Mystery of the White Hair Ch. 03

This is part of a series so trying to jump in without reading chapter 1 will probably be difficult.

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Detective Riley resisted the urge to slam the phone down, and lamented that was one of the few disadvantages of modern cell phones; old plastic phones could withstand an angry slam or two from an average person, but slamming a cell phone was a quick route to a full-price replacement.

Riley mused to herself that she was getting passed around more than Sandra had at the frat house. The FBI said they didn't deal with outbreaks or drugs and referred her to the CDC and the DEA. The CDC wanted a medical report detailing the disease symptoms and how it was spread, but when Riley mentioned they only had one confirmed case and three possible ones they started mentioning false positives and misdiagnoses and terms she couldn't understand. The DEA said they could only move once the drug had been identified, preferably with some seller arrests. She even tried reaching out to an NSA contact but was waved off before she talked to anyone of real importance. She wanted to start screaming at everyone that every disaster movie she'd seen started with government agencies not taking anyone seriously until it was too late to stop, but she also remembered how much that helped in those same movies.

She picked her phone up and checked the time. 10:30pm. "Fuck," she said aloud.

After leaving the hospital that morning, Riley had all but promised herself a booty call to the frat boy was in her immediate future. When one o'clock rolled around and her captain had approved her taking lead on the investigation, she'd mused about letting the college boy stay the night if he performed well enough..

But the walls she'd hit over the past four hours had killed her mood and run out her clock. If Brett came over now, she'd want an angry, painful fucking from him and she'd want to throw him out of the house right after. Regardless of what that would do to his impression of her, it would be early morning by the time everything finished. With a regular case load she could get away with wandering in around 10 or 11 in the morning, but her captain would expect a report each morning on her progress until he said otherwise.

Frustrated for multiple ways and reasons, she shut down her desk and lights and made her way home.

***********

Kimberly blinked her eyes and took a moment to regain her senses. At first she thought she was lying in a pool of cool water, but then she lifted her head and looked at the strange and obscene tableau she was a part of.

At some point the lights had gone out or been turned out, so reflected glow from streetlights was all that lit the apartment. She lay on the couch, spooned by her new lover, but "spoon" was no longer an adequate description. She lay pressed up against Demorelle's body in the usual position; her ass was firmly nestled in the woman's crotch, and her back molded to her lover's chest, including the deliciously soft mounds of her breasts poking into her shoulderblades, and Demorelle's long white hair tickled around her neck and face. There was even the expected hand, draped over her ribs and resting lightly on her breast, ready to cup and squeeze it at need.

However beyond that there were a few...differences. Their close cuddling was assured by the tentacles currently wrapped around Kimberly's stomach and waist, pulling her tight against Demorelle. She assumed they went around her lover's back, because nothing was between the two of them. Nothing, that is, except the familiar but foreign bulge that nestled between the cheeks of Kimberly's ass. The other two tentacles were somewhat lazily coiled around Kimberly's legs, mostly wrapping around her thighs, but they continued below her knees and just lay on the couch.

"Hello," Demorelle said. Her voice seemed quiet, almost a whisper, but somehow Kimberly heard it clearly.

"Hello yourself," Kimberly said. She settled back more, trying to increase contact, and smiled when the tentacles tightened to help.

"You are thinking hard," Demorelle said after a few moments of silence.

"Yes."

"What about?" Demorelle asked.

Kimberly paused briefly and then said, somewhat fearfully, "Do I need to tell you?"

There was a reciprocal pause from Demorelle. "Do you want me to answer?" Demorelle asked.

"I don't know," Kimberly said. She moved to turn and found the tentacles were suddenly a problem. She giggled a bit. "I'd like to turn around, please?"

The coils loosened but did not release her, and she spun to face the white haired woman. She felt a thrill as she remembered the last time she'd been this close; it was just before Demorelle had begun fucking her into unconsciousness. But she also remembered the burning questions she'd been too busy and aroused to deal with at the time.

"Part of me wants you to tell me nothing," Kimberly said. "I could remain in blissful ignorance, not thinking about how different and strange this all is, just enjoying the wonderous feelings and the sexual release. Not looking a gift horse in the mouth, so to speak. Plus, I can't deny some of the fear turned me on. Not knowing what you were about to do to me, what you could do to me, made it more exciting."

"But?" Demorelle prompted, correctly interpreting Kimberly's tone.

"But I couldn't do that forever. And you made it clear yesterday that...that this is probably a long term thing."

Demorelle looked down, and Kimberly could recognize pain and worry. "I should have refused you."

Kimberly reached up and cupped her lover's face, forcing her to look up again. "Demorelle you explained it. I said yes. I did everything but sign a consent form. I didn't think you were kidding. I'll admit...I mean obviously I've never experienced this before. I can't promise you I'll welcome every aspect with open arms when I come face to face with it. But I like what I've found so far. And...well if it turns out it doesn't work, I can think of worse ways to go than lost in sexual abandon."

Kimberly was suddenly crushed against the woman in the first full-body hug she'd ever experienced. She'd never been able to hug someone before who could force her legs to press against them as well as her chest.

Demorelle pulled back and kissed her on the lips. "I...it has been a long time since anyone even said they were willing to try this voluntarily. Certainly longer since anyone said it after understanding even part of what it means. I feel like I should spend the next month giving you pleasure to express how much I feel."

Kimberly chuckled, "Okay, well, let's pause that for a second. If I ask you questions, do I get answers?"

"If I can give them, I will," Demorelle said, "but it is late. You slept for an hour, it's now past midnight. Don't you need to work?"

Kimberly shrugged. "I can call in tomorrow. After that we'll figure it out. I mean, didn't you say me going into work without you may be a problem?"

"True," Demorelle said. "So what is your question?"

"Let's start with the obvious. Based on some of the stuff I found online this past week, I think I could have explained the cock. Even the fact that your skin is always cool. But the tentacles and your tongue kind of seal it. You aren't human, are you?"

"I...I can't say for certain," Demorelle answered, "Some fiction has suggested I could be something like a mutated human, or a hybrid. For obvious reasons I have never submitted to a DNA test."

"So related to that, immediate question; what happened when you orgasmed? I'm hoping I gave you an orgasm at least?"

"Oh yes," Demorelle confirmed, "and to answer your question, I did ejaculate. But it was not what you get from males. I suspect whatever went into you is related to the mania and obsession all my previous partners have suffered."

"You came in all of them?" Kimberly asked.

"I cannot say 'all' for certain," Demorelle admitted, "Certainly all of the ones I've been with lately."

"How...oh fuck I'm asking it: how many people have you been with?"

Demorelle raised an eyebrow and smirked, "I think the first question you need to ask is, how long have I been able to be with people?" Kimberly felt her face slacken as the implications of that sentence sunk in. She looked back at Demorelle and the woman nodded. "I'm afraid you're in bed with a shameless cradle-robber."

"So...Is this like a Highlander thing?" Kimberly asked, "Are you going to start telling me what it was like to fuck Cleopatra?"

Demorell smiled wider, "I would like to know that one myself. No; I have knowledge of a mere three centuries, and only because of an accident of timing. I have memories of the end of the 1800s, I lived through the 20th century, and now I'm still living through the 21st."

"How long are you going to live?"

"I wish I knew," Demorelle said. "I haven't met or heard of anyone like me. When I became aware of the increase in tentacle-based erotica I naturally made my way to Japan and other east Asian countries, wondering if someone like me might be providing or at least inspiring some source material. But it seems everyone involved were merely creative illustrators, albeit ones where their creativity had a very specific focus."

"I'm sorry," Kimberly said. "That must have been disappointing for you."

Demorelle shrugged, "I assumed the chances were slim. I was due to move anyway."

"You um...I'm guessing you have to move a lot, because of the..." Kimberly trailed off and gestured vaguely toward the tentacles still coiled around their bodies. Demorelle considered her intently for a moment, and Kimberly started to worry.

"Kimberly," she said, "I feel I have to tell you this now. I wasn't totally dismayed at not finding another of my kind. You accepted the physical realities of what I did to you, but...I haven't exactly been forthcoming about who I am or what I do. The sex for me is like eating. I can't go without it for very long. The longest I've lasted is four days. And...I'm a predator."

"Well...I mean you definitely approached the other girls in the bar. Is that why you didn't want me at first, because I came on to you instead?"

"Kimberly," Demorelle said with a bit of condescension.

Kimberly swallowed and forced herself to deal with what Demorelle was trying to tell her. "That...that girl in the alley. You didn't proposition her, did you?"

"No. I took her. By the time you saw us my...effect had already taken over. If I'm allowed to touch someone with my tentacles for more than two to three minutes, they begin craving sex, and I provide it. The woman in the alley had only been with another woman once in her life, and she barely remembered it because of how drunk she was."

"Well...Being with you isn't exactly typical girl on girl sex," Kimberly said.

"True, but there was no lust, not even any attraction before I took her. And to be blunt, that is the norm with me. When I said it's been a long time since anyone tried this voluntarily, I meant it."

"Well...you took those girls home from the bar last week and they went with you freely."

"You didn't see what happened here an hour later. To a one, they all panicked and tried to run. After I...saw you, I even tried to be generous with the first one. I kept the tentacles as hidden as I could, only confronting her with my cock. But even that little bit repulsed her. I...I was furious at the rejection. I kept her here for two days, using her body at will, keeping her bound and only interacting with her to fuck or feed her. By Monday I was disgusted with myself and released her, not that it would be a blessing for her by then. The other two you saw me take I didn't bother with pretense, other than making sure they got here before I started on them."

Demorelle paused to look for a reaction, but Kimberly was engrossed in the story.

"As time and technology advance, concealing myself has gotten harder. I used to be able to stay in a city for months or even years at a time, mostly interacting with the homeless, mentally disturbed, or other unwanted or disregarded members of society. I did well working in asylums for a while. Before mental illnesses were well understood, the reactions of my partners were simply accepted and ignored. I worked in one for almost ten years before World War I. By then medical science was progressing, so I had to return to the fringes of society. Barely functioning women living alone, homeless."

"How...how did you..."

"Choose?" Demorelle finished for her. Kimberly nodded. "When you asked if you had to tell me what you were thinking, you did. However I have some mental ability. The best way I can describe it is heightened empathy. I can look at someone and review the primary emotions they've felt. Almost like looking at a body and figuring out what a person does based on what muscles are developed or atrophied. I...I have always tried to make my targets people probably due some karmic justice. Single mothers caring for their children, working multiple late jobs, would have been easy for me to attack but I let them be. But women getting a vicious thrill as they leave one man's house to return to the one they share with a fiancée? Or a woman bedding an elderly man in the hopes of an inheritance? Those I will take."

"How do you know what they're doing? I thought it was just emotions?"

"Strong emotions I sometimes get some mental context. The cheating woman I mentioned got greater pleasure from sex because she was cheating. The one with the old man had such visceral disgust at the sight of her husband naked that I was able to find her thought that she only needed to put up with it until she figured out how to mess with his meds."

"So...is that what you meant when you told me I'm too good for you?" Kimberly asked.

Demorelle nodded. "All of your strong emotions were tied to...well a lot of them were sad memories it seems. I...I did want to help you. But the best help I had for you was to reject you. I had hoped when you saw me leave with the other women, and with several, you'd assume I was just a promiscuous lover who didn't form attachments. I could also tell you wanted more than just a one night stand."

"That was tied to an emotion?" Kimberly asked.

"No, that comes from over 100 years of watching humans, particularly women, and how they feel about relationships and sex," Demorelle said, with maybe a hint of a smirk.

"Right," Kimberly said. She smiled a little but then it faded.

"I've imagined another like me, but not bothering to filter their victims. They would destroy innocent lives, as much as any person is innocent. That's why I wasn't totally dismayed at not finding them. I don't know why I have qualms about whom I take. I remember the late 1800s, but it's as I am now. I have no memories of being a child, of developing. But even the restraint I show is paltry in the grand scheme of things. By all laws of civilized society, you're in bed with a serial rapist."

"Who currently has me bound and unable to escape," Kimberly added in what sounded like a nervous whisper.

As soon as she finished saying it, all the tentacles retracted from Kimberly's body. She relaxed a little; she couldn't deny Demorelle's confessions unnerved her. The clinical, detached way she described sleeping with-

Raping. Don't lie to yourself. Ninety-nine percent of Demorelle's partners were raped.

Demorelle's admissions, without remorse, seemed horrifying. But despite that, being released from the embrace and feeling her body fall away from Demorelle's made her sad.

"Is...is the stuff affecting me yet?" Kimberly asked.

"It shouldn't hit full effect until the morning. I would suggest you go to the hospital and say you aren't feeling well, and your family has heart problems. Your blood pressure and heart rate should be high enough to warrant them keeping you for observation for a while."

Demorelle had tried to maintain her detached tone, but Kimberly could hear hitching in her voice. More importantly, when she looked over at the woman, there were more tears on her face. Kimberly rolled back over and pressed herself against her.

"Hold me," she said.

"Kimberly please don't-"

"Hold me. With everything. Tight. Don't let me go," Kimberly said, demanding.

Her tentacles wrapped Kimberly up, crisscrossing her back, waist, buttocks, and legs. Demorelle's arms were around her shoulders, and Kimberly could feel her trembling. Feeling inadequate somehow, she wrapped her arms around the other woman.

"I'm not leaving," she said.

She felt Demorelle shudder. "But...what I told you," Demorelle said.

"I'm...I'm still processing that. I'm not gonna lie and say it doesn't matter. But...this may be rationalizing, but I don't think you're human. So I also don't think all our rules apply. Nobody arrests a lion for eating gazelles. You're a predator, we're prey in your natural environment. That's what I'm starting with anyway."

"And you just put your head in the lion's mouth," Demorelle said. Kimberly felt the tentacles start to drift in certain directions.

"Demorelle...I...can't right now. I'm not leaving because of what you said, but I'm not okay with it yet either. Can you wait?"

"Of course," Demorelle said, and the tentacles returned to their previous positions. "But-"

"I know," Kimberly cut her off with a sigh, "If you're right you're going to wake up tomorrow and I'm going to be sucking on your cock while I try to jam one of the tentacles up my pussy."

"Actually, the more you stay in contact with me, the more the effect is muted. You'll be aroused most of the time, but the mindless craving won't set in."

"Now I'm kind of disappointed," Kimberly said with a rueful smile, "I kind of wondered how sex-crazed, uninhibited Kimberly would behave."

"I can sleep apart from you and we could find out," Demorelle said with a slightly teasing tone.

"Let's...save that for another time," Kimberly said, trying to ignore the thrill she felt at the suggestion. "Let's go to bed, and in the morning we'll see how I feel. Who knows? Maybe you'll get a blowjob anyway."

Demorelle nodded tearfully.

*****

Doctor Karuna Shevade sat at a desk looking at monitors. One of them showed the comatose form of Sandra Miles, still strapped to her bed and unresponsive to anything except a very specific form of stimulus. The other showed a video file. It was the surveillance footage from Sandra's time in the ward, specifically the first hour or so she spent there, when she stripped off her clothes and masturbated freely and lewdly, covering nothing and announcing her activities and orgasms to anyone in earshot.

Dr. Shevade also had her tablet computer open to some articles on sexual addiction, and a notepad in front of her. But she hadn't taken any notes in more than an hour since everyone else left. There were still hospital staff in the ward, but only to ensure the patients were comfortable and respond to emergencies. No one was in the lab with Karuna.

At least, she thought no one was in there, but then the door opened loudly, causing the doctor to jump.

"Hey Doc."

Karuna sighed a bit when she recognized the voice of the detective from the other day. She walked up behind the doctor's chair without invitation. "Kinky," she said.

Dr. Shevade quickly closed the laptop with the video file. "How did you get in?" she asked.

Riley shrugged, "I told the front desk I'm with the police and I'm working with you. They told me where to go. It's past eleven, I'm guessing you don't have your top people working right now."

Karuna bristled a bit at Riley's dismissive attitude, "Is there a reason you came here? Are you going to question my work as well?"

Riley at least looked a bit apologetic as she said, "Sorry. It was a frustrating day and to be blunt I was expecting to get laid tonight and that isn't gonna work out. Anyway, I wanted to let you know I got those two...Gardner and Sancho. They're being transferred here tomorrow."