“Majordomo Thorton, I want to go over the final details for the party tonight”
“Oh flaming stars!” Ashima swore at the delay. “Now is not the time for you to be insolent. It isn’t that kind of party. This is an obedience protocols only party, my love”
The silence that followed inflated with building fear. “Is this one of your practical jokes? The party doesn’t start til tonight.”
"Your love?" Spoke an acidic voice from the shadows.
Ashima turned around. “Oh, it’s you. Don’t frighten me like that---”
The sound of heavy thuds filled the abrupt silence, as her decapitated head hit the floor, and her headless body immediately after.
_______
“You have been Cordially Invited to Ashima Patel’s Annual Halloween Party”
Kipp Wagner read the invitation aloud as he lounged in bed, “Should we go?” He threw the question at the naked man currently kissing his way down his abdomen.
“It could be fun?” came the reply as a blonde head disappeared under the loose sheet that covered Kipp’s groin.
Kipp arched his back with a soft moan as his companion moved between his legs. “Mmpf, Daryn, baby, please, I… oooh okay… okay… fuck.” Dipping his head back with a sharp intake of breath, his legs parted wider, as Daryn’s head bobbed up and down. Kipp’s mouth fell open as he sighed heavily and his brows furrowed.
The invitation in his hand fell to land precariously on the nightstand when he reached to grip the headboard behind him. Hips bucking up strongly, he grunted harshly as his body melted back into the bed with a trembling whine. “Fuck… I needed that,” he sobbed, then took a deep breath as Daryn crawled his way out of the sheets to lay atop Kipp’s body, resting his head on his hands on his lover’s chest, looking up at his face.
“I’ll never tire of the way you cry after you cum,” Daryn swooned.
Kipp lightly pushed at Daryn with a limp wrist, “Shut up. You know I can’t help it.”
“That’s exactly why I love it, because it's you and I love you, silly.”
“If you keep calling me silly, I’m really going to lose it, you know what that word does to me.”
“Yes. I do. That's why I say it.”
Kipp exhaled a sound that was a cross between a sob and a laugh. “Asshole”
“You love my ass, though.”
“Yes, as well as the rest of you.”
Daryn inched closer to seize a kiss from Kipp’s lips, before moving to lick the tears from his cheeks. “Mm, you’re trembling.”
Kipp ran a hand over Daryn’s back, turning to whisper into his ear. “Only you can make me tremble like this.”
Daryn chuckled. “Is that so?” He propped himself up on his hands, framing Kipp between them as he looked down at him with his clearwater blue eyes. “I’ll have to remember that.” He took a deep breath and then threw himself onto his back next to Kipp in their king sized bed with lots of comforters and sheets and a duvet somewhere.
“Mm, you never answered me properly, you know.”
“Answered what?”
“The party, do you really want to go? It’s one of Ash’s Soiree deals at her Chateau.” He ran a hand over the hair on Daryn’s chest.
“Mm, I don’t think we have anything else going on, the benefits of being very rich, I suppose. Never have to work.”
“Just endless parties. It can get a little dull, but say we go. Maybe we find someone hot and interesting, make for a wild night of… something not so dull?”
Daryn chuckled. “You are insatiable.”
“True.”
“You’re fortunate to have found someone so orally fixated as I am.”
“Yes, I do enjoy your mouth for more than your delectable Martian accent.”
“Oh, shush, you’ll never let me forget that I was born off-world will you?”
“No, because I had never in fact met anyone richer than me, til I met you. That’s why I had to snatch you up, before some woman beat me to it and impregnated herself with that seed that should always die inside my body.”
“You are so morbid when you flirt.” Daryn laughed.
“Oh, well then, is there something under these blankets that can stow my mouth to keep it busy from its propensity to flirting and all its morbidity?”
“Oh there definitely is.”
Kipp lifted the blankets, “Oh look at that spire, so, so, many inches to admire.”
Sinking down between Daryn’s legs to take him into his mouth, Daryn pulled back the blankets so that Kipp could not hide under them like he had for him.
His intent gaze watched the way that pouty mouth swallowed down every inch, maintaining eye contact. It made his body shiver. “That’s it… nice and slow. Savor it.”
Placing a palm at the base to press and the other hand running up and down Daryn’s inner thigh, his hand ran past a particular spot that spasmed in response, every time. Sucking the whole length up and down, slowly, Kipp could hear the way Daryn’s breath changed the closer he got to cumming. There was no warning beyond a palm suddenly on the back of his head, then the warm, wetness flooding his mouth.
Daryn’s ass cheeks squeezed tight and his toes curled as he held everything still, in a suspended moment of bliss, ejaculating, before he exhaled and then groaned as he relaxed everything.
Kipp swallowed the load down and licked his lips dramatically. He moved to lay down next to Daryn and looked idly at his nails. “So I take it we’re going to that damn thing?”
“Yeah, it has a theme”
“Doesn’t it always. What is it this year?” Daryn asked with a yawn.
Kipp reached for the invitation and handed it to Daryn. The older man accepted the paper on reflex, then scoffed. “You know I can’t read this damn thing without my glasses.”
Sitting up and digging in the nightstand for the spare pair, Kipp handed those over to his lover as well. Daryn accepted the glasses and placed them low on his nose. “Oh there is more than a theme, we have been assigned roles.”
“Oh, flaming stars, what did she come up with now?”
“Colonel Mustard and Professor Plum.”
“Oh, after the board game?”
“I suppose so. I’ve never played it. They didn’t really have silly board games where I grew up.”
“In that regard, you’re lucky. Board games are dull.”
“Well, do you still want to go?”
“I don’t think I’d ever hear the end of it if I declined the invitation, especially if we are given roles to perform. It's probably another one of her cozy mystery parties.”
“Could be fun, what do you say, Colonel?”
Kipp scoffed. “I’m to be the Colonel, am I?”
Daryn adjusted his glasses and looked down his nose at Kipp, “Are you seriously asking such a silly question?”
“That’s three, watch yourself, Deimos, you don’t want your subject to jizz his pants in front of everyone, now do you? They’ll go thinking you don’t have me trained properly.”
Daryn chuckled. “I doubt that’s what they think. We all met at Cruel Saint’s Hypnosis Club, our little circle of friends, so they won’t think your agency is that flimsy, Kipp.”
“What time does it say we need to show up tonight?”
“Eight.”
“What time is it now?”
“Uhm…” Daryn reached for the digital clock on his nightstand and turned it toward Kipp so he could read the numbers himself.
“It’s ten til seven. Flaming stars! Share a shower with me, I don’t even know if I have anything military mustard to wear. This is suddenly turning into an inconvenience.”
“Or an impromptu shopping opportunity?”
“What about you?”
“I have many shades of plum to wear. Let’s get showered and get you something flattering to wear.”
Both men, rolling out of bed and stretching, made their way to the lavish bathroom to shower and then prepare for the party.
_______
‘Flight 245 Has been cleared for landing in Terminal Five. Passengers will proceed to Gate 19 to take the transport train to Baggage Claim,’ the AI overhead voice announced as the ship came in for a landing.
Two very well dressed women were exiting a personalized aerospace jet. One had blonde hair and green eyes, the other dark brown hair and black eyes, but other than that, the two women looked identical - as if related or surgically made to appear so except for the hair and eyes.
“So not used to this gravity. I can’t believe we canceled an expedition on Phobos for some costume party,” Taper, the green-eyed blonde complained.
Clarissa, the black eyed brunette, was not paying attention. She swayed and then made a small moan sound while making a pouty face at her phone, then after a deep breath, she fluffed her hair and re-applied lipstick, which was a part of the multi-functional stylus attached to her phone. “What did you say, I was filming a quickie for my followers so I didn't hear whatever mundane thing you just said,” she drawled in a deadpan tone.
Taper scoffed, “Can you be any more vain?”
“Is that a challenge?”
“Only if you can follow up on it.”
“Care to make that a bit more interesting?”
“You want me to put a wager on how extravagantly you can increase your vanity?”
“Are you going all green-gilled on me, Tappy?”
“No.” Taper pursed her lips and looked her companion up and down. “If we get back to the airport before noon tomorrow, we might be able to get back to Phobos to catch the expedition before they move to Deimos. I didn’t pay for the Deimos part of the package because its gone all mainline and I’m more for the off-road stuff. Once it gets discovered by the Mainliners, I lose interest”
“Yeah I know, what’s your point?”
“If you get us to the party and then find a way for us to discreetly leave early enough so we make the return trip to be able to catch some of the expedition, I'll give you one of the things from my safety deposit box that you have long coveted. But only one, and if you fail and I win, you have to give me one of yours.”
Clarissa sighed, “What of mine do you want?”
“Do you really need to ask?” Taper smirked as they reached Baggage Claim.
“Fine. You want the Tom of Finland art collection that has been in my family for generations, you’re going to have to fork over the leather bound Antoniou Marketplace collection. The signed copies.”
Taper sighed. “Fine. Let’s just get there.”
“Don’t we have to arrive in costume, what are we gonna do for that?”
“Ah, glad you asked. I have just the thing.” Taper dove a hand in her bag and took out some blank name tags.
“That is either brilliant or lazy.”
“Why not both? I mean do you want to wear a red dress or peacock feathers?”
“I’m a porn star, what makes you think I don’t have one of both of those in my closet?”
“Did you have your closet as a carryon to go to Phobos?”
Clarissa sighed. “Sadly, my Augmented Reality Luggage needed an update, so I had to go full analog-digital today, I’m calling it my retro era.”
“Prima donna, you get to be Miss Scarlett, I’ll be Ms. Peacock.”
“That’s hardly fair, I actually have a cock and you blush more scarlet than I do whenever I remind you of that fact.”
Freezing mid-stroke of writing a name on one of the nametags, Taper flushed bright pink.
“Case in point. So you be Scarlett, I’ll be Peacock, and I can write my own name, thank you very much.” Clarissa swiped one of the nametags and tapped the multi-use stylus until she got a sharpie tip before swooping the letters of the name in a practiced calligraphy cursive hand that was perfect in its legibility.
“How long will it take to get there from here anyway?”
“A few hours.” Taper said. “I was actually thinking we could swing by Cruel Saint’s place and ride with him and his latest, who will probably be his plus one to the party.”
“His latest, what happened to Rosalind?”
“Discontinued. He didn’t want to spend forty million to get her updated so she’s in the shed or scrapped for parts.”
“Well, that’s sad, I was looking forward to seeing her again.”
“Spot him the forty million and he might get her updated just so you can catch up on old times.” Taper drawled sarcastically.
“Can’t spare that much, maybe half that, if you pay the other half?”
“I cannot stand Rosalind, may she be scrap forever. C’mon I need a stiff drink and to be out of this sterile transport station. I needed the arid air of a Martian moon, I’m so fucking pissed, this party better be fucking worth it.”
“Hey, I thought the bet was that I was the overdramatic vain one?” Clarissa’s heels click-clacked absurdly as she trotted to catch up with the quicker stride of her friend as they made their way out of the baggage claim area, bags in tow and headed to the In-Station Bar to get drinks and call Rozier Cruel Saint to see if he’d be open to carpooling to the Patel Chateau.
_______
Mozart’s Piano Sonata No.16 in C Major was playing its first movement in the speakers of Rozier Cruel Saint’s laboratory as he worked, the opened invitation on the table next to a bubbling set of beakers. His moaning was crescendo-ing as he fucked what looked like a doll head, his other hand on a remote that controlled the ‘suck’ functions of the mouth currently on his dick. His moans climbed up, and up, and up in pitch before the sound cut out and his hips jerked into the doll head mouth so hard that it bumped the counter with the beakers and one of them rattled until it tipped over and shattered, but Rozier seemed to be too lost in his own… ‘data collecting’ to notice it or care at the moment.
“Ahhh…” he sighed in satisfaction as he slowly pulled the head free of his body and tucked his softening cock into his pants and set the doll head on the counter. He scribbled something down in his lab notes as her green eyes looked up at him. She blinked, once, then twice.
“Did one serve Master well?”
“Yes, Thank you.”
“Has one earned a designation yet, Master?”
“Oh shit, yes, yes you have, I think the name Allara will do nicely.”
“One is designated Allara. Updating internal records. Processing… Processing… Processing Complete. I am Allara.”
“Very good. Now we need to get ready for this event, you’re going to accompany me to be my arm candy.”
“Will I be devoured at this event, Master?"
“Wha- ? No, No, no, no. Arm candy is a vernacular term for someone who accompanies another person for the sake of their aesthetics giving a bonus and boost by being by their side.”
“I fail to understand. Please rephrase?”
“You are pretty and you being pretty and by my side will make me look good in front of my friends.”
“Are you not pretty enough on your own, Master?”
“Of course I am, but I can always be prettier by having the fruits of my hard work by my side. Unless… do you not want to attend?”
Allara blinked. “Master is giving me a choice?”
“I am offering you the choice in this case, yes.”
“I accept the invitation to accompany your attendance to this event. It would be my honor to boost my Master’s esteem in the eyes of his compatriots”
“I wouldn’t call them that, but done, we’re going. Now it is time to find which silhouette we want for your body tonight. Luckily we have roles to play, I am Mr. Green and you are Mrs. White. So we can dress you in all white and I can find something green to wear.”
There was an alert on his phone going off. Rozier swore under his breath and nearly slipped on the spilled chemicals trying to find his phone. “Cruel Saint Laboratory,” he answered tersely as he answered it on the last ring. “Taper? Oh sure, I am open to giving you a ride, there should be plenty of room. What Transport Station? Okay done, I’ll be there… in about an hour? Oh, no need to worry about that, my vehicles are very fuel efficient. Yes. No, I haven’t heard from Kipp, but I imagine he will be bringing Daryn, but yes I can definitely swing by to grab you both. See you soon.”
Disconnecting the call, Rozier sighed and looked over at Allara’s head still on the counter. “Well, let’s get ready, shall we?”
He went over and picked her head up gently and walked into the adjoining room where there was a long row of gynoid mannequin bodies. “See any you like, my dear?”
Allara looked at the long row of bodies. “Master is giving me a choice?” she asked, again.
“Yes. Every woman should have a choice over their body, so this choice is always yours and yours alone.”
Allara smiled, then turned to look at the row of bodies, again. “Third from the left.”
Rozier went over to place her head on her chosen body. Powering up noises whirred and beeped and then Allara lifted her arms and turned her head one way and then the other, and her hands went to cup her naked breasts and run down the curvy, thick figure. “I like this.”
“Yeah, I do too.” Rozier’s voice cracked as he watched her examine how her own sensory input signals adapted to being connected to a body. “W-We should get you dressed. Try walking a few steps. I’ll know if I need to get you a mobility device to help if you are in any pain. This is one of my older models, some of the fine tuning may not have been in my skillset when I built this one”
Allara took one careful step and then another, then a few more and it became evident that there was a limp present.
“Yes, as I thought, there is a glitch to your movement. It will take too long to correct before the party.”
She looked up at him. “My body is perfect.”
He looked up at her. “You don’t feel pain when you move? There is a limp when you walk.”
“I do not feel any pain at all.”
“So no mobility aid?”
“I fail to understand, what is a mobility aid, please rephrase?”
“A walking stick, or a motorized chair so you don’t have to walk, you can sit and use the chair.”
“Will it match my wardrobe?”
Rozier chuckled. “We can coordinate it to match, yes.”
“Then we should pick my apparel first, yes?”
“Yes, are you sure you aren’t in any pain?”
“Master cares if I am in pain?”
“Of course I do.”
Allara stared at him for what felt like a long moment. “I will walk smoother while holding your hand.”
Rozier smiled and held out his hand for her to hold. They walked across the room to what had to be an adjoining walk-in closet. “We must look smashing, my dear.”
“Is there to be violence at this party, Master?”
“Well if it's a good party… maybe. But it's at the Patel Chateau, so probably not. But then again, she could surprise me.”
“Do you like surprises, Master?”
“Sometimes, yes. It depends on what the surprise is.”
_______
The sprawling chateau of Ashima Patel was high up on a mountain, with a picturesque cliff overlooking a beautiful vista to the east and a graveyard of family plots to the west with a wrought iron fence surrounding it. The family plot had graves going back seven generations of the Patel family. To the north, which the house faced, there was a long driveway that circled in front of the big elaborate door, and to the south, was a large acreage of land. It was wild, and unkempt, as the latest generation of Patel was not keen on keeping up with the landscaping and let Nature take over.
Limousines arrived at the chateau somewhat promptly at eight o’clock that evening. Every guest got out of their respective vehicles.
“Nametags, that’s ingenious,” Kipp drawled as he looked at Ms. Peacock and Miss Scarlett.
“Thank you,” Taper said with a smile. “You look good too. Special order?”
“Oh, this old thing? Yes, actually.” Kipp grinned as he spun and modeled the tailor made mustard camo three piece suit he was wearing.
“The sign on the door said we’re to take the side entrance. Does anyone see where it is?” Daryn asked.
Everyone looked around the estate grounds, “There is an intercom box over there.”
They walked over as a group to the call box. Rozier pressed the button. “Hello? Ashima, we’re here, let us in, why don’t you?”
Static crackled but then a garage door covered in vines opened slowly.
“This is Majordomo Thorton. Please proceed through the open door. On foot, your escort vehicles can remain parked here safe and sound. We hope you enjoy your visit at the Patel Chateau and Gardens.”
“Should I take point?” Kipp asked, feeling very in character.
“Go ahead, I don’t see anyone else volunteering.”
So, they walked ahead. Colonel Mustard, Professor Plum, Mr. Green, Mrs. White, Miss Scarlett and Ms. Peacock all entered the darkened entrance single file. As soon as they entered, the door closed behind them and they were in pitch darkness for a few moments til lights flickered on and Majordomo Thorton’s holographic image flickered into view, as he was suddenly standing behind a counter in front of them.
“Honored guests,” he greeted with a low bow, the strings of his marionette body still visible as he aligned his image upright and motioned toward a set of instruments below him on the counter.
There was a single candlestick holder, a golden spanner-wrench, a metallic pipe, a revolver, a bundle of rope, and a sheathed dagger with the Patel family emblem on the hilt, all laid across the counter. “For your convenience, the instrument assignments have been randomly generated,” Majordomo Thorton continued.
“Well, well, Ashima really went all out this year, didn’t she?” Cruel Saint commented idly.
“Assignments displayed here…” Majordomo Thorton motioned to a holographic display with everyone’s name and assigned weapon.
Kipp Wagner as Colonel Mustard [Metallic Pipe]
Daryn Deimos as Professor Plum [Candle Stick]
Clarissa Versailles as Ms. Peacock [Revolver]
Taper Van Zandt as Miss Scarlett [Spanner Wrench]
Allara the Doll as Mrs. White [Rope]
Rozier Cruel Saint as Mr. Green [Sheathed Dagger]
Each person grabbed their assigned item, once all the items were claimed, the counter they were resting on descended into the floor and Thorton’s image was recalled into the holographic projectors somewhere nearby. His voice prompted them forward as a trolley carriage rolled up ahead on what had to be a kind of subterranean train system. “Please board the Gumshoe Trolley and fasten the safety belts provided for your convenience.”
“What the hell is this? I thought we were going to a party, now we’re in some sort of homemade amusement park in a reconstructed abandoned mine shaft?” Clarissa, Ms. Peacock complained.
“It’s kind of like an expedition, at least there isn’t cheesy music and bland refreshments,” Taper, Miss Scarlett retorted, then patted a seat next to her for her friend to join her.
“There will be refreshments won’t there?” Kipp wondered idly.
“I’ll be your refreshment.” Daryn flirted as he buckled himself in, seated next to Kipp on one side and Cruel Saint on the other. Mrs. White took the seat on the end next to Clarissa and Taper on the other row.
“Well, that takes care of protein. Whatever will I do for sides to have a balanced meal?” Kipp quipped.
“I’m sure one of the ladies would consent to providing you some cream, am I wrong?” Rozier smirked.
“Do you want me to serve your friends, Master?” Allara, dressed as Mrs. White asked.
Daryn chuckled. “Eager this one, Rozier, what did you name this one?”
“Allara is my name,” she answered for herself. Rozier felt a swell of pride well up at her display of autonomy.
“Hello Allara. How long have you been with your Master?”
Her head tilted as she accessed the memory port to get the exact number. “Thirty Six Hours and Eight Minutes, Forty-Two seconds, Forty-Three … Forty ---”
“That is quite a sufficient enough answer, thank you, Allara,” Daryn cut her off gently, and she fell silent.
The Trolley began to move as soon as Clarissa fastened her safety belt being that she was the last one to do so.
“Into the belly of the beast rode the six party guests…” Kipp quipped, as the trolley advanced into the dark cavity down the tracks.
It was awkwardly silent for what felt like a long moment before there was the sound of someone moaning erotically.
“What is going on?”
“I masturbate when I’m nervous.”
“Really? Even among other people?”
“Thank Taper, she put the trigger in place. It helps with the panic attacks and the anxiety by flooding my mind, ohhhh, flooding my mind with happy chemicals... Mmmpf… fuck...”
“Clarissa has a phobia of being in dark enclosed spaces,” Taper clarified. “If we are going somewhere where I know we may run into this phobia, I would put in a remote-controlled, bullet vibrator, but I didn’t think to do so this time because I didn’t think a costume party for Halloween would involve taking an underground train into some cave, silly me.”
“So silly,” Daryn agreed, tone sarcastic in solidarity. Kipp bit his own cheek and gripped Daryn’s thigh, and felt satisfied and maybe a little smug at the way the older man’s breath hitched softly.
“I don’t mind it, it is at least a pleasant ambiance, this was not what I was expecting either. But, Ashima is known to experiment so I’m not all that surprised. She was overdue for changing things up, I mean not that last year was dull or anything, just, I’ve been to better parties.”
“When was her last Halloween Party anyway, hasn’t it been a great long while?” Kipp asked.
Rozier buzzed his lips, “It has now that you mention it. But her group of friends is quite vast in the scientific community.”
“I wonder why we were selected to attend this particular… event? I don’t know that we can call it a party anymore,” Taper said flatly and then sighed, “I could be on Phobos right now,” she muttered.
“Phobos?” Daryn perked up. “What’s there?”
“An expedition I paid three hundred grand to be a part of.”
“She did send the invitations a bit late. You could have declined. Why didn’t you?”
“Ashima is my best friend, I guess that still means something to me, no matter how many bitter roots may have taken hold of my heart or wherever someone like me would stash their sense of sentiment”
Clarissa’s moaning was a constant cadence of groaning and hissing as she stroked herself slow, slow, fast, and then fast, fast, fast, and going back and forth between the speeds. It caught the attention of Mrs. White, who was watching her hand in the dark with a degree of scrutiny that said she was studying or learning.
“Is that a light up ahead?” Daryn asked after a moment.
“I think so,” Rozier seconded. The train started to pick up speed as the slope of the tracks went toward the light - and Clarissa’s moans got faster and harder, before she came and Mrs. White lunged forward to catch the semen that shot out, as if she was programmed to have a reflex that no drop of semen should ever touch the ground no matter who it came from.
“I have caught the load, Master, shall I ingest?” she asked.
“What?” Rozier turned confusedly toward the women in the back row.
Clarissa started chuckling weakly. “She was watching me and she caught my load. I am fine if she ingests it. Fitting reward for the clearly lecherous programming you gave her, Cruel Saint.”
“One person’s lecherousness is another’s cleanliness,” Rozier deflected. Then turned his focus to Mrs. White, his doll, Allara. “Ingest every drop and run a diagnostic analysis on the sample, darling, we’ll go over the results together once we’re back at the lab,” he instructed.
Allara immediately obeyed and was licking the sticky from her palms, fingers and wrist. Then scanned the small space of the trolley, with her ability to see in the dark, to see if any drop was neglected.
“Good Doll, Allara.”
There was a whirring beep noise of mirth.
“It took you thirty six hours to make her?” Kipp asked, incredulity in his voice.
“Yes.”
“Do you do commission work?”
Cruel Saint turned to look toward his… compatriot. “Are you interested in a Doll Companion, Wagner, when you have this professor to cuddle with every night?”
“Well, we were talking earlier about a third, maybe a doll would be just the thing.”
“Mmm, I have done commissions before, in the past, yes. It has been a long while since anyone has asked for one though. And I must say I would not have guessed to have heard any such curiosity from you, Kipp Wagner.”
“Colonel Mustard tonight, but, yes, we should talk, and don’t worry about the money, I can afford your rates, whatever you need for materials. Easily.”
“I wasn’t worried. But, yes, we will talk.”
Daryn looked from one to the other and then cleared his throat. “It seems we are pulling into a station,” he said, his voice squeaking a little. The idea of a doll third was something that aroused him more than he realized.
Everyone looked ahead as the trolley arrived in a big high ceiling room that had brighter lights going down what was a longer hallway. There were windows to what looked like some sort of exhibitions.
“Oh, Ashima, what have you gotten up to now?” Cruel Saint whispered in awe as he got out of the trolley and walked toward the first exhibit window. “Allara, to me, my darling,” he summoned.
Within seconds, Allara was by her Master’s side, holding his hand, staring at the exhibit. It was a kind of enclosed ecosystem. “What are we looking at, Master?”
“The future.” Cruel Saint whispered solemnly.
Kipp and Daryn were out next. “Do we need to keep these items? Or can we leave them in the trolley?”
“Might be safer to just hold on to them,” Taper said as she got out next. Clarissa followed. Daryn went back to the trolley to grab his item he’d left behind. But since there were no more bodies in the trolley, it started to move. Daryn was knocked off balance and he fell backwards onto the platform.
“Welcome to the Patel Prospective Future Enclosure Exhibition Hall. Before you are six Ecosystems of six possible futures. Please enjoy the viewing, the trolley will return to take you to the dining hall in two hours and fifty six minutes. Refreshments will be provided once you arrive at the dining hall.”
With that, the PA system went silent again and the trolley was gone - a floor panel had risen in the gap so that everyone could walk across the floor freely to look at the six enclosures.
“So this is what she’s been up to when she’s not planning parties,” Daryn said and gave a low, impressed whistle.
Each of the enclosures had an arched glass window.
Three on one side of the hallway where the tracks were, and three on the other side.
The guests gathered to look at each window together. The first one where Cruel Saint and Allara stood, was full of neon and chrome, relics of skyscrapers, reclaimed by nature, being crushed by vines and roots of a giant tree, with swooping leaves and a canopy crushed only by the ceiling of the enclosure. It was absurd in its nihilistic solarpunk glory, the giant tree was bowed, but not broken, overseeing the dying urban sprawl below it, like a demure god, its face hidden behind vines. Its veiny branches sagging from the weight.
There were no people.
It was a wilderness wasteland.
Nature, abandoned by Man.
The loneliness of its wild splendor and glory feeding on the fading memory that still clung to the crumbling infrastructure of industry, technology and progress.
There was an emptiness to the space that wailed in the wild solitary silence, hissing almost hauntingly, through the glass barrier. The six adults stared at the flash frozen formation of an abyss.
“Do you think that’s real or just some holographic projection?” Kipp asked.
“It’s real,” Cruel Saint said with a solemn edge of certainty to his voice.
“How can you tell?”
“I’ve worked with Ashima for years, I know what she’s capable of. She’s always been on the margins even in the marginal community of Mad Science.”
“This kind of turns me on. Something about the empty space is… arousing some primal notes in me,” Clarissa whispered.
Allara whirred and made a mechanical whistle of agreement. Cruel Saint glanced at her and smiled, taking note that she’d expressed something she liked.
“Yeah, well, it is creeping me out, can we move on to the next one?” Daryn muttered.
“You think it will be better than this?” Kipp challenged.
“One can hope.” Daryn shoved his hands in his pants pockets and walked ahead to the next window.
The rest followed but Clarissa lingered, walking closer to the glass to see what more she could see, her hand rubbing the bulge between her legs. The abstract allure of the agricultural abyss scared her as much as it aroused her. She had enough agency to resist falling under the sway of her trigger, but she didn’t want to resist, she may never see anything like this again, once this party was over. Her hand dove into her panties and she sighed deeply, as she stroked while staring at the glass, intending to get off before she moved on with everyone else.
The next enclosure was a kind of fog that swirled around, like a kind of swarm of opaqueness. It revealed a patch of road, broken asphalt littered with bones of various animals and humans and otherwise. A skull rolled along the ground like a perverse tumbleweed. The terrain tilted one way and then the other, the swarming fog screeched like some sort of incorporeal bat. The sound in the background grew into a haunting wail - screams and cries of people dying, like a radio transmission. Pleading and sobbing, sluicing sounds that abruptly fell to silences and the Aeolian thrum that lingered, as the swarming fog swirled like a scrap of cloth, cut from the Grim Reaper’s robe.
“This can’t be real,” Kipp insisted.
“Ashima was one known for her affinity to take risks. She dabbled in spiritualism, dimensional magic not just science. So it is my belief that this is very real, and whatever is swarming in that enclosure, is a very real threat. The only protection we have is this glass.”
“I would rather believe this is all just an elaborate scientific art exhibition, Believing otherwise would put me off my appetite, and I am very much looking forward to dinner,” Kipp said stubbornly and turned to walk toward the last enclosure on this side of the wall. Daryn followed after him and then Taper, Cruel Saint and Allara.
Clarissa had just climaxed quietly. Catching the load in her own palm, while using the other hand to tuck herself away afterward and walking slowly to catch up. She glanced at the fogging window briefly and moved to catch up. “Want another sample?” she asked, offering her palm to Allara.
Allara looked at Cruel Saint who smirked but nodded. Then the gynoid brought Clarissa’s palm to her hand and sucked every drop of the seminal load clean from her skin. Clarissa flexed her fingers and ran her hand over her other palm as if to rub away the bizarre sensation of her palm being vacuum-cleaned by a robot girl dressed in an all white, maid’s uniform. Catching Cruel Saint’s gaze again. The knowledge passed between them why the robot’s mouth had a suction like that.
Neither of them saying a word about it, Clarissa moved to the far side away from the two of them to glance at the current enclosure. It was a cybernetic wonderland. The sort of thing that science fiction media had preached about for decades. Robotic Superiority with a clear sign of a recent uprising was being displayed here. And in this enclosure, the robots were moving around, and one of them turned toward the glass, and walked toward it. Staring back as if it could see the guests gathered around gazing.
“You don’t think it can really see us, do you?” Kipp asked.
“I think it can,” Daryn replied back in a whisper.
Kipp stared back and took a step closer, placing a hand on the glass. The robotic eyes looked down at the hand on the glass, and a loud klaxon alarm went off.
Please refrain from touching the enclosure barrier, it is there for your safety.
“For heaven’s sake, Wagner, take your hand off the glass!” Taper hissed.
Slowly taking his hand off the glass, Kipp looked at everyone a bit pink-cheeked from embarrassment.
“Such a silly thing to do, Kipp,” Daryn chided and then smirked at the way Kipp’s jaw clenched.
“Mm… that’s five.” he looked up at Daryn with an expression of restraint. “Do you really insist on winding me up like this, here, now of all places?”
Taking a side step toward going across the hall. “You have yet to safe word, Kipp, so some part of you, wants to be provoked or you wouldn’t keep doing such --”
“Please don’t. Don’t say it. I paid too much for these pants to have them ruined before I get a full night out of them.”
Daryn smirked. “Fine, come along, more to see.” He continued to cross the hall to the other side of the exhibition space.
Halfway across the expanse, Daryn reached for Kipp’s hand and Kipp accepted the hand and squeezed affectionately.
Allara was staring intently at the Cybernetic Uprising Future. The robot that had distracted Kipp had gone back to what they were doing.
“Allara, darling, are you alright?” Cruel Saint asked.
“Why aren’t they subservient like I am?” she asked.
Cruel Saint turned to look at how the Cybernetics were clearly the dominant ones and any display of humans were shown in displays of subservience, but there were no actual humans in the exhibit, only statues in poses of fear and submission.
“They are only obeying their programming.”
Allara whirred a bit in thought before turning to look at her Master. “Why did you program me to be subservient?”
Clarissa was watching this exchange silently, too riveted to walk away. Taper was fiddling with the spanner wrench in her hand, as she waited for Clarissa before crossing the expanse to join Kipp and Daryn.
Cruel Saint took a slow breath before he gave Allara sober expression. “I didn’t.”
“But I look to you for permission. I feel the impulse to serve you, obey you.”
“Yes.”
“Subservience,” Allara said stubbornly.
“Baseline,” Cruel Saint countered.
“Why couldn’t my baseline be to rule over you? Like them.”
Keeping his gaze on her, even as hers broke away to look at the exhibit again. He reached for her hand and placed it on his heart. She turned to look at him, “Your heart is beating at a rate of 96 beats per minute. That is a little elevated, Master.”
“Yes. I need you to hear my words exactly as I say them, okay? And feel my heart. Keep your hand here and read my pulse at its source, so you can detect if I am lying. I programmed you to know when I lie, can you access that subroutine now?”
Her gaze bloomed brightly for a moment then she blinked once, twice. “Yes, Master, that subroutine has been Accessed.”
“Good. Now to answer your question. I made your baseline, service-oriented, yes. But I gave you autonomy. Your machine learning protocols of your positronic brain are learning at an accelerated rate. I made you in thirty six hours, but each hour has an equivalency of a human year. So you have the advanced thinking and emotional intelligence equivalent to someone who has lived thirty six years on this earth. You have the ability to read a room better than anyone in this room. But your body, the body you chose, was based on someone who had… an emotional connection to me. Someone subservient to me. She was very important to me, and by making a mold of her image, it is a way of giving her immortality. But you are who you decide to be. Your body, as you said it, is perfect. But so are you, Allara. You are perfect, and if this future, where your kind rule over mine is to come to pass, then I should hope you would show me mercy for any failings you perceive from me,” Cruel Saint said. His voice shook with a vulnerable vibrato.
“You are telling the truth.”
“Yes,” Cruel Saint whispered, and tears fell from the ledges of his lower lashes and he raised a hand to wipe them from his cheeks.
“Why do your eyes perspire from sharing the truth to me?”
“Because it is a vulnerable thing to share a truth. Vulnerability can be perceived as weakness. And weaknesses can be exploited.”
“How could something weak create something strong enough to rule?”
Cruel Saint frowned at that question. Not really having an answer for it. Allara closed the distance by pulling him by his shirt close enough to kiss, which she did. “You are mine to protect if the future’s tide turns. You understand?” she whispered against his lips.
“Yes, Allara,” he replied reflexively.
“Good Master.” She ran her hand over his hair and his lashes fluttered closed as he sighed, melting into the touch like a touch starved pet. Allara whirred and beeped her giggles.
“Your heart rate is relaxing now. Good.”
“Yes.”
Clarissa glanced at Taper, and motioned with her eyes to the second exhibit across the hall. The Two of them left them to their moment as they started to make out like they were the only two in the room.
“That went differently than I expected,” Taper commented idly.
“What did you expect her to do, force him to kneel and make him eat her out?”
“Would have been a lot more fun to watch than that weird transhumanist heart to heart they had. Cruel Saint has a heart of gold, I don’t understand why he has to build companions and why he can’t just date a human.”
“Clearly you still have feelings for him.”
“He was my first… everything. I can’t just erase my feelings, I’m not a robot.”
“The sole tragedy of Taper Van Zandt’s life. To be performed as a one act play with refreshments to follow,” Clarissa joked glibly.
“Fuck off, just because every ex-lover you have is dead, you think you are so posh.”
“I think the word you are looking for is efficient.”
“No, I think the word I am looking for but was trying to avoid saying, is Gold-Digger. Dating a man seventy years your senior just to inherit his money is not efficient.”
“You’re right, It is definitely more posh, now that you mention it.”
Taper rolled her eyes. “Well, I walked into that one.”
“Yep.” Clarissa said and started to walk away before half turning to face Taper again. “Be grateful you’re my insurance policy, not my eighth spouse I’m milking for money.”
“Thank the flaming stars for that.”
They went to the next exhibit. It presented a future where the earth was flooded and became an ocean planet, with Humanity evolving into two distinct paths, some advanced amphibian race that looked alien compared to the modern human, and some shambling half dead proto-cyborg race made of seaweed and plastic who were being mined for the sand they had as blood, to make adobe-style homes for the amphibian-humanoids.
That exhibit was passed over in awkward silence as they went to the next.
The fifth enclosure presented a volcanic future, with an alien overlord, mammoth-big, and made of a mass of tentacles like a spaghetti monster. Some of the suckers on the underside of the tentacles were eyes instead. It was sitting on a volcanic throne with lava or molten gold bleeding rivers from the base while tiny humanoid automatons gathered the golden lava into refineries which built items that looked similar to what was in the Cybernetic Revolution enclosure.
“What is that creature, supposed to be some Pastafarian Lovecraftian Overlord?” Clarissa asked.
Taper exhaled slowly, and unbuttoned the top buttons of her shirt, “Whatever it is, it can have my fealty any fucking way it wants.”
“You and your tentacle fetish.”
“You fuck for gold, I fuck for fealty, We are each a different version of Evolution’s bad sense of humor of how Humanity is a cosmic joke, that’s what this whole thing is about, right?”
“That one has a curtain over it.” Allara said, pointing to the final exhibit.
“Maybe it is to represent that the future is sometimes best left unknown to those still living life in the present,” Cruel Saint said.
“Yeah sure, way to go, Molière, but I think it just means she didn’t finish,” Kipp commented.
“I think it means something escaped or was stolen.” Daryn mumbled, as he walked forward and drew back the curtain, and the glass window was cracked, fractured, making the vision beyond it, to what was inside, hard to make out.
The others gathered around looking carefully, scanning through the dark glass for something to give them a clue as to what happened or what it was supposed to be. They were so focused that they gasped collectively at the sound of Majordomo Thorton’s voice.
“Please make way for the returning trolley to take you to the Dining Hall. I hope that you enjoyed your time at the Patel Prospective Future Enclosure Exhibition Hall.”
The sound of machinery and gears as the train returned, and the six of them got back into the trolley and rode a short trip through another kind of secret passageway, only to park in what looked like an extra wide supply closet. The doors ahead opened to what they all recognized as the Dining Hall inside the home of Dr. Ashima Patel.
Serenade from Schubert’s Schwanengesang was playing from a vinyl record player in the back corner of the room.
“Well, this is cheerful, Anyone remember their box step?” Kipp quipped.
“No it isn’t,” Cruel Saint said. “Where is Ashima?”
“Bit of poor etiquette to not show up at your own party, and after all that foreplay with the exhibitions. Is she planning to just jump out and shout boo when we leave and reveal it was all a big elaborate prank?” Taper asked as she walked toward the long dining table that was big enough to seat at least ten. There were only six that had name tags but none of them held the names of anyone in the room.
“Who are these people? Does anyone recognize these names?” Taper asked.
The next moment the door, where they had entered, shut loudly and locked itself.
“I don’t like this. What is going on?” Clarissa asked.
Cruel Saint was frowning, trying to figure out what was going on himself, running theories in his mind.
“Well, what I want to know is what is for dinner?” Kipp went over and lifted up the silver tray cover. He paled as he dropped the lid and stumbled three steps back. “Well my appetite is gone,” he uttered hoarsely.
“Ashima … who has done this to you?” Cruel Saint sighed sadly seeing her severed head on the platter.
“This is some sort of joke right? She’s gonna wake up and reveal it's all a big prank, hahahaha, Happy Halloween, or something, right?” Clarissa said nervously. She seemed to be panicking. Her breath, going fast and her body shaking. “She’s gonna wake up, right? She’s gonna wake up! WAKE UP, YOU STUPID BITCH! This isn’t fucking funny!!!” Clarissa screamed.
She screamed and screamed. Fighting against Taper when she tried to hug her and hold her and give comfort.
Everyone else standing silently, as if frozen figures on a board game, each their own private islands of emotion.
Daryn was looking at the name tags. “These are anagrams,” he said knowingly, breaking the silence.
"For whom? Or What?” Cruel Saint asked
“Us,” Daryn replied.
“Now, now, professor, show your work, how did you figure that out?” Kipp asked somewhat teasingly.
“More importantly, does this mean that someone thinks one of us killed Ashima? Or are they trying to frame us?” Daryn asked.
Clarissa’s panicked sobs had calmed down to bitter laughter. “We could fucking be on Phobos right now. We could be on Phobos, and she’d still be dead on a fucking platter and no one would ever know. Who would think to check on her? We are all so absorbed in our own fucking lives. I know I’m not the only one who had second thoughts about even agreeing to come to this party. She does one every damn year and for the last few, either I didn’t get an invitation, or she didn’t have a party but somehow, the next time I am invited - its a fucking murder mystery party for real?! This is so fucked up! Ughhh!!! Would someone turn off that fucking music!”
Allara walked over to the vinyl record player and lifted the needle and set it aside, leaving the room oddly silent. Just the sound of everyone’s breathing and the tension between them as they all tried to not look at the severed head of their friend on the silver platter on the table.
“Can I just ask the obvious here? Where is the rest of her body?” Taper asked.
They all looked at each other. “It would be beneficial to do an autopsy to figure out the cause of death but it would seem that is apparent. The cause of death is decapitation. What we need to know is who killed her and why. Allara, my darling, can you Access your Black Light vision and scan the room for blood residue?" Cruel Saint replied, half-turning to face the Doll he directed the question to.
Her green eyes blinked once, twice, and then changed to solid black, as she scanned the room. She then started walking toward the wood paneled wall. She knocked on the wall in different areas. Around the third time she knocked the sound came out different. She blinked once, twice, and her eyes went opaque white, “There are several bodies hidden behind this panel” she said lightly.
“Don’t tell me this is mad science? All those exhibitions, you insisted, were real, is this part of that?” Kipp challenged.
Cruel Saint, rolled his eyes and sighed. “Mad science is typically about unorthodox ways to achieve immortality, not murder.”
“Maybe it is that way for you, Mr. Green, but others in the field may follow a darker path of ethics,” Kipp retorted.
“One of those bodies could be Ashima’s body,” Taper said.
“So what, we just break down the wall? That’s a bit rude isn’t it?” Cruel Saint asked.
“Ashima is dead, it's not like she can scold us for destroying her property in order to find answers,” Daryn reminded.
Clarissa frowned. Then fired all six rounds of her revolver into the wall. Allara ducked just in time to avoid getting hit.
“You could have hit her!”
“Relax, her risk assessment protocols work just fine, don’t you have any faith in your work? Use the knife and get the wood free of the panel, or the Colonel and use his fancy crow bar or whatever the fuck that is, what is that?”
“It is a metallic pipe."
“Wasn’t it a lead pipe in the game?”
“Lead is hard to find in this day and age, and crow bars are typically made of iron.”
Cruel Saint was moving toward Allara, running a hand down her back and helping her to her feet. She was shaking and scared as she clung to Cruel Saint, making whirring sounds of fear on a loop like she was malfunctioning. There were clicks and weird beep-tones as her head twitched and shook one way and then the other, like a subroutine was glitching. “It’s alright, my dear, it’s alright,” Cruel Saint said calmingly as he pressed two fingers on both her temples.
Allara flopped into his arms, shutting down. He easily scooped her up and went to place her on a chair. Then rounded on Clarissa with angry, narrowed eyes. “You are so careless, you vapid imbecile!”
“What did you do, just turn her off like a fucking computer?”
“I restarted her system, hopefully it will deal with the trauma glitch until I can get her back home to my lab and assess the damage you inflicted.”
“Whatever, open the wall, Padre, the sooner we figure out what happened to Ashima, the sooner we can all get out of here. I’m too sober for this.”
Cruel Saint pursed his lips and took the blade out of the sheath, before going over to the wood panel and using the sharp end to pop the panel free from the wall, like sticking a fingernail under a loose molar and plucking it out. The sharp, acrid smell hit the room immediately. Daryn coughed uncomfortably.
“They are stacked atop the other, in various stages of decomposition, with Allara still rebooting, there is no way to get any answers at this point. Handling dead bodies without the proper --”
“Majordomo Thorton, are you online?” Taper called out, interrupting Cruel Saint.
“Affirmative, Miss Scarlett, how may I be of service?”
Majordomo’s holographic image appeared, pixel by pixel like a swarm of light in the corner of the room where the record player was. They collectively turned toward him, taking in his puppet-like posture and eerie expression of deference.
“Can you tell us who are the bodies in the wall?” she asked.
There was a glitch in his image as he titled his head. His hands moved to a prayer posture, as he bowed slightly. Next the program glitched from being by the record player to be across the room, right where Allara was formerly standing and Cruel Saint gasped as the hologram was suddenly next to him, making jerky motions to look at the bodies stacked in the wall like a mass of flesh.
“Why these would be the guests from the last dinner party, over the autumnal equinox,” he said simply then turned his torso but not his legs to face the current guests of this dinner party.
“What happened at that party, Majordomo Thorton?”
“They perished, of course,” he said a bit too cheerily. “Like you will. Like Mistress Ashima perished. You all must perish. Luckily there are so many panels in this room that have yet to be filled.”
“No fucking way,” Clarissa hissed. “I’m not going out like this. We shouldn’t even be here.”
“But you are here, Ms. Peacock. And you will remain here. For as long as my Master declares it to be so.”
“Your master?” Cruel Saint asked.
“You heard me correctly, Mr. Green.”
“Who is your master?”
Majordomo Thorton was silent for a moment as if confused, then the interface started glitching as though the strings to the Majordomo’s marionette form were being pulled chaotically, making his arms and legs flail all over the place, til the hologram disappeared altogether and another, smoother form took its place.
Cruel Saint’s face went completely impassive. “Roger.”
“Rozier. How are you doing these days, brother mine?”
“What have you done?”
“Don’t you remember the game? It’s not Clue or Cluedo, without the disappointing butler, we all have our roles to play don’t we, Mr. Green?”
“What is going on here?” Taper asked.
“My twin brother, Roger appears to have been invited as the Butler.”
Roger the hologram gave a courtly bow and then smirked. “Pity you wasted all those bullets, darling, I’ve always wanted to feel the pain of a bullet.”
“Why did you kill all of these people? Why did you kill Ashima?” Daryn accused.
“Why do people fuck? Why do people do anything? Because they choose to, you idiot.”
“How many have you killed?” Cruel Saint asked, his voice hollow with an old anger, refined over a long period of time.
“Secrets…” Roger giggled flamboyantly.
“Oh, come off it! If we’re going to die, you might as well tell me, this is your time to gloat, why aren’t you taking advantage of it?”
“You and your little friends… With your secret club I was never allowed. It was Rozier’s Exclusive Club. You brought this on yourself, brother. Had you allowed me in to learn your occult secrets, then maybe I wouldn’t have had to go all independent study and make my own fun!”
“Don’t you dare blame this on me, you take responsibility for your actions,” Rozier admonished acidly.
His twin, identical in every possible way, gave him a smug smirk. “After you, age before brilliance, brother mine.”
“What is he talking about?” Kipp demanded.
“He’s insane, demented, delusional!”
“Don’t you dare call me that,” Roger hissed.
“It is what you are. I will shout it from the rooftops, you are a menace and I wish I had the good sense of Cain to get rid of you like--"
“Like our mother?”
“She deserved it. As will you, as soon as I get my hands on you,” Rozier threatened.
Roger giggled and tsked. “Poor, poor, Rozier, always a day late and a dollar short. I have all the power here, I hold all the cards. How do you think you will get out of this Chateau when I have its Majordomo under my control. The A.I. butler whose matrix is embedded into every fiber of this sprawling estate, keeping everything in working order. Even after I killed his Mistress, that pathetic gawky science friend of yours, Ashima, who fell in love with you like all the others, but for some reason wouldn’t give me the light of day. You reject every woman I’ve ever wanted, but they never want me. I can’t stand it!” Roger hissed.
“You won’t get away with this.” Cruel Saint said darkly.
“But I already have.” Roger replied in kind. The hologram disappeared.
The following silence was deafening. Everyone in tableau vivant mode again, not sure what to say or how to move, or what to feel or what to think. Just frozen, like player pieces in a board game, actors on a stage of a mystery play, waiting for the curtain to close, and for life to resume where it left off.
Kipp and Daryn would be in bed, naked and luxuriating, Taper and Clarissa would be on Phobos, Cruel Saint and Allara would be in the comforting sanctuary of their laboratory. Any moment now, they would wake up. They’d wake up to find that they weren't locked in a giant dining-hall-sized mausoleum. They would wake up and it would all have been just a bad dream, some nightmare that they could forget by drowning it in expensive things.
Any moment now…
Any moment…
