Dream Journal: 2012-11-11.01

They plied me with exotic drinks and rich food. All carefully laced with hypnotic drugs in low doses, so that the stupor would come on gradually. Sweet fleshed women and well honed men lay beside me while I rested on the oiled body of my sculpted host.

I was watched carefully. I had not eaten as much as they planned. Would it be enough?

I saw their trick from the moment I opened my eyes at the orgy. Overwhelm my senses with the sounds of fucking and the scents of sugar, spices, and sex. Flood my skin with touching. Let me see only the beautiful. Let me taste only those things humans are hardwired to crave, sugars and the hormones carried in kisses.

I hungered. But not for the food set before me. I knew who I was. I knew this was an attempt to subdue me. I knew this was some City faction trying to bring me under their control. I knew the drugs would only affect me if I allowed it. I was lucid. And a deep part of me that I usually kept locked away was hungry.

“She’s not out?” One of the women was whispering to the host.

“No. With what little she has eaten, she won’t be. She’s not aware though, let’s bring this to a halt and slip away before she catches on.” The host has declared the mission a failure. I decide to play.

I take a carafe of chocolate sauce and roll over onto one of the willing women lying next to me. I pour the warm sweetness over her chest in deliberate motions. She giggles at the feel of it dripping. Throwing the carafe behind me to make sure I have the host’s attention, I lean forward and begin licking the chocolate sauce off the glittered bosom. The drug gives a hint of bitterness to the taste.

My sudden shift from lazy indifference to active participation has caught everyone’s attention. As I lick the woman’s chest clean, I finger her to orgasm. Timing both attentions for the delight of those watching, I wait until her satisfied sighs fade before speaking.

“I’m hungry. This woman is in no shape to feed me. Further. Where is the food, and where is the fucking?”

I deliberately look away from my host as I scan the room. “On second thought. We may have a chance after all.” I hear his smile in his whisper. It makes my inner predator smile in its stirring sleep.

My hunger is not for food nor sex. Like my host, I am using those as bait.

More food is brought to me. More willing bodies engage with me. Only my host does not descend into the debauchery. He remains out of my reach. Watching me. Waiting for the stupor.

I oblige in careful acts of carelessness. An over reach here. A fumbled cake there. A gradual losing of hand-eye coordination. He smiles even deeper as I become less the driver and more the ridden.

He doesn’t even try to whisper. He speaks plainly to an attendant. “Call the carriage. And call my master. Tell him that Weaver will be delivered to him shortly. She may not be responsive at first though.” The attendant bowed and left.

The host called for the attending crowd to make room for him. He wanted to taste of me himself. He came to me, and pressed my body down with his own.

“I’m hungry. And you are a poor host to not feed me.” I slurred my words as I wrapped my arms around a willing neck.

“A room is being made ready for you. You say you’re still hungry? Just ask, and it will be served to you.” His hands were running roughly over my skin. They were suddenly caught fast. He tried to pull away, but found my skin was like melted tar. The predator within me was awake and teasing the edges of my consciousness.

I speak with chilling clarity. “I don’t have to ask. You already delivered it. But it was very nice of you to offer you and your men anyway. I’m hungry. And now, I will eat.” I ripped the arm of my host off, turned it around, and slapped him in the face with his own hand. My deliberate act complete, I yielded my awareness to the delighted predator in my soul. Mentally stepping aside and yielding to my devouring darkness.

I remember hearing screams wet by gurgles.

I remember smelling the metallic tang of aerated blood.

I remember the taste of rich meat.

I rolled over, and saw the skinned skull of my host. His spirit was caught in the only remaining bone of his body. All else lay in splinters. I patted the skull, chuckled, and sat up. My darkness clung to me like a half draped robe. Satiated, it remained connected to me but couldn’t be bothered to truly retreat into my subconscious. It gave its opinion with a gore scented belch.

I laughed.

It chuckled with me.

I picked up the dragging portions and arranged it over my shoulders. Naked but for fluid darkness and sticky blood, I walked through the remnants of the orgy. I was looking for something.

Someone, really. A survivor.

The attendant had brought a carriage around to pick me up. He was now cornered in the room, hiding behind an upturned table and ripped curtain. When I found him, he began blubbering in dry tears.

“Is the carriage still waiting?” He whimpered as he nodded. “Stay here, I have a message for you to take. I won’t hurt you. Courier’s honor. And shit.” He looked up at me, his curiosity greater than his fear.

I found an empty serving bowl, and a lid to match. In it, I placed my hosts flayed skull. I noted something odd about the mouth. I opened it, and found I had removed the host’s tongue and replaced it with his penis.

Smiling at the find, I left the modification intact and looked for clean scraps of cloth to wipe the outside of the vessel with. Then a few more to tie the lid in place.

“Here.” I handed the attendant the sealed bowl. “Take the carriage and take this. Deliver it, unopened, to the one you were to deliver me to. And tell them…”

“Tell them that I ate well.”

The attendant nodded and agreed to deliver bowl and words. He scrambled to his feet and took the bowl. My darkness reached out and picked him up. He began to whimper again.

“I told you, I won’t harm you. You are running a message for me. The ground is slick, and neither I nor my darkness want you to fall. We will carry you across the room to clean ground.” He nodded and hid his face behind the bowl.

At the hallway, my darkness gently placed the attendant on his feet. “Deliver my message.” He nodded, tried to bow, then turned and ran.

I looked back at the horrific display. There once was I time I would be screaming at the sight of what I’ve done. I know I’m dreaming, but I knew this still happened because I willed it. For most of my life, I have been afraid of the truth of what I am. What I’m capable of.

I patted and stroked the wrapping darkness. It gently embraced me in turn.

I’m not afraid anymore.


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