This choice: Damon and Kenya decide to get the rooms ready. • Go Back...Chapter #2Damon and Kenya decide to get the rooms ready. by: Unknown "Oh...my...f*cking...days."
Kenya squealed excitedly as she surveyed the lavish room in front of her. A classy chandelier hung from the ceiling, refracting bright beams of sunlight through its iridescent crystals. The carpeted floors were spotless and created a sharp contrast with the red velvet bedsheets adorning the bed. She ran a finger over the aged mahogany wardrobe, feeling the natural ridges and notches of the varnished planks. The French desk attendant smiled profusely as she vicariously experienced the thrill and awe of the room through the young lady. "Does it satisfy your expectations, Mademoiselle?" she asked.
"Absolutely!" Kenya pressed a button on the wall to reveal a revolving flatscreen TV that spanned the whole length of one of the walls. She squealed as she flicked it on, excited to see that it already had prepaid subscriptions to a myriad of digital streaming services. As she hopped on the bed and put on a soppy teen drama, Damon kept to himself at the back corner of the room and spoke quietly into his phone. "...Good, I'm happy you found her," he breathed a sigh of relief, "How's she doing now?"
"Fine as could be," he heard Cindy say, "Thank God for ice-cream or I'd have no idea how to win her over. She's a wonderful kid, hon. Is it ok if we were gone for another half an hour or so? She kind of made me promise to play with her in this ball pit on one of the upper levels." Damon chuckled- that girl had a silver tongue. He laughed back, "You think I'm going to turn down any... *yawn*... any opportunity for you guys to bond? Nah, have fun Cindy." He sent a kiss down the line as he hung up. He yawned again, stretching out his arms to their fullest extent. Weird, he never felt this drowsy in the middle of the day like this before. Must've been the drive, he told himself.
Stranger still it seemed like his exhaustion was contagious. He looked over and saw that Kenya had slumped over, the remote still clutched tightly in her hand. He turned around to thank Butch for all her help only to see an intimidating black gas mask latched onto her face. The exhaustion seemed to intensify now and his limbs slowly began to lose all sensory capabilities. What seemed to be green smoke curled up into the air, coiling and writhing menacingly as it invaded his orifices. "W-What is..." He reached for the bedframe but felt his fingers slip as he crashed into the cushioned layer of carpet. His mind spun and he watched as Butch leaned in close, her sharp blue eyes shining behind the black rimmed eye sockets being the last thing he saw before he blacked out...
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Bright, fluorescent bulbs flicked on as the dim room illuminated. The silver glint of stainless steel reflected off the meticulous array of medical paraphernalia set up on an equally spotless dolly. Jars of human parts lined the shelves of the dank laboratory, some reserved for future use whilst others were simply trophies garnered by the Doctor himself. The smell in here was putrid, the stench of repeated bleaching and other assorted chemicals lingered in the air. The Doctor himself had long become accustomed to it. His cute button nose only wrinkled slightly as he stepped out from the shadows. He flipped his dark brunette hair out from his silvery eyes, exposing two equally silver dangling hoops. His manicured hands were deftly tucked into the front pockets of his ripped blue jeans as he stood in an effortlessly seductive pose. A flawless nail tapped out out Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, setting up a dramatic ambience for the procedure he would do shortly.
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He brushed a lock of hair behind his head as he carefully observed the father-daughter-duo strapped onto the operating tables in front of him. Fascinating, he thought as he used his hands to trace across their sleeping bodies. He felt the copious amount of muscle tissue on Damon's body, analysing its dissimilarity to his daughter's soft, feminine ones. He caressed the bulge encased inside his tight khakis, admiring its meaty girth and length. He was to do the same on the girl when he heard a familiar clacking of heels coming down the back stairs. He quickly manoeuvred himself away as two female figures came into view. The first he recognised as the pretty blonde desk attendant, Butch. As always she had that perky little smile on her face that was the perfect mix of warmness, ignorance and naivete. Beside her was a woman of average height with straight raven hair, large DD-cups and a figure that was fit of a model. Her face was imperceptibly attractive, alluring with no real explanation, and the Doctor could feel his snatch moistening slightly.
"Ms Deverne," he said melodically in a quaint accent that amalgamated German, American and English intonations, "I was not expecting you to be here today." He awkwardly fiddled with the white lab coat draped over his halter top-jean combination in a feeble attempt to portray confidence. Ms Deverne smiled, her red lips curling into a sly grin. "Lawson, please," she said as she crossed the room, "When my good little girl Butch here told me that my special visitors had arrived, I just knew that I had to come and witness the transformation process myself."
Deverne playfully scratched behind the girl's ear, eliciting a low, pleasurable moan from the blonde's mouth. "And I'll have you know, Mr Swanson," she continued, "I'm completely entitled to enter each and every area enclosed within my premises. Understood?" The Doctor nodded meekly. He turned back towards the lab setup and moved to the kitchen basin, thoroughly scrubbing his dainty hands before he rummaged inside his coat pockets and upturned a small white container. Deverne frowned as he popped a couple blue pills into his gaping maw.
"Still struggling with that girl's body rejecting you after all this time?"
Swanson nodded his head briefly before turning around and smiling warily. "The implications of my earlier experimentations still tend to show up at the most inopportune moments. This is just a temporary precaution before I find a way to complete the assimilation." A loud slap sounded as he pulled on a fresh pair of medical gloves. He plonked down his shapely rear on a nearby swivel chair and rolled himself towards the 'patients'. "Anything you want done in particular?" he called out.
Deverne thought about what she pictured for the nuclear familial unit. "How about..."   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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