The Monster's Room - Chapter 56
As her influence grew, more monsters answered her call.
Do you ▉▉ to have ▉with me?”
The task for her after the monsters answered her call was clear.
Spread her legs, kneel like a dog, take co-ks in both her holes, thrust her hips, squeeze co-ks between her b*****s, let her luscious hair get drenched in se-en, get pounded in the va–na, have hands inside her, kiss, bind and be bound, wear e****c outfits that got torn apart, standing, sitting, lying down, on chairs, sofas, beds, stages, in the audience seats, behind curtains, on workbenches, against walls, in the bathroom, on the stairs…
The word that encompassed all these acts was one: s-x.
Or fu▉.
The dark opera hall was covered in the marionettes’ se-en and Marie’s juices. She didn’t find all this horrific. Even when band members without mouths used their instruments, shoving them into her front or back, or when a horn player blew into her with his instrument, causing her to gasp, there was no malice in the monsters. What they desired was simply ▉▉.
When more than half of the Othellos had been flipped, Marie realized she no longer needed to have s-x. Her power had grown strong enough to interfere with the dream. So, from then on, she approached the rigid marionettes and whispered one phrase:
Come ▉▉ with me.
Then, the monsters awakened and joined her side. Occasionally, some marionettes still desired s-x, and Marie gladly opened herself to them. Gradually, the monsters began to handle her body with care, their touches imbued with a tenderness that replaced their perverse lust.
And finally,
What are you doing?
The nightmare realized all but one Othello had been flipped. But what did it matter? It was already too late. Marie led the marionettes up the stairs to where there had once been a door when she first entered.
The door was still not there.
“It’s time to watch again.”
Just as she had murmured when they kissed, Marie muttered now. The circus tent reappeared on the wall where the door had vanished, creating an escape route, but she remained unperturbed.
Instead, she called for the carpenter and pointed to an object that had been there from the beginning but had remained silent.
Crash!
The overall-clad carpenter marionette, with his thick muscles, swung an ax and split the ‘gramophone.’
“There you are.”
Inside, she found the Marionette Troupe Leader. His body was nowhere to be seen, only his sewn-shut head and hands remained.
Stop.
If she had intended to stop, she wouldn’t have done such a crazy thing in the first place. Ignoring the eye that seemed ready to tear through the circus tent, Marie lifted the troupe leader’s head and kissed his lips.
Stop!
Marie willingly plunged herself into his deeper nightmare.
* * *
This part was just like with the Iron Horse Knight.
At the moment she felt like a god, she saw his past.
Long, long ago, there was something called the Immortal Circus. This circus was not named for its immortality because of its popularity but because there were words that its ringmaster was a being that had lived for at least a few centuries.
“Astonishing, Delightful, Chilling!”
The ringmaster was a man with a large hat and clown makeup. Whenever he spread his arms, birds, bubbles, and ghosts would pop out, astonishing the audience.
“Circus show!”
The show was spectacular. Though modern sensibilities would be horrified by the child abuse, abuse of the disabled, and animal cruelty, in an era without media, there were few entertainments as grand as this.
One of the most popular acts was the resurrection magic, where the ringmaster would place dead birds or squirrels in a box and, after a few taps, they would come back to life. The audience applauded as the lively birds took flight and an owl swooped down to tear them apart.
“Thank you! And now, for the astonishing, delightful!”
A large owl soared up and then landed on the ringmaster’s arm. His lips stretched into a broad smile beneath his deeply pulled hat, and for a moment, his voice dropped.
“Chilling.”
No, did it become deeper?
“Circus show!”
However, as if it was an illusion, the ringmaster waved his hands and bowed. And with that, the performance came to an end.
“Today’s show was fantastic!”
“Your knife throwing act was superb!”
“How about our juggling?”
“You could probably add a few more balls to your act.”
“But we can never surpass the ringmaster. Whatever trick he uses, it’s incredible.”
The ringmaster responded to each compliment from his performers, pausing to gaze at the last speaker. The mere look made the performer flinch, and the ringmaster stretched his vividly painted lips into a wide smile.
“This is our livelihood, after all. We must be careful not to reveal our secrets!”
“Of course, that’s true.”
“Let’s just focus on making lots of money.”
After patting the performer’s shoulder, the ringmaster retreated to his private tent. He set down a box and lightly tapped it, humming to himself. How much time had passed? Under the waning pale moon, when everyone else was asleep, the ringmaster finally opened the box.
“Hello, Boy.”
Inside was a head, crudely stitched together, along with hands marked by similar sewing scars.
Boy. That was what the ringmaster called the Marionette Troupe Leader.
