having our own celebration?"

The principal paled and frowned.

"A joke, honey," Lucian said, touching her face. Then he turned around, facing the girls, yelling: "Paaaaarty!!"

Music burst from the huge boxes. Groups started to dance, others fell into each other's arms, kissing.

A voice whispered in Lucian's ear. "Did you look it up?" it asked. He turned to find the smiling face of Mamselle.

"Hominem te esse memento," she said. "Look it up."

The End.