The Renfield Syndrome Ch. 10

Her pussy was slick and ready for him, and David surrendered and angled himself to give her what she was demanding, forcing his barely-hard member inside her. Lori threw her head toward the ceiling and let loose with a furious howl, and David took the opportunity to seize her and force her over onto her back with him still between her legs. There he pinned her, using brute strength to hold her down as he thrust into her.

Lori was thrashing and fighting, but David managed to get one of her arms extended far enough for Roach to be able to give her the shot. She pinned Lori's wrist between her knees and searched for the vein as David held her arm as still as he could. Bypassing the tourniquet, Roach jabbed the syringe into the crook of Lori's arm and depressed the plunger. Almost immediately Lori's eyes opened wide, and she ceased her wild thrashing. Still trapped mid-coitus, David continued to hold her down until she began to relax, and she gave a great sigh of pleasure as the euphoric rush washed over her. At last, he released her and drew back, pulling out of her much to her dismay. Lori lay on the floor with her eyes closed and purred, more sedate than she had been for hours.

"Nice job, effective way of keeping her occupied," Roach said with a bit of a smirk.

"It was all I could think of," David said. "Oh man, thank you. Is she supposed to be this hot? I haven't been able to take her temperature, but she's a furnace."

"Yeah, that's all part of it. As to how much brain damage the fever causes all by itself, personally, I think it's a lot. Eventually it'll drop back down to a survivable level, I'm sure you've noticed we always run a little hot."

"I have," David said. "Rapid heartbeat too, but Lori's is pounding like she's in the middle of a goddamn marathon. I'm afraid it's going to explode."

"Her whole system is in overdrive," Roach said. "Make sure there's always meat within her reach because she's going to need it. All her energy is going into transformation, and right now she's burning through calories like nobody's business. And you don't need me to tell you to keep your hands the fuck away from her mouth."

"Transformation..." David said, half to himself. "Jesus Christ. Is there even a word for what we are?"

"No, not really," Roach said flatly. "We're Angelique's chosen, that's about as close as anyone's ever come. Not that there's a word for what she is either. We just are."

"I feel below shit for leading her here. I never meant to get Lori mixed up in this. I don't suppose there's any point in asking how Angelique can just appear out of nowhere like that?"

"Fuckin' magic, I guess," Roach shrugged. "And don't blame yourself, Angelique does whatever she wants. I don't know why she does what she does. I wish I could tell you there's something special about us that makes her pick us, but she'll do it because she's bored."

David looked over at Lori who appeared to have fallen into a half-conscious state, still making that odd purring noise. "So, what do we do now?" he asked, feeling helpless.

"We make ourselves comfortable until dark, she'll be down for a few hours," Roach said. "Then we can take her to my place, it's safer there. Way too many normals in this building for my comfort. I'll keep an eye on her if you want to get some rest, you look like you've had one hell of a night."

"Thanks, but I'm wide awake," David said. "I think I'm going to have to find something to help me get enough sleep, I guess. Heavy duty sleeping pills or something."

"That's what I use the heroin for," Roach said. "Sometimes. Fuckin' shame nobody makes quaaludes anymore, one of the few victories in the so-called war on drugs. In general, anything you put into yourself is going to require three times as much to have the same effect. Both a good and a bad thing."

"I haven't done much by way of hard drugs. I just drink. I was in recovery before... well, before, but that's gone thppt," David said blowing a short raspberry. "I don't know if there's any point in trying to quit again now."

"Well, if you ever want to try the good stuff, come to me and I'll show you how to do it clean. We're pretty resistant to disease and pathogens, but if you catch something heinous you've got a bad fucking time ahead. You might be able to survive the symptoms but you're not immune."

"Thanks, that's good to know," David said. "I haven't exactly been selective with my sexual partners lately either. I guess I better get in the habit of getting tested if I'm going to keep this up. And buy stock in rubbers."

"It's a smart idea" Roach nodded. "People are not clean animals. And I've seen the ferals, there are diseases getting passed back and forth in that colony they don't have names for. If I have the choice, I don't go anywhere near them. But sometimes Angelique commands. She's strangely fond of them, I think she views them as pets. But I guess we all are." Roach got up from where she knelt, and David followed her lead. "You can probably put her in bed if you want."

"Yeah," David said, approaching Lori carefully. Finding her pliant, he picked her up and laid her gently in her double bed. Lori purred with desire and made some feeble gropes at him but was too far out of her gourd to get aggressive. With a grumpy noise, she reached between her own legs and began to masturbate again as David and Roach stepped out into the main room, leaving the door open.

"You're going to need some fresh pants," Roach informed him. The fly of David's jeans was split open, and wisps of pubic hair peeked through the gap. David ahem-ed and adjusted them so he was covered a bit better.

"I need a shower and a full change of clothes," David said. "Would you be cool keeping an eye on Lori while I run to my place and get less grody and conspicuous?"

"Yeah, take your time. She's not going anywhere. Grab some cards or something." Roach planted herself on the couch and located the remote control, turning on the television and flipping channels. David left her to it and left the apartment, heading for the stairwell and his own modest hole in the world.

*****

In a luxury suite of offices high in the Columbia Tower, an ancient creature stood at the floor to ceiling window watching as the city emerged from the cover of darkness below. From this dizzying height, the vast labyrinth of streets and avenues looked like tunnels in an ant farm where busy workers swarmed to and fro, starting yet another meaningless day in their brief lives. It was going to be another gray and gloomy one which suited Angelique fine. She had no fear of sunlight of course, not in this form, nor did she have any need to sleep during the day or even at all. But direct exposure was still uncomfortable, and if there was one thing that Angelique would never tolerate, it was a moment of personal discomfort.

She much preferred to spend her days here in air-conditioned opulence, surrounded by the things that made her happiest. Angelique's private apartments were a feast for every sense and reflected her personal style. Mohogany oak and black leather were a theme, from the luxurious couches arranged near the glass walls to her numerous ornate bookcases and reading spots. The wool carpeting was soft as any bed, though there was no shortage of those either, all equipped with her favorite restraints and harnesses for when she was entertaining guests. There was a large built-in tub in the center of the space, and a vast and state of the art entertainment system, the better to withstand the great monotony of existence. While the décor leaned toward the gothic, Angelique was anything but an old-fashioned creature and loved the fancy devices people were dreaming up these days to keep themselves busy.

Her favorite pastimes remained the same as the centuries rolled by, of course, and Angelique never lacked playmates. Several of them were usually in attendance at any given time, satisfying this appetite or that one. In truth, Angelique's own hunger was tenfold greater than that of the thralls she created, who were only blessed with a fraction of it. It was testament to her own iron will, forged through interminable millennia of walking unseen among her prey however tantalizing they might be. Here in her apartments, she could indulge herself freely and sate herself to the fullest on any of her thralls that caught her fancy that day. Should any of them break or grow tiresome, Angelique could always make another. They were temporary creatures by nature with only a few exceptions.

For example, the fine male specimen she'd recently acquired, chosen purely for his striking beauty. He had caught her eye at the nightclub last week, his height and broad musculature making him stand out from the crowd. Seducing him had been as simple as meeting his eyes, and Angelique had whisked him away here to serve as one of her many art projects. She had a flair for body sculpture, and Pete (or Paul, or whatever his name was) was the perfect lump of clay. Once he had gone through the change of course.

Angelique drew the heavy velvet curtains that kept the modicum of sunlight that graced this city at bay and moved into her art studio. It was located off the main area and had been thoroughly soundproofed and covered with large sheets of plastic to catch all the blood and discarded bits. Pete (or Paul) was waiting for her, suspended spreadeagled from a steel rack, held in place by hooks piercing his wrists, ankles, and strategic spots up his body. He cut a spectacular figure, six feet of muscle that had to have been sculpted by many hours in a gym, with fine high cheekbones and a firm jaw. But however sublime to the eyes Pete/Paul had been to start with, he was exquisite now, the nearby tray of bloody surgical instruments betraying the method of his transformation.

He raised his head when Angelique entered, one of his beautiful blue eyes left intact because she wanted him to be able to appreciate himself when she was finished. Pete/Paul snarled in fear at her approach, his teeth bared not in aggression but because his lips were gone.

"Shh..." Angelique murmured, caressing his scarified cheek with the touch of a lover. Caught within her aura, the man ceased to struggle and moaned a tongueless sound of pleasure, turning his head to nuzzle into Angelique's palm. "Yes lover, it's me. You're healed up beautifully, I couldn't be happier." Pete/Paul mewled with joy at this news as Angelique took a step back and walked a circuit around him, viewing him from all angles.

From the crown of his skull to his toes, the man's skin and muscle had been slit, cut, pierced, flayed, or removed entirely, and had healed over to produce immaculate scarring. His barrel chest was sliced open, and the flesh teased apart to expose his ribs, held in place with pins and hooks while the healing process took place, resulting in a deliberate and immaculate design. Every inch from head to foreskin had been elaborately cut and carved, pulled and peeled, resulting in an artful mosaic of heavy scar tissue. His cock was split and in a bit that Angelique was especially proud of, she'd granted him wings as well. The skin of his broad back was flayed free of the muscle and stretched over a framework of metal and wire to give him the form of a fleshy angel come to earth. He was a masterpiece.

"You're almost finished, lover," Angelique purred. "I should be able to put the last touches on you in time for the party. I can't wait to show you off. Make me proud and I'll even feed you." The man whimpered happily, straining forward in his bonds as if to touch her, his lone eye enrapt. The hooks and chains that held him were secure and Angelique laughed, kissing him on his lipless mouth and extending her tongue just far enough to tease the poor boy.

Leaving her artwork moaning with longing, Angelique left the studio and moved further down the carpeted hallway to the closed door to one of the several bedrooms. She punched in a security code, released the lock, and let herself into the darkened chamber beyond. This one was decorated a bit girlishly as befit its occupant who lay atop the impossibly soft queen-sized bed that dominated the room. The woman was shackled to the bed beneath a velvet coverlet, her distended belly visible as a large hump in the gloom. The woman lay still, only stirring when Angelique approached and laid a hand on her swollen stomach. She whined with fear and tried to twist away, but was securely held in place, and one word from Angelique was enough to frighten her into stillness.

"Hush you," Angelique said sternly, and the ginger woman obediently grew silent though her eyes bulged with fright. Angelique stripped the coverlet away and tossed it to the floor leaving the naked and monstrously pregnant woman cowering on the bed. Licking her lips, Angelique ran her hand languidly across her swollen breasts and stomach. "My dear, you are ripe for the plucking," she giggled. "After all this time, you're finally ready. It's almost over, there is a gathering of some very important people tonight, and they can't wait to meet you." The woman mewled, but Angelique's gaze had her cowed and helpless to resist as she was stroked and pinched. "You should be excited, my dear, the mayor is going to be there. He's going to find you irresistible, and I can't tell you how long it's been for me. This is going to be your big night, make the most of it. This is the moment you were born for." Her captive opened her mouth but only a barely audible squeak made it around the roadblock of the supernatural fear carried by Angelique's gaze.

Soft chimes echoed throughout the apartment and Angelique smiled with satisfaction. "Right on time. You stay here and rest, dear, you're going to need all your strength for tonight." Turning her back on the terrified woman she left the room, closing the door with the clack of an electronic deadbolt. She strode back into the main area to her solid oak office desk and took a seat before the three flickering monitors arranged on it. One was a video camera feed to her private elevator in the Sky Lobby on the 42^nd floor, and on the screen were two uniformed officers. With the push of a button, Angelique unlocked the car and sent it down, the camera feed changing to inside the elevator as her guests nervously entered.

The elevator's soft bong foreshadowed the arrival of Officer Doyle and his erstwhile sidekick, Dickie, dressed in their Seattle PD uniforms. They stepped out and Angelique turned her chair toward them. The force of her gaze wasn't needed on these two, they were loyal servants to the bone and more than happy with their lot. Doyle stepped forward and deeply inclined his head in greeting. "Mistress Angelique, you needed to see us?"

"You're standing here, obviously I did," she said. "How are the preparations for tonight? Has everything been done?"

"Pantry's stocked," Dickie piped up, and Doyle gave him a sour look.

"We got everyone you wanted," Doyle said respectfully. "Some choice cuts. Your guests are going to be very happy tonight, I promise."

"Good, I have one last minute addition," Angelique said. "Very important, I want you to deal with it personally. There's someone who must be there." She clicked the computer mouse a few times and the leftmost screen displayed a personal file from the VA hospital, complete with photo and home address.

"That's not choice, what do you want an old fart for?" Dickie asked and Doyle elbowed him to silence.

"He's very special," Angelique said. "He must arrive unharmed, he's going to be our second presentation. A surprise gift for someone close to me."

"Of course, Mistress," Doyle said snappily. "Consider him got. No drugs like usual?"

"Naturally," she said. "It gives the meat a horrible aftertaste, and this is a feast I very much want to be enjoyed. Our guests tonight have very discerning tastes after all."

"Don't worry, Mistress, all set", Doyle said with a tinge of pride. "I saw to everything myself, it'll go off without a hitch as usual."

"Of course, it will," Angelique. "I would be very displeased if it did not." She said this with no threat apparent in her voice, but Dickie and Doyle swallowed nervously anyway. "Now off with you and fetch my special guest. We gather at midnight at the Pine Street Club."

"We'll be there with bells on," Dickie grinned and Doyle elbowed him again.