0 comments/ 32729 views/ 2 favorites Out of the Stones Pt. 1 By: wilsoncairns MINNESOTA (1) Chapter One Darkness and cold, enhancing each other in the frozen metropolitan city. Pedestrians passing through and underneath the skyway matrix bundled up against the wind that threatened to numb and tear away the fattened flesh. Difficult to believe that in this city with its dirty snow and ice crystals, that humanity has so chosen to thrive. A unique breed that not only enjoys the biting and stinging cold, but also seem to excel in its presence. Gordon and Martha Babcock, two prime examples; he dressed in a warm down filled parka, with coyote fur lining the hood and overly large gloves, mimicked only by the dime store Santa’s. Born and raised in this part of the country, a descendant of the many Scandinavians that had settled here over the years. Gordon had donned the traditional three layers of clothing, including a pair of thermal underwear. He was fully prepared to face the night of bar hopping that both him and Martha enjoyed on a regular basis. Martha was a stark opposite of her light skinned husband. Martha had been raised on the West Coast, with plenty of sunshine and regular bouts of rain. She had come here as a promotion to a job after her college graduation out west. She had learned to adapt to the cold, but she would never be as comfortable in it as her husband. To make matters worse, Martha was very vain in her selection of clothes. She tended to dress more for fashion than for any function. Tonight was no exception, a small leather mini-skirt barely covered her posterior, and she had noticed several of the bar patrons trying to be sly and catch glimpses of her lace covered crotch as she would cross and uncross her legs. She liked the attention her clothing, or lack of drew, although she would never admit to being anything of an exhibitionist. Martha was a beautiful twenty-eight year old woman, and she liked to occasionally flaunt those gifts donned upon her by the genetic gods. Martha and Gordon stepped out from the McCairns Irish Brew House, and stood under the street lamps. “Are you sure you don’t want to take the skyway over to the car?” Gordon was genuinely concerned with his wife’s health, dressed as she was in the cold. “Why don’t you wait inside and I’ll bring the car around.” “Oh don’t be silly, it’s not that cold out and I need the fresh air to clear out those last two drinks from my head.” Martha’s voice was not overly high, she had smoked through most of her teenage years, and even though she had quit, the nicotine had taken its toll on her. The voice was always arousing to Gordon, and he was feeling amorous to begin with. He had wanted to get in at least a “quickie” before they had even left the house, but Martha had wanted to get out as soon as possible, promising to make it worth his while upon their return. Gordon was always a little leery of Martha’s sexual promises. She had a tendency to want to stay out too late or drink a little too much, so that they were both too tired by the time they got home. The two walked down Hennepin Avenue making their way south toward the parking garage. The wind started to pick up. Gordon occasionally turned his head into the multitude of strip bars and sex shop windows. The wind had a devastating effect on the eyes, burning away the moisture and causing them to feel dryer than the Sahara. The wind also had an exhilarating if not masochistic charge as it blew up Martha’s short skirt. Her teeth started to chatter and she tried to snuggle into Gordon as they quickened their pace. Gordon offered her the jacket, but she wouldn’t hear of it, besides it would still leave her legs and toes open to the elements. Better to be all the way cold, than just parts of her. More than six blocks to go and both were starting to regret having parked so far away. Gordon had wanted to park the car at his special parking garage, he thought it was safer there than the dark ones further up Hennepin. As another gust picked up and was intensified by the funneling effect the multistory buildings around them caused, Martha slipped into a doorway of an older abandoned building. “On second thought, can I wait here until you get the car?” Her teeth were really chattering at a face pace and were increasing with each breath she took in. “Hey no problem, I’ll be right back. You sure you don’t want the jacket?” Martha had stopped even bothering to talk, her teeth were clicking far too much to not have it sound comical. She shook her head and waved him off to hurry. Gordon took off around the corner of the little alcove; not daring to run as the ice had not been scraped completely off of these sidewalks. His flat-soled Italian shoes gave absolutely no grip as he tried to speed walk down the street. He looked back to make sure Martha wasn’t following or trying to get his attention. The light was very poor where he had left her, and he couldn’t see anything. Better just to hurry and get to the car. Two blocks to go. He turned sharply, thinking that he had heard something. Gordon was starting to feel the cold even through his multiple layers; he felt a pounding of sympathy for his wife and a twinge of guilt that he had not forced her to keep the jacket. “So much for chivalry” he snorted to himself. The car was bathed in a yellow light, and ice crystals had formed on the windows. “Darn, I’ve got to scrape these or I won’t even make it out of the garage.” Talking to himself was a way he had discovered to cope with the cold. Keep your mind on something else; ignore the cold he thought. Gordon fumbled with the lock. Manipulating the key without taking off his gloves, it seemed like it took him ten minutes just to retrieve them from his jacket pocket. His heart started to race as he thought about his scantly dressed wife out in this cold. “Bet her nipples are hard as rock.” Gordon was starting to remember her promise, and his dick was already starting to rise to the occasion. One crank, two, damn cold was making it hard on the car. The car whined at each crank of the starter, moaning out its protest to having been left out in the elements instead of tucked away nicely in a heated garage. Finally and begrudgingly the engine turned over, it wasn’t idling well. Gordon hopped out and started scraping the windows, noticing that a thin layer of glaze was forming on the inside of the window. The Ford was doing it’s best and the defroster was slammed over to it's highest setting, but this was Minnesota after all. It was going to take time for the heater to take its effect. After what seemed like an eternity Gordon was racing around the serpentine garage, making his way down to the third avenue exit, whipping it around to Hennepin again. At each turn the whine and groan of the power steering belt echoed throughout the garage. “Shit” Gordon slammed on the breaks as the stoplight turned red in front of him. He peered down the streets, figuring his odds of success if he should so choose to run the light. He revved the engine, hoping to increase the heat. The light changed, but still Gordon was forced to wait as a group of teenagers crossed the street against the solid “Don’t walk” sign. Gordon raised his fist at the kids; shit wasn’t there a curfew for them at this time of night. Gordon prepared himself for the maelstrom of curses that Martha would no doubt inflict on him for not being quicker about picking her up. He started to get defensive, even though he was only arguing with himself, after all it wasn’t his fault she had to go out dressed like that, he had asked her to wear warmer clothes. He became aggressive as he pulled up to the little alcove; this was actually all her fault, why couldn’t she just listen to her husband. Gordon honked the horn and unlocked the passenger side of the vehicle. He peered into the alcove and waited for her to come racing to the car. There wasn’t any movement that he could see through the darkness. Gordon unstrapped his seatbelt and crawled back out into the cold. “Martha, lets go.” He yelled into the alcove, his voice seeming to blare through the quiet of the night. Still there was no answer, Gordon figured that she must be hiding back there with her teeth chattering and couldn’t answer, hell served her right for not listening. Gordon walked to where he had left her, “Honey?” He was confident that this was where he had separated from her, but she wasn’t there now. “God damn it. I’ll bet she went back to the fucking bar. Shit it didn’t take me that damn long to get back.” His anger was slowly rising and the blame was getting placed more and more on his petite wife. “Probably, back there flashing it off to those guys again…. Shit, she thinks I never noticed.” Gordon turned and headed back towards his car and misplaced his footing. He came down hard on the ice, “Oh that does it, she can take a fucking cab.” He turned to get his hands underneath of himself, and felt the firm feeling of something in his hand. The actual texture was beyond his sensation, his gloves obscured that. He lifted the object to his face. It was Martha’s stiletto shoe. Gordon looked around for the other; he tried to fit the puzzle together. They would be hard to walk in, on the frozen ice, but he couldn’t imagine her walking down the street barefoot. Gordon’s heart started to race, he left his car and ran down the street towards the bar. He continued to stumble without the traction of a good rubber sole shoe, but he was no longer concerned with falling. “Just let her be all right.” He started to chant to himself. He plunged into the bar, which had mostly emptied out and peered through the smoke at the bar and tables. He knew that he shouldn’t panic, but something wasn’t right with all of this. No Martha. Maybe she caught a ride with a friend and was just getting back to the alcove. He ran back down the street. The sweat from his forehead was freezing off and making his skin feel stretched, the wind was burning his eyes worse as he ran, causing them to tear up more. All of the moisture seemed to have been whisked away from his lips, and his lungs burned with the cold as he drew in breath harder and harder. He paid no attention to it as the adrenaline was coursing through his body. He didn’t know weather to be angry, afraid, or guilty… he just wanted her to be safe and warm with him again. Again back at the alcove and no Martha. He screamed her name into the night, hoping that she would hear him if she had wandered further down the street. Gordon fumbled with the keys in the ignition and opened the trunk of his still running car. He grabbed up the flashlight and tried to see if there were any tracks he could follow through the snow. Unfortunately the snow had been shoveled, and the remainder had frozen so solidly that no imprint could be seen. He flashed the light around to see if he would find her other shoe. He stopped suddenly as he saw a dark pool that had just recently started to freeze. He reached down and placed the tip of his glove into it. It came back up like tar and he knew instinctively that everything had gone wrong. He screamed and jumped quickly to his car, only now removing his gloves as he tried to dial the numbers to 911. Through a parka and three layers of clothes, Gordon was freezing inside. Martha stood in the alcove holding herself tight, trying to block out the bitter wind that still seemed to sneak its way around the corner. She imagined she could actually see her blood thickening in her veins, moving slower and slower. She could never remember having been this cold. Martha peered around the corner to see where Gordon had gotten off too. “Please hurry baby, my tits are gonna fall off out here.” She squinted against the wind and felt the urge to just let her eyes close and go to sleep. The thought of sleep drifted her off to her own warm bed; she could feel the weight of her comforter falling across her breasts. She dreamed of Gordon’s warm body snuggling up next to her. “Hey there, this is no place to sleep.” A stranger’s voice startled her back to the moment and her teeth began to chatter again. She wasn’t sure if her teeth had ever really stopped chattering. She was slightly perturbed by the interruption. Martha looked into the eyes of a man with a ski mask. Ski masks in the middle of the night anywhere else would have been enough to make Martha scream for help, but they were so common here. “Not really dressed for Minnesota are you?” The voice was soothing and friendly, and she felt at ease answering. “Just out for a night on the town with the hubby, he’ll be back here any minute with the car.” She managed to chatter out between breaths. “Good, otherwise I do believe you’d expire from hypothermia out here dressed like that. Look I’ve got an extra coat in my car, how about I get it for you.” The voice sounded strangely familiar, but she couldn’t quite place it. The scent of cologne, sweet and musk with just a touch of the man's own aroma reached her nostrils. Martha found it oddly drawing. “OK, yeah, sure….ah, thank you.” Her head was nodding faster than she wanted it to, but the cold was muddling her thoughts. The man didn’t really even seem to leave as a coat was thrown around her shoulders. It felt like a blanket was thrown around her as well. “Why, you’re half frozen aren’t you.” The man stepped closer to Martha. She could smell him, and he smelled good. He put his hands on her arms and started to rub them furiously, trying to help her warm up. “Really, it’s OK, my husband will be here in a minute with the car.” She wasn’t sure how Gordon would feel if he saw her with a total stranger, especially with the stranger touching her. The man didn’t seem put off any, “yeah, well you need to be warmed up until he gets here. What kind of guy leaves his wife out in the cold.” He continued to rub her arms and shoulders. He had slipped around behind her and the warmth was starting to reach her arms. Stranger or not, this was starting to feel good. The man did have a point, Gordon should have insisted that he leave at least his coat with her. The man continued to rub her body, and Martha was starting to feel aroused by it. He was standing directly behind her now, and his rubbing seemed to be slowing into more of a gentle rub. She couldn’t help herself, and she started to sway back and forth. Was it just her imagination or was he pressing himself up against her now? His hands reached around and slowly eased around her stomach, caressing and warming it was delicious she thought to herself. Thoughts of Gordon slipped away. Oh god, she thought, his hands are on my thighs. The stranger was now venturing higher and higher, until his hands reached under her skirt and began ministering to her dampening pussy. He ran his hands gently over her pubic mound, pressing down on the top of her pelvic arch seductively. So erotic Martha thought, no guilt, so delicious. She wanted to feel more of this man and his warmth. She was thrusting her ass against an obviously large erection. She licked her lips and dreamed of the dick inside this man’s pants, how it would feel as it would pound inside of her. “Seems you’re getting warmer,” he purred into her ear. “Mmmmm,” was all she was able to muster, she wanted this man to take her. Martha turned to look into his eyes, damn what a fantasy come true. A masked mystery man bringing her to new heights in such a public place. Her husband would be here soon, the possibilities of getting caught drove her plateau of ecstasy to even greater levels. The man reached under the jacket and handled her breasts roughly, her nipples were so hard, and the cold was now an enhancement rather than a danger. She felt a sting above her eye, she reached out to touch it, but things seemed to slow down. She couldn’t open her eyes. Her hands dropped limply to her sides, she felt warm though, and that was nice. “Time for a nap darling.” She heard the stranger laugh and still she didn’t feel afraid. Lots of people crowded the small Irish bar; it was kind of the hangout for so many wanna be eclectic groups. You were liable to see everything from longhaired guys wearing kilts to yuppie couples pretending to be hip while their kids were home with the nanny. Unlike so many bars in the neighborhood, this one encouraged the use of tobacco, especially pipes and cigars. It was rumored that bringing in an especially unique blend or the right cigar could get you a free drink or more from the owners. And with the right questions, other desireable weeds could be gotten as well. They slung mostly beers, ales, and an occasional hard cider in this place. Sometimes the right occasion might bring out a good bottle of whisky. People were friendly with each other here, regardless of their racial, economical, or political standing. Regulars sat in the dark corners throwing darts or trying to make up limericks. In the very darkest portions lovers would hide and grope each other. Word had it that some rich philanthropist moved this bar from the emerald isle, directly to the states; of course this was total marketing and without any merit. Martha and Gordon sat at the bar watching the activities around them, talking with the other patrons. She was beautiful and caught the eyes of many a passing or sitting man. One man watched so intently that he spilled his beer when his wife slapped him for staring. She winked at one younger fellow as he pointed her out to his buddy sitting next to him. When she crossed her legs they applauded. When Gordon turned to see what was happening, they looked away towards the television above them. Martha spun around on her barstool and tried to keep a straight face. “What were they clapping about?” “Oh shit you know these Irishmen, probably watching a soccer game.” Martha continued to move slowly to the music playing in the background. Five bars they had hit tonight, and she had to piss so badly. “Be right back babe, gotta go.” Gordon held her close and kissed her, patting her bottom gently. He was trying to let the other blokes in here know that she was claimed territory. He always felt a little uneasy when she dressed up like this to go out. Oh well, he knew that she loved him and that was what was important. She winked again at the two young men as she made her way back into the women’s restroom. She did love to tease. She would never consider cheating on Gordon, but the attention was so very nice. Tonight had been a good night; lots of guys were checking her out. The bathroom was in bad shape, typical for a downtown bar on a Friday night, especially this close towards closing time. There was actually urine on the floor. Obviously some lady had not quite made it to the porcelain or had tried to pee standing up. Martha chuckled at the thought. She raised her skirt and sat down to complete her business, before she realized that there wasn’t any toilet paper. Drip dry, great. Someone else was in the bathroom with her, she could smell perfume. It smelled good, if not a little masculine, but with the crowd in here it wouldn’t be surprising to have a few androgynous types too. Martha stepped out of the stall and looked at the sink, she hated to stop to wash her hands. No one was watching so she went ahead out of the bathroom. How funny she thought, we wash our hands if no one is looking. She’d have to remember that the next time she went to shake someone else’s hand. The two guys watched her leave from the bathroom, and she felt playful. She stopped before she got to Gordon and reached down to straighten out her stalkings. There were only two problems with this, she bent over at the waist, and she wasn’t wearing any stalkings. These were lost on the two as their mouths went dry from the exposed flesh flashed in front of them. Gordon turned as she stood and smoothed out the wrinkles from her skirt. He looked back to see the other fellows again watching the soccer game. Out of the Stones Pt. 1 “Come on, I’m ready to go home.” “Just one more for the road?” He gave her bottom another pat and ordered another round. Detective Rainier searched to make sure that the area had been properly roped off and that the crime scene was in tact. The call had brought him from a sound sleep, but he had long since gotten used to that. Seemed like this shit could never happen during daylight hours. He wasn’t even sure what they had yet, other than a frantic and upset husband who claimed that his wife had been abducted. The other thing he knew was that within the hour he would be surrounded by media and that gave him precious little time to get moving. Not all that much happened in Minneapolis, but the media sure loved to make it sound like it was another powerhouse metropolitan city. Rainier’s partner, Jessie O’mally was questioning the husband, so at least that part would be well taken care of. Rainier watched as the multitude of squad car lights flashed against the building. They reminded him of the 70’s disco revolution. Evidence on hand, a pool of blood and a stiletto shoe. “Detective.” Rainier turned to answer the officer coming up quickly with a report in his hand. “What do you got?” “Officers over in the Phillips neighborhood found a snowman in the park wearing a miniskirt and blouse that matches the description of the victim.” “Get the fuck outta here. Tell ‘em not to touch it, wait until the lab guys get over there. Tell them I want a full analysis for blood, hair, skin, fiber and semen.” “Yes sir, we’re on it.” “Hey O’Mally, better bring him over here.” Jessie brought Gordon over to where Rainier was standing; she tried to make small talk with the man. She had found that information shared during informal conversations, often led to more clues than direct questioning. “Mr. Babcock, our officers found some clothing in an another neighborhood, that sound like they would match the description of your wife’s clothes.” Rainier waited to see if there was any reaction. The man held to a blank stare, was he was in shock or just plain dumb? “Mr. Babcock were you or your wife doing any drugs, or was she on any medication?” Gordon just shook his head, “yeah, we dropped some acid and viagra and went frolicking around in 20 below weather. She’s been kidnapped you shit. Now find her.” “Whoa there big guy,” O’Mally stepped in between the two, “No need for a war here. We just need to make sure we have all the information.” Gordon shook his head, “Sorry, I just want her back safe. We were drinking pretty hard, but nothing else. And I was already sober before we left. Martha said that she wanted to clear her head, but she wasn’t drunk or anything.” Rainier turned away and resumed inspection of the crime scene, already the television vans were showing up. Metropolitan city, but small town when it comes to kidnappings. “Good Morning and welcome to WOOC news, topping our stories this morning is a missing St. Paul woman that appears to have been abducted late last night after visiting this local bar.” The cameras faded out of the plastic appearing news anchor to a recorded image of McCairns bar. The morning bar crowd cheered as the image flashed upon the screen. No matter the circumstances of this free advertisement, the patrons loved their moment in the spotlight. “Minneapolis police were on the scene here on Hennepin Avenue until early this morning. Details are sketchy but it appears that while this lady,” A college graduation picture of Martha Babcock was flashed on the monitor, “waited for her husband to get the car from the garage last night, she was abducted.” WOOC has learned that Martha’s clothes were retrieved from a park in the Phillips neighborhood only hours after she was reported missing.” The image was once again upon the news anchor and a telephone number was flashed. “If you have any knowledge of the whereabouts of Martha Babcock or her disappearance, the Minneapolis Police and Hennepin County Sheriff have set up a toll free tip line. All callers may remain anonymous. Mr. Babcock has also arranged for a ten thousand-dollar reward for her safe return. And now it’s time for the weather and morning commute.” The bartender turned off the television and went back to work washing down the bar. Martha woke up to warmth and silky sheets; she twisted and stretched yawning widely. It was dark in the room, and someone had lit incense. Frankincense and myrrh permeated the air, not overpowering the smell of freshness and crisp air. Her bladder was full, yet even this somehow felt good. When she tried to rise, she was alarmed to find that she had been bound to the bed. Fur lined handcuffs had been hooked to a cast iron bed frame. Martha pulled on the handcuffs, hoping that this was one of Gordon’s little jokes. She needed to get to the bathroom. “Gordon!” she cried out. “Come on, I’ve really got to pee!” No answer came. Martha again tried to pull her hands through the cuffs, but they had been secured tightly. “Honey, come on or I’m going to wet the bed and you can clean it up!” She giggled as she finished her sentence. Her breathing became deeper as she struggled to maintain her bladder control. A half of an hour went by and no one came to help her. The pressure was becoming severe to the point it was now painful, and she was starting to get hungry. At last she could no longer hold back. She felt her bladder emptying and the warm flow circled around her soaking into the sheets. The release was so divine, even if it was somewhat humiliating to her. Again, warmth in a strange fashion but she knew that it would cool off soon. One good thing though, her bladder was no longer full. “Gordon, help, I wet the bed.” She continued to giggle. The door opened and she was surprised to see two petite women in their early twenties enter the room. One of the girls was holding fresh linen, the other was carrying a bucket of steaming hot water and a sponge. “Who the fuck are you?” Martha thought that this was over the limit even for Gordon, having two other women in the house with them. What kind of kinky shit was he up to this time? Both of the ladies smiled politely and came closer to her. “We are to keep you pleasured.” “Pleasured, oh so he went out and got hookers for this little tryst, sorry ladies not interested. But go and tell the asshole to get in here.” “But milady we have our instructions, we must obey.” The two rolled Martha onto her side and removed the sheets quickly. Martha was amazed at their obvious strength. She didn’t resist; having a urinated sheet underneath would quickly become uncomfortable. As quickly as it was cleaned and dried they had remade the bed, all without removing her restraints. Now they came at her with the warm sponge, wiping away the sweat and sleep from her face and arms. They moved and massaged, working together as one. They cleaned and dried her private parts, drying as soon as they wiped so that her skin would not cool overly fast. The girls went so far as to wipe at Martha’s anus, making sure they left no part unwashed. Martha felt like she was in heaven, her body was massaged and caressed, stimulating and relaxing all at once. One of the girls bent over at the waist and took Martha’s nipple into her mouth, circling it with her tongue and sucking with gentle pressure. Martha’s back instinctively arched and her pelvis arched as she pressed herself into the mattress. The other girl ran her hands along the inside of Martha’s thighs, encouraging them to spread to open up her flower. Her head dropped between Martha’s legs and the warm air of her breath caused Martha’s nipples to harden further. Yes, this must be heaven for sure. The tongues and hands continued to play across her heated flesh, Martha squirmed her body into position so that she might kiss the closer of the two. Not since her college days had she been played so well by another woman. A finger was inserted inside of her and was now thrusting like a miniature penis. She could feel the heat rising, burning at her flesh. The finger crooked, to rub that special spot inside of her. Another hand began to massage her anus, causing waves of pleasure to wash through her. Her nipples continued to harden and her breath was coming in shorter gasps. At last her body gave up to the pleasure and her whole person shook and rocked with the force of the most delectable orgasm she could recall. The girls quickly gathered up their things and headed for the door, leaving Martha exhausted and confused. She was disappointed as she could continue with this little party yet for quite a while. “Wait, don’t go.” She called out to the last of the two walking through the doorway. “It’s all right, the masters will be in shortly, you are prepared for them now.” With that she smiled and closed the door behind her. Martha heard a large lock turn; she was a prisoner again. Martha lay on the bed; she had been covered once again. She realized that she was hungry, no ravenous. Although the sex had been outstanding, her body still craved sustenance. The door opened and the lights in the room darkened. Two figures walked in, that strange sweet smell seemed to come with both of them. These were obviously larger than the two that had left only a short time earlier. “Who are you, and where the fuck am I?” Martha tried to sound in control, but she knew that whatever it was that Gordon had conjured up for a party, a key factor was her loss of control. “You are in our home darling one.” It was a woman’s voice that answered. She must be a very large woman, Martha thought to herself. She’s got to be at least six foot five, and powerfully built. “We are the masters of this place,” it was a male voice this time, the same as from the night before. No ski mask was covering his face, but it was still hidden by the shadows of the room. “Did Gordon put you up to this?” Martha asked with a slightly playful inflection in her voice. “No, you were chosen for this.” Said the female voice. Two sets of hands pulled back the comforter and began to massage Martha’s body yet again. She wasn’t sure how much more of this she could take. The pleasure had been consistent for so many hours, and she knew that it was about to start all over again. “She is yours my love.” The female voice said to the other, “She has been well prepared and is ready now.” Almost as if commanded, Martha’s body began to prepare for what she knew was going to be a brand new adventure. The man’s clothing fell away and even in the darkness of the room, his body seemed to glow. She looked at his face, so powerful as if a spotlight had been turned onto it. She let her eyes fall and examine every inch of this enormous man. She gasped as she saw the man’s penis. Surely it was a play of the shadows, but no, there were two heads to it and they were huge. One large scrotum swung from between his legs, and the size of his member was monstrously large. Martha was terrified as she looked back up at him. He grinned an evil and hypnotic smile. Martha was no longer sure what to do; her mind was pushing at her to scream, for her to get away. Something long and strong whipped out and circled her body as she tried to break free from her restraints. He laughed demonically, as he gripped her tighter with his tail. “Oh my god, what are you.” She cried, pulling away as hard as she could. “My god indeed.” The female voice answered. The woman’s hands reached out and stroked the two shafts, encouraging them to even greater size and hardness. She pressed down on Martha, paralyzing her into place. She then lined the penises up to Martha’s orifices, they entered at the same moment and tore at Martha. Through the pain Martha still sighed out as some unnatural pleasure was entering her. The woman raised her hand off of Martha, and placed them on the beast’s scrotum. “Begin my love.” It was as if she was giving this massive creature permission for pleasure. The shafts were pulled back, and Martha felt empty; but they were quickly thrust back forward, tearing away at her vaginal and anal walls. She thought she felt blood trickling between her legs. That huge scrotum swung forward and slapped at her ass, thrusting her forward. Martha held onto the headboard, trying to hold herself into place. Again and again now the thrusts continued. Martha felt herself climaxing regularly now, how could so much pleasure come even during this pain. She felt hot breath against her neck and then a pinch along her jugular. The female of the two was biting at her neck, and skipping her fingers across Martha’s nipples. Oh the pleasure was too much, again she felt the little death take her. Her mind was swimming, she was seeing colors and could smell the beast’s odor, it was all tangible eroticism and she was in ecstasy. As her eyes began to close she could feel the creature quickening its pace and the dark members inside of her seemed to expand even further. With a roar, the beast unloaded its unholy seed into her. She could feel each throb, and felt his seed coursing into her, it burned her. She screamed as the fire poured into her womb and her bowels, so much was there like hot coals. She felt it running out between her thighs, mixing with the blood from her wounds. She smiled, it was delicious. Then Martha Babcock fell away into the abyss, asleep for the remainder of eternity. “Yes my love, she was well prepared. Tonight is my hunt.” The woman kissed the beast on the forehead and helped him as he tore his shafts from Martha’s dead body. Gasses escaped from her body as the heads pulled loose from her, the shafts still hard and pulsing. “Girls,” the creature roared, “come and clean me, and dispose of this gift.” The two girls entered and cleaned their master with flailing tongues, making sure that all his seed and gore was washed away. When they were finished they lifted Martha away effortlessly, a smile still on her face. OREGON (2) Chapter Two “Damn strong wind out tonight, aye Bob.” “Strong as shit!” Two sailors pulled hard at their crab nets, fighting against ever-stronger waves slapping at the side of their small craft. “Told you them red skies would get us before we left.” “Ah, just a squall, it’ll pass soon enough.” The two were salt weathered characters, not really evil or harsh looking. It was apparent that they had spent many a day out on the ocean, being beaten by the salt wind, and the bright sun’s waves. Not too far away they could make out the jagged Oregon Coast line. This was the exact type of place where numerous pirates had supposedly dropped anchor to hide their ill-gotten booty. Over the centuries it had become more of a fisherman’s area and an occasional rich kid would venture out on a sailboard. Locals laughed at both of these two diverse groups. The crabbing had been poor for decades, and the Pacific Ocean was too cold for anyone in his or her right mind to be playing in it. Still, there were those diehards that would let nothing destroy their dreams. “Bob, wad’dya say we run into shore and go chase us some skirts?” Bob, the smaller of the two seamen hefted up a crab pot, and shook his head in discuss. Seven hours of crabbing had netted them no more than a half of a dozen pitifully small crustaceans. “Fuck it, let’s whore and score.” “’sides, that wind’s nothing to play with.” Jim was a taller man, with a hooked nose that dwarfed the other features on his long oblong face. Jim was dark skinned and looked out of place. His features would have been well suited for the Mediterranean Sea, instead of the harsh North Pacific. Bob had learned to sail in the navy. He had never been much more than a swab hand, but his time up around Alaska and the Puget Sound area had given him enough experience to be a worthwhile Captain. The two pulled in their remaining gear and radioed to the other sailors that they knew, making sure that all was clear that they had headed in before the storm. Good Sailors kept in contact with one another. The Coast Guard was damn good in this part of the country, but it helped to have sailors watching out for one another. The sun had already started to set when Jim and Bob pointed their craft towards the shoreline, and the winds were pushing them back viciously. Bob had fired up the engine and was pushing it as hard as he could to keep the motor in the water. Each wave seemed to try to throw them from the sea. Bob sang through the storm, keeping his hands on the wheel. He did a fine job tracking the waves, cutting them at an angle, so as not to take the full force of the wave. Jim made quick work on the deck, making sure that everything was roped down and didn’t get thrown overboard. “Neptune’s Kids are mighty pissed off at something tonight, aye Bob?” “Bet you the Guard’ll be out ‘fore long” Bob answered, referring to the Coast Guard unit stationed out of Newport and Astoria Bay’s. Even as the boat moved inland out of the rage of the sea, Bob was forced to fight the wind. Jim looked up into the sky as the first few raindrops started to plop onto the deck. “Good timing if I do say so me ownself” Jim was talking to no one in particular, although he speculated that some god of the sea was sure to be listening. “Better tie her down tight, this one might get rougher yet.” Bob pulled at the large ropes tying his beloved vessel to the pier. More than a few ships had been sunk right here at the pier during these sudden winter squalls. “Think she’ll be aw’right?” Jim asked Bob in a non-committal voice. Bob actually wasn’t even sure if it was a question or a statement. “Sea’ll watch over her, no doubt.” Bob slapped Jim on the back and jumped up onto the pier. Bob could hardly remember how he had gotten mixed up with Jim. He could vaguely recall waking up in a jail cell in Alaska; Jim had been in the bunk just above him. Apparently the military police had picked up the two as they went wobbling down a street cat calling and swilling whiskey. The officers had picked them up more for keeping the peace, than for any real crime committed by the two. Still, as hard as Bob would try, he couldn’t for the life of himself remember where he had actually met Jim. Jim just seemed to have appeared one night beside him, and they started sharing the bottle. Their friendship wasn’t exactly deep, and there were no romantic tones between the two (regardless of what other sailors in the area occasionally speculated). Even so, the two had remained comrades, and been together some twelve or thirteen years now. “What’dy’a say to hitting ‘Buck’s Tavern’ tonight Jim, always a few long legs there.” “Sounds like a good bet to me, ‘sides beer’s always cold there.” Bob’s tastebuds were now on full alert for that first good swallow of ice chilled beer. These two were no ancient men of the seas, but they had been out long enough and been to enough ports to know good beer. Buck’s Tavern was the place all the locals knew served the best brew, and none of it was that overpriced yuppie stuff. This was true ales and stouts, the type of drink you could just substitute for dinner. The other plus of drinking down at ‘Buck’s’ was that was where many of the ladies of the evening would hang out. Most of them were overweight and had seen their better years come and go, but to a man that spends his time routinely out to sea, they weren’t so bad. With poor lighting, a few dark ales, a mix of testosterone, and just the right perfume, many of the gals at the tavern wound up being more beautiful than their own moms. Bob and Jim were permanent bachelors too boot, so it wasn’t like they were out looking for a wife. A quick romp in the sack, just to loosen the load and lighten the evening was all these two could ever desire. As they entered the bar, they had to allow their eyes to adjust to the even starker darkness than what they had just left. Out of the Stones Pt. 1 Jim had a tab already set up with the owner. He had been bringing the owner, Mad Jack (though why he had ever been named this was a local mystery since he was always quiet and never mad) part of his catch for the last several years. Every once in a while Mad Jack would actually give Jim a bill for his account, but Jim never paid it, and Jack never pushed it. “What’s it gonna be tonight ladies?” The bartender cocked his head to the side and smirked at his well-rehearsed jab at the two. “How about a Shirley Temple and my foot up your arse.” Bob retorted and then snorted at his quick response. The bartender wiped up the spot that he knew Bob and Jim would sit and chuckled in that good-natured way that all bartenders do. “So it’s two darks and a bucket of pretzels then?” “Not near as dumb as old Jim here looks, are you?” Bob slapped his pal on the back again, and feinted away from the playful jab Jim had thrown at him. Jim and Bob toasted the sea and clinked their glasses, the salute was finished quickly and the first gulps of ale went down smoothly. Almost in unison the two set down their glasses and let a gleeful and satiated sigh escape. “Better than sex.” Jim snorted. “That’s what the women been sayin’ about you.” Bob teased his friend. “Well you don’t get as good head from them anyway.” The two prodded and coaxed each other as they drank, and generally continued to make snide remarks that would have had an outsider sure that the two were complete idiots. Very little else happened until it started to draw closer to closing. It seemed like the bar door just about blew off of its hinges as a gust of wind slammed it open. The rain blew in sideways before a feminine figure turned the corner and managed to close the door behind her. “Last call’s in about 15, the bartender barked out to the lady.” The woman wore a dark raincoat, with a hood pulled up over her head. She peeled back the hood and let long locks of stark red hair fall around her shoulders. The ends of her hair wiped away at the many beads of rain that were suspended on her coat. Her face had an ivory glow to it, as if she hadn’t seen the sun in years. Her face was petite, but not unnatural even for her large stature and it glowed like the moon. She didn’t remove the coat as she sat in a dark corner of the bar. The bartender went over and took her order and returned with a glass of hard cider. “Wow, getting a new class of client in here aren’t you Jack?” Bob motioned to the bar owner who had slipped behind the bar to begin closing out the tills for the night. “Never seen her here before, but I sure wouldn’t mind seeing a lot more of her.” “I’d give her a bit of hard cider.” Jim hinted, although his words had begun to slur and his emphasis on “hard” was loud enough to echo off the walls. The woman turned her head and pondered the two at the bar. In typical male bravado, the two quickly turned and pretended to not have seen the lovely woman. “Oh shit you dumbass bastard, I think she heard you.” Bob elbowed Jim in the ribs and snorted. “Naw, she looks to uppity to even care what the hell we was saying.” While Jim was never a great orator, it was apparent that the alcohol was having its effect on his ability to communicate. “I assure you gentlemen that I am far from uppity, although I am a bit lonely.” The woman’s voice was like the song of the siren. Both men were instantly turned on their barstools. Without her asking, they both rose and followed her to the corner table. Both Bob and Jim had the feeling that they had walked down a long corridor to get to the table. Jim shook his head, sure that it was the booze playing with his equilibrium. “Sorry mam, no ‘fence meant.” Bob tried to cover for his inhibriated friend. “Oh no offense taken, and thank you so much for joining me,” the woman spoke softly causing them to lean in to make sure they heard her every word, “My name is Syra.” She offered her hand like a lady of aristocracy to Jim and Bob, who found themselves foolishly trying to kiss the slender gloved hand. Jim continued to giggle occasionally, to which Bob swiftly and firmly kicked him underneath the table. “My but you two seem playful.” Syra cooed at the two. “I’d sure like to play with you darling.” Jim gave an overzealous wink. Syra acted coy and slightly embarrassed, but never took her gaze from the two. Bob leaned in even closer and breathed in deeply. There was a strange smell that had to be her perfume. It brought back childhood memories of the church his family had attended. He could actually see the image of the altar boys swinging the incense urns back and forth, filling the air with that same aroma. Jim and Bob found themselves staring and listening to the woman’s voice, but not really hearing anything she said. They were lost in a spell her eyes and voice were creating. They soon found themselves following her out of the bar, neither could remember even getting up out of their chairs. “The boat’s not far,” Bob found himself answering to a question he couldn’t quite remember having heard. “Yes, there’s a bed there and clean water.” Jim had the same strange feeling. There seemed to be a buzzing in their heads that they couldn’t quite shake, still it could just be the booze. Bob started feeling nervous and looked away; he tried to concentrate on what it was he needed to do. Something wasn’t right with all of this. He started to turn to ask the woman a question, but he found himself staring into her eyes again, and then all was all right. Had they walked all the way back to the boat already? Syra poured them each a glass of whiskey from Bob’s hidden bottle. How the hell did she know where he had kept that, had he told her. Syra drew Bob closer and pulled her body snuggly against his. She ran her hands through his hair and along his chest. She sent Jim to get warm water, which he did. Bob looked at his friend and noticed that he had a strange look on his face, and his eyes didn’t seem normal. Again, Bob started to ask a question, but found that he was unable to formulate any words. The normally damp and cool temperature within the cabin seemed to be abnormally warm now, and Bob felt compelled to remove his clothing. Without a word or the slightest embarrassment Bob disrobed, feeling no shame as he removed even his underwear in front of this strange woman. Jim entered the room, and he too had removed his clothing. Bob turned to apologize for his rash behavior, but found that Syra was on her knees washing Jim’s feet with her hair. Syra removed a wash cloth from the basin, and began cleaning Bob. He never felt her move away from him, but he could open his eyes and see that she was also cleaning Jim. As Syra began washing Bob’s chest, he felt a strange twinge as he found her licking at his nipples. This caused another reaction that stirred in his loins. Syra purred as she continued to clean the two sailors. Bob was lost in the feelings and sensations as Syra continued to wipe the cloth across his body. Soon she was scrubbing at his scrotum, and then he gasped as he felt her mouth engulf his erection. Bob looked over at Jim, and found that Syra was likewise pleasuring his friend. He noticed that Jim’s face had gone strangely pale, but a knowing grin was locked onto his face. Bob reached down to Syra to remove her blouse, to feel the breasts of this woman who had such a wonderful talent. Syra looked up into his eyes and cooed, causing vibrations to ripple along his penis and forcing his abdomen to constrict rapidly. There was a touch of blood around her lips, but Bob didn’t linger on it. Instead he looked down at her now fully exposed breasts, and rolled his eyes back up into his head. Syra led the two men over to the bed as she continued to stroke and massage their penises. She continued to suck on Jim, as she guided Bob into her vagina. Bob ran his hands along Syra’s back and noticed that the soft supple skin he had felt on her breasts was far different here on her back. This felt more like smooth leather, and the skin was darker. Jim let out a loud scream, and his body shuddered. Bob was certain that Jim had spent himself out too soon, which left Syra all the more able to focus on him. Bob continued to pump into Syra, and she grunted with each of his inward thrusts. Bob reached down and inserted his finger into Syra’s perfectly shaped ass. She roared with passion and it encouraged Bob to thrust faster. Her aroma became stronger, and now mixed with the smell of sweat and sex in the small-enclosed cabin. Bob looked at her again, and thought that the alcohol must still be affecting his senses. It appeared that her back was moving in erratic contortions. Syra looked back over her shoulder and growled a deep guttural groan. Her vagina began to seize at Bob’s member, actually making it difficult for Bob to continue to thrust. But each time he pushed forward she grunted and began to shudder. Bob was now sure that something was wrong, and then Syra’s leathery wings began to flap. Bob wanted to stop now and run away, but each time he tried to pull out, her vagina pulled him back in, and her grunts continued. Her body began to shake, and her pussy was milking him, tighter than he had ever known. He found that his finger was still in her puckered anus, and that too was convulsing and would not release him. Bob threw his head back and felt his own climax building in his loins. His toes began to curl as the pressure built up around his shaft, and his own anus began to convulse. Syra was screaming loudly, and her wings began to flap hard. Bob came hard and her vagina continued to milk him, stealing every last drop of him. Bob then felt himself being dragged by his penis, out onto the deck of his boat. He looked back to see that Jim had been bled out, a sight of gore and horror focused around his mid-drift. Bob was being raised up into the air, but now he was pulled close to Syra. “What are you!” He was finally able to scream as the wind sucked the air from his lungs. Syra continued to flap hard and lifted higher into the air. “The one your people have warned about since the dawn of man, how soon you have forgotten the succubus. But my lord and I will make you all remember, and we will feed.” Bob pushed away from her, wanting to get away. She turned in the air and let him see the fate that would befall him, should she release him. They were now high into the air and far out to sea. Syra gripped him tightly, “was it good for you?” Syra laughed and crushed Bob against her breasts. Bob screamed and clawed at her. Syra held her wings rigid and dived towards an outcropping of rocks that were thrust up from the ocean floors. Bob continued to scream and panic, but soon it was over. At the last moment before they crashed into the rocks, Syra let him go and crushed his body onto the boulders. His body immediately stopped its functioning, as all the internal organs were imploded and his stomach filled with blood. Syra landed gently and reached her nose down to smell at her victim. She then took long fingernails and sliced into his belly. His bloody intestines were pulled loose as a flock of crows began to circle overhead. The medical examiner’s car was not much, a station wagon bearing Washington State Carpool plates and a spotlight beside the driver’s side, side mirror. The man who stepped out from it was even less impressive. A short man at five foot something, and a large paunch of a gut that had seen too many late night hamburger meals. Cuts in state budgets had brought more cadavers and fewer M.E.’s to work through them. Even the usual flow of medical students seemed to have ebbed in the last year. He didn’t have time for a decent meal, and with his wife leaving him six months past, he had little appetite or time for anything other than burgers and fries as he continued to cut into his uncomplaining patients. Mitchell Weatherman had once been a great surgeon, but found that these patients sued less and were easier to deal with. They also rarely came through his examination room more than once. Mitchell grabbed his bags and walked towards the pier. The police had kept him back for a little longer than usual, but they were short handed too. Mitchell found the Detective assigned to the case and introduced himself. Identifications were reviewed. Mitchell was sure that he had worked with this Detective before, but the faces seemed to blur as the years went by. “Clear to begin?” Mitchell asked. “Yeah, good to go.” Mitchell pulled on surgical gloves and donned an operating room mask, booties, and a hairnet. With forensic advances it had become necessary to make sure that the crime scene remained as intact as possible. Rigamortise had long since set in and gone. This body had been decomposing for at least a week, strangely though, the usual pooled blood had not been pulled into the back of the body. “We have a small amount of pupae level maggots within the ocular cavities.” Mitchell pulled a small Dictaphone recorder from his lab coat and pushed the record button. “Subject’s fluids do not show typical coagulation at gravitational center, body is beyond phase one rigamortise. No apparent entrance/exit wounds on upper torso or cranium. Blood specks are apparent on pelvic region.” Mitchell turned off the recorder and removed a surgical probe from his chest pocket. Mitchell examined the cadaver’s genitals with no more emphasis than a nurse would take a pulse. Mitchell removed himself and called for an officer. “Yes sir.” It was the detective who had been looking around the deck of the ship. “In the back of the wagon is a brighter headlamp, can you grab it for me and then come take a look at this?” The Detective was back in quick order, and had put on the same surgical dressings as the doctor. “What you got?” The Detective looked over the Doctor’s shoulder as he placed the headlamp onto his forehead. “Looks like bite marks.” “Where, I don’t see any?” Mitchell pulled a magnifying glass from his headlamp down and used the probe to push away the man’s penis. “What the fu….” “Definitely bite marks, I’ll want to take a better look at this in my laboratory.” “Yeah, anything else?” Mitchell was somewhat surprised that the Detective hadn’t had more of a reaction. Proved that the guy was either experienced or just didn’t get it. Most guys don’t die with bite marks on their unit. “Let me take a couple of samples, and then we’ll get him out of here.” Mitchell took separate petri dishes from inside his medical bag, and a clean scraper. He took samples of the dried blood as well as what appeared to be dried semen. “Well, hopefully that’s just his own.” Mitchell stated to himself. “The blood?” The Detective asked. “Nope.” Mitchell chuckled to himself as he left to get the rest of his team to remove the body. He turned and let the Investigators continue to take their pictures from every possible angle. The flashes looked like strikes of lightning in the darkness. CDC Headquarters (Atlanta) Molly Waters pulled the report from the printer and looked at it with little interest. This was pretty common stuff to her anymore. “Ok, bites at the sexual organs and nipples. Irregular blood coagulation.” Molly typed the information into the database and hit the enter key on her computer. In the small cubicle space the hard drive whirred and the lights buzzed overhead. “Well, it beats gonorrhea.” Chapter Three San Francis 2nd Precinct- Downtown “Name?” “Elijah.” “Full Name, please.” “Elijah.” “Mister, look. It’s late, now give me your goddamn name.” “DO NOT take the lord’s name in vain. You too will burn in the everlasting flames of hell.” “Address?” “In the wilderness of the world.” “O.K. buddy, that’s good enough for me. You been in any hospitals lately?” “I am in the care of the Lord and he is my Savior. He will redeem me.” “Right. Jake! We got Tooty Fruity over here, wanna call the doc.?” “The beast is coming, and his minions travel before him. Watch for the marks you sinners and fornicators, his seed will destroy you all and consume you for eternity.” The man was old and clothed in a rough robe. His beard brought images of father time, and his stare seemed to burn straight through the clerk. “Take him down to prints will you Charlie, let him preach downstairs.” “I’m on it, OK gramps, let’s go.” “Unless you become as children, your sins cannot be washed away.” The man pulled away from the officer, and actually surprised him with how quickly he was able to move. “Whoa gramps, let’s just slow you down a bit.” Charlie moved in close and forced the old man’s arms behind his back. With a swift motion the old man found himself handcuffed. “Your yoke will not chain me, for the Lord will set me free.” “Sorry gramps, it’s just to keep us both safe.” The young officer grabbed the man carefully and yet forcefully by the biceps and escorted him out of the room. “I don’t want to hurt you old man, I’m just trying to do my job.” The officer felt a twinge of guilt for having cuffed the old man. Surely there was little this man could do to injure anyone. Still, it was policy to cuff anyone that appeared to resist. Better safe than sorry. “Will the bridegroom recognize you when your lamp has run out of oil?” The old man seemed to be talking to the air. “I sure hope so, otherwise those beatings by the nuns will have been for nothing.” The old man smiled, and just as quickly was gone. The handcuffs left on the precinct floor. Charlie walked back upstairs to the booking area; no one took any notice of how pale his complexion had become. They also didn’t notice that Elijah was no longer with him. They processed a lot of old drunks around here, usually sending them over to the detoxification ceneter or to a halfway house where they could get blankets and a meal. But Charlie felt different about this strange small man. Charlie had actually been one of the officers that had picked up the old man. The man had been seen walking around the wharf, and had been talking to himself. When he was stopped for questioning, he indicated that he was a prophet sent from God. Sent to warn the world that the beast was coming, and his minions had come before him. Charlie hadn’t smelled any alcohol, and a quick check of his arms indicated that he probably wasn’t shooting anything up. Still, the man had a pleasant demeanor, and Charlie was afraid that he might be one of the crazies that the mental hospitals had been cutting loose. Cut backs in State funding had resulted in a multitude of schizoids getting let loose on the city, when they should be taken care of. Charlie held no malice towards these people. His own father had suffered for years from Bi-polar disorder and had eventually taken his own life during a bout of depression. No one noticed that gramps was gone, and Charlie decided that for now he would just leave it that way. Elijah sat down on the park bench and watched as the children played on the swings and slides. A few anxious parents looked over at him, but then turned away. They had made their approval of the old man, obviously too old to do any harm. He had more the persona of an old priest than any of San Francisco’s many pedophiles, though sometimes they were two sides of the same coin. “Hey mister, are you Santa?” A young girl, barely more than six tugged at the old man’s robes. “No, little saint. But there are gifts to be had in this world that can only be shown through a child’s smile.” The little girl smiled, she didn’t have a clue as to what the old man was saying, but he was funny looking and it did make her smile. “You’ve got a big nose.” The little girl danced away back towards the swings. Elijah looked up into the sky, “Thank you Father for them.” He smiled and then bowed his head in prayer.