Valves & Vixens, Volume 2

by Blair Erotica

  The bottom of Harold’s world dropped from beneath him and he bolted.

  ***

  He couldn’t sleep. He was too terrified and turned on. How could these two opposite emotions coexist in his trembling body? He wanted to splash cold water on his face. Hell, he wanted to jump in a cold lake! But mostly he lay pinned to the bed straining his ears for footsteps that never sounded.

  And then it came. A third explosion rocked the Mermaid. Harold nearly passed out. Moments later, Mika rapped on his door and announced: “Emergency landing. Stay in your cabin until further notice.”

  Emergency landing!? An absurd giggle welled up inside Harold and spilled over his lips. Emergency landing.

  ***

  The Mermaid’s Revenge landed safely in a clearing in the middle of nowhere. Bright moonlight made it easy to see, even through the sparse trees that surrounded them. Once he’d disembarked, the crew ignored him. Mika was busy with securing the ship while Captain Grayburn screamed at the cowed Gentleman. Harold happily wandered away from that scene. He went to the trees, where he relieved himself, then followed the sound of running water, hoping to get that cool splash of water on his face.

  It was there that he found his fellow passengers. See stood by the edge of a stream with Nico by her side, a protective arm around her. He seemed wary, as if he feared some kind of ambush. Harold started to leave when the man called out to him.

  “You needn’t leave,” he said.

  Harold stopped, one foot raised. “I thought I’d give you some privacy,” he stammered back lamely.

  Nico’s chuckle was deep and rumbling. “No need. Come and refresh yourself.”

  Harold mumbled his thanks then circled wide as he approached the water. He knelt with relief, unsure he could hold himself for too long on his shaking legs, dipped his hands in the cold water and patted his flushed face.

  “What is your name?” Nico asked.

  “Harold.”

  “Just Harold?”

  Harold eyed him warily. “What’s your name?”

  Nico smiled. “Well met, Harold.”

  “Sir.”

  Harold didn’t really mean to be terse, but he was afraid and embarrassed.

  “So much for getting us to New London without further interruption,” Nico went on. “Eh, Harold?”

  Harold looked up at him. A small smile played about the Other’s face. His amber eyes sparkled.

  Harold looked away and splashed more water on his face. “Yeah. Do you think we’ll be able to take off again?”

  “I certainly hope so.”

  There was a grit in his tone that puzzled Harold. Then he realised dawn was approaching.

  See spoke for the first time since Harold’s arrival at the stream. “Everything will be all right.” Harold saw her reflection turn toward Nico. “You told me so.”

  Nico smiled gently and gave her arm a squeeze.

  “We should pass the time together,” she continued, her tone almost childlike. “Harold, are you stopping in New London, as well?” She fixed her bright eyes on him and smiled sweetly.

  “That’s right,” he answered.

  “Pleasure or business?”

  “Business.”

  “What is your business?” Nico asked. His tone was less conversational.

  Harold debated whether or not to answer. His silence intensified Nico’s gaze, however, and Harold finally blurted. “I’m a courier. I deliver things.”

  “For whom?” Nico again.

  “Garson Smith.”

  Nico’s eyebrows rose ever so slightly. “Of Pallets?”

  “That’s right. You, uh, know him?”

  “I am acquainted with an associate of his. Will you return to him when your business in New London is completed?”

  “I plan to, yes.”

  Mika interrupted them. Harold hadn’t noticed her approach.

  “We’re so sorry for the interruption.” She sounded tired. “Everything has been handled and the Mermaid is prepared to fly. If you’d be so good as to follow me.”

  ***

  It turned out their little adventure hadn’t put their timing too off, and the Mermaid’s Revenge arrived in New London late the next evening. It was an enormous city and Harold stayed on the deck, mouth agape, gazing down for as long as Mika would let him. He didn’t catch a glimpse of neither See or Nico until they were landed and ready to disembark. He waited at the rail, against his better judgement, hoping to see them.

  Finally, when Nico silently mounted the stairs to the foredeck, See trailing behind, he actually smiled upon seeing Harold, and approached him with an outstretched arm. Surprised, Harold held out his own hand for a firm shake. And there was something else. Nico had pressed something into his palm. Harold immediately slid it into his pocket without looking at it.

  “Well,” said Nico. “It was nice meeting you, Harold. Quite the adventure we’ve had. May you have a safe journey back. And might I suggest you find alternative transport?” His strange eyes were sparkling again.

  The corner of Harold’s mouth quirked up into a half smile. “Thank you, sir.”

  Nico stepped aside and See wrapped her arms around Harold in a very unexpected hug.

  “Thank you so much,” she said and released him.

  Nico tipped his head and they departed.

  Harold didn’t know what she’d thanked him for until he remembered the paper that Nico had slipped him. Perhaps that was it. He took his valise, thanked Mika for the ride, and went in search of the inn Mr. Smith had recommended to him.

  When he was safe in his room with the door bolted, Harold took out the paper. It turned out to be two papers. One was a folded letter with “G. Smith” written on the outside. The second was a 100 note bill - payment for delivery, Harold supposed, though it was quite high. Why had Nico slipped it to him in secret? What was the letter? Should Harold be worried? He’d never carried anything for Others before. The couple had clearly been running from something. Was it something dangerous? What had Harold been pulled into? But the letter was addressed to his employer, Mr. Smith, so whatever it was, Harold might already be involved.

  Harold went to the water basin, splashed his face, and stared at himself in the mirror.

  “Pull yourself together,” he told his reflection. “You’re a professional.”

  When he felt that his reflection agreed with him, Harold stood tall, squared his shoulders and prepared for bed. 100 notes aside, he did owe Nico something for spying on them. He would deliver Mr. Smith’s letter when he returned - by train - to Pallets City.

  Harold thought back over his ride in his first airship and the mysterious fellow passengers. His face flushed as he remembered See’s cry and moan that night, how the moonlight had played on her dress and skin. He turned out the light, lay down in bed, and did not fall asleep for over an hour.

  Be My Doll

  V.C.

  Beijing, China 4020

  “Wake up, my broken darling.”

  My eyes flickered open. I tilted my head; it felt as light as a butterfly in flight. Instead of flying, my brain was dead. Or so it seemed, for a brief moment in time. Until I opened my eyes wider. I breathed. Sucking in that first breath choked out a coarse and shaky cough out of me. I blinked again, my eyes flickering more wildly in panic, and then in peace. I was thinking to myself---

  “You are alive.”

  That voice. It wasn’t mine. Whoever that voice belonged to , they declared those very words that I said in my mind. Then I heard a sound. It was that of a ticking clock. More than just one. It sounded like a whole army of ticking clocks. It sounded like they were marching. Where was the war?

  I was distracted by my eyes. They felt heavy and big, somehow. They travelled around this strange and unfamiliar place that
I was in. The first thing I saw was the ceiling. It was decorated with bronze eyes---like evil eyes---the pupils, a sparkling silver. They were staring at me; I could have sworn that I even saw those bronze eyes blinking at me. I shook my head to cast out that very notion, turning my head on the left side. Something else was peculiar. All over the place was giant clock gears, air-plane wings, bronze and silver wheels, golden ceiling fans, and other parts and pieces. I couldn’t decipher where they had come from. It was a wonder why any of it was there in the first place. Where the bloody hell was I? In a junk yard of broken pieces? Was I a broken piece too? The air was warm here. A little too warm. It was heavy too. It was steam. And the light---it was coming from the sun. But I wasn’t outside. I saw a window; all I could see was a golden sky and pink clouds floating there, sailing like ships, then sun bursting through them . I was starting to freak out. Was I in a plane? But that would be impossible. It didn’t feel like this place was moving. It didn’t sound like I was inside of anything flying. I turned my head to my right. I saw something else amongst even more giant clock gears, air-plane wings, bronze and silver wheels, golden ceiling fans, and indistinct broken parts of unfamiliar things in the background. My eyes were staring at the face of a woman.

  She looked to be a woman of Asian origin. Baby-faced. Slanted eyes. Fair light skin. Her shiny raven black hair was tied up in a gigantic bun. It gave off the illusion that it was her crown. There was a duo of shimmering golden chopsticks stuck in there as if her hair bun was a pin cushion. Emerald green jewels were hanging at the end of those chopsticks, matching the bright emerald green aviator goggles that she wore above her forehead. It was hard to tell how old she was; she looked ageless. Her skin. It was so flawless and as fair-white as a lily. Her brown eyes were like jewels. Shiny. Sparkly. Rich. Her red lipstick was shiny, sparkly, and rich too. It made her thick lips succulent. And so was her outfit, of what I could see of it. It looked like a hanfu. It was sapphire coloured. Long sleeved. Shiny because the fabric was silk. Sparkly because of the golden buttons that zigzagged from her neck to her waist. Rich not because of the price---though I gathered that this woman might have expensive tastes---but because of its ancestry. Unique to her culture, but all the more unique on her. It complemented her body---every curve of her, the back of her, and the...humongous bust of her. My eyes couldn’t help but freeze on that. Her outfit covered her breasts, but it was clear to see how big and round they were. I couldn’t blink; I could only smile at them. I heard a bubbly chuckle; it came from the woman. She carefully lifted up my head as if it was so fragile that it could easily break. She had me looking up at her face instead of on her breasts. I heard that sound again. The sound of ticking clocks, of oiled gears grinding, creating that noise of a tick-tocking war. It was louder in my ears than it was before. Why was it pounding into my brain as if it really was my brain? I couldn’t get it out of my head. Ding-dong. Tick-tock. Ding-dong. Tick-tock. Ding. Tick. Tock. Where were these clock-voices in my head coming from, and why couldn’t it stop already?

  “Welcome to this century, darling,” the woman spoke. “You are home.”

  “Home?”

  Home was a familiar word. A vague place. I couldn’t remember if I ever had one.

  “Who are you?” The sound of my voice. It sounded high in pitch. More feminine than masculine. “And where am I?” I looked around at my surroundings again, baffled. “And why am I here?”

  I suddenly realized that I was lying on a cold slab. I looked up at the ceiling again. Those eyes. They really were blinking. Oh my God. Was I hallucinating? Was this place alive or something?

  “You ask a lot of questions, my doll.” The woman chuckled in a deep tone.

  “Is that bad?”

  “It’s good. I programmed you that way.”

  “Programmed me?” my body shook a little. The way she said it, so matter of fact, was frightening to my ticking ears. She sounded strict and serious. “I’m not a robot... am I?”

  “Oh no, that you aren’t,” she shook her head with a sweet smile. “You are a doll.”

  “I am a human,” I shook my head, convincing myself, and her, once again, “I am male.”

  She brushed the tip of her emerald green polish coated finger over my shaking lips to silence me. Speaking softly as she continued to smile at me so sweetly, “No you are a human doll.”

  “I don’t understand,” I grimaced. “Oh bloody fuck...” there was that incessant ringing noise of clock-work and grinding gears bursting in my brain again. It was louder than ever before. “Where is that blasted sound coming from?” I groaned.

  “You.”

  “What?” my voice dropped.

  “I built the inside of you out of gears and clockwork. The inside of your body is like a machine now even though the outside of you is as normal, as doll-like and human-like, as it seems.”

  “I think I am going to be sick...” My head was dizzy. Floating like the pink clouds outside.

  She let out a laugh. “You don’t have the ability to be sick. I programmed you to never get sick. You will never go ill. You will never age; you’ll be forever young. And you will never die.”

  “So I am immortal now?” I raised my eyebrow.

  “Yes.”

  “As a...” I gulped thickly. “A human doll?”

  “Yes. My beautiful human lady-boy doll.”

  “A human lady-boy doll? Wait, are you saying?” I nearly panicked, my hands roaming down my body.

  “You still have your boy parts silly,” she slapped my hand away from my crotch.

  I sighed with relief. “So then why do you call me a human lady-boy doll?”

  “You are still a boy. You only look like a girl. You are a spitting image of a China doll. Beautiful. Curious. Strange. Wonderful. Just as I programmed you. Not really human, but still having that human look and charm. It took a good five years to build you just right.”

  “Five years?” I choked out. “What year is it?”

  “4020.”

  “4020?” I gasped in fright. For some reason, I couldn’t remember whether or not I ever had a home, and yet, I could remember precisely what century I had come from. “I was born in the year 1857.” And I also could clearly remember one other thing. My age. “I can’t still be twenty.”

  “I know,” she nodded. “I know everything about you from the day of your birth to the day you died.”

  “I died?”

  “At age twenty.”

  “Why don’t I remember anything about my past?”

  “I erased everything from your memory on purpose. Well, almost everything, except for the year you were born and the age you passed on. That was necessary to keep; the rest was useless.”

  “To you, but what about me?”

  “There’s no use for the past,” she scoffed. “The majority of what you once were, and where you had come from, is gone, my dear. Every memory of yours, is all in my keeping now.”

  I thought she was completely joking, but she wasn’t. She really did must have erased all my memories---my past. My mind felt empty. It had no past. No present. I doubt it had a future.

  “If it’s in your keeping, you could possibly give it back to me?”

  “I can, yes, if I wanted to. But for now, that doesn’t matter. Today, you’ll take your first steps, like a baby. You’ll be starting all over in this new world. But don’t you worry, you won’t be alone. I am your creator and your mistress.”

  “Your name, mistress?”

  “Fang. You’ll call me Madame Fang.”

  I saw why. She had real fangs. Like a vampire. Otherworldly. Strange. Sexy.

  “Madame Fang,” I echoed. “What a beautiful name.”

  “I know. Now, sit up, Jia.”

  “Jia?”

  “That’s your name now. It’s a traditionally unisex Chines
e name.”

  “Are we in China?”

  “Yes. Beijing.”

  “Was I born here?”

  “You were originally born in England in a city called London.”

  “How did I get from there to here, mistress?”

  “Enough questions, my sweet. Do what I commanded you to do. Sit up,” she said in a more dominant tone of voice that gripped my attention. I obeyed immediately. I sat up, slowly.

  “My body feels heavy.”

  “It will for now. Once you get used to walking, you will feel lighter, more human-like.”

  I took Madame Fang’s word for it. She rubbed my back as I sat up straight, me being afraid that I really was going to break. It was when she continuously rubbed my back that I realized that I was naked. Beads of sweat dotted my chest caused by the hot steam filling the room. The sweat-pearls trickled from my chest down to my torso. She was right. I did still have my male parts. They were limp, sleeping. I touched my face. It felt soft and feminine. My fingers were touching round and full cheeks, a little nose, a smooth chin, little ears, and thick lips. My hair. It was long. Its length was hanging past my shoulders. It was blonde in colour. I touched my head. Something suddenly happened. The tick-tock of my brain. It had stopped.

  “I can’t hear that sound anymore. Is that a good thing?”

  “Yes. That means you are working. No longer broken.”

  “Was I badly broken?”

  “You were, but now, you are brand new,” she said with such pride.

  “Is the sound gone forever now?”

  “No, it will be with you forever. You’ll hear it every day, especially before, during, and after lust and passion. It does that because sex---it will all be too much for your brain to handle. And, that sound will also commence when, if ever, you fall in love. It won’t sound the same though. It will sound like music. It’ll be the most beautiful sound of music you’d ever hear.”