| Fantasy Fiction posted April 29, 2012 | Chapters: |
...30 31 -32- 33... 
|
  |
more in Bellow City
A chapter in the book Gima The Beginning
Gima: Club ErrOw
by barkingdog
The author has placed a warning on this post for violence.
The author has placed a warning on this post for sexual content.
Dear Reader: This is actually Fantasy-Adventure-Horror, but there is no category for it on FanStory. If you do not like this genre, please do not continue reading. I don't intend to offend anyone, but language and behaviors used are essential to the characters and storyline contrasts. Scenes are meant to arouse a range of emotions. I hope that they do. Thank you for reading. Enjoy.:) barking dog
Chapter 30
Jacknel, a sadistic vermel, has violated and beaten Gima. She refuses to cry out and remains silent.
Only silence. I swear that’s all you’ll get from me— raised by Asmel and Hunter, wife of Trell, mother of Blathen the Defender, a Prime One, and Zee, the small. I am all of these. Here and now. Withdrawn into her quiet world, Gima concentrates on the birth of her sons, its pain and its joy, the fighting of wolves, her flight from the cougar and the killing of the rattler. I can survive this. I will not obey to meet your needs. Gima drifts with her memories, and her face relaxes as a peace, a strength, surges through the torn vessel containing her resilient spirit.
Chapter 32
Furious and frustrated, Jacknel knocks Gima unconscious with a slamming punch to the back of her head and steps back. Sweat runs down his arm as he reaches for retribution's blade from the table's accessories; his angry dangles, writhing for fulfillment in the dispassionate air, persuade him to the task. Stroking her porcelain with cold metal, Jacknel points the tip toward her heart. His eye widens, his arm taut, a drop of blood ... then ...
... a rustle of clothing is heard in the disappointed dimness of an alcove and Teleck's cough interrupts the moment. Jacknel's mind, as if on fast rewind, returns to business and halts murder. The sharp edge is merciful. You'll live and die slowly, my sweet. Yes, slowly.
“Just as I suspected ... worthless,” Jacknel speaks up, unlocking her from the rings and slashing the ankle ties with the once murderous blade. He drags Gima back out to the waiting alley, spits in her face, tosses her to the back of the steel cage, slams the barred door and walks away stuffing his angry dangles painfully back in their pouch. Submissive bitch.
Slouched behind his desk in his office, Jacknel yells for Teleck who rushes in carrying Jacknel’s belt and cape. All thumbs and claws, Teleck fastens his own frontal lacings which Jacknel notes, clearing his throat. “Teleck, take Pike’s vertant, the one in cell thirty-three, to Colwin at Club ErrOw. She'll bring a few bruicks in a Chamber. Advise Colwin ... no green. Instead, order a measure of violet to increase her rage toward pleasure. Yes … rather than a measure … order him to inject violet. Remember… Teleck … inject violet.” The Disposal Officers pay well for violet enhanced ones.
Satisfied with this final dispositon of Gima, Jacknel’s mood swiftly changes. He laughs from his core, remembering another that he has in the infirmary. “Bring Seeta to the Rings before you leave.” He slaps his desk’s stained surface and rises. “Now, there’s one who’ll scream for me.”
Jacknel fairly skips around the office toward the door. “Well, what are you waiting for?”
Teleck obediently shuffles over to open the door. “ But sir, … the doctor, sir, … the doctor said … Seeta's still healing from yesterday.”
“ Good, she’ll scream even louder.” One more time and then to disposal. There's always another. “Go, no time to waste. We have a show tonight. Get her.” He pushes past Teleck onto the stage and stands beside the ring table, jiggling the metal cuffs. “These await new wrists.” Pouring some blue into his pouch for his thirsty dangles, he downs the rest and tosses the bottle against the back wall. “Ruby rigidity AND blue, Teleck.”
“Yes, sir,” Teleck backs up on the dimly lit stage floor, nearly tripping over Pike’s severed arm.
“And take that arm with you.”
Teleck steps forward, grabs the unfortunate remnant and closes the heavy steel exit to the alley behind him. He passes Gima’s cage. She watches him casually toss the arm into the already full disposal bin.
As assignments are mounting, the ambitious, thin vermel takes out a note pad and starts a list:
1. Call Disposal for special pick up. We’ll need this bin for tonight—Lemor vs. Gangon vs. the female vertant, Brita. She didn’t scream either, so it’s told.
2. TOP PRIORITY: Jacknel wants Seeta. So much to do and so little time.
3. Send compliant vertant female, cage thirty-three, to Club ErrOw for Corwin's chambers. They’ll want her for use tonight after the Arena closes here. Tag her: 'Violet-Inj.'
4. Order more bullets and charge the lasers. Crowd control … we were lucky today.
5. Find a new vertant for Jacknel. One that screams, sex irrelevant … by TOMORROW.
6. Dispose of Seeta ... probably, around midnight. It takes time to die.
Teleck checks off Number Two just as he hears a torturous, gargling moan. Hurriedly, he puts the note pad in his pocket and eases toward the sound. It comes again and again, louder and louder, as the Arena's doctor cauterizes Pike’s amputation and saws flesh and bone to reshape the melted stumps in preparation for a full body tattooing. The creative doctor is an artist, intent at his craft. He's designing The Cobra, a new attraction.
Teleck stoops by a convenient crack in the surgical suite wall and undoes his pouch. I need completion. Pike's screams will do. Teleck reaches into one of his many pockets and unfolds a hand held, flexible device. His dangles jump inside its pulsating goo.
Pike, soon to be The Cobra, Jacknel's new circus freak, screams in the bright surgical light as two assistants begin tattooing. In the shadows, Teleck’s bulging eye follows every bloody stitch, searing burn and inked transformation. With verbenium under his tongue, he perks toward pleasure as the device hums high to low, massages and gyrates as he listens to Pike's glottal coughs and tongueless, open 'Ahhhhs.' Teleck's dangles dance and spurt. He sets a timer, allowing his addiction five minutes. No … , hearing Pike’s delicious suffering, he resets the device to ten and spits out the remaining verbenium. So much to do and so little time.
The next day, Pike is put on exhibit in the Hall of Freaks along side the three-headed sow with three-headed piglets; the Mutant Vertant with three eyes; the Vertant Warriors fitted with pig’s legs to replace their own arms and legs who must oink for garbage crowds throw from above. Trum, the trainer's bullets kill those whose oinks are half-hearted.
Tubular, its head snapping and tattooed with blue-green scales accented by red dots, The Cobra is a fine addition. The incessantly crying baby with its Vertant body a Vermel head is nearby. Like The Baby, The Cobra has a private window and each viewing brings one bruick. Highly modified, no one would ever recognize it as Pike. There he remains imprisoned and, so, keeps the secret of Gima's importance. Trell will follow her here. He will come! Pike is quite mad. And all stay away from his teeth.
******
Just down the street from the Arena is Club ErrOw, another of Jacknel's holdings. Teleck orders two of his lackeys to deliver Gima to Mr.Colwin, club manager and proprietor of the second floor Chambers.
Lights flash from the rotating antique globe while Duba Buta plays over the loud speakers. Years ago, Jacknel had the club bored into solid rock, only one stop down the tracks from The Arena. It's been convenient and lucrative to offer entertainment of all kinds and in such close proximity.
Patrons gyrate rhythmically, waving three-fingered hands above their heads, etching blue-gray hieroglyphics in the thick smoke. When friction increases, their movements synchronize and excitement peaks, they’ll pair and climb a precarious metal stairway lit by blinking star-like bulbs up to The Chambers.
At the top of the Stairway to Heaven, an overweight, elderly vermel, Mr. C., slumps in a torn, burnt-orange, sweat-stained recliner, smoking a potent blend of madine and sedderthal tubed to him from a ceiling dispenser. In charge, he has the final word. Above his gold on red tatted head, flashing purple neon echoes the promise of ecstasy: Flash: ‘One-Hour Chambers’ Flash: ‘Deposit seventy-five bruicks.’ The words repeat and repeat and repeat. Shell encrusted suicidal insects buzz and bump, attracted to sweet pitches that only they can hear.
“Pay the man, honey,” purrs a sexy, albino party goer, fluttering her long white lashes.
The Chamber’s toll collector and club manager, Mr. C. grunts and points a curved brown-fungal nail toward a slotted column depository once used in the subway’s underground shopping area. It counts deposits, makes change and then triple chimes the hallway door’s lock release.
Tee, her white hair reflecting the multicolored lights, submits and offers obedience to her mate by lowering her head. “Oh, Snarlykins,” she coos.
Tee’s anxious mate snaps the collar snuggly to her neck and leads her through the open doorway. Another neon arrow, this one a trailing flash of green, blinks above their assigned chamber. As they enter, the room chortles, “Welcome. Your pleasure is our pleasure. This door is not an Exit. Thank you.”
Back downstairs at the nipple bar, where a variety of colored tubes relay similarly colored stimulating elixirs, another young couple meets. Banya's been imbibing for hours, attempting to self-medicate loneliness. Her choice—euphoric blue. Brewik’s been admiring Banya’s abundant rippled bottom, sparkling in the rotating lights in a tight fitting, silver and green, alum-sequin body suit. He breaks another crindium between his fingers, breaths in the crystals and then saunters over to stand behind her.
“Hey babe,” Brewik twerts, his eye plays over her. “You, stomp?” His toning is low and languid as he snaps his fingers and sways his muscular torso in rhythm to the bass, booming from the speakers.
I can’t believe that this … this tall, dark and then some, monstrosity of my dreams is talking to ME. With an infectious giggle and marvelously long, green nails, Banya’s finger tips touch her cheek and, slowly, one enters her mouth to detach and lift the blue beverage nipple. She lets it go, and with a trailing giggle, watches it whip precariously toward the polished metal storage wall—Whoosh.
A buxom brunette seated next to Banya, jolts upward and curses, “Bat fanged, bitch,” just in time to rescue her pendulous breasts from the lashing nip-line’s path. Luckily, she’s been on green-pacivity all night, so rather than tussle with Banya, she merely rests her bodacious ta-tas back on the bar’s black marble countertop and orders a smoke line of federthal to begin drifting. She knows that exchanging worlds is only an inhale away.
Brewik repeats, “Wanta dance?”
Banya, impervious to the ta-ta drama queen, looks over and blinks her sea-green eye at Brewik’s limpid brown. “Sure. Okay,” Banya signs, her hands shaking, “I'd love to!”
“Great, doll face.” Brewik bows and gently takes Banya’s hand to help her down from the high stool. To his surprise and delight, she’s half his height when she stands. Precious … tiny… sweet …
The dance floor is heady. Pheromones swirl with madine, federthal and tarantululm from snaking lines to smoky worlds. Hundreds of collectors wave as Vermel couples bob and bump. Their distorted, ink blot silhouettes overlap on the walls, merging … separating ... merging, again.
Banya stumbles, gracefully, in time to the rapid beat. Her short legs and symmetrically twisted feet are no hindrance. Brewik is mesmerized by her contorted grace and beauty.
His eyes trail from Banya's red hair down to her adorable, deformed feet. Brewik was captivated by them at first sight. They are treasures, for rarely are two feet identically twisted. Just the thought of them drives him wild and to see such pearls in toeless silver stilettos sends his mind to places it’s never been. Self-conscious, he wipes away excessive drool and flashes a big confident smile, hoping to impress this one—the one he wants forever.
Already entranced by his warty brown and yellow complexion, Banya nearly swoons at the sight of his well-maintained, jagged weaponry—his smile. Damn, perfect double rows … and his irregular naris is to die for—handsomely off-center.
Light flickers speed, and like dying fireflies, hit targets and fade. Brewik stomps, wildly off-beat as multiple decibels simulate Under Earth’s respected earth shifts. As the room quakes, he howls with excitement and swoops diminutive Banya up above his head. Then he brings her down to meet one eye to one eye and rub her against him, up and down, side to side, exchanging drool as mouth holes pass. His scent claims her. She’s marked.
“Put me down, now, big guy,” Banya tones, licking drool from his warty chin like an adoring gambian.
Banya regains her footing, and running all six manicured nails through her shaggy, damp hair listens for the beat. Ritualistically, she begins slapping her stomach and thighs in perfect rhythm, for, once marked, it’s the woman’s part to ask for the man’s pleasure, if this is to be a life-match. And there is no doubt that Banya wants that dream: a station-cabin home in Subby Wayside and litters of young vermel, playing on the tracks.
Dear Reader: This is actually Fantasy-Adventure-Horror, but there is no category for it on FanStory. If you do not like this genre, please do not continue reading. I don't intend to offend anyone, but language and behaviors used are essential to the characters and storyline contrasts. Scenes are meant to arouse a range of emotions. I hope that they do. Thank you for reading. Enjoy.:) barking dog
Chapter 30
Jacknel, a sadistic vermel, has violated and beaten Gima. She refuses to cry out and remains silent.
Only silence. I swear that’s all you’ll get from me— raised by Asmel and Hunter, wife of Trell, mother of Blathen the Defender, a Prime One, and Zee, the small. I am all of these. Here and now. Withdrawn into her quiet world, Gima concentrates on the birth of her sons, its pain and its joy, the fighting of wolves, her flight from the cougar and the killing of the rattler. I can survive this. I will not obey to meet your needs. Gima drifts with her memories, and her face relaxes as a peace, a strength, surges through the torn vessel containing her resilient spirit.
Chapter 32
Furious and frustrated, Jacknel knocks Gima unconscious with a slamming punch to the back of her head and steps back. Sweat runs down his arm as he reaches for retribution's blade from the table's accessories; his angry dangles, writhing for fulfillment in the dispassionate air, persuade him to the task. Stroking her porcelain with cold metal, Jacknel points the tip toward her heart. His eye widens, his arm taut, a drop of blood ... then ...
... a rustle of clothing is heard in the disappointed dimness of an alcove and Teleck's cough interrupts the moment. Jacknel's mind, as if on fast rewind, returns to business and halts murder. The sharp edge is merciful. You'll live and die slowly, my sweet. Yes, slowly.
“Just as I suspected ... worthless,” Jacknel speaks up, unlocking her from the rings and slashing the ankle ties with the once murderous blade. He drags Gima back out to the waiting alley, spits in her face, tosses her to the back of the steel cage, slams the barred door and walks away stuffing his angry dangles painfully back in their pouch. Submissive bitch.
Slouched behind his desk in his office, Jacknel yells for Teleck who rushes in carrying Jacknel’s belt and cape. All thumbs and claws, Teleck fastens his own frontal lacings which Jacknel notes, clearing his throat. “Teleck, take Pike’s vertant, the one in cell thirty-three, to Colwin at Club ErrOw. She'll bring a few bruicks in a Chamber. Advise Colwin ... no green. Instead, order a measure of violet to increase her rage toward pleasure. Yes … rather than a measure … order him to inject violet. Remember… Teleck … inject violet.” The Disposal Officers pay well for violet enhanced ones.
Satisfied with this final dispositon of Gima, Jacknel’s mood swiftly changes. He laughs from his core, remembering another that he has in the infirmary. “Bring Seeta to the Rings before you leave.” He slaps his desk’s stained surface and rises. “Now, there’s one who’ll scream for me.”
Jacknel fairly skips around the office toward the door. “Well, what are you waiting for?”
Teleck obediently shuffles over to open the door. “ But sir, … the doctor, sir, … the doctor said … Seeta's still healing from yesterday.”
“ Good, she’ll scream even louder.” One more time and then to disposal. There's always another. “Go, no time to waste. We have a show tonight. Get her.” He pushes past Teleck onto the stage and stands beside the ring table, jiggling the metal cuffs. “These await new wrists.” Pouring some blue into his pouch for his thirsty dangles, he downs the rest and tosses the bottle against the back wall. “Ruby rigidity AND blue, Teleck.”
“Yes, sir,” Teleck backs up on the dimly lit stage floor, nearly tripping over Pike’s severed arm.
“And take that arm with you.”
Teleck steps forward, grabs the unfortunate remnant and closes the heavy steel exit to the alley behind him. He passes Gima’s cage. She watches him casually toss the arm into the already full disposal bin.
As assignments are mounting, the ambitious, thin vermel takes out a note pad and starts a list:
1. Call Disposal for special pick up. We’ll need this bin for tonight—Lemor vs. Gangon vs. the female vertant, Brita. She didn’t scream either, so it’s told.
2. TOP PRIORITY: Jacknel wants Seeta. So much to do and so little time.
3. Send compliant vertant female, cage thirty-three, to Club ErrOw for Corwin's chambers. They’ll want her for use tonight after the Arena closes here. Tag her: 'Violet-Inj.'
4. Order more bullets and charge the lasers. Crowd control … we were lucky today.
5. Find a new vertant for Jacknel. One that screams, sex irrelevant … by TOMORROW.
6. Dispose of Seeta ... probably, around midnight. It takes time to die.
Teleck checks off Number Two just as he hears a torturous, gargling moan. Hurriedly, he puts the note pad in his pocket and eases toward the sound. It comes again and again, louder and louder, as the Arena's doctor cauterizes Pike’s amputation and saws flesh and bone to reshape the melted stumps in preparation for a full body tattooing. The creative doctor is an artist, intent at his craft. He's designing The Cobra, a new attraction.
Teleck stoops by a convenient crack in the surgical suite wall and undoes his pouch. I need completion. Pike's screams will do. Teleck reaches into one of his many pockets and unfolds a hand held, flexible device. His dangles jump inside its pulsating goo.
Pike, soon to be The Cobra, Jacknel's new circus freak, screams in the bright surgical light as two assistants begin tattooing. In the shadows, Teleck’s bulging eye follows every bloody stitch, searing burn and inked transformation. With verbenium under his tongue, he perks toward pleasure as the device hums high to low, massages and gyrates as he listens to Pike's glottal coughs and tongueless, open 'Ahhhhs.' Teleck's dangles dance and spurt. He sets a timer, allowing his addiction five minutes. No … , hearing Pike’s delicious suffering, he resets the device to ten and spits out the remaining verbenium. So much to do and so little time.
The next day, Pike is put on exhibit in the Hall of Freaks along side the three-headed sow with three-headed piglets; the Mutant Vertant with three eyes; the Vertant Warriors fitted with pig’s legs to replace their own arms and legs who must oink for garbage crowds throw from above. Trum, the trainer's bullets kill those whose oinks are half-hearted.
Tubular, its head snapping and tattooed with blue-green scales accented by red dots, The Cobra is a fine addition. The incessantly crying baby with its Vertant body a Vermel head is nearby. Like The Baby, The Cobra has a private window and each viewing brings one bruick. Highly modified, no one would ever recognize it as Pike. There he remains imprisoned and, so, keeps the secret of Gima's importance. Trell will follow her here. He will come! Pike is quite mad. And all stay away from his teeth.
******
Just down the street from the Arena is Club ErrOw, another of Jacknel's holdings. Teleck orders two of his lackeys to deliver Gima to Mr.Colwin, club manager and proprietor of the second floor Chambers.
Lights flash from the rotating antique globe while Duba Buta plays over the loud speakers. Years ago, Jacknel had the club bored into solid rock, only one stop down the tracks from The Arena. It's been convenient and lucrative to offer entertainment of all kinds and in such close proximity.
Patrons gyrate rhythmically, waving three-fingered hands above their heads, etching blue-gray hieroglyphics in the thick smoke. When friction increases, their movements synchronize and excitement peaks, they’ll pair and climb a precarious metal stairway lit by blinking star-like bulbs up to The Chambers.
At the top of the Stairway to Heaven, an overweight, elderly vermel, Mr. C., slumps in a torn, burnt-orange, sweat-stained recliner, smoking a potent blend of madine and sedderthal tubed to him from a ceiling dispenser. In charge, he has the final word. Above his gold on red tatted head, flashing purple neon echoes the promise of ecstasy: Flash: ‘One-Hour Chambers’ Flash: ‘Deposit seventy-five bruicks.’ The words repeat and repeat and repeat. Shell encrusted suicidal insects buzz and bump, attracted to sweet pitches that only they can hear.
“Pay the man, honey,” purrs a sexy, albino party goer, fluttering her long white lashes.
The Chamber’s toll collector and club manager, Mr. C. grunts and points a curved brown-fungal nail toward a slotted column depository once used in the subway’s underground shopping area. It counts deposits, makes change and then triple chimes the hallway door’s lock release.
Tee, her white hair reflecting the multicolored lights, submits and offers obedience to her mate by lowering her head. “Oh, Snarlykins,” she coos.
Tee’s anxious mate snaps the collar snuggly to her neck and leads her through the open doorway. Another neon arrow, this one a trailing flash of green, blinks above their assigned chamber. As they enter, the room chortles, “Welcome. Your pleasure is our pleasure. This door is not an Exit. Thank you.”
Back downstairs at the nipple bar, where a variety of colored tubes relay similarly colored stimulating elixirs, another young couple meets. Banya's been imbibing for hours, attempting to self-medicate loneliness. Her choice—euphoric blue. Brewik’s been admiring Banya’s abundant rippled bottom, sparkling in the rotating lights in a tight fitting, silver and green, alum-sequin body suit. He breaks another crindium between his fingers, breaths in the crystals and then saunters over to stand behind her.
“Hey babe,” Brewik twerts, his eye plays over her. “You, stomp?” His toning is low and languid as he snaps his fingers and sways his muscular torso in rhythm to the bass, booming from the speakers.
I can’t believe that this … this tall, dark and then some, monstrosity of my dreams is talking to ME. With an infectious giggle and marvelously long, green nails, Banya’s finger tips touch her cheek and, slowly, one enters her mouth to detach and lift the blue beverage nipple. She lets it go, and with a trailing giggle, watches it whip precariously toward the polished metal storage wall—Whoosh.
A buxom brunette seated next to Banya, jolts upward and curses, “Bat fanged, bitch,” just in time to rescue her pendulous breasts from the lashing nip-line’s path. Luckily, she’s been on green-pacivity all night, so rather than tussle with Banya, she merely rests her bodacious ta-tas back on the bar’s black marble countertop and orders a smoke line of federthal to begin drifting. She knows that exchanging worlds is only an inhale away.
Brewik repeats, “Wanta dance?”
Banya, impervious to the ta-ta drama queen, looks over and blinks her sea-green eye at Brewik’s limpid brown. “Sure. Okay,” Banya signs, her hands shaking, “I'd love to!”
“Great, doll face.” Brewik bows and gently takes Banya’s hand to help her down from the high stool. To his surprise and delight, she’s half his height when she stands. Precious … tiny… sweet …
The dance floor is heady. Pheromones swirl with madine, federthal and tarantululm from snaking lines to smoky worlds. Hundreds of collectors wave as Vermel couples bob and bump. Their distorted, ink blot silhouettes overlap on the walls, merging … separating ... merging, again.
Banya stumbles, gracefully, in time to the rapid beat. Her short legs and symmetrically twisted feet are no hindrance. Brewik is mesmerized by her contorted grace and beauty.
His eyes trail from Banya's red hair down to her adorable, deformed feet. Brewik was captivated by them at first sight. They are treasures, for rarely are two feet identically twisted. Just the thought of them drives him wild and to see such pearls in toeless silver stilettos sends his mind to places it’s never been. Self-conscious, he wipes away excessive drool and flashes a big confident smile, hoping to impress this one—the one he wants forever.
Already entranced by his warty brown and yellow complexion, Banya nearly swoons at the sight of his well-maintained, jagged weaponry—his smile. Damn, perfect double rows … and his irregular naris is to die for—handsomely off-center.
Light flickers speed, and like dying fireflies, hit targets and fade. Brewik stomps, wildly off-beat as multiple decibels simulate Under Earth’s respected earth shifts. As the room quakes, he howls with excitement and swoops diminutive Banya up above his head. Then he brings her down to meet one eye to one eye and rub her against him, up and down, side to side, exchanging drool as mouth holes pass. His scent claims her. She’s marked.
“Put me down, now, big guy,” Banya tones, licking drool from his warty chin like an adoring gambian.
Banya regains her footing, and running all six manicured nails through her shaggy, damp hair listens for the beat. Ritualistically, she begins slapping her stomach and thighs in perfect rhythm, for, once marked, it’s the woman’s part to ask for the man’s pleasure, if this is to be a life-match. And there is no doubt that Banya wants that dream: a station-cabin home in Subby Wayside and litters of young vermel, playing on the tracks.
Furious and frustrated, Jacknel knocks Gima unconscious with a slamming punch to the back of her head and steps back. Sweat runs down his arm as he reaches for retribution's blade from the table's accessories; his angry dangles, writhing for fulfillment in the dispassionate air, persuade him to the task. Stroking her porcelain with cold metal, Jacknel points the tip toward her heart. His eye widens, his arm taut, a drop of blood ... then ...
... a rustle of clothing is heard in the disappointed dimness of an alcove and Teleck's cough interrupts the moment. Jacknel's mind, as if on fast rewind, returns to business and halts murder. The sharp edge is merciful. You'll live and die slowly, my sweet. Yes, slowly.
“Just as I suspected ... worthless,” Jacknel speaks up, unlocking her from the rings and slashing the ankle ties with the once murderous blade. He drags Gima back out to the waiting alley, spits in her face, tosses her to the back of the steel cage, slams the barred door and walks away stuffing his angry dangles painfully back in their pouch. Submissive bitch.
Slouched behind his desk in his office, Jacknel yells for Teleck who rushes in carrying Jacknel’s belt and cape. All thumbs and claws, Teleck fastens his own frontal lacings which Jacknel notes, clearing his throat. “Teleck, take Pike’s vertant, the one in cell thirty-three, to Colwin at Club ErrOw. She'll bring a few bruicks in a Chamber. Advise Colwin ... no green. Instead, order a measure of violet to increase her rage toward pleasure. Yes … rather than a measure … order him to inject violet. Remember… Teleck … inject violet.” The Disposal Officers pay well for violet enhanced ones.
Satisfied with this final dispositon of Gima, Jacknel’s mood swiftly changes. He laughs from his core, remembering another that he has in the infirmary. “Bring Seeta to the Rings before you leave.” He slaps his desk’s stained surface and rises. “Now, there’s one who’ll scream for me.”
Jacknel fairly skips around the office toward the door. “Well, what are you waiting for?”
Teleck obediently shuffles over to open the door. “ But sir, … the doctor, sir, … the doctor said … Seeta's still healing from yesterday.”
“ Good, she’ll scream even louder.” One more time and then to disposal. There's always another. “Go, no time to waste. We have a show tonight. Get her.” He pushes past Teleck onto the stage and stands beside the ring table, jiggling the metal cuffs. “These await new wrists.” Pouring some blue into his pouch for his thirsty dangles, he downs the rest and tosses the bottle against the back wall. “Ruby rigidity AND blue, Teleck.”
“Yes, sir,” Teleck backs up on the dimly lit stage floor, nearly tripping over Pike’s severed arm.
“And take that arm with you.”
Teleck steps forward, grabs the unfortunate remnant and closes the heavy steel exit to the alley behind him. He passes Gima’s cage. She watches him casually toss the arm into the already full disposal bin.
As assignments are mounting, the ambitious, thin vermel takes out a note pad and starts a list:
1. Call Disposal for special pick up. We’ll need this bin for tonight—Lemor vs. Gangon vs. the female vertant, Brita. She didn’t scream either, so it’s told.
2. TOP PRIORITY: Jacknel wants Seeta. So much to do and so little time.
3. Send compliant vertant female, cage thirty-three, to Club ErrOw for Corwin's chambers. They’ll want her for use tonight after the Arena closes here. Tag her: 'Violet-Inj.'
4. Order more bullets and charge the lasers. Crowd control … we were lucky today.
5. Find a new vertant for Jacknel. One that screams, sex irrelevant … by TOMORROW.
6. Dispose of Seeta ... probably, around midnight. It takes time to die.
Teleck checks off Number Two just as he hears a torturous, gargling moan. Hurriedly, he puts the note pad in his pocket and eases toward the sound. It comes again and again, louder and louder, as the Arena's doctor cauterizes Pike’s amputation and saws flesh and bone to reshape the melted stumps in preparation for a full body tattooing. The creative doctor is an artist, intent at his craft. He's designing The Cobra, a new attraction.
Teleck stoops by a convenient crack in the surgical suite wall and undoes his pouch. I need completion. Pike's screams will do. Teleck reaches into one of his many pockets and unfolds a hand held, flexible device. His dangles jump inside its pulsating goo.
Pike, soon to be The Cobra, Jacknel's new circus freak, screams in the bright surgical light as two assistants begin tattooing. In the shadows, Teleck’s bulging eye follows every bloody stitch, searing burn and inked transformation. With verbenium under his tongue, he perks toward pleasure as the device hums high to low, massages and gyrates as he listens to Pike's glottal coughs and tongueless, open 'Ahhhhs.' Teleck's dangles dance and spurt. He sets a timer, allowing his addiction five minutes. No … , hearing Pike’s delicious suffering, he resets the device to ten and spits out the remaining verbenium. So much to do and so little time.
The next day, Pike is put on exhibit in the Hall of Freaks along side the three-headed sow with three-headed piglets; the Mutant Vertant with three eyes; the Vertant Warriors fitted with pig’s legs to replace their own arms and legs who must oink for garbage crowds throw from above. Trum, the trainer's bullets kill those whose oinks are half-hearted.
Tubular, its head snapping and tattooed with blue-green scales accented by red dots, The Cobra is a fine addition. The incessantly crying baby with its Vertant body a Vermel head is nearby. Like The Baby, The Cobra has a private window and each viewing brings one bruick. Highly modified, no one would ever recognize it as Pike. There he remains imprisoned and, so, keeps the secret of Gima's importance. Trell will follow her here. He will come! Pike is quite mad. And all stay away from his teeth.
******
Just down the street from the Arena is Club ErrOw, another of Jacknel's holdings. Teleck orders two of his lackeys to deliver Gima to Mr.Colwin, club manager and proprietor of the second floor Chambers.
Lights flash from the rotating antique globe while Duba Buta plays over the loud speakers. Years ago, Jacknel had the club bored into solid rock, only one stop down the tracks from The Arena. It's been convenient and lucrative to offer entertainment of all kinds and in such close proximity.
Patrons gyrate rhythmically, waving three-fingered hands above their heads, etching blue-gray hieroglyphics in the thick smoke. When friction increases, their movements synchronize and excitement peaks, they’ll pair and climb a precarious metal stairway lit by blinking star-like bulbs up to The Chambers.
At the top of the Stairway to Heaven, an overweight, elderly vermel, Mr. C., slumps in a torn, burnt-orange, sweat-stained recliner, smoking a potent blend of madine and sedderthal tubed to him from a ceiling dispenser. In charge, he has the final word. Above his gold on red tatted head, flashing purple neon echoes the promise of ecstasy: Flash: ‘One-Hour Chambers’ Flash: ‘Deposit seventy-five bruicks.’ The words repeat and repeat and repeat. Shell encrusted suicidal insects buzz and bump, attracted to sweet pitches that only they can hear.
“Pay the man, honey,” purrs a sexy, albino party goer, fluttering her long white lashes.
The Chamber’s toll collector and club manager, Mr. C. grunts and points a curved brown-fungal nail toward a slotted column depository once used in the subway’s underground shopping area. It counts deposits, makes change and then triple chimes the hallway door’s lock release.
Tee, her white hair reflecting the multicolored lights, submits and offers obedience to her mate by lowering her head. “Oh, Snarlykins,” she coos.
Tee’s anxious mate snaps the collar snuggly to her neck and leads her through the open doorway. Another neon arrow, this one a trailing flash of green, blinks above their assigned chamber. As they enter, the room chortles, “Welcome. Your pleasure is our pleasure. This door is not an Exit. Thank you.”
Back downstairs at the nipple bar, where a variety of colored tubes relay similarly colored stimulating elixirs, another young couple meets. Banya's been imbibing for hours, attempting to self-medicate loneliness. Her choice—euphoric blue. Brewik’s been admiring Banya’s abundant rippled bottom, sparkling in the rotating lights in a tight fitting, silver and green, alum-sequin body suit. He breaks another crindium between his fingers, breaths in the crystals and then saunters over to stand behind her.
“Hey babe,” Brewik twerts, his eye plays over her. “You, stomp?” His toning is low and languid as he snaps his fingers and sways his muscular torso in rhythm to the bass, booming from the speakers.
I can’t believe that this … this tall, dark and then some, monstrosity of my dreams is talking to ME. With an infectious giggle and marvelously long, green nails, Banya’s finger tips touch her cheek and, slowly, one enters her mouth to detach and lift the blue beverage nipple. She lets it go, and with a trailing giggle, watches it whip precariously toward the polished metal storage wall—Whoosh.
A buxom brunette seated next to Banya, jolts upward and curses, “Bat fanged, bitch,” just in time to rescue her pendulous breasts from the lashing nip-line’s path. Luckily, she’s been on green-pacivity all night, so rather than tussle with Banya, she merely rests her bodacious ta-tas back on the bar’s black marble countertop and orders a smoke line of federthal to begin drifting. She knows that exchanging worlds is only an inhale away.
Brewik repeats, “Wanta dance?”
Banya, impervious to the ta-ta drama queen, looks over and blinks her sea-green eye at Brewik’s limpid brown. “Sure. Okay,” Banya signs, her hands shaking, “I'd love to!”
“Great, doll face.” Brewik bows and gently takes Banya’s hand to help her down from the high stool. To his surprise and delight, she’s half his height when she stands. Precious … tiny… sweet …
The dance floor is heady. Pheromones swirl with madine, federthal and tarantululm from snaking lines to smoky worlds. Hundreds of collectors wave as Vermel couples bob and bump. Their distorted, ink blot silhouettes overlap on the walls, merging … separating ... merging, again.
Banya stumbles, gracefully, in time to the rapid beat. Her short legs and symmetrically twisted feet are no hindrance. Brewik is mesmerized by her contorted grace and beauty.
His eyes trail from Banya's red hair down to her adorable, deformed feet. Brewik was captivated by them at first sight. They are treasures, for rarely are two feet identically twisted. Just the thought of them drives him wild and to see such pearls in toeless silver stilettos sends his mind to places it’s never been. Self-conscious, he wipes away excessive drool and flashes a big confident smile, hoping to impress this one—the one he wants forever.
Already entranced by his warty brown and yellow complexion, Banya nearly swoons at the sight of his well-maintained, jagged weaponry—his smile. Damn, perfect double rows … and his irregular naris is to die for—handsomely off-center.
Light flickers speed, and like dying fireflies, hit targets and fade. Brewik stomps, wildly off-beat as multiple decibels simulate Under Earth’s respected earth shifts. As the room quakes, he howls with excitement and swoops diminutive Banya up above his head. Then he brings her down to meet one eye to one eye and rub her against him, up and down, side to side, exchanging drool as mouth holes pass. His scent claims her. She’s marked.
“Put me down, now, big guy,” Banya tones, licking drool from his warty chin like an adoring gambian.
Banya regains her footing, and running all six manicured nails through her shaggy, damp hair listens for the beat. Ritualistically, she begins slapping her stomach and thighs in perfect rhythm, for, once marked, it’s the woman’s part to ask for the man’s pleasure, if this is to be a life-match. And there is no doubt that Banya wants that dream: a station-cabin home in Subby Wayside and litters of young vermel, playing on the tracks.
 Recognized |
gambian-as in gambian rat; a large rat species; pets in Under Earth
UNDER EARTH SPECIES:
Vertant-the off-spring of two Vermel; looks human.
Vermel-mutated humans who live in Under Earth; communicate via sign language and various sounds; noted by their single, particulate-collector naris; one eye; dark or red, coarse body hair; flat or twisted feet with three to six long toes; three fingered hands with long curving claw-like nails; pointed teeth in irregular, double rows; intelligent, but with strong base instincts.
Particulate collector - a Vermel adaptation to living in a polluted underground; mutation ; porous tubular filaments; can extend from the naris in a searching fashion; they both taste and smell; alert to emotions of other species; Verdants may or may not have remnants, nodes in nasal pharynx tissue(back of throat).
dissident-rebel, nonconformist, protester;
somebody who publicly disagrees with an established political or religious system or organization.
DRINKS & SMOKING
Elixirs:
Euphoric-Blue - arouses passion without arousing anger or fear
Green - calms aggression and base tendencies to mutilate, kill, cannibalize
Caramel-clarity(female enhancement)
Ruby-rigidity (male enhancement)
Violet- given to submissives, primarily Vertants, to change their behavior to aggressive in order to please the Vermel
customer at Club ErrOw's Chambers.
Fitzel- a carbonated alcoholic beverage; a light intoxication; makes one funny, silly, uninhibited, kind
Smoking- usually a mix of madine and sedderthal Hallucinogenic fungi grown in Bellow City
Fazil- a smoking or chewing compound that stains the teeth
Arnag-a fungus grown as food; a favorite rubber-chew flavor
Tartanulum - a tasty smoking compound containing spiders
Verbenium - a pill; dissolves under the tongue to speed orgasm; used when time is of the essence.
LOCATIONS:
Under Earth- a civilization that exists totally under ground; Vermel territory.
Bellow City- located in Under Earth.
Jacknel's Arena- where Hunter and Trell were trained and exploited as 'Man' and 'Man #2'.
Club ErrOw- a dance club downstairs; Chambers for coupling are upstairs.
Sadie's Palace - a night spot where Vertant males are displayed for Vermel viewing and pleasure; masterbation columns are very popular in the Mural Room as is the free elixir bar.
Alitian - Sir Alitus was the atrium's designer
CHARACTERS:
Gima-a Vertant; rescued and raised by Hunter and Asmel
Trell- a Vertant; raised by Vermel, escaped to Upper Earth; has not yet learned to speak but has learned to understand it from Gima, his mate.
Blathen- Gima and Trell's Vermel son; single, particulate-collector naris, one eye; on the hierarchy of Vermel his appearance labels him a Prime-One.
Zee-Gima's second son who looks human
Hunter- Nigel once a business man in the city; was captured and tortured by Ticum to become 'Man' in Jacknel's Arena in Bellow City; 'Papa' to Gima; suffers from PTSD.
Asmal- a survivalist; built a cabin in the mountains; rescued Hunter; raised Gima with Hunter; 'Papa-Azzy' to Gima
Ticum-Vermel;Jacknel's Circus trainer; beat and tortured Hunter; deceased
Trum- Vermel; Ticum's brother; Trell's trainer at Jacknel's Arena
Sadie- runs a display and pleasure house featuring male Vertants.
Milim - Sadie's assistant a Vermel
Picar-Vertant at Sadie's
Jami-Picar's Vertant lover; Sadie's favorite.
Mr. Arnst- Trell's abusive uncle; now a caznu(neutered)and no longer abusive
Rom- Arnst's younger companion, lover
Disposal Officer- Designated by numbers e.g. DO-45, DO-50; executioners; but they sell their prisoners, usually Vertants, on the black-market to various shady characters like Jacknel and Sadie for use in sport, entertainment, pleasure and artificial insemination collection and sales.
Trolious- Head of Ministerial Affairs
Lida - Trolious' wife
Larue- Assistant of Ministerial Affairs; canzu(involuntarilly castrated by Dyrel) Vermel
Brackus- Larue's Vertant charge and lover
Lem- the youngest Vertant to escape with Larue's help
Rolak- Chief Enforcement Officer
Pike-the lead bounty hunter; brought Gima to Jacknel; Jacknel's cousin
Teleck-Jacknel's office assistant; a voyeur.
Mr. Colwin-Mr. C; manager of Club ErrOw
Beh- a black bear; male; followed Trell home; camp's mascot.
Vermel speech/sounds:
twortle-a sound pattern distinctive to the Vermel; a combination of glottal stops, tongue click-clucks and snorts; an assertive pattern.
chort- throaty sounds varying in tonal inflection and duration; normal speech; he chorts=he says.
toning- saying; using a series of sounds other than speech
thrumping songs-songs Trell learned growing up in Bellow City, Under Earth; melodic, throaty, glottal.
Vocabulary:
particulate collector - a Vermel adaptation, mutation; porous tubular filaments; can extend from the naris in a searching fashion; they both taste and smell; alert to emotions of other species; Vertants may or may not have remnants; nodes in nasal pharynx tissue may be all that remain in Vertant.
Arnag-a fungus grown as food; a favorite rubber-chew flavor
Caznu-neutered male Vermel; usually gay and neutered by choice for the good of the gene pool by decree of Trolious ; castration is a common punishment regardless of sexual orientation.
And-End - Amen
Pernard- a Vermel curse
Dangle- a Vermel penis; they have two dangles.
Mintrinet - minute
alum- short for aluminium; usually recycled cans; a valued metal.
mold-blossom - a fungi; small, dark brown and caramel colored flowerettes cluster to form a large crysantehmum-type flower; its heavy, sweet decaying scent is used in perfumed oil.
Events:
Warrior Games - Under Earth competitions to the death; all are eligible, male, female, Vertant or Vermel; The odds are stacked in favor of the Vermel.
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. UNDER EARTH SPECIES:
Vertant-the off-spring of two Vermel; looks human.
Vermel-mutated humans who live in Under Earth; communicate via sign language and various sounds; noted by their single, particulate-collector naris; one eye; dark or red, coarse body hair; flat or twisted feet with three to six long toes; three fingered hands with long curving claw-like nails; pointed teeth in irregular, double rows; intelligent, but with strong base instincts.
Particulate collector - a Vermel adaptation to living in a polluted underground; mutation ; porous tubular filaments; can extend from the naris in a searching fashion; they both taste and smell; alert to emotions of other species; Verdants may or may not have remnants, nodes in nasal pharynx tissue(back of throat).
dissident-rebel, nonconformist, protester;
somebody who publicly disagrees with an established political or religious system or organization.
DRINKS & SMOKING
Elixirs:
Euphoric-Blue - arouses passion without arousing anger or fear
Green - calms aggression and base tendencies to mutilate, kill, cannibalize
Caramel-clarity(female enhancement)
Ruby-rigidity (male enhancement)
Violet- given to submissives, primarily Vertants, to change their behavior to aggressive in order to please the Vermel
customer at Club ErrOw's Chambers.
Fitzel- a carbonated alcoholic beverage; a light intoxication; makes one funny, silly, uninhibited, kind
Smoking- usually a mix of madine and sedderthal Hallucinogenic fungi grown in Bellow City
Fazil- a smoking or chewing compound that stains the teeth
Arnag-a fungus grown as food; a favorite rubber-chew flavor
Tartanulum - a tasty smoking compound containing spiders
Verbenium - a pill; dissolves under the tongue to speed orgasm; used when time is of the essence.
LOCATIONS:
Under Earth- a civilization that exists totally under ground; Vermel territory.
Bellow City- located in Under Earth.
Jacknel's Arena- where Hunter and Trell were trained and exploited as 'Man' and 'Man #2'.
Club ErrOw- a dance club downstairs; Chambers for coupling are upstairs.
Sadie's Palace - a night spot where Vertant males are displayed for Vermel viewing and pleasure; masterbation columns are very popular in the Mural Room as is the free elixir bar.
Alitian - Sir Alitus was the atrium's designer
CHARACTERS:
Gima-a Vertant; rescued and raised by Hunter and Asmel
Trell- a Vertant; raised by Vermel, escaped to Upper Earth; has not yet learned to speak but has learned to understand it from Gima, his mate.
Blathen- Gima and Trell's Vermel son; single, particulate-collector naris, one eye; on the hierarchy of Vermel his appearance labels him a Prime-One.
Zee-Gima's second son who looks human
Hunter- Nigel once a business man in the city; was captured and tortured by Ticum to become 'Man' in Jacknel's Arena in Bellow City; 'Papa' to Gima; suffers from PTSD.
Asmal- a survivalist; built a cabin in the mountains; rescued Hunter; raised Gima with Hunter; 'Papa-Azzy' to Gima
Ticum-Vermel;Jacknel's Circus trainer; beat and tortured Hunter; deceased
Trum- Vermel; Ticum's brother; Trell's trainer at Jacknel's Arena
Sadie- runs a display and pleasure house featuring male Vertants.
Milim - Sadie's assistant a Vermel
Picar-Vertant at Sadie's
Jami-Picar's Vertant lover; Sadie's favorite.
Mr. Arnst- Trell's abusive uncle; now a caznu(neutered)and no longer abusive
Rom- Arnst's younger companion, lover
Disposal Officer- Designated by numbers e.g. DO-45, DO-50; executioners; but they sell their prisoners, usually Vertants, on the black-market to various shady characters like Jacknel and Sadie for use in sport, entertainment, pleasure and artificial insemination collection and sales.
Trolious- Head of Ministerial Affairs
Lida - Trolious' wife
Larue- Assistant of Ministerial Affairs; canzu(involuntarilly castrated by Dyrel) Vermel
Brackus- Larue's Vertant charge and lover
Lem- the youngest Vertant to escape with Larue's help
Rolak- Chief Enforcement Officer
Pike-the lead bounty hunter; brought Gima to Jacknel; Jacknel's cousin
Teleck-Jacknel's office assistant; a voyeur.
Mr. Colwin-Mr. C; manager of Club ErrOw
Beh- a black bear; male; followed Trell home; camp's mascot.
Vermel speech/sounds:
twortle-a sound pattern distinctive to the Vermel; a combination of glottal stops, tongue click-clucks and snorts; an assertive pattern.
chort- throaty sounds varying in tonal inflection and duration; normal speech; he chorts=he says.
toning- saying; using a series of sounds other than speech
thrumping songs-songs Trell learned growing up in Bellow City, Under Earth; melodic, throaty, glottal.
Vocabulary:
particulate collector - a Vermel adaptation, mutation; porous tubular filaments; can extend from the naris in a searching fashion; they both taste and smell; alert to emotions of other species; Vertants may or may not have remnants; nodes in nasal pharynx tissue may be all that remain in Vertant.
Arnag-a fungus grown as food; a favorite rubber-chew flavor
Caznu-neutered male Vermel; usually gay and neutered by choice for the good of the gene pool by decree of Trolious ; castration is a common punishment regardless of sexual orientation.
And-End - Amen
Pernard- a Vermel curse
Dangle- a Vermel penis; they have two dangles.
Mintrinet - minute
alum- short for aluminium; usually recycled cans; a valued metal.
mold-blossom - a fungi; small, dark brown and caramel colored flowerettes cluster to form a large crysantehmum-type flower; its heavy, sweet decaying scent is used in perfumed oil.
Events:
Warrior Games - Under Earth competitions to the death; all are eligible, male, female, Vertant or Vermel; The odds are stacked in favor of the Vermel.
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