The Curse of the Moon

"I read the news today, oh boy. Four thousand holes in Blackburn Lancashire. And though the holes were rather rather small they had to count them all. Now they know how many holes it takes to fill the Albert Hall."
John Lennon


"I am Isis. I established penalties for those who practice injustice. With me the right prevails. I am the Queen of rivers and winds and sea. I am Lord of rainstorms. I overcome Fate. Fate harkens to me."
(Egyptian I AM poem translated by Frederick C. Grant)

I

Sir James Clarence de Chevalier, CEO of Luxaco Oil Corporation, member of the Royal Society, founder of the think-tank UNOTS (Unified Nations of Trade Seers), owner of two fast food chains, three newspapers and several factories of various trades, stockholder in no more than seven car companies and author of the biographical best seller King of Black Gold sat in his magnificent office high up in a skyscraper on Manhattan, smoking a fat cigar, whilst spying out his window thinking about airplanes.
His young, blonde and busty personal secretary quietly entered the room on her new high heel shoes given to her for Christmas by the boss himself.
“Sir, Mr. Braun is here now.”
“Come,” de Chevalier commanded.
Slowly, and alluringly, she walked up to him and he discreetly put his hand on her ass.
“That’s a very nice tight skirt you got there.”
“Thank you,” she giggled.
“Send him in.”
She smiled and left the room adding an extra wiggle to her walk for de Chevalier’s pleasure. Moments later he was indulged in discussing how many employees that had to be sacked in his southern factories with Mr. Braun and how much money it would make him, after which they discussed the next gathering at his Hampton mansion for some, by all involved, unspoken sexual activities. Apart from all other titles bestowed upon de Chevalier he was also, in a very close circle of wealthy men including Mr. Braun, the Grand Master of Ceremony in a secretive and highly illegal club that every other month, when the moon was full, indulged in extreme and sumptuous orgies.
In less than thirty days the next orgy was scheduled and a special girl had been found, bought, and she was currently locked up in a special room in the cellar of de Chevalier’s mansion. She was an sixteen-year-old Hungarian that he had purchased quite cheap from his usual supplier.
Mr. Braun and de Chevalier laughed thinking and talking about what they would do to her, lighting up expensive cigars and even indulging in two glasses of whisky.
By five that evening de Chevalier left the office in his black million-dollar sports car. It was time for one of his favorite past time activities. Picking up street whores and giving them what they deserved; a good fuck and a bit of pocket money for smack.
The night had already crept up across the horizon and a brilliant full moon looked down on the never sleeping city of New York. Once in his youth he had visited old York in northern England and had found it to be a nice little town with a torture chamber museum, a few turrets and plenty of tourists. He had realized that it wasn’t much different than the new world version and, since he was already rich at the time, he had purchased a little café he’d visited, of which he still received a profit although hardly worth mentioning in regard to his massive income and it hadn’t even been included in his book.
“Want some fun?”
“Just get in the fucking car bitch,” de Chevalier said and flagged a hundred dollar bill.
A skinny, and very young, girl entered the car dressed in the typical garb of a prostitute. He pressed the money into the crack between her breasts and grabbed her head pushing it to his crotch and his already hard and exposed penis.
“Yes, good… that’s very… aaaaargh!”
She was biting, gnawing…
He pulled her hair whilst grabbing her mouth bending it open. Then he smacked her hard in her face. Blood stained her teeth. He hit her again. The pain pounded merciless in the nerves of his injured organ, but he managed to forget it in his rage. He kept on beating the prostitute and then, when his knuckles began to ache, he smashed her face against the dashboard until a loud crack echoed. She seemed dead and he punched on her some more.
“You fucking dirty whore!” he wailed.



II

The penis of de Chevalier healed up nicely and he found it to be in mint condition no sooner than a week later apart from a scar that seemed to be permanent. For now he’d decided to give street whores less attention. The incident didn’t need to be repeated; besides he had plenty of pussy to pick from in his social circle.
The days went by and de Chevalier continued with his daily business of earning money and fucking holes. It was a habit he picked up while living in England as a youth to call women holes and he thought it fitted them well.
In the evenings he tended to the young girl soon to be the star of the next orgy. He didn’t touch her but he took great enjoyment in watching her through a little peephole. One of his most trusted servants, Mr. Dee, brought her food once a day and a couple of sedative pills to keep her relaxed.
“Are you ready for tomorrow night?” he bellowed. She gazed towards the door with dried tears in her face. The sight caused de Chevalier to laugh and he walked back upstairs for a shower. He had been masturbating by the door and the semen slowly dried into the wood of the door merging with stains from previous visits.



III

Ninacska woke up. It was Sunday afternoon, but she was not aware of this. Only that tonight was the night that would be her last
She found sleeping to be the greatest escape that could be achieved, and waking the worst possible reality. She was trapped, like a rat, soon to be destroyed. This had not been her plan coming to the Land of Opportunity.
The door unlocked and Mr. Dee entered with a tray carrying a plate of hot food and a glass of water that he placed on a small table. He looked at the girl.
This was the fourth one he had to attend in this manner once a day and a knot had begun to tighten inside his heart. Whatever money his master paid it could not be worth the guilt that grew every moment of every day, especially during those weekends when he was with his daughter. She was soon of the same age as this poor creature.
“Are you…”
“Please!” Ninacska pleaded and fell to her knees. Mr. Dee stooped and gave her a hug. A tear almost fell from his eyes. This was not right. This was the final drop.
“I will not lock the door,” he whispered, “and if you ignore the staircase and go to your left down the hall you’ll find a door, unlocked, that will take you into a room with a window you can climb through. When you have done so run into the back gardens. There are several large oak trees there surrounding a small house. Behind it there is a ladder. Use it to get over the wall and then run, but please don’t contact the authorities for my sake. I am too much involved. Just be grateful you managed to get away.”
Ninacska looked at Mr. Dee with tears in her eyes and that was all the gratitude he needed to ease his guilt and he left the room without locking the door as promised. Ninacska composed herself and then set out according to her savior’s instructions.



IV

It was evening and the clear black sky was covered with stars and a radiant full moon. The large Hampton mansion of de Chevalier was teeming with exited men ready for the Ceremonial Orgy soon to take place. The only problem was that the Grand Master of Ceremony, de Chevalier himself, had not showed up. Mr. Braun walked up to Mr. Dee.
“Where is your master?”
“I do not know Sir,” Dee replied in his most formal tone knowing precisely where his master was.
“We’ve waited over an hour,” one of the guests cried out.
“Go find him,” ordered Mr. Braun and Dee walked towards the main stairs that led upstairs to de Chevalier’s bedroom. He knocked on the door.
“Master, Mr. Braun sent me to find you. Everyone is waiting.”
“Start without me, Mr. Braun can take my place. Tell them I don’t feel well…” de Chevalier said from the other side of the door. This answer puzzled Dee who had never imagined his master ever to be too ill for an orgy. He returned downstairs and informed Mr. Braun of his new title for the night.
At first there was a bit of disturbance amongst the guests but then the eagerness to get started caused them all to forget their old Grand Master of Ceremony and accept their new one.
Dee escorted Mr. Braun and two other men to retrieve the guest of honor. When they arrived at the cell all four exclaimed their shock at finding the door ajar and no girl inside, Dee of course faked his emotions.
“She’s escaped!” Mr. Braun slammed his fist in the door. “She must be found!”



V

The body of de Chevalier was somehow rejecting itself in a creepy and nasty manner. For the last couple of hours he had laid in foetus position shaking violently. The scar on his penis itched terribly and somehow seemed to pulsate.
Perhaps a shower would do some good? On shaky legs he made his way down the hall towards his bathroom. It was cool inside. The red velvety curtains were drawn apart and the full moon was shining in through his large panorama bathroom windows. He placed himself naked in front of a full size mirror and his eyes opened wide and a horror flushed over him
Breasts had grown out from his chest. Perfect female breasts with nipple and all. And right then and there he saw his shoulders decrease and his hips protrude. His lips changed shape and his hair grew long. To his unexplained dread he was turning into a woman. Worst of all his penis shrank inwards like the head of a turtle until it transformed and became a hole. Yes a hole. The very thing he liked to stick his dick inside he now himself possessed. A vagina.
And it was bleeding…
He fainted and fell to the floor smashing his head and small trickles of blood seeped out with his still growing long blond hair. He was beautiful!
The door flew open and Mr. Braun rushed in.
“Found her,” he shouted!



VI

What a strange dream? de Chevalier thought. It is as if I am having a shit, but instead of the thing coming out of my anus it is coming into it… and into another anus… or hole… and my mouth. Shit is coming into my mouth… no not shit, something else… salty…
Slowly de Chevalier regained consciousness and when he did so he screamed a gurgle as loud as he could.
“She’s awake!” laughed Mr. Braun with his hard cock in de Chevalier’s anus. Another man had pushed his fist into his vagina and two other men crowded with their erect limbs in his mouth. Other men were dragging in his arms and legs. One smacking his buttocks hard with some sort of stick and it was all continuous.
“I am not the girl!” de Chevalier tried to scream but he could not move his tongue since he had too much of other things in his mouth. Suddenly he felt a warm gush down his throat and a foul strong taste. One of the cocks was pissing into him.
“Swallow it bitch!” he heard the owner of the cock screaming and he was forced to do as he was told otherwise he would have drowned.
The fucking was endless. The raping endless. The abuse endless and de Chevalier knew that it would not be over for many hours. He knew because he had done what they did to him. Sometimes the Ceremony would last for days until the girl was fucked to death, which was always the objective. What had once been a glorious maxim and ambition of his, to fuck a girl to death, had now turned into his worst nightmare.
“I think she is ready now,” someone said and suddenly everyone pulled out of him and released their grips but he was tied with a chain around the neck that acted as a leach which the Grand Master of Ceremony, Mr. Braun, held on to sometimes giving it a slight tug just to tease. There was no escape.
At least his mouth was freed…
“Stop this, I am de Chevalier!” he screamed and everyone laughed.
“What a strange thing to say,” said Mr. Braun, “I think she is ready for Titus…”
“No, not Titus, please no…” de Chevalier collapsed on the floor. He cried. He wailed, but to no avail. All anyone else saw was a whimpering little girl and in the distance he could hear the paws of his large Rottweiler approach. And then the part of the orgy that used to be his favorite now turned into the worst.
The dog began to fuck him. Then the men fucked him, raped him and destroyed him. Made him like it. Made him orgasm. Made him scream. Made him bleed. Then they began beating him. Slapping him. Spitting on him. Strangling him until death approached and blood was everywhere…
“We’ll carve her heart out!” someone said and de Chevalier could see a man he knew well holding one of his dinner knives made of pure silver that he slowly began to press into his chest, towards his beating heart. He could sense the juice of life in his veins diminish as the pain erupted. The body of a woman turned gradually into the body of a man. Into de Chevalier.
Everyone froze and could not believe what they saw. There, on the floor, laid the true Grand Master of Ceremony that they thought was ill in bed. He lay there in his own blood dripping from every hole in his body, even in places where there weren’t supposed to be a hole.



VII

It didn’t take long before everyone had left the scene and de Chevalier was alone. Titus came up to him and began licking his wounds. With weak arms he pushed the dog away without looking into its eyes.
He could crawl to the phone. He could call for help. He could survive. He could live… if he tried otherwise he would die. And de Chevalier released a great sigh. To die?
Yes, he thought and gazed up at the large windows overlooking the backyard. Out there the clear night turned into clear morning, and the full moon slowly faded.
“Mother,” he said wishing to be in her arms again.
“But you are…” a voice echoed and de Chevalier knew it was the fading moon that was speaking to him.
“You are in my arms because I am justice. I am truth. I am Isis. Mother of all. Mother of you and I establish penalties for those who practice injustice. Did you not know this? Did you not see it coming?”
“I…” de Chevalier had no answer; he was too feeble and quickly dying. He kept his eyes fixed on the moon and it spoke again, one final time, before it disappeared taking his life with it.
“Didn’t you know that FATE harkens to me?”

27 Dec 2004 – 27 March 2005