Rage

Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Casper

M y teeth grind as I withstand the lightning in my veins. I can feel electricity in my gums and taste metal in the back of my throat. My ears ring and my vision goes black. I’m not used to being vocal, and so I suffer silently. But to suffer is to live—I know that well.

My body strains, tensing tighter and tighter until the lightning stops. I feel numb as my vision returns. I look down and see it then. Samantha has done exactly what she promised—given me a penis and all that goes with it. I can feel the weight of my new parts against my thigh.

Will it work, though? That, she couldn’t promise, but I have faith in my lovely, twisted scientist. If I can give myself a working tongue, no doubt she can offer me a working cock.

My body starts to let go of its unnatural tension, and I look back up at the sky in anticipation. Through the buzzing in my ears, I hear the boom of thunder, the glass beakers and test tubes shaking on the tables around me.

Before another bolt of lightning can hit, Samantha is upon me, her fingers frantically setting me free. She unbuckles all the straps—the ones on my ankles and knees, the one holding my head, the ones around my wrists and arms—until I can sit up. Quickly, I move away from the metal table before either one of us can get electrocuted again.

Samantha has lines between her eyebrows, her pink lips turned downward. She’s concerned and anxious. Her hands drag over me, checking to make sure I’m okay. We’ve touched so many times, but I can feel the hesitation in her movements now. She understands her touching isn’t innocent for me. Does she know I have a well of desire only for her?

I dip my head lower and give her a small smile. I love smiling at Samantha—her eyes drink it in. My hand cups her face, trying to assure her I’m fine. Pain is life; this is nothing. Her neck moves with a thick swallow, and she steps back with a red face, her hands suddenly too shy to touch me. She hasn’t forgotten what I did to her. Does she understand what I still wish to do to her? She must. What other reason could make me beg for a cock?

With that thought, I look down at what she added. Like the rest of me, it’s not unmarred human flesh. There’s smooth stitching around the base. She was careful like she has been with every part of me—taking her time to do it right. For a moment, I marvel at that, that my entire being was delicately, intricately, tediously crafted by Samantha’s hands.

My cock has been pierced seven times from base to tip—thick metal bars in a ladder and smooth, round bolts on each end to keep them in place. Down the middle is a wavy scar with soft thread. It’s as much of creation as the rest of me, pieces put together to create something larger and more aggressive. No other cock could represent me better.

I was never a normal person—certainly not in my past lives and definitely not in this one. I’ve come to a better understanding of myself as I remember the men I used to be, helped me shape my perception of who I am now.

Samantha watches me nervously, so I smile at her, showing her my pleasure for what she has done for me. My hands go to her face again, cupping it in my massive hands.

I am not the professor my dear Samantha murdered in cold blood.

“Can you feel anything?” she asks. I shake my head. I’m still numb in the new organ.

I am not the serial killer who hung for sinister crimes.

“It might take time,” she assures me, and I nod, petting her hair down. The lightning made it stand on end.

I am both of those men and neither all at once. I am more. I am Samantha’s abomination in so many more ways than I first imagined because it’s inside as well as out.

The storm surrounding our island is as strong as ever, and I smile wider at her. She won’t be leaving anytime soon. She’s trapped here like I am.

I never realized just how much of Samantha’s attention I normally capture until I’m not anymore. She’s distracted, often staring out the window, as if she can’t wait to leave. She bites the skin around her nails anxiously as she watches waves crashing into her boat.

This wasn’t how it was before. Normally, she hated to go. While here, she spent all her time examining me, observing me, cataloging me. I was her entire focus, and she dragged out every second she could. She hated to leave, hated responsibilities calling from the other shore.

I think about destroying her precious boat. I could rip it to pieces with my bare hands. Then, there would be no competing for her attention. All she would have would be me, the same way that all I have is her.

During her time away, when the last storm kept her from me, I remembered a lot. I was not good men, so what did that make me now? The only thing that brought me from those dark thoughts was my commitment to Samantha. I would be whatever Samantha Hawthorn wanted me to be…as much as I could. I promised myself to rein in the darkness that lurks in my body. It’s easy when she’s here with me. It’s hard when she’s gone.

Right now, I can’t tell if she’s here or there. I walk over and touch her shoulder. She startles, as if she forgot I even existed in the room with her.

“Sorry, Casper. Let’s go ahead and see how your surgery went.” She peels herself away from the window, giving one last longing look towards her damn boat. Oddly, it’s the very first time I wonder what exactly is on the other shore. People, obviously. Lots and lots of people. Her university too. I can figure that out from the few memories of Professor Bram I have.

Perhaps she has a family, a life, a partner. Perhaps I’m not her everything. Perhaps I’m just a curiosity she’s losing interest in.

But all these concerning thoughts leave me after I strip down and feel her warm fingers brush my skin. I lean back on the upright examination table and enjoy the pleasure of her touch. Samantha thoroughly strokes every stitch before pressing her wooden stethoscope to my chest.

“Open, please,” she asks. I’ve only just learned to smile, but it comes naturally when she talks to me like a person now. I crack open my mouth to let her see my tongue. “You did an exceptional job…” She trails off. I wish I could implore her to say what’s on her mind, to ask the questions I see troubling her. When I close my mouth, she shakes away her conflicted thoughts and steps back, looking lower on my body.

“I need to examine this,” she says, eyeing me. I nod slowly, trying to not look eager. I know she’s not being intentionally sexual, but it certainly feels that way when her precise hands cup me in her palm, as if weighing the full package.

Her fingers then begin to delicately trace the sutures. She leans forward, closely eyeing each metal bar and bolt she pierced it with. My eyes linger on her mouth’s distance from me, and I remember tasting her. The desire I have for her to taste me is intense. Her eyes flick up to me as she stands taller.

“I need to try manual stimulation.” Samantha grabs some lubricant she coats her hand with, and then her fingers curl around my shaft. I swallow thickly, my body growing tense.

“Has it grown engorged at all?” I shake my head. “Stiffened?” she asks while beginning to tug on my cock. I inhale sharply, my eyes widening. I can feel something coming alive, nerves awakening at her touch. It’s ten times more pleasurable than when she examined the seam I used to have.

“Casper?” She asks. “Has it stiffened at all yet?” I shake my head, looking down as she strokes me up and down. “Have you tried doing this?” she asks, and I shake my head again. I hadn’t touched it beyond curious handling. I hadn’t…done this.

“I’m going to do this for a few minutes, see if your new part starts to react.” She means to kill me. I’m still flaccid, but that’s no indication of the sensations running through me. Samantha looks at me in her hand as she moves it up and down. I’m finding it hard to relax. I’m straining on the upright examining table, begging my body to keep still so she won’t stop. I wish she strapped me down, because it takes all my effort to stay where I am, watching and feeling as she touches me, trying to will an erection from me.

My head falls back, and I close my eyes. A groan rumbles from my mouth.

“Can you feel something?” she asks, and I could laugh if I knew how—something to practice later. I snort instead; she can’t be seriously asking that. “Right,” she responds. “Tell me if um…well…” She struggles for words, and I look at her. She’s even more beautiful than every other time I’ve seen her. Obviously, her appearance hasn’t changed, but there’s something about her eyes concentrating on my cock as her hand is wrapped around it that makes her look even more divine.

“I don't have much experience with this. I understand the mechanics, but the finesse from practice… I don’t have that,” she admits, looking up at me and then blushing as I observe her closely. Her hand unintentionally tightens as she quickly looks away, and a shudder rolls over me.

“I see,” she says to my positive reaction and keeps a firmer grip as she goes. Pleasure rolls through me as her hand moves up and down. It's deep and endless, never diminishing or growing. It’s torture and pleasure. I feel as if, by now, I should have an erection. I’m concerned the surgery failed. I look down and am shocked that I am harder and bigger than before.

My gaze shoots up to Samantha. This was the goal, so why hasn’t she stopped stroking? Again and again, her hand goes up and down, picking up speed. A shudder of delight crawls up my spine. Sharp breaths come from my nose as my teeth grind together. One of my hands shoots out and grips her dress, holding tight as she keeps pumping her fist up and down my hardened cock.

“I’m going to keep going, if that’s okay.” Samantha’s voice is breathy and her face is flushed as I grip her dress and breathe heavily. “Let’s see if you can reach orgasm.”

Her hand shows no mercy, tight and fast as she travels over the bolts and sutures. I moan behind my lips as my thighs tense. I’ll die before I can orgasm. She’ll have to electrocute me to life again if this keeps going and yet, I never want it to end.

Her other hand moves, gently cradling my scrotum in her hand.

“They feel tight. I think you can do it.” It’s almost frightening the sensation her hands are pulling from me. I’m not sure if I’ll orgasm at all, or if the patchwork, pierced cock will just explode. That’s what it feels might happen.

My other hand shoots out, wrapping around her wrist to stop her from moving. My chest moves as I breathe deeply.

“It’s nothing to be scared of,” she says. Samantha doesn’t know everything I fear. With pleasure, my darkness also grows. It’s deep and developed—my well of wants. The things I want to do to her grow even more deprived with each stroke she gives my cock. She only wishes to test its ability, another experiment. Yet again, she isn’t seeing the deeper picture, just what's on the surface. She doesn’t understand what her hand is doing to my mind.

I shake my head. She needs to stop. Perhaps she needs to remove the organ entirely. I feel close to madness. One more stroke from her fist would certainly make me lose all control of my mind. Who knows what I might do to her then?

“Casper, it’s okay,” she says softly, my hard, thick cock still in her hand, even though I hold her wrist captive. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” I blow out a breath.

What I want is her trembling as she begs me to let her go. I want her gasping my name in shock as I descend upon her. Yet, I also want her screaming with pleasure, her cunt so tightly wrapped around my abomination of a cock that I can’t even move inside her warm body—just groaning wordlessly as she writhes around me.

Her other hand comes up and brushes the sutures on my forehead.

“What are you thinking?” she asks.

Dark things, my love. Like how a part of me wants to punish you for what you did, killing me in a past life, putting together something so fiercely twisted. You’ve given me battles inside my mind, made me fight against my own body. You wanted to play god so badly, you created something that shouldn’t be, bloodied your hands to do it, and for that, I want to punish you.

But I also want to worship you.

My thoughts surface from their murky depths when I feel her lips on mine. I startle from the connection, shocked at her action. A moment later, all I want is more. I drop her wrist and hold her face, deepening our kiss. Her hand strokes me from base to tip, and I growl into her mouth.

I let the wave of lust pull me under until I’m drowning in it. Her hand moves faster and faster. I fear I’m holding her head too tight as I taste her mouth. I keep growling like a beast as the pleasure grows. I’ve never felt anything like this. I pull her closer until her body is pressed to mine, her hand working faster between my thighs, begging me to climax.

There’s a brief second when I’m aware it’s going to happen, and the concerns resurface… Then, they’re washed away in euphoria. All my precious thoughts of souls and abominations are silenced as bliss numbs my mind. I’m only vaguely aware of how I’ve turned vicious—my teeth plunge into her lips and my hand wraps around her neck, holding her tightly in place.

“Casper, softer,” she begs. I press my tongue into her mouth and swallow her words. She whimpers against my lips as we feel my release slicken her hand. My high is only heightened when she begins to tremble.

I’m trying so desperately to be as gentle as I can with her, but as the ecstasy tapers off, the darkness blooms again. I want her to quiver more, beg harder. I want her to suffer for her sins just a little, to taste some of the madness she gave me. I want to make her morals twist and her ethics die as she feels me inside her.

Instead, I let her go, upset with myself for such thoughts. Without words, I don’t know how to communicate all this to her. To warn her, to apologize. To explain the conflict she has given to my existence. I brush her swollen lip and where I held her neck. She’s soft and fragile; I need to be more careful with my creator. I need to fight this darkness.

“I’m fine, Casper,” she says with a small laugh. I’m furious by her reaction. She doesn’t know the danger she’s in. She acts as if she wants it. It makes my battles even harder. I leave the table and turn away from her, pulling my clothes back on. There’s silence for a while.

“The storm is clearing,” she says, and I turn to the window in a panic, seeing calm water. “Tonight, I can finally go back,” she sighs.

The darkness swallows me whole.