By Wayne and Ann Triskelion
Comments welcome!
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The East Village, New York City
Two Nights Earlier, June 3, 1989
"Mother Superior, are you sure this is where you want to go?" The Church Agent asked from the front passenger seat of the Town Car.
Hecate stared out the window at the bustling Saturday nightlife. There was a crowd here in this rundown area of the village. The building looming above the Town Car looked like a warehouse. The windows were dark.
And, yet, the crowd was lined up around the corner to get in. Two bouncers stood at the door holding back the would be revelers.
"This is it. Where else would the queen bitch hold court?" Hecate whispered.
The Town Car slowed to a stop in front of the entrance and Hecate opened her door.
The Church Agent in the passenger side front opened his as well.
"No," Hecate said. "I go alone."
"Mother Superior, I strongly advise..."
She waved her hand, dismissing him before stepping out.
People turned and stared.
She smiled. Where else could a nearly seven foot tall woman in black latex and stilettos wearing a latex nun's habit and sunglasses not seem out of place?
There had been so many changes in her over the last five years.
Some had been painful.
She stepped past the crowd, and no one said a word to her, they simply stared.
The bouncers looked her up and down.
"Oh, fuck yeah," one of them said and opened the velvet rope for her.
The inside of the club was a swirling sea of humanity all standing nearly cheek to cheek. The $100,000 Bar nightclub was a fire chief's nightmare come to life with a thrumming backbeat.
"Please, Mama, save my fucking soul," a tall man said as he looked up at her with eyes dulled by drugs.
She smiled sideways at him. "Sweet child, if you only knew the irony of that request." She ran a long red nail down his cheek before tapping his forehead between his eyes and sending him sprawling backward into the crowd.
Hecate turned away and scanned the interior.
The building had indeed been a warehouse - there was a large office suspended twenty feet above the floor on steel pillars with a wide wooden staircase leading up to it.
"The high ground? Yes, most likely," Hecate whispered to herself.
She maneuvered through the crowd and climbed the stairs.
Two half-naked bodybuilders stood at the door to the office - one a man and the other, upon closer scrutiny, a woman. They opened the door as Hecate approached.
"Mmm, yes, my loves. Just like that. You suck clit so beautifully for a girl who's never done it before," a woman's voice breathed. "And you, my pretty? Don't be shy, push your tongue right up my ass..."
Hecate stepped through a curtain and into the center of the room. Four king sized beds were pushed together in a two by two array.
Two blonds, one male, one female lounged between the long, muscular thighs of Mistress Maria Anastasia Marapova di Morpheus.
Maria raised her head up from her pillow and smiled as she stroked the honey blond hair of her lovers. "Mother Superior Hecate, what a pleasant surprise. Can I get you something? I'm sure I can dig up a brunette or redhead for you somewhere."
"In five days, we begin operations in Florida. We requested Ambrosia and blood samples from you over a month ago."
The girl going down on Maria turned her head and stared at Hecate, her mouth coated in Maria's juices.
Maria tsk-tsk'd and turned the girl's head while guiding her back to her pussy. "Not for your innocent ears, my darling. Pay no attention to this cock-block... aren't nuns horrible wet blankets?" Maria smiled up at Hecate. "Gorgeous, aren't they? Amish on Rumspringa or whatever they call it. I really don't think the dears will be going back to the farm." She cocked her head sideways. "You know, I never noticed before, but they have such similar features... you don't suppose they're related, do you? I never asked... oh, well, too late now I suppose. Have you ever had Amish? They're so organic..."
"You are vile," Hecate hissed.
"Don't take your nun's frustrations out on me."
"You have no regard for the will of Morpheus. You... fuck whores while we are beginning his greatest work. Doesn't it mean anything to you that we're creating more creatures like
you
?"
Maria scowled. "Not like me. You're creating sex toys." She stroked her lovers' cheeks. "I make toys all the time. But, that's why you want my DNA, isn't it? So, you can make more goddesses like me. Ask Morpheus for it... oh, you can't. He still won't talk to Sister, will he?"
Hecate took a deep breath. Maria was correct: their living god had not spoken to Sister or the Church for years. "He doesn't speak to you either."
"No, but then I haven't tried to speak to him since Studio 54 was a thing. I wanted Debbie Harry to become a White Witch but Morpheus refused. After that, I didn't even try to get Warhol transformed. I miss 54. Everything's Hip Hop and Rap nowadays. I preferred punk and disco."
"Are you even listening to me?!" Hecate spat. "Our greatest operation is beginning and you, pervert that you are, should be a part of it."
Maria pushed the blonds away and they immediately began to sixty-nine.
She stood up beside the bed.
Hecate looked up - even without heels the white haired Amazon was several inches taller and more muscular.
Maria brushed her short hair out of her eyes. "Pervert that I am, let me remind you that I am a 'di Morpheus' created by the living god himself, not the product of Sister's tit cream. You come here into my lair and begin giving me orders? I'll decorate this club with your guts and have your henchmen downstairs clean up the mess with their tongues."
Hecate stood her ground. "Do you think I
want
to be here? I am not giving you orders, I am asking for your help. We are saving the world, Mistress Maria. All of us. Together. I can make all manner of creatures save one: I cannot make a White Witch without help from the only one of her kind. Please... I am begging you."
Maria's hands rocketed out and Hecate winced, expecting a blow.
She cupped Hecate's face. "You are a brave little thing. I'll give you that. I wish I had found you before Sister. Things would be far different for you, I think."
Maria turned away. There was a bar in the corner.
She took a wine glass and inspected it. "Clean enough. Even Baal couldn't fuck this up... I suppose not, anyway." She held the rim of her glass against her turgid right nipple.
With her right hand, she massaged her breast.
Milky white Ambrosia squirted from her nipple into the glass till it was nearly full.
She set the glass back on the bar. "This do in remembrance of me," she whispered.
"What?" Hecate asked.
"Classical reference." She picked up a second wine glass in her right hand. She pressed her right thumb against the stem and broke it cleanly.
She kept the base and stem and tossed the rest in the trash can beside the bar.
Maria smiled as she drew the sharp glass stem across her left palm.
Then she let her blood stream into the cup of Ambrosia.
She walked back to the bed with the glass of bloody Ambrosia.
He held out her wounded hand to the blonds.
They began kissing and licking the wound as Maria softly laughed. "Perhaps you are right... I may be perverted."
She handed the glass to Hecate. "Enjoy... oh, you should sip some yourself. It might make you stronger."
Hecate shook her head in disgust.
Maria lay back on the bed and the blonds crawled up beside her, each taking one of her nipples in their mouth and nursing.
Maria smiled as she stroked their bodies. "It's a pity I can't make them like me just by feeding them. I would have converted half of New York by now." She closed her eyes. "Feel free to see yourself out, nun. Oh, and good luck doing the will of Morpheus in Florida. I'll be watching from here."
