Transformations - Travelers Ch. 04

"Yes, they are giants," Colin said from the driver's seat.

Nancy looked up to see his bright, blue glowing eyes looking at her in the rearview.

"Giants?"

"Yes, Ma'am. They're called Worker Caste. Mostly convicted felons who have been modified to become creatures of burden."

Eric leaned forward. "My God, that's monstrous! It's barbaric..."

Christine pressed her face to the glass. "Well, at least they're serving a useful purpose now." She shook her head. "They must weigh five or six hundred pounds. All muscle."

Nancy stared at Christine. She didn't seem the least bit repulsed that the Church of Morpheus' concept of criminal rehabilitation seemed to be to turn convicts into useful monsters.

Nancy looked at Colin's eyes in the rearview. "What do you think of this, Colin?"

He canted his head to the side and smiled slightly. "As someone who has had his brain forcibly removed from his skull and stuffed into a sex robot? My opinion is... irrelevant."

His gaze moved from the mirror down to the dashboard.

A small camera sat on the dash pointed toward him and his passengers.

He's being watched, Nancy thought. He hates this as much as Eric and I.

He just can't say anything.

Nancy smiled toward him. "What caste are you, Colin?"

"Whore Caste, Ma'am."

Slowly but surely, Nancy was beginning to understand who were the good guys and who were the bad guys on this topsy turvy island.

***

Monica and Paul

Downtown Havana was nothing like Monica would have thought. The Cuban architecture of the 60s was gone, swept away by shimmering glass spires and neon. Beside highways built on towering concrete arches there were areas of luscious tropical vegetation - small oases in an urban, science fiction metropolis.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Mother Superior Hecate said. Her eyes were hidden by the dark glasses. "Soon, the entire world will look like this. Perfect harmony between mother earth and progress. Our power comes from clean nuclear, solar, wind... even the waves themselves."

"All we have to do is give up our freedom," Monica said.

Hecate turned toward her and laughed. "You humans and your concept of freedom. You cry out to us in anguish from your chains of religion and custom and then, when we show you the path to true freedom? You call us tyrants."

"Fine. Prove you're not a tyrant. Pull this limo over and let us out."

Hecate cocked her head to the side. "No. Your sacrifice - if you wish to think of it as such - will ensure that everything you see here will flourish in the rest of the world."

Monica snorted. "Look, Lady Dracula, or whatever you're supposed to be? I'm just a midwestern girl working on a useless degree. You've got the wrong person if you think I can influence anything or anybody."

Monica flinched as the nun in latex reached out and took her chin in her long nailed fingers.

"You fit the profile. Blonde, beautiful, smart..." She looked down. "With hips made for pushing out progeny. You're a little young to match him... but we'll fix that."

"Pushing out progeny?! What the fuck are you talking about?" Monica asked through gritted teeth.

"You will be bred by a man who will soon become the most powerful man on earth. You will have this man's children. You will stand by him as he... presides over the fall of the entire world."

***

Terri and Baphista

The train rested on a cushion of electromagnetic force as it rocketed from the airport into the city.

Baphista stood behind her, her powerful right arm curled around Terri's waist as her clawed left hand held onto the strap.

Everyone on the bullet train was Whore Caste. They smiled at each other, talked.

Terri had never been on a train where people, complete strangers, actually talked to one another. A short Girlfriend Experience Whore stumbled as the train shot around a corner.

Quick as lightning, a Whoremaster and a White Witch caught her and steadied her on her feet, then held her hands as the train rocketed on.

We're better than we were, Terri thought. Religious Caste might be calling the tune in this new world order, but the dance belonged to Whore Caste.

"Next stop, San Lazaro Slave Market," a robotic voice called from the ceiling.

She leaned back against Baphy and trembled.

The demoness leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

She would have faith - the universe did not put the two of them together just to tear them apart. Terri wanted so desperately to believe that. She silently said a prayer for Nancy and Monica.

The train slowed as it approached a massive glass enclosure. Huge cranes towered over the slave market - there were docks nearby and thousands of shipping containers were being loaded and unloaded from the massive freighters moored there.

The train came to a stop.

"Don't let go of me," Terri whispered.

"Never," Baphista said.

They walked hand in hand through the sliding doors and into the stone and glass train station.

***

Nancy

The streets of Havana were crowded with what appeared to be a never-ending orgy that spilled from the sidewalks onto the road.

Colin guided the huge car expertly through the crowd.

"Is it always like this?" Nancy asked.

"No. At night? The action is much more intense," Colin said with a smile.

Just outside the window in front of Nancy, a woman with huge breasts was bent over a bus stop bench as a man whose muscles looked sculpted from stone took her from behind. The woman was staring at Nancy through the car window with a look of confusion and lust.

"He's a Whoremaster," Colin said. "She's never had a man like him. If he finishes inside her? She will be bound to him forever."

"Bound?"

Colin smiled. "Imagine falling in love. Madly in love. So much in love that you feel like you are a part of the other person. Now, imagine that feeling happens in an instant, a microsecond. And then? It lasts forever."

She looked at Eric. Yes, she could imagine that.

"What about you, Colin? Are you bound?" Don asked with a smirk.

"No. Not bound. It isn't possible for me to be bound. It requires finishing Ambrosia to come into contact with flesh - the only flesh I have is my brain. Unfortunately, brain tissue cannot facilitate the binding, though my DNA can be used to bind someone to me."

"It's terrible you can't feel it yourself, though," Nancy said.

Colin smiled warmly. "I had to fall in love the old fashioned way. I have a coven." He laughed. "A growing one. I go home to them when I'm not working at the hotel."

"This coven?" Nancy asked. "How many people are in it?"

"Currently, seven counting me. Although, since I am non-organic, the Church only sees us as being five - I don't count nor does another artificial in our group."

"I'll bet the rest of your coven doesn't think you don't count," Nancy said.

"No. They don't, Ma'am, and thank you for saying that."

Don shook his head. "Tell me, Colin, this coven of yours - does a Whoremaster own it?"

Colin laughed. "We have a Whoremaster, yes. He doesn't own the coven - we all do."

"So, you have to... you know... service him?" Don asked.

Nancy flinched and felt embarrassed to be in this car with Don.

Colin shook his head. "I'm not gay, sir, if that's what you're asking? Though we have no prohibitions against it in my coven. One can love without sex."

"And I think maybe be bound without having skin," Nancy said gently.

Colin tilted his head. "Perhaps you are correct, Ma'am."

***

Hotel La Lilitu stood on the site of the Plaza de la Cathedral - the old Catholic cathedral having been demolished when the Church of Morpheus took over after 'La Noche de las Brujas' - the night every wife and girlfriend of the members of Castro's government, under the control of the Church of Morpheus, drew knives and slaughtered the entire regime.

Where there had been an old stone cathedral there now stood a towering edifice of glass, steel, and the ever present neon.

"No one is speaking Spanish. Does everyone speak English?" Christine asked as she stood on the sidewalk beside the limo and watched the crowd.

"Yes, Ma'am," Colin said as he hefted luggage from the trunk. "The Church standardized on English in the first few months of the revolution. It is the native language of the god Morpheus."

"But," Christine said as she spread out her arms. "They're all speaking English - even the people who've obviously been here since before the revolution."

Colin looked at her and nodded. "Everyone on the island has had their minds... reprogrammed... to speak English."

"Hmm," Don said and scratched his head. "Convenient."

"Horrifying," Nancy whispered.

"Yes, Ma'am," Colin said. "And, your opinion of the hotel?"

"Garish."

Colin leaned close. "My opinion as well."

Nancy laughed.

***

Monica and Paul

"What's going to happen to us in here?" Monica asked as she walked beside Diana. They followed Mother Superior Hecate into the Cathedral of Morpheus.

The front of the skyscraper was a crystalline sculpture of the god himself. The massive glass head of the penis pointed downward toward the main doorway to the interior.

"Your god thinks a lot of himself," Monica said as she stared up at the massive glans. "You people actually believe his cock is three-quarters the length of his legs?"

Diana looked up. "Everything is in proportion."

"Wait, seriously?" Monica asked.

"They say he did that to himself," Diana said. "Before even my time."

Nuns in black and white latex robes ran up to Hecate, spoke with her briefly, then dashed off ahead of her back into the building - like remoras rushing up to a shark, clinging for a moment, and then heading off to locations unknown.

"What are they doing?" Monica asked.

"Asking her what to do about some problem or another - Hecate is Sister's right hand. She runs most of the island."

"Those things she said in the limo? What are they going to do to Paul and me?" Monica asked.

"To Paul? Nothing," Diana said.

"And... to me?"

Diana sighed. "You're going to be modified. You'll be Whore Caste in a sense... immortal but..."

"Not sterile like the rest of you."

"No. No, you'll have a functional uterus."

Monica frowned. "I have no choice in this?"

"Not if you value your life."

"I'm not sure I value it that much. I don't want to be a slave to... whoever this person is."

Diana looked at her hard. "Please trust me. Please. I have a plan. A plan approved by the highest..."

"Fuck you and your plans. I won't be some asshole's broodmare. I'll put an end to their fucking plans the first opportunity I get."

Diana moved quickly, grabbing Monica's right hand.

Electricity seemed to flow up Monica's arm and into her brain. She clenched her teeth as lights flashed in front of her eyes.

You will not hurt yourself. No matter what happens? You will not be able to cause harm to yourself, Monica. My people, Whore Caste, value human life even if Hecate and her caste do not. Trust me. Trust Maria. Trust the Followers of Adam...

The White Witch's words burned into Monica's brain, becoming set in stone in her psyche.

"I... won't. I wouldn't..." Monica moaned.

"The fuck did you just do to her?" Paul asked as he struggled to pull his arms out of Hannah's grasp.

"I helped her," Diana said.

"Listen to her, luv. She just saved your girlfriend's life," Hannah said.

"Is everything alright?" Hecate asked. She had stopped walking and had turned to face them.

Diana staggered slightly. "Yes... Mother Superior. The... human... was thinking about harming herself rather than facing your plans for her. I ended that... rebellion."

A crooked smile appeared on Hecate's face. "Thank you, Diana. We're fortunate you accompanied us." She turned and walked into the cathedral.

Monica was panting. She felt like she had just run a marathon. "Who... Who's Maria? Who are the Followers of Adam?" She whispered.

Diana looked shocked. She put her fingers to Monica's lips. "They are hope. But whatever you do? Don't say those names in Hecate's presence. Never. Do you understand? The entire fate of the world depends on your silence."

***

Hecate led the way to a set of elevators on one side of the massive cathedral entrance. Inside, a nun stood waiting.

As soon as they entered, the nun pressed a button marked S7.

"Where are you taking us?" Monica asked.

Diana turned and looked at her with wide eyes.

"Sublevel 7," Hecate said. "Some call it Hell itself."

Monica felt Paul's hand in hers as the doors closed and the elevator began to descend so rapidly Monica's ears popped.

Show no fear, Diana's voice said in her mind. It's what she wants. Don't give her the satisfaction.

Monica tried hard to remove any trace of emotion from her face, but her lip trembled and a single tear ran down her cheek.

Diana's hand found Monica's free hand and held it tight.

The doors opened on utter chaos.

On hundreds of gurneys in a massive stone chamber, naked bodies writhed and strained against shackles, ball gags blocking their screams.

"We take only fifteen percent by force these days," Hecate said as she began walking through the aisles of people.

"Fifteen percent?" Paul asked. "Fifteen percent of whom?"

Hecate turned and smiled. "Why fifteen percent of those who come here for a sexcation, of course." She stopped and stroked the tanned thigh of a woman with terrified eyes. "These revelers wandered into the wrong area, found themselves isolated. And, now? They are lost," Hecate said as she leered down into the woman's face.

Then Hecate removed her sunglasses and the woman fainted.

Hecate laughed. "I love getting that reaction." She stood up and turned toward Paul and Monica.

Her eyes were inky black orbs with no white to them at all - just a void of black.

***

Terri and Baphista

The Slave Market interior was a massive auditorium with a raised stage. Terri and Baphista were taken into a holding area at the back and stripped bare, their latex garments fed into a machine to be recycled.

"Contraband?" A bald man in a black suit asked as Terri watched her pretty dress being fed into a shredder.

"Huh?"

"Are you carrying any contraband? Drugs stuffed into your orifices? Banned religious texts?" The man asked as he stared at her intently.

"Golly, no, I'm as naked as the day I was born," Terri said.

"Name and designation?"

"Umm, Terrific Titties Terri, Cheerleader Whore, as of yet? Unbound! What's your name?" Terri said with bubbly enthusiasm.

"My name? Church Agent," he said drily.

"Okey dokey, then," Terri said without losing her smile. "This tall drink of water behind me is..." She frowned. "Gee, I only know you as Baphista..."

Baphista sneered as she stroked her massive cock. "Baphista Morningstar, beloved of Satan, a Succubus Whore, temptress of men and women alike to the doom of their immortal souls!" Then she smiled and waved.

Terri smiled at the Church Agent. "We're together. An item."

The agent rolled his eyes and typed something on his tablet computer.

"Are you writing down that we're supposed to be sold together? You know, as a set?" Terri asked.

"Just names and designations. Turn around and bend forward."

Terri giggled. "Golly. You get to sample the merchandise?"

The Church Agent held up a small device with a pistol grip. "You have to be barcoded."

"Does it sting?"

"Yes."

Terri swallowed. "Can Baphy go first?"

"No."

"Okay then," she turned around and bent at the waist.

The agent pressed the device to the back of her neck.

And, it did indeed sting.

***

Terri stood with Baphista behind her backstage. Beyond the dark curtains lay the stage itself.

Onstage, a tall Bishop in black latex robes stood behind a podium.

A few feet to his side, a tall Street Whore stood naked, her huge J cup breasts riding high on her long, lithe frame. Her green eyes blazed from a sea of red freckles the same shade as her cascading hair.

"Erogenous Erin, madams and monsieurs," the Bishop intoned. "Taken on the street right under the nose of her husband. We made sure she kept her lilting Irish accent - a natural for any brothel! Shall we open the bidding at 5000 credits?"

"5000," a man said from the crowd.

"5100," a woman countered.

"5500," another man said.

Terri leaned back against Baphista who stroked the smaller woman's quaking shoulders.

"They gotta know we're supposed to be sold together. Hannah said..."

"There are no guarantees, my love," Baphista whispered.

"Sold to Whoremaster Arden for 10,700 credits!" The bishop announced onstage.

A tall figure climbed onto the stage.

A Whoremaster over seven feet tall dressed only in sweatpants and leather sandals smiled at his newly purchased Street Whore. He quickly wrapped a satin gown around the redhead's shoulders. He whispered something to her, and she smiled as he led her off the stage.

There were no catcalls, no laughing - Terri had thought there would be an atmosphere like a carnival.

But, then, of course there wouldn't be. The people in the audience, though they were out of her sight? They were Whore Caste. Whoremasters and White Witches.

"Next on the auction block: an American girl, Terrific Titties Terri, Cheerleader Whore," the Bishop said and turned his liquid black eyes toward the curtain.

Terri held Baphista's hand and tried to lead her forward.

"No!" A Church Agent said by the curtain. "Just you. You're sold one at a time." He grabbed Terri's wrist.

Baphista hissed. "Take your hand off her!" She lashed out and the agent staggered sideways from the open handed blow.

BZZZZT!

Baphista fell to her knees as two agents appeared from the darkness behind her. They pressed cattle prods into her sides and Baphista crumpled.

"Baphy! No!" Terri screamed.

"Is there a problem?" The Bishop asked with a laugh from onstage.

"No, Bishop," the agent whom Baphista had struck said as he stood up. He lowered his voice and glared at Terri. "Get your whore ass on that stage or we'll light her up again."

"Please. I will," Terri said. She looked down at Baphista. "Just don't hurt her anymore."

Baphista looked up at her miserably.

The agents pressed the buttons on the cattle prods and electricity crackled menacingly a few inches from Baphista's sides.

Terri mouthed the words 'I love you' and turned toward the stage.

She stepped through into bright lights.

"Finally. Terrific Titties Terri - the daughter of a state senator, no less. Transformed on the plane. My understanding is she was quite popular among both crew and passengers," the Bishop said with a laugh. "We will start the bidding at 2000 credits."

"2000," a Whoremaster said.

"2500," another said.

"Excuse me. Aren't there supposed to be two of them?" A Whoremaster asked.

Terri squinted against the bright lights.

A tall Whoremaster with curly blond hair, nearly a head taller than the others, was speaking. Beside him stood a shapely brunette.

The Bishop stared at him. "She is to be sold separately. The bid is at 2500. Do I hear 3..."

"No, no. I believe you are mistaken. There are supposed to be two. This one and another... a succubus, if I remember correctly?"

"This one is the current slut up for bid!" The Bishop leaned forward. "This is not the first time you have disturbed this holy auction with your insolence, Whoremaster."

"Nor is it likely to be the last," the Whoremaster said.