Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Perfection ❯ Chapter 15 ( Chapter 15 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Todesengel_ 
The recorder clicked. End of tape.
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Horror / Psychological | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 11.03.2006 | Pages: 4 | Words: 4.4K | Visits: 349 | Status: Completed
The recorder clicked. End of tape.
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Horror / Psychological | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 11.03.2006 | Pages: 4 | Words: 4.4K | Visits: 349 | Status: Completed
A/N: Hey all! Sorry it's been SOOOOO long but I do have a decent excuse-- You see-- I no longer have a lower case "M" a comma or a period on my keyboard. These all have to be copy pasted in later and it makes for a VERY long, tedious process you can imagine. In fact, my whole computer as I know it is basically going to shit soooooo.......Anyways, this chapter definitely has been a long time coming and I do apologize if there are a lot more errors or what nots. Thanks for your patience.
He sat there, numb, unfeeling on my bed. Glaze kissed the surface of his eyes, as an emptiness I'd never seen remained behind black pigmentation. It was as though he'd been comatose for an hour, sitting amongst the blues and oranges, in a world I'd never ventured nor wanted to. Secrets ran in streams of subconscious, his lids occasionally blinking when the smoke from his ignored cigarette would drift lazily into his eyes.
He let out a small sigh, finally raising the neglected to his lips and taking in a long, hard drag that made me queasy just watching it. The embers burned and the long ash fell away, landing softly on the fingertips of his left hand. He lifted them tiredly, examining the ash almost curiously through bloodshot eyes before rubbing his fingers together, dissipating gray over the surfaces.
"Will you be alright?" I asked, standing over him with my arms crossed.
"When am I not alright?" He sighed as though it was the stupidest question he'd ever heard. "It's like the world keeps going, even when everyday, you feel like it should have stopped. Like you mourn and die every minute but no one knows it. The earth turns as it has done for millions of years, even when you think it's laying in pieces around your shoulders. But you go on. You die, you wake up and you go on. There is no other way."
I lifted his forearm in my hand, tracing track marks.
"Is this another way?" I raised my eyebrow. "Another way of honoring their memory, of going on?"
He rolled his eyes, yanking the appendage from my grasp.
"You know why you always fucking bring that up Goku?" He snapped. "Because it is the only visible characteristic that differentiates you.. from me."
I swallowed, turning away and knowing that he was right. Yeah, I hadn't stooped to drugs and he had. And maybe I fucking loved that. But in so many ways, I'd gone so much further than he had in the way of "stooping"; only, my arms didn't look like a road map to tell about it.
"Where do we go from here, Kakarot?" I sighed, looking away from him. "I want to be with you. How sick does that make me; craving oneself like a regular addiction?"
"The Gods must laugh at us," He smirked a little, nodding as he rested his elbows on his knees.
"You understand me," I looked up, rubbing the backs of my arms as though I were cold. "in ways no one else could. Yet, we are different enough to still intrigue each other. And," I looked at him seriously. "to still keep secrets from each other."
"I'd say the arrangement would be perfect," He grinned sexually for a moment before letting it fall. "If not for one thing."
"And what's that," I lowered my eyebrows.
"You don't love me." He shrugged. "And I don't love you."
We sat for a moment, in the peace of this admission. It was as though we both smiled at each other, glad to have put to rest what we'd both wanted to say for so long; that this was empty, void of any real point at all. And that though so many people could go through their lives with multiple partners, feeling next to nothing, our lives wouldn't be spent that way. Or, well, so I thought.
"If it is any consolation," He grinned satanically, standing up and walking towards me. The tight leather of his pants brushed between his thighs, muscles rippling unapologetically beneath the clinging raven material of his shirt. He turned his head upwards, letting the light gleam over the top of his lips, the burgundy forming a full smile as he tilted his face back and laughed. "I loved fucking you."
I felt my body churn at that statement, wanting to scold him for voicing the very obvious. I watched in fascination as he slowly approached, unfastening his belt in the process, letting it glide like water around his hips, before holding it in his hand. I gazed at is as it dangled, collecting reflective light on its smooth, polished surface.
He softly pressed his forehead to mine, rubbing his nose across my cheek and making me swoon with the heat of his breath. My fingers trembled with anticipation, as they reached ahead of me, either to push him away or simply to touch him, I wasn't sure. Poison filled my resolve and I let the pads of my fingertips trace the muscles beneath his tight obsidian shirt, feeling as his lungs heaved hot air within his immaculate body.
"I loved it," he whispered, curiously moving his lips close to mine before pulling away teasingly. "I loved sucking your cock," he kissed me lightly, "I loved feeling inside your body," he kissed me again, "I love tasting you in the back of my throat and swallowing you inside me."
I was rock hard as he tilted my head back, sharp teeth grazing over my flesh when I felt his hands massaging me through my pants. I caught my breath, gazing at him through lidded eyes as he yanked me back and forth, watching my face for all the pleasure he knew would be there.
"I loved pushing inside you," He whispered through gritted teeth, removing his hand and instead, wrapping it in the back of my hair painfully, grinding his own erection against mine. "I loved making you bleed all over my shaft."
I was now painfully close to cuming, as he held my hair in an agonizing grip and his other hand wound over my hip, digging me against him.
"And I loooved making you scream," He spat almost hatefully, tearing my head back to lick from my collarbone to my chin. "As I came all over your back."
Before I knew what had happened, I was on the bed, the belt on the back of my neck as he forced his arms over my throat, successfully choking me. His knee rubbed up and over the tight surface of my shaft, the black leather showing every line my appendage pushed against. His knuckles were white as he pressed them down on either side of the bed, the belt slowly choking me, leaving only enough room for occasional gasps of air as he pulled his knee over my crotch.
He knew that I loved this, as surely as I would never say it and as surely as he would have loved it himself. He pulled the belt tighter, until I nearly lost consciousness, both ends in one hand as he let the other smooth down my body as I wriled beneath, sensitive in this state to every single touch. The pressure built beneath my eyes, until my flesh felt swollen around my lids, my lungs burning within my body as I spasmed beneath him.
I felt like I was having a seizure, the world turning impossible colors, solid objects becoming fuzzy, glittering pieces of dice to my bloodshot eyes. Every surface of my flesh was on high, every nerve ending tingling with the anticipation of some sort of release.
He'd torn the shirt from my body, his tongue leaving trails of saliva down my torso. A small blade glimmered suddenly, my eyes begging for focus as soon as I saw the gleam of light in its reflection.
What was he doing with a knife?
My back lifted from the bed, a choked cry coming from a throat that could not scream as he wrenched the sharp surface over my lower belly, blood bursting into his face. He laughed as I heaved beneath the touch of the blade, squirming to free myself from the pain but too weakened with asphyxiation to do anything about it. I shuddered from his cruel laugh, seeing the old detachment in his eyes as he went to the other side, right above my cock, the blade slicing sickly into my sweating, moist flesh. Veins pumped beneath the flesh of my throat, every muscle straining against my skin as I watched him drink my blood, watched him indulge in the most deranged sadism.
I fought at him with my arms, though they were heavy and clumsy from lack of oxygen, being batted away from him.
"Shhhh shhhh shhh," He cooed, petting the wounds as he licked the blood, smearing it over my heaving torso. "you like this, I promise."
I shook my head, throwing it back with a choked scream as I felt the knife again, running over my abdomen, followed quickly by a spray of hot blood that seemed to almost soothe the pain. His hold on the belt tightened even more so, until I could no longer strain upwards to see him cut my body, my neck held down painfully against the bed, allowing only the smallest amounts of air.
I gasped for it, my eyes shut tight as I focused on what he was doing, hating myself for being so rock hard when his tongue would lap between the folds of a wound, sucking at the agony and giving me horror and pleasure all at once. I trembled uncontrollably from it, straining against the heaviness of my arms and the restraint around my throat.
My back arched on its own, leaning into the tip of the blade as it rested over my right pectoral, subconsciously making my body press itself into the pain. Though thoughts were tumbled at best, I knew, horrified by the revelation, that he was absolutely right. I did like this. I did love this.
The feeling of utter abandonment of domination came over me, letting me slightly rejoice in my own defeat, in letting someone entirely control me. As sadistic as we both were, we also craved masochism from time to time, letting the pain become a very sick euphoria for us.
I swallowed as much as I could, straining upwards as he cut two deep lines over both sides of my chest, his tongue covering them only moments later as my eyes rolled back into my head. My lips trembled as he kissed them, leaving trails of blood over my chin.
I was flipped over quickly, my pants torn from my body as I was thrown on all fours, the belt still securely wrapped around my throat as I steadied myself, trying to remain upright as he lubricated himself and pushed inside me. I gasped, glad that he was allowing me a tad more slack to breathe, groaning deep within myself when he wrapped his one free hand around my body, jerking me painfully as he threw himself inside my body.
Blood pooled beneath me, dripping onto the bed, but I didn't care, arching my back so that he could dive deeper into me, the soaking tip of his cock plunging against my prostate. I wrenched my fingers into the bloodsoaked sheets, wanting to turn suddenly and take his entire length into my mouth, to feel it slip down my throat like water and drink his cum before it threatened to pour down my neck. Instead, I let him fuck me, feeling his whole body slap against mine as I never had before until he was choking me, making my thought process stop and forcing every nerve to be more sensitive than ever to what he was doing.
He stroked me long and fierce, the sounds of him making precum leak down his knuckles, my lower body stretched with the huge size of him, of us. I was coming close, so close to exploding, when he let me go, both hands wrapping around the belt and tightening as he literally fucked me harder than I've ever been fucked in my entire life. Just the sounds reverberating from the walls made me shiver, sweat pouring over the bed, diluted with blood as he pounded inside me, harder and harder until I felt my cock literally lift up and blow with cum, soaking my chest and stomach, his own forcing itself out so hard I was nearly lifted off of him, feeling the thick heat drip down from inside me.
Ah, the seldom experienced autoerotic asphyxiation orgasm.
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I limped slightly as I walked through the hallways, my body feeling like I put it through a meat grinder. Why? Why did I indulge in this still, giving the finger to any conscience I'd ever had? I shook my head, sick with myself and in desperate need for a shower, for a few minutes where I'd sink to the bottom of the tub and scrub myself raw of guilt.
I felt my fingertips go numb as I suddenly walked passed a doorway, choking on my own saliva when I saw it--- saw her.
Her. It's a her. A human. Not an it.
Her.
Bulma.
I wanted to vomit. I wanted to launch myself to the floor and vomit.
I couldn't even feel my body suddenly, like I'd been pulled from it and remained just a set of eyes, seeing this..... this horrific THING. I wanted to consciously call it a thing, an "it" as I couldn't bring myself to recognize it as her; as Bulma. What remained of the beautiful face was in a word...... horrific. Monstrous. One side of the once immaculate face was still in tact, the blue, beaming eye blinking as though it didn't see me, didn't recognize this odd, tall man just gawking at her. The other side was awful, twisted by metal cruelly intended to conceal the monstrosity beneath it. Skin was wrinkled, twisted and pulled viscously beneath the cold silvery chrome, red buttons meant for machines blinking over the area another blue eye was meant to be in.
The gurgling of yellowish green fluid was heard as tubes carried the thick liquid into her face, pumping sickly into her skull that was crushed on one side. Patches of black seemed sucked into the wrinkled, rotting flesh of her neck, gangrene festering on part of her mouth.
I didn't even realize I was trembling until my knees had buckled, landing painfully on the concrete as I continued to stare. "B--....Bulma?" I stammered, wanting the thing to shake its head, to look at me as though I'd gone crazy and tell me that the real Bulma was just down the hall; that what consisted of a disfigured creature standing in front of me was just a crude joke.
No recognition crossed the putrid features, the only sound the nauseating suction and gurgle of the tubes. The thing crouched to the ground as if copying my movements, my own body shuffling away without my consent. I didn't want to be afraid, didn't want to be a coward as I scrambled from the thing; yet I was, without doubt, horrified.
The thing cocked its head to the side, blue hair dry and greasy as it poked in patches through holes in the metal. The old, messy clothes shifted over a body that was still (strangely enough) in tact, though rotting around a form that should (by all natural accounts) be in the ground. A notepad and pen hung around her neck oddly- unused as though just wishful thinking had inspired someone to put it there. How was this even possible? I dared think that this thing could only be a zombie, or an awful, dead puppet suspended by threads I couldn't see. The meer movements of its body were unnatural: slow yet sporadic, as if the bones cracked with each motion. It slid closer to me and I had to mentally force myself to remain still, body trembling around my bones. We stared at each other for a while, curiosity crossing her features as though the mind behind the mask of horror could barely discern me as even human.
I just gawked, watching this thing, this girl that was once my greatest friend and now....... now I don't even know what she was.......
Kakarot.
He had done this.
He had made her this way.
"He's..." I managed to barely speak. "He's a monster."
A glint crossed her eye, as though something had struck her. A word.
A word suddenly instilling life back to her face-- knowing back to her eye as though suddenly she were waking from a deep sleep.
The word 'monster' in fact, awakening her for a moment.
Her hand rose to her face and then over her heart.
"Monster?" I said it again, watching as something akin to panic went over her features. It horrified me. She touched her chest again, patting over her heart.
"No," I shook my head, feeling tears go into my eyes. "No baby..."I felt myself start to cry, my bottom lip trembling.
"You're not a monster ok?" I sobbed it. "God, I......"
I looked up and then back at her.
"God, I promise you. You are not a monster."
Her eye stared into mine and against what I thought I could do, I pulled her body to me, hugging her close as I cried. I just held her there, against the shaking and trembling of my whole body. The beautiful mind lingering only in echoes within her. A crude shelter for the once vivacious woman that had prided herself on wisdom and beauty in her youth; now something that resembled a mangled, man-made corpse.
"I'll make you beautiful again," I whispered. "I promise you. I'll make you so beautiful."
She pulled back, a tear falling from her eye as she stared at me.
She glanced down, grabbing for the small notebook and pen she held around her neck. I watched with fascination as she did the very thing someone had only dreamed she could, writing slowly and almost illegibly over the paper. She held it towards me, her eye pleading with me.
The word she had written said "Free."
I stared in shock of what it meant, what she was trying to tell me. Free her. Set her soul free.
I shook my head, a new batch of tears falling down my cheeks.
"No," I told her. "I can't."
As if the small cloud of understanding had left her, the notebook fell, nodding limply over her chest. The light left her eye, as though her mind had just turned off like that. The single tear that had risen, fell down her cheek in a cold line but she didn't seem to understand or even acknowledge it.
She just stared at me with no recognition of who I was, standing numbly. The clatter of metal striking concrete came and I stared at what appeared to be a tape-recorder.
I lifted it to my ear as she left, shaking as I turned it on.
Hushed sobs were heard and I pulled the audio recorder from my ear, staring at it strangely. What is this? The voice was nearly sexless, so distorted with agony. Was it someone being tortured?
Clacking of heels on tile came in the background and I squinted, lifting the device closer. Someone was running, holding back sobs as they clambered towards an unknown destination. Did they realize the recorder was on?
A crack was heard as a door was slammed, beeping sounding and what might have been an elevator running in the background. The crying now became sobs, still slightly hushed but louder than before. A knock came as the device was apparently clanked against a wall. The breathing came louder now and it sounded as though the tape recorder was being held against someone's lips as they panted and bawled.
"She's dead," the sexless voice whispered in a shaky voice. "She's dead."
A clicking noise then came and the time span was unknowable. The crying had stopped and it seemed as though the owner had turned off the device for some time. Beeping and various mechanical noises were heard in the background, the robotic creaking of something heavy being lifted into the air.
"She's been dead now for 2 hours," Came the voice of none other than Dr. Briefs. I cringed, having a very sick idea of where this was going. "Her bodies basic functions have turned entirely off."
A slight sad sigh came and then he spoke again, voice in a hushed whisper, sounding on the very verge of madness itself.
"But what if I can bring her back?" He hissed. "She wasn't meant to die. No. No she can't be dead. It's not her time. I'll bring her back. I can make her whole again."
I gasped, wrenching the thing from my ear. No. This was no botched wish to the dragon. This was scientific nihilism, a sick experiment torn from the Godless beliefs of a desperate father. He gave life to a soulless thing!
"No." I said aloud. "Don't."
"It can be restored!" he said in a booming voice, as if answering me. "I can make her move again! I can make her see and think and sing and dance. I can give her life from seeming nonexistence. And then he will see. Then he will know that the power of God is not from those that can take life, but to those that can give it back."
I shook my head. Yes, he loved his daughter. Yes, he wanted her back. But at what price? To display a creature that Kakarot had killed? To show that he had power that Kakarot didn't? Was that love? Was that stupidity born from desperation? Or a very egotistical strive to wield the power of life and death?
"I can restore power to her neurons," I heard him lift what sounded like a glass beaker, thick liquid moving inside. "With this, I can carry nerve signals. I can reconnect the central nervous system and give her basic motor functions. I can awaken her mind and give it back the power to move her hands and legs and feet, restore animation to her body. The heart will come later as at this point, it is basically nonfunctional and unnecessary. Blood will be carried along the tubes with my chemical protein liquid. Yes, by God," His voice became hushed as he sat in overwhelmed awe at what he could create. "I can make her better. I can make it so her body never needs replenishment or fuel to drive forward. I can make these chemicals strong enough to give her immortality.
"Vanity and physical appearance can wait until later. The body cannot rot or all will be lost."
I sat in horror as I heard him prattle on with words I'd never known well enough to understand. He spoke of the power of cell bodies and dendrites, how to awaken the axon terminals so as to extend across the synapse. A thousand things I didn't bother to listen to. I understood to some degree; this wasn't about Bulma at all. Truly, she'd merely awakened the monster in him enough to try something his curiosity had been begging for all along. Every moral fiber had been broken and every scientific promise to uphold creation and the basic balance of life and death was forgotten; and he was only too happy to have a justification or excuse to do it.
"She told me not to," He was whispering in a shaky voice, trembling with excitement and insanity, working away like a modern day Frankenstein. "She told me so often it was sickness in a bottle. Playing God with liquid madness. Ahh but she didn't know. She didn't know that it would save her life. She will thank me for hiding it from her. Man's elixir of life held in my hand!"
Sounds of electricity spitting through the air caused me to pull back once more from the recorder, setting it down on a hard surface as it literally vibrated. I thought it was going to break. Metallic clashing sounded through the scratchy sound device, the smack of something limp banging over and over against a solid surface. A suction sound came as though water was being pulled through thin tubes and a sickening gag sound came.
Like.... like something was moaning and choking at the same time.
The recorder clicked. End of tape.
He sat there, numb, unfeeling on my bed. Glaze kissed the surface of his eyes, as an emptiness I'd never seen remained behind black pigmentation. It was as though he'd been comatose for an hour, sitting amongst the blues and oranges, in a world I'd never ventured nor wanted to. Secrets ran in streams of subconscious, his lids occasionally blinking when the smoke from his ignored cigarette would drift lazily into his eyes.
He let out a small sigh, finally raising the neglected to his lips and taking in a long, hard drag that made me queasy just watching it. The embers burned and the long ash fell away, landing softly on the fingertips of his left hand. He lifted them tiredly, examining the ash almost curiously through bloodshot eyes before rubbing his fingers together, dissipating gray over the surfaces.
"Will you be alright?" I asked, standing over him with my arms crossed.
"When am I not alright?" He sighed as though it was the stupidest question he'd ever heard. "It's like the world keeps going, even when everyday, you feel like it should have stopped. Like you mourn and die every minute but no one knows it. The earth turns as it has done for millions of years, even when you think it's laying in pieces around your shoulders. But you go on. You die, you wake up and you go on. There is no other way."
I lifted his forearm in my hand, tracing track marks.
"Is this another way?" I raised my eyebrow. "Another way of honoring their memory, of going on?"
He rolled his eyes, yanking the appendage from my grasp.
"You know why you always fucking bring that up Goku?" He snapped. "Because it is the only visible characteristic that differentiates you.. from me."
I swallowed, turning away and knowing that he was right. Yeah, I hadn't stooped to drugs and he had. And maybe I fucking loved that. But in so many ways, I'd gone so much further than he had in the way of "stooping"; only, my arms didn't look like a road map to tell about it.
"Where do we go from here, Kakarot?" I sighed, looking away from him. "I want to be with you. How sick does that make me; craving oneself like a regular addiction?"
"The Gods must laugh at us," He smirked a little, nodding as he rested his elbows on his knees.
"You understand me," I looked up, rubbing the backs of my arms as though I were cold. "in ways no one else could. Yet, we are different enough to still intrigue each other. And," I looked at him seriously. "to still keep secrets from each other."
"I'd say the arrangement would be perfect," He grinned sexually for a moment before letting it fall. "If not for one thing."
"And what's that," I lowered my eyebrows.
"You don't love me." He shrugged. "And I don't love you."
We sat for a moment, in the peace of this admission. It was as though we both smiled at each other, glad to have put to rest what we'd both wanted to say for so long; that this was empty, void of any real point at all. And that though so many people could go through their lives with multiple partners, feeling next to nothing, our lives wouldn't be spent that way. Or, well, so I thought.
"If it is any consolation," He grinned satanically, standing up and walking towards me. The tight leather of his pants brushed between his thighs, muscles rippling unapologetically beneath the clinging raven material of his shirt. He turned his head upwards, letting the light gleam over the top of his lips, the burgundy forming a full smile as he tilted his face back and laughed. "I loved fucking you."
I felt my body churn at that statement, wanting to scold him for voicing the very obvious. I watched in fascination as he slowly approached, unfastening his belt in the process, letting it glide like water around his hips, before holding it in his hand. I gazed at is as it dangled, collecting reflective light on its smooth, polished surface.
He softly pressed his forehead to mine, rubbing his nose across my cheek and making me swoon with the heat of his breath. My fingers trembled with anticipation, as they reached ahead of me, either to push him away or simply to touch him, I wasn't sure. Poison filled my resolve and I let the pads of my fingertips trace the muscles beneath his tight obsidian shirt, feeling as his lungs heaved hot air within his immaculate body.
"I loved it," he whispered, curiously moving his lips close to mine before pulling away teasingly. "I loved sucking your cock," he kissed me lightly, "I loved feeling inside your body," he kissed me again, "I love tasting you in the back of my throat and swallowing you inside me."
I was rock hard as he tilted my head back, sharp teeth grazing over my flesh when I felt his hands massaging me through my pants. I caught my breath, gazing at him through lidded eyes as he yanked me back and forth, watching my face for all the pleasure he knew would be there.
"I loved pushing inside you," He whispered through gritted teeth, removing his hand and instead, wrapping it in the back of my hair painfully, grinding his own erection against mine. "I loved making you bleed all over my shaft."
I was now painfully close to cuming, as he held my hair in an agonizing grip and his other hand wound over my hip, digging me against him.
"And I loooved making you scream," He spat almost hatefully, tearing my head back to lick from my collarbone to my chin. "As I came all over your back."
Before I knew what had happened, I was on the bed, the belt on the back of my neck as he forced his arms over my throat, successfully choking me. His knee rubbed up and over the tight surface of my shaft, the black leather showing every line my appendage pushed against. His knuckles were white as he pressed them down on either side of the bed, the belt slowly choking me, leaving only enough room for occasional gasps of air as he pulled his knee over my crotch.
He knew that I loved this, as surely as I would never say it and as surely as he would have loved it himself. He pulled the belt tighter, until I nearly lost consciousness, both ends in one hand as he let the other smooth down my body as I wriled beneath, sensitive in this state to every single touch. The pressure built beneath my eyes, until my flesh felt swollen around my lids, my lungs burning within my body as I spasmed beneath him.
I felt like I was having a seizure, the world turning impossible colors, solid objects becoming fuzzy, glittering pieces of dice to my bloodshot eyes. Every surface of my flesh was on high, every nerve ending tingling with the anticipation of some sort of release.
He'd torn the shirt from my body, his tongue leaving trails of saliva down my torso. A small blade glimmered suddenly, my eyes begging for focus as soon as I saw the gleam of light in its reflection.
What was he doing with a knife?
My back lifted from the bed, a choked cry coming from a throat that could not scream as he wrenched the sharp surface over my lower belly, blood bursting into his face. He laughed as I heaved beneath the touch of the blade, squirming to free myself from the pain but too weakened with asphyxiation to do anything about it. I shuddered from his cruel laugh, seeing the old detachment in his eyes as he went to the other side, right above my cock, the blade slicing sickly into my sweating, moist flesh. Veins pumped beneath the flesh of my throat, every muscle straining against my skin as I watched him drink my blood, watched him indulge in the most deranged sadism.
I fought at him with my arms, though they were heavy and clumsy from lack of oxygen, being batted away from him.
"Shhhh shhhh shhh," He cooed, petting the wounds as he licked the blood, smearing it over my heaving torso. "you like this, I promise."
I shook my head, throwing it back with a choked scream as I felt the knife again, running over my abdomen, followed quickly by a spray of hot blood that seemed to almost soothe the pain. His hold on the belt tightened even more so, until I could no longer strain upwards to see him cut my body, my neck held down painfully against the bed, allowing only the smallest amounts of air.
I gasped for it, my eyes shut tight as I focused on what he was doing, hating myself for being so rock hard when his tongue would lap between the folds of a wound, sucking at the agony and giving me horror and pleasure all at once. I trembled uncontrollably from it, straining against the heaviness of my arms and the restraint around my throat.
My back arched on its own, leaning into the tip of the blade as it rested over my right pectoral, subconsciously making my body press itself into the pain. Though thoughts were tumbled at best, I knew, horrified by the revelation, that he was absolutely right. I did like this. I did love this.
The feeling of utter abandonment of domination came over me, letting me slightly rejoice in my own defeat, in letting someone entirely control me. As sadistic as we both were, we also craved masochism from time to time, letting the pain become a very sick euphoria for us.
I swallowed as much as I could, straining upwards as he cut two deep lines over both sides of my chest, his tongue covering them only moments later as my eyes rolled back into my head. My lips trembled as he kissed them, leaving trails of blood over my chin.
I was flipped over quickly, my pants torn from my body as I was thrown on all fours, the belt still securely wrapped around my throat as I steadied myself, trying to remain upright as he lubricated himself and pushed inside me. I gasped, glad that he was allowing me a tad more slack to breathe, groaning deep within myself when he wrapped his one free hand around my body, jerking me painfully as he threw himself inside my body.
Blood pooled beneath me, dripping onto the bed, but I didn't care, arching my back so that he could dive deeper into me, the soaking tip of his cock plunging against my prostate. I wrenched my fingers into the bloodsoaked sheets, wanting to turn suddenly and take his entire length into my mouth, to feel it slip down my throat like water and drink his cum before it threatened to pour down my neck. Instead, I let him fuck me, feeling his whole body slap against mine as I never had before until he was choking me, making my thought process stop and forcing every nerve to be more sensitive than ever to what he was doing.
He stroked me long and fierce, the sounds of him making precum leak down his knuckles, my lower body stretched with the huge size of him, of us. I was coming close, so close to exploding, when he let me go, both hands wrapping around the belt and tightening as he literally fucked me harder than I've ever been fucked in my entire life. Just the sounds reverberating from the walls made me shiver, sweat pouring over the bed, diluted with blood as he pounded inside me, harder and harder until I felt my cock literally lift up and blow with cum, soaking my chest and stomach, his own forcing itself out so hard I was nearly lifted off of him, feeling the thick heat drip down from inside me.
Ah, the seldom experienced autoerotic asphyxiation orgasm.
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I limped slightly as I walked through the hallways, my body feeling like I put it through a meat grinder. Why? Why did I indulge in this still, giving the finger to any conscience I'd ever had? I shook my head, sick with myself and in desperate need for a shower, for a few minutes where I'd sink to the bottom of the tub and scrub myself raw of guilt.
I felt my fingertips go numb as I suddenly walked passed a doorway, choking on my own saliva when I saw it--- saw her.
Her. It's a her. A human. Not an it.
Her.
Bulma.
I wanted to vomit. I wanted to launch myself to the floor and vomit.
I couldn't even feel my body suddenly, like I'd been pulled from it and remained just a set of eyes, seeing this..... this horrific THING. I wanted to consciously call it a thing, an "it" as I couldn't bring myself to recognize it as her; as Bulma. What remained of the beautiful face was in a word...... horrific. Monstrous. One side of the once immaculate face was still in tact, the blue, beaming eye blinking as though it didn't see me, didn't recognize this odd, tall man just gawking at her. The other side was awful, twisted by metal cruelly intended to conceal the monstrosity beneath it. Skin was wrinkled, twisted and pulled viscously beneath the cold silvery chrome, red buttons meant for machines blinking over the area another blue eye was meant to be in.
The gurgling of yellowish green fluid was heard as tubes carried the thick liquid into her face, pumping sickly into her skull that was crushed on one side. Patches of black seemed sucked into the wrinkled, rotting flesh of her neck, gangrene festering on part of her mouth.
I didn't even realize I was trembling until my knees had buckled, landing painfully on the concrete as I continued to stare. "B--....Bulma?" I stammered, wanting the thing to shake its head, to look at me as though I'd gone crazy and tell me that the real Bulma was just down the hall; that what consisted of a disfigured creature standing in front of me was just a crude joke.
No recognition crossed the putrid features, the only sound the nauseating suction and gurgle of the tubes. The thing crouched to the ground as if copying my movements, my own body shuffling away without my consent. I didn't want to be afraid, didn't want to be a coward as I scrambled from the thing; yet I was, without doubt, horrified.
The thing cocked its head to the side, blue hair dry and greasy as it poked in patches through holes in the metal. The old, messy clothes shifted over a body that was still (strangely enough) in tact, though rotting around a form that should (by all natural accounts) be in the ground. A notepad and pen hung around her neck oddly- unused as though just wishful thinking had inspired someone to put it there. How was this even possible? I dared think that this thing could only be a zombie, or an awful, dead puppet suspended by threads I couldn't see. The meer movements of its body were unnatural: slow yet sporadic, as if the bones cracked with each motion. It slid closer to me and I had to mentally force myself to remain still, body trembling around my bones. We stared at each other for a while, curiosity crossing her features as though the mind behind the mask of horror could barely discern me as even human.
I just gawked, watching this thing, this girl that was once my greatest friend and now....... now I don't even know what she was.......
Kakarot.
He had done this.
He had made her this way.
"He's..." I managed to barely speak. "He's a monster."
A glint crossed her eye, as though something had struck her. A word.
A word suddenly instilling life back to her face-- knowing back to her eye as though suddenly she were waking from a deep sleep.
The word 'monster' in fact, awakening her for a moment.
Her hand rose to her face and then over her heart.
"Monster?" I said it again, watching as something akin to panic went over her features. It horrified me. She touched her chest again, patting over her heart.
"No," I shook my head, feeling tears go into my eyes. "No baby..."I felt myself start to cry, my bottom lip trembling.
"You're not a monster ok?" I sobbed it. "God, I......"
I looked up and then back at her.
"God, I promise you. You are not a monster."
Her eye stared into mine and against what I thought I could do, I pulled her body to me, hugging her close as I cried. I just held her there, against the shaking and trembling of my whole body. The beautiful mind lingering only in echoes within her. A crude shelter for the once vivacious woman that had prided herself on wisdom and beauty in her youth; now something that resembled a mangled, man-made corpse.
"I'll make you beautiful again," I whispered. "I promise you. I'll make you so beautiful."
She pulled back, a tear falling from her eye as she stared at me.
She glanced down, grabbing for the small notebook and pen she held around her neck. I watched with fascination as she did the very thing someone had only dreamed she could, writing slowly and almost illegibly over the paper. She held it towards me, her eye pleading with me.
The word she had written said "Free."
I stared in shock of what it meant, what she was trying to tell me. Free her. Set her soul free.
I shook my head, a new batch of tears falling down my cheeks.
"No," I told her. "I can't."
As if the small cloud of understanding had left her, the notebook fell, nodding limply over her chest. The light left her eye, as though her mind had just turned off like that. The single tear that had risen, fell down her cheek in a cold line but she didn't seem to understand or even acknowledge it.
She just stared at me with no recognition of who I was, standing numbly. The clatter of metal striking concrete came and I stared at what appeared to be a tape-recorder.
I lifted it to my ear as she left, shaking as I turned it on.
Hushed sobs were heard and I pulled the audio recorder from my ear, staring at it strangely. What is this? The voice was nearly sexless, so distorted with agony. Was it someone being tortured?
Clacking of heels on tile came in the background and I squinted, lifting the device closer. Someone was running, holding back sobs as they clambered towards an unknown destination. Did they realize the recorder was on?
A crack was heard as a door was slammed, beeping sounding and what might have been an elevator running in the background. The crying now became sobs, still slightly hushed but louder than before. A knock came as the device was apparently clanked against a wall. The breathing came louder now and it sounded as though the tape recorder was being held against someone's lips as they panted and bawled.
"She's dead," the sexless voice whispered in a shaky voice. "She's dead."
A clicking noise then came and the time span was unknowable. The crying had stopped and it seemed as though the owner had turned off the device for some time. Beeping and various mechanical noises were heard in the background, the robotic creaking of something heavy being lifted into the air.
"She's been dead now for 2 hours," Came the voice of none other than Dr. Briefs. I cringed, having a very sick idea of where this was going. "Her bodies basic functions have turned entirely off."
A slight sad sigh came and then he spoke again, voice in a hushed whisper, sounding on the very verge of madness itself.
"But what if I can bring her back?" He hissed. "She wasn't meant to die. No. No she can't be dead. It's not her time. I'll bring her back. I can make her whole again."
I gasped, wrenching the thing from my ear. No. This was no botched wish to the dragon. This was scientific nihilism, a sick experiment torn from the Godless beliefs of a desperate father. He gave life to a soulless thing!
"No." I said aloud. "Don't."
"It can be restored!" he said in a booming voice, as if answering me. "I can make her move again! I can make her see and think and sing and dance. I can give her life from seeming nonexistence. And then he will see. Then he will know that the power of God is not from those that can take life, but to those that can give it back."
I shook my head. Yes, he loved his daughter. Yes, he wanted her back. But at what price? To display a creature that Kakarot had killed? To show that he had power that Kakarot didn't? Was that love? Was that stupidity born from desperation? Or a very egotistical strive to wield the power of life and death?
"I can restore power to her neurons," I heard him lift what sounded like a glass beaker, thick liquid moving inside. "With this, I can carry nerve signals. I can reconnect the central nervous system and give her basic motor functions. I can awaken her mind and give it back the power to move her hands and legs and feet, restore animation to her body. The heart will come later as at this point, it is basically nonfunctional and unnecessary. Blood will be carried along the tubes with my chemical protein liquid. Yes, by God," His voice became hushed as he sat in overwhelmed awe at what he could create. "I can make her better. I can make it so her body never needs replenishment or fuel to drive forward. I can make these chemicals strong enough to give her immortality.
"Vanity and physical appearance can wait until later. The body cannot rot or all will be lost."
I sat in horror as I heard him prattle on with words I'd never known well enough to understand. He spoke of the power of cell bodies and dendrites, how to awaken the axon terminals so as to extend across the synapse. A thousand things I didn't bother to listen to. I understood to some degree; this wasn't about Bulma at all. Truly, she'd merely awakened the monster in him enough to try something his curiosity had been begging for all along. Every moral fiber had been broken and every scientific promise to uphold creation and the basic balance of life and death was forgotten; and he was only too happy to have a justification or excuse to do it.
"She told me not to," He was whispering in a shaky voice, trembling with excitement and insanity, working away like a modern day Frankenstein. "She told me so often it was sickness in a bottle. Playing God with liquid madness. Ahh but she didn't know. She didn't know that it would save her life. She will thank me for hiding it from her. Man's elixir of life held in my hand!"
Sounds of electricity spitting through the air caused me to pull back once more from the recorder, setting it down on a hard surface as it literally vibrated. I thought it was going to break. Metallic clashing sounded through the scratchy sound device, the smack of something limp banging over and over against a solid surface. A suction sound came as though water was being pulled through thin tubes and a sickening gag sound came.
Like.... like something was moaning and choking at the same time.
The recorder clicked. End of tape.