The Metahuman. Adult. (standard:fantasy, 2752 words)
Author: Oscar A Rat	Added: Jun 22 2020	Views/Reads: 1474/1032	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Grendelle lived to torture, so far decimating an entire planet. Enter Michael the thief and his metahuman companion.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

The lovely Grendelle, although not satisfied in the least, was
complacent.  Her emotions -- extremely strong in the sensory range -- 
didn't include a sense of failure.  After all, she was Grendelle, and 
by definition could not fail. 

It had taken an eternity to fill most of the twenty-five buildings in
this complex, along with others across the planet.  She was content to 
sit and read a book, sharpen her torture instruments, and wait for 
another eternity, if need be, to finish her task.  Her mission was to 
torture and kill every person on the planet.  Let them breed for a few 
generations, Grendelle figured, and there would be even more for her 
pleasure. 

She never made advance plans. The lady thought it so depressing to hope,
easier to simply wait. She enjoyed many happy memories of endless 
torture sessions to go over in her mind -- mentally laughing at the 
recalled screams of her victims. 

While so occupied, a tame house-snuffle wandered in, brushing against
its mistress's ankles.  Idly, Grendelle reached down and petted it.  
Lifting the trusting creature to her face, she kissed it and bit its 
head off.  “Damn these reflexes.” She smiled, tossing the small carcass 
away as the head rolled down between ample breasts to bounce onto the 
floor.  “Now I need to change my blouse.” 

*** 

“Jeeze, what a walk.”  Michael leaned against one of the towering
concrete, plastic, and steel structures while he caught his breath. 

Janet stood quietly, looking around as though curious.  She could take
any shape desired, and Michael preferred that of his favorite Nimbo 
dancer on Anthraz III.  Among her skills were those of sex with a 
human.  Although producing no offspring, it was still highly satisfying 
to her companion.  Of course, Janet never revealed what her feelings 
were in the matter.  That trait wasn't in her nature. 

“We have to find something to eat, and soon, Janet baby,”  he reminded
her.  “I wonder if there's anything edible in here?”  Michael resumed 
walking around the building until finding  a human-sized entrance.  It 
opened easily, revealing a long corridor with doors along both sides. 

They entered.  He knocked at the first door on the left.  When there
wasn't an answer, he opened it ... then stepped back in horror.  The 
room inside was empty except for the walls being covered, completely, 
with chained human skeletons. 

“I'll be damned!”  he exclaimed.  For the next few minutes, Michael
checked room after room on both sides of the corridor.  They were all 
filled with humanoid skeletons, some piled up, others chained to walls 
like in the first.  Some of the rooms had them chained to tables with 
torture instruments nearby.  Others were simply piled to the ceiling.  
An elevator worked, so he tried two more floors and found the same. 

Michael couldn't help being shaken by the thought that the huge
structure might well be a charnal-house of torture and death.  And, he 
wondered, how much suffering has occurred within those walls? 

“Isn't there anyone alive around here?”  he asked Janet, who simply
looked on, disinterested. 

“I sense someone alive in the area,”  she told him in a sexy melodious
voice, adjusted to sound like that of her namesake on Anthraz III. 

“Let's find them, huh?  Maybe we can save them from whatever did this,” 
he said.  Going to a window, he looked out into the sunset, noticing a 
light high up in a window of another tower.  It was about halfway up 
the tall edifice. “Come on, Janet baby.  Let's check it out.” 

They hurried to the tower containing the lighted window.  On the way,
Michael kept an eye on the lighted square and saw a shadow as someone 
looked out at them.  As they came closer, he saw it was a lovely woman, 
waving them on.  She was smiling. 

*** 

Grendelle was smiling, in anticipation, as she saw the two strangers. 
She waved, giving them an evil grin.  The woman stretched long shapely 
limbs and headed for the door.  She remembered an appropriate suite to 
use, on the third-floor of that same tower. 

Going down to that apartment, Grendelle looked the rooms over.  They
were a little dusty, but that was all right -- no time to clean.  She 
figured her victims would be tired from the trip across the plains and 
wouldn't notice.  There was a soft bed and even a kitchen with canned 
and frozen foods.  It contained all the little comforts -- along with 
many built-in discomforts. 

There was also an entertainment center.  In the middle of the main room
sat a large plushy chair.  It looked so comfortable that she sat down, 
briefly bouncing around in glee. Oh, how soft and nice, she thought.  
Getting up, Grendelle walked over to a nearby control-chair.  Sitting 
down again, she caressed hidden buttons and switches, a gleam in her 
eye as she tried them out. 

There was a snap, and cuffs came out of the first, softer, chair -- to
encircle the armrests. 

“Too noisy,”  she decided, getting up to oil long-unused springs. 
Another button brought a sharp spike through the seat.  As she slowly 
pressed her control, the point extended, all the way to where the top 
of a head would be.  Other buttons sent waves of electricity or painful 
hypodermic needles, as well as injections to alleviate pain.  The lady 
did have to, at one point, go into the kitchen to wet a rag.  There was 
a patch of dried blood on the seat.  She didn't want them to die too 
quickly, anticipating days of coming torture. 

“Well, it's getting close to that time.”  The sadistic woman got up to
greet the newcomers, waiting in sight of the front door below for their 
entrance. 

Soon the door opened,  a man sticking his head inside.  He looked up and
saw Grendelle waving him upstairs with a bright smile. 

“Am I glad to see you.” She embraced and nuzzled his cheek, not knowing
Janet's status. “I've been waiting for years for someone to rescue me.” 
 Grendelle let tears flow from lovely green eyes as she pumped his hand 
wildly.  “Oh, so long.” 

“What happened here?  We found all those dead people in the other
building?”  Michael asked, holding her shaking body steady as she 
pressed cushioning breasts against his chest.  “What killed them, and 
is it still dangerous?  They've been dead a long time.” 

“They, the killers, left.  I think they slaughtered everyone else on the
planet.”  Grendelle shivered, looking directly at Janet.  "Your wife or 
girlfriend?”  she asked, noticing how quietly Janet was looking around, 
face showing no emotion. 

“You could say that,” he answered. “What happened?” he repeated. “And
why?  You mean someone came here, killed everyone for no reason, then 
left?” 

“That's just what happened,”  Grendelle told him, defensively.  “You
must be tired and hungry.  Come on in.  I have a place prepared where 
you can eat and rest.  We can talk tomorrow.  Then ... then you can 
take me off this planet of death.” 

She showed them to her special suite.  “Since I didn't expect anyone,
it's a little dirty, ”  she apologized, showing them inside the comfy 
torture chamber. 

Michael headed straight for the doctored chair, it looked so
comfortable.  He was surprised when Janet hurried past him to sit down. 
It wasn't like the normally submissive metahuman. 

“Wha...?” He decided to let it go and, seeing a refrigerator, walked
into the kitchen instead. 

Grendelle had no real preference in victims.   She slightly preferred
males, but what the hell?  The female demon sat down in her own chair, 
the one with the controls.  No matter if she had to start with the 
woman.  The food wasn't doctored. Let him eat first.  It would be his 
last meal.  He might last longer that way. 

“What's this stuff like?  Quiffle meat, it says.  I never had any.” 
Michael interrupted her thoughts. 

“Something like whiskle.  Go ahead, pull the tab,”  she told him,
petulantly, wanting to get started.  Instead, she had to wait for him 
to finish and sit down. 

Grendelle found herself sweating as she grew more impatient, though it
was a delicious anticipation as she sat, smiling at Janet, who was 
grinning back. 

After what seemed to Grendelle to be a mouth-watering eternity of
banging and thumping in the other room, Michael finally came back in.  
He brought a sandwich to Janet, who nodded and ate it quietly. 

“Where did you come from, the Ankkle continent?”  she asked Janet, who
didn't answer. 

“Earth. You ever heard of it?”  Michael interjected. 

“Really?  I think I have.  Isn't that somewhere in the Milky Whey or
something?”  Grendelle was interested.  They would be her first 
off-world kills.  Maybe more were coming?  “Any more of you here?” she 
asked, heart beating wildly in anticipation of a full spaceship of 
them. 

“Na.  We came alone,” he told her around a mouthful of delicious
quiffle.  Michael finally went over and sat down in another, simple 
wooden, chair.  Darn, Grendelle thought, it's a normal chair, with no 
torture devices.  All it had in her favor were arm and leg restraints, 
and those were manual.  Still, he looked pretty weak compared to her. 

I can finally get started, she thought, mouth oozing saliva.  It had
been a long time.  She silently pushed a button that encircled his 
companion's arms and ankles with restraints.  Janet sat quietly, not 
seeming to even notice.  She did swing her eyes to meet Grendelle's, 
though still seemingly uninterested. 

Michael hadn't noticed, either, eyes still on his lovely hostess as she
walked over to him, hips swinging sensually.  Capturing his gaze in her 
deep-green orbs, Grendelle played around with his right arm while 
holding him mesmerized with a sweetly promising smile. 

It wasn't until she kissed him and he heard a slight click, that he
looked down and found his arms cuffed to the chair.  Grendelle then bit 
down hard on Michael's lip, holding his gaze again -- deep into her 
soulless green stare -- as blood spurted, the lip hanging loosely, 
blood dripping onto his chest. 

“What the hell!”  he exclaimed, in sudden shock and realization that he
was restrained. 

Standing straight, she said, "Sorry.  Couldn't help myself," while
slapping a plastic compress over his chin and bottom lip.  Couldn't 
have him bleeding to death, she thought. 

“We're going to have a lot of fun.”  She beamed happily, in
anticipation. “Let's start with your tender girlfriend.” 

Casually going over and sitting in her control-chair, Grendelle
stretched long legs, getting comfortable before giving a button a quick 
tap, to bring a shaft up an inch under Janet's butt.  The blonde 
anticipated a painful reaction from her victim.  But Janet sat quietly 
-- though an inch farther up in the chair --  her eyes still focused on 
Grendelle's.  The torturer held her hand down on the button, letting 
the spike up farther.  Then, still with no reaction from Janet, jammed 
it down hard. 

Janet's invulnerable body rose higher, a blank look still on her face. 
As she stretched, arms forced against the cuffs, the restraints on her 
arms burst from the pressure, one by one. 

Michael, watching and catching on, also grinned at Grendelle -- further
confusing the torturer.  In her millions of recreational anguish 
sessions, nobody had ever reacted in that manner. 

In a rage, Grendelle rose to her feet.  Something was wrong.  The woman
felt fear herself -- for the first time in her long life.  With a roar 
of rage, she ran at Michael.  He simply sat still, lower lip sunk 
slightly from the weight of the compress, and smiled at her. 

“Get her, honey,”  he commanded. 

In a flash, the metahuman snapped leg bonds and held Grendelle in a
strong superhuman grasp. 

Once released, Michael played with the controls in Grendelle's chair
arm.  When he was ready, he had Janet sit her down in the torture chair 
and enjoyed trying them out while Janet watched silently. 

Afterward, they found a bedroom in the apartment and slept together in a
comfortable bed.  While he snored, Janet looked through a doorway at 
the chair, still containing a barely conscious Grendelle.  Even though 
not being, personally, capable of love or affection, the monster had 
been forced to watch them make love. 

They hadn't decided on what to do with Grendelle, but that could wait
until morning. They trusted that four inches of spike in her guts 
wouldn't kill her overnight, only cause one hell of a tummy ache. 

Janet stuck her tongue out at the torturer and winked.  She then
snuggled against her master and closed her eyes. 

The End.


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