Make it your baby.
© by Gary L Morton, 2,500 words
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Darkness drifted in Zeno's half blind left eye, his cornea shimmered like the surface of a soap bubble, and then soothing red rays bathed the men, taking them to the scene of his new creation.
A church spire and the buildings of a village appeared as a silhouette against the rising yellow moon. Sounds of crickets, night birds, rustling leaves and creaking shutters came to their ears as the view zoomed to the edge of town. There they walked as invisible men, enjoying the mild summer breeze and the fragrances of clover and long grass. Reaching the top of a rise and a large swaying willow, they stopped and looked down. A graveyard spread out in a fan below. One that looked elaborate for such a tiny town.
Obelisks, angels and other monuments surrounded a tomb near the centre and a field of smaller stones ran off to the south. The sweet odors of wild flowers touched their nostrils, followed by another less pleasant smell, that of rank earth. It came from a spot near the central tomb where a monument had tumbled and a split ran through the ground.
A creature began to rise. Cake-black earth spilled from its pulsing claws and the moonlight illumined its broad bluish face. It pulled itself over the lip of the grave and stood, shaking off the dirt. Muscles bulged, ropes of tendon and torn flesh gleamed through the rips in its ragged clothes. Lifting a huge flat foot it kicked the gravestone in front of it, knocking it over - then it growled. Reddening eyes and bloodlust replaced the confusion on its face as it began to walk.
Zeno turned to his guests and Annak appeared impressed, but Jenson had a cynical eye cocked and was twitching his thin moustache like the monster wasn't the only bad thing he could smell. Jenson leaned forward, studying the creature's fright-mask face as it passed through the stones. It was a bit blocky, not quite as well proportioned as Zeno had wanted. Perhaps it was unfortunate that the nose looked more like painted wood than flesh. Though the green slime hanging from the creature's chin and neck worked well.
Another figure moved through the stones - a woman wearing a sheer white summer dress. Zeno smiled at her beauty; he had made no mistake here. The moonlight showed as ideal gloss on her platinum hair, pale skin and pouting ruby-tinted lips.
Wind snatched at her hem, carrying it up her pale thighs, and then she scented the creature, saw it coming through the stones and screamed. She began to run but her thin-soled shoes didn't do well against the lumpy ground and dew-slippery grass. Tumbling into a black stone, she rolled and moaned, trying to rise as the creature bounded effortlessly to her.
The monster halted and the young woman looked up at it, horrified. It was huffing so hard that blood mist sprayed from its coarse nostrils. Hungry as it looked, it didn't pounce immediately. Instead, it roared again and looked angrily to the sky. It reached down and ripped the ragged cloth away from its thighs.
Its genitals showed in the moonlight - a stiffening blue penis . . . large, deformed and dripping slime. The creature seized its organ with a clawed hand, looked back at the hysterical woman and closed in.
. . . Bruised … her clothes torn, the young woman's pale flesh glowed sensually in the moonlight. The monster picked her up, threw her down and battered her. Stimulated by her screams it leapt on her and mounted her. Pinning her, it began to thrust with its slime-dripping organ, moaning grotesquely as she choked, yelled in pain and fainted.
Her howls were so piercing even half-deaf Annak had to cover his ears, then the time window faded in cool red rays and the lights came on. Zeno knew the shot was a flop; he was afraid to face Jenson, but he had little choice.
Deep shock remained sculpted in Jenson's expression; almost like a third face-lift. He didn't wait; he seized Zeno's shoulder. “It's offensive and gross. Are you a monster? It has to be rewritten and edited.”
“But why?” Zeno said, lamely. “I gave you realism. It's a time-travel shot and the victim is a real person living in 2020.”
“Realism in the creation of the monster is what we want. Your selected starlet's screams almost destroyed my ears. The scene was nothing but gross and plastic brutality. Who would you sell it to, other monsters? Your mindless cruelty disturbs even me.”
“But that's realism. That's how a woman reacts when a monster rapes her.”
“You fool. You're composing for MonsterSkin Magazine. My porn readers won't buy that nonsense. There are no mature women, only girls that enjoy it. You should know that. I want it edited; a better monster but appealing and first she fights, then she enjoys it. I want her to have an orgasm so wild the feed will tear that monster and my virtual subscribers apart. If you want, you can even try a new twist, like near the end she suddenly turns into a vampire tigress and drinks the monster's blood.”
“It would take a lot of editing when I'm using time travel and real females of the past to make it legal. And isn't that a contradiction? I mean, if a woman, I mean girl, is to be submissive … well, she shouldn't turn into a tigress.”
“No, my subscribers want special effects racing through their drugged brains. Artists,” Jenson said, shaking his head. “I keep forgetting that you and Annak are new. My cyber johns have really only one set of ingrained sexual beliefs. A shot where the victim struggles and dies in pain would only appeal to a small audience of serial killers, vicious rapists and creeps. These days the true gentleman doesn't want to hurt a young lady. At least not in a socially unacceptable way. He wants to molest and rape her and he wants her to love him for it. He lures her into the trap with his sexual magnetism. Magnetism he has gained through plastic surgery and our manhood programs, and by using the neo steroids, pheromones and other products advertised in our magazines. Once he has the girl enchanted through our voice training, and has bought her an expensive night out, he rapes her. She fights him of course, and then submits to enjoyment, orgasm and the truth of the fact that she wanted to be brutalized all along. His total power is in the sex drugs we sell and the culture that promotes it. Our monster shots are really a brand of psychological reinforcement. They're real, taking place in the past in time slots we’ve rented from the world history corporation. In them the beast really does represents the brute side of all men, and after seeing a real young woman enjoying being raped by a monster our subscribers can shake off any guilt feelings haunting them from the rapes they have committed themselves. Twist endings like the tigress are okay because the girl doesn't really become dominant. It is the stiff rod, the male lightning rod penetrating her body that empowers her with sexual strength. And even viewed the other way it works. Who cares if some johns get killed? Sex is a dangerous game and we sell it that way.”
“Artists like Cat Mac are doing offbeat, non formula material that is quite popular,” Zeno said.
“I see,” Jenson said. He finished packing his pipe and lit it. “Stop trying to imitate Cat Mac. He isn't a commercial artist working in the trade. Cat is a popular artist with his own wealthy clientele.”
Annak nodded and pulled his beard thoughtfully. “We know that. We just thought that perhaps the time has come to open your magazine to different formats.”
“No, it's not the time,” Jenson said. He blew smoke in Annak's face. “We're not the market for that. Sales come first and when sales are in the billions, failure is worse than death. I surely don't want to end up in that place that only failing corporate executives even whisper about.”
“Don't worry. It's not a problem,” Zeno said. “I wanted to reshoot the piece anyway. Right now I think I need a brief rest. Then I'll give you exactly what you want. Say, Cat Mac is presenting his new piece today. Let's shoot over on the biz beam. I'd really like to see what he's up to in the area of monster design. I might be able to use it for inspiration.”
Fifteen people stood around the warp pad, all of them artists, except Jenson. They were also handsome to the nth degree; living testimony to what genetic enhancement, plastic surgery and neo steroids could do.
Cat Mac alone lacked handsome looks. He was about as ugly as a third degree burn. Chinese men of the day were all impossibly handsome, and that made him even more unusual. Cat came from a slum in Montreal, where the new genetic selection wasn't practiced. He’d started his career at the bottom, as a starving artist. Artists fought for virtual time and interviews, but Cat made no appearances. He preferred to have an air of mystery and would not allow fame or publicity to kill it. Jenson and most other people in the know believed Cat's looks were created by plastic surgeons. To them Cat looked too much like an oriental bad guy from ancient World War II movie makeovers, and such looks could be no accident.
Jenson had acting experience, as did the other guests, and they had all trained under the best gurus. Personal power and control came to them as naturally as sweat. In spite of it, Cat Mac looked to be in control. He was an artist with a power no specifically arranged pretty boy could have, and the sad part was that he knew he couldn't pass it on. Cat couldn't teach people who were all add-ons and acting how to be genuine. The problem in the first place was that they ignored their original personalities - everything was training, illusion and appearances to them.
Sunlight highlighted the deep creases in Cat's face as he began to speak. “Gentlemen, I do have the use of a Mercuror pad, but not to travel to the distant past as you probably think.” He held up a hand to fend off questions. “We are going to travel to the future.”
There were gasps. Jenson nearly choked as his face turned green with envy. “The future, you must tell me how to rent a similar slot for MonsterSkin Magazine.”
“You can't rent a slot. It has to be a gift. My client is a wealthy woman who lives in the future. She loves my work and has decided to have a shot of her own done.”
“Is there any way I can meet her?” Jenson said.
“Why yes, She’ll be viewing the shot, but I do hope you're not going to offend her by making a crass sales pitch?”
“No, certainly not,”
“Very well,” Cat said. “If you boys will join me on the pad, we'll be off.”
Jenson and the artists blinked, the red rays of the time beam didn't seem to be fading, and then they saw that it was the sun. In this future, the atmosphere lacked body, even the light breeze felt thin and ghostly. As their vision cleared, they got a stomach-wrenching view of an arena below. If it was an arena . . . it was more like a huge meteor impact on the edge of an incredible and futuristic smashed city. Melted plasti-steel, half-toppled buildings of immense height, boulder-sized chunks of deepened glass, overturned vehicles and rubbish filled the depression. There weren’t any living inhabitants walking among the broken walls, and obviously, they had died so long ago even their skeletons were dust.
Squinting, Jenson saw Cat Mac out on a part of the ledge so narrow it was scary. Nightmarishly high buildings towered in the skyline behind him as he waited for a woman approaching him on the walkway. She was blond, tanned, full-figured and even from a distance Jenson could see that her fashion-model looks made her perfect for a centerfold. He thought about offering her a contract, and then it came back to him that she had gotten Cat this future time slot. This was no model, but a woman of great power. Without thinking, Jenson began to walk out on the narrow portion, then his fear of heights got him and his head spun. Annak caught him before he fell.
“Damn,” Jenson said. “Why did Cat pick a slot like this?”
“He's an artist,” Zeno said. “Can't you see the value of it? A city destroyed by a future war. A shot done here will be priceless.”
“I suppose so, but I'm more interested in getting a slot for MonsterSkin than I am in watching one of Cat's eccentric pieces. I've got to talk to that woman.”
Jenson stepped out on the ledge again, but more carefully this time. He could see Cat waving and that encouraged him. Perhaps Cat had already mentioned his request for a slot. He began to walk, and then a flash from below caused him to look down. Some sort of mechanical beast was moving down there, and the sight of it caused him to stumble. He nearly fell but caught himself and kept his eyes straight ahead, refusing to look down as he walked up to Cat and the woman.
They were standing on a small pedestal, grinning from ear to ear, and the contrast was eerie - Cat's grin was absolutely hideous while the woman's was absolutely beautiful. “I'd like you to meet Lisa Debalo, the artist who commissioned this shot,” Cat said.
“I'm pleased, very pleased to meet you,” Jenson said, his eyes automatically falling to her breasts.
“I bet you are,” Lisa said, her smile turning icy.
“Let's get down to business,” Cat said. He pushed a button on his shoulder and Jenson saw a small camera begin to whir and fly. “A small legal matter,” he said. “You are a guest and participant only and do not intend to claim any rights to this shot for MonsterSkin Magazine. Is that correct?”
“I won't try to claim rights,” Jenson said. “That would be crass of me.”
“Good,” Cat said, shutting the camera off. “Prepare to act.”
“What are you talking about?” Jenson said. “I don't plan to act in this piece. I thought it was supposed to be one of your offbeat monster shots?”
“It is,” Cat said. “Tentatively titled Adam and Eve in the 25th Century.”
“That's right,” Lisa said. “I’ve commissioned it, and you and your friends are to be the stars. It will be a rather long piece I suspect. A sort of lighthearted sexual romp for man and monster.”
“No way, this is a bad joke,” Jenson said, backing away. “Stay back,” he said as Lisa approached, then he turned, tried to run and fell.
Jenson landed hard, and he groaned, certain he had fractured his right knee. Fortunately, the streets were dust. Otherwise, the fall would've killed him. Getting to one knee, he heard his suit rip, and when he looked up, he saw the special flash of time cameras high above.
He thought about yelling to the others for help, and then he heard loud clanking and remembered the monster he'd seen from above. Looking to his left, he saw it approaching. The creature was a huge thing - a freakish robot. Spiderlike, composed of metal arms, claws and feet. Three enormous breasts protruded below fiery red eyes and he could see several limbs with huge spinning dildos attached.
Jenson couldn't run; he could only crawl on his injured leg. A whirling blue dildo bounced off his face and he screamed. Then he heard Cat yelling from above, “Do try to look like you're enjoying it, Jenson. It’ll make the editing so much easier.”
---- the end -----