When the door opened, Michell was standing there with a paper in her hand. She had been crying. Her makeup was running, her hair, a frightful sight, and her demeanor once she saw Travis, went from a sobbing mess to a raging bitch. She slapped him, hard. "YOU CHEATING SON OF A BITCH!!"
"Excuse me?" He asked humbly.
She reached out, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, and slung him into the room and slammed the door. She didn't want anyone else to know. "You asshole, you freaking asshole. I TRUSTED YOU!"
Travis was shocked. He had no earthly idea what she was talking about. In the back of his mind, he knew it couldn't be his late-night rendezvous with what he thought was the devil. "What are you talking about?" He asked.
The paper in her hand, she pressed to his chest. "READ IT YOU CHEATING PIECE OF SHIT!"
He looked down while she paced. "I passed out today in class and went to the school clinic. I fucking tested positive for HPVR!!!! My fucking ovaries and uterus are eaten up with viral warts, you son of a bitch!" She pointed at him. "READ IT ASS HOLE! Based on the incubation cultures, I've only had it for a few days, Travis. HPVR is the most aggressive form of genital warts on the face of the earth you prick! I will be lucky if I don't have to get a hysterectomy!"
She began to sob. "Why could you do this? How?" She paced and pointed at him. "I knew something was wrong. I just knew it. And now… I may not even be able to have kids, Travis. How could you do this to me, to us? HOW?!"
He tried to think, but what he said definitely didn't help. "HPVR can be cured, hey, look, you can always have a new uterus cloned and replaced."
She reached for a book off a shelf and tossed it at him. "Are you even hearing yourself? You gave this to me, Travis! YOU! How could you be so insensitive about this?! Yeah, I know there is a cure, I go tomorrow to start it you asshole. There is no guarantee Travis that the insurance will pay for me to have, as you put it, a cloned replacement!"
She glared at him. "Who was she, Travis?"
Travis couldn't answer that. He just stood there, lowering his head. Michelle scoffed. "Almost three years Travis, I never thought you were the type to cheat. She started taking off her engagement ring.
Travis noticed and put his hand out. "Michelle, no!"
She walked over to him, grabbed his hand, and placed a shiny gold ring with a single small diamond cluster at the top of the loop in his palm. "Get out of here, Travis. It is over, and I never want to see your cheating face again. EVER!"
She walked over to the door and opened it. "GO!"
"Wait, Michelle, don't do this, I promise, this isn't what you think."
"You gave me an STI Travis, one of the worst ones for women. You cheated on me; how could I ever trust you again." She pointed to the door. "I asked you to leave."
He got on his knees. "Please, I haven't been myself lately, Michelle, this isn't my fault. Please don't do this. I love you so much, Michelle, I would never hurt you."
She scoffed. "Not your fault? So what? Are you trying to actually tell me that your dick accidentally fell into some infested hoochie's snatch? Is that what you are telling me?" She tearfully smirked.
She pointed to the door, "GET OUT NOW!"
He started crying. "Michelle, please, you're the only thing left that means anything to me! I swear to God, this is not what you think it is! I love you!"
She went over and pressed a handprint module on the wall. It lit up with the face of a faceless droid that looked sort of like a human wearing a blue metal scaled stalking covering their face. "Yes, Michelle Laserton?"
"I have an unwelcome guest in my domicile. Can you do something about it?" The masculine voice asked.
Travis looked at the ground and stood up. It was now be arrested or leave. He picked up the ring off the floor and put it into his front left pocket to his jeans. "Fine. I'll leave."
He walked out the door as she stood there in the archway. The look on her face was still fueled with rage. HPVR was one of the harshest sexually transmitted diseases a woman could catch. The virus evolved from the HPV virus, but during the nuclear fallout of World War III, the virus mutated. Often causing massive tissue damage to the ovaries and uterus, ninety percent of women that catch it, are fully symptomatic in a matter of days. It is the number one cause of ovarian cancer now. She had every right to be upset at catching it.
Travis's mental and emotional state had taken a blow that he just couldn't handle. He had been kicked out of the University, he knew just how upset his parents would be, and now, he had the love of his life taken from him by means he couldn't explain. Travis wanted to die. His next meeting with the devil was it. If God would show him no mercy, seeing as how abandoned he felt, he hoped at the devil would
Travis left for the warehouse. He arrived in the P2 district and looked around at the derelicts all around him. He belonged here. He deserved this. He thought over and over about how his preacher warned against drinking and clubs, it was a club where this all started, and a pitcher of beer he owed a friend. Travis felt that this was where he belonged, he belonged amongst the prostitutes working the corner, the johns making their rounds, and the drug dealers in this section of the City making their currency. Travis felt, this was it, this was his home now.
He walked along the sidewalk with his head facing forward. He was waiting for this to come to an end, and if the devil could show him no mercy, then perhaps this new world was where he needed to set up residence.
The warehouse was well lit tonight. Travis could see shadows moving around every window, most of them, the silhouettes of oral sex or full-on fucking taking place. He opened the door and walked inside. It was a busy night.
He found the metal steps and walked up, slowly undressing. He knew what was waiting for him. When he opened the door to the room with a broken six hanging upside down, he saw the torturous man standing there with his spiked collar necklace, his spiked bracelets, and his cock swinging back and forth. He was ready, waiting on Travis to get into the sling.
Walking in, Travis began speaking. "You've taken everything from me. My grades slipped, and now I'm both kicked out of school, and homeless. You took my fiancé from me." He dropped to his knees. "Please, Satan, Devil, demon, or whatever you are, just get this over with. Just kill me."
Cale cocked his head. He honestly didn't care. He just wanted this man for himself. Heidi, however, using an illusion to hide, could see into Travis's mind. Part of her felt bad about it; another part of her felt okay with it. This man was a present to Cale, a handsome gift, and nothing more. The two sides fussed, but it was her loyalty to her friend that won out. She made the illusion happen sooner than usual; Cale looked like a demon standing there while she nursed her bloody nose.
"Then you are min Travis, your body, and your fucking soul, and that sweet tight ass of yours!" Cale said while the illusion made Travis tremble in fear.
"Just get this over with."
"Awe, is Travis not in the mood tonight?" Cale asked.
Travis got into the swing as Cale fastened him in. "I'm Yours devil, just do what you want and get it over with."
"Awe, I hate it when you're no fun, Travis. Tell you what, let's get you in the mood, huh?" Cale reached down and grabbed a beer bottle and began slowly teasing the blunt in against Travis's hole.
Travis took a deep breath. "Do it." He said.
Cale stuck it in, slowly. He played with Travis's hole with the beer bottle for almost ten minutes, smiling and watching it go in and out. "Get that hole nice and ready for this big devil dick…"
Heidi began to lose her concentration. Something was going on downstairs. She could hear Interpol agents raiding the warehouse. She didn't listen to it with her ears, but her mind, she could hear their thoughts. They were raiding and looking for prostitutes that didn't have a prostitution license. She quickly looked at Cale. "We have to go! NOW!"
Cale turned around, "What?"
She looked at him. "Interpol raid checking licenses, we have to leave now!" She said to h
im, telepathically.
Cale pat Travis on the face. While Cale may have looked human, the flames and demons all around him vanishing, Heidi remained out of sight. "Have to go stud, might see you again." He left Travis tied in the sling with the beer bottle inside him. The bottle was entirely shoved inside; only the tip of the neck was poking out.
Travis watched as Cale put his clothing on and was leaving. "You're leaving me?" Travis asked.
Cale turned around and shrugged. "Playtimes over Travis. Until next time." Cale took a bow right after putting his pants on and walked out the door.
Travis found himself in the back of an
ambulance shackled to the hover stretcher. Given that he was in the sling had an object in his rectum, and naked, with no prostitution license, it didn't look good. To make matters worse, when Interpol checked his Driver’s license, his funding accounts popped up; in his checking account, he had numerous twenty to fifty currency uploads, which Travis tried to explain that they were from winning bets at laser pool. Given the location and state in which he had been found, Interpol had no choice but to assume he was a prostitute.
_____
Interpol Station C. Bastion City.
Hank Newstead was beside himself as his wife sat in a chair quietly and having a profound look of disbelief on their faces. If it wasn't enough that they found out he had been released from school, finding out their son was a prostitute had pushed both parents over the edge, especially Hank. The balding man paced back and forth, waiting on an Interpol agent to come out and give them more info, that and being at Station C, there were medical teams present, speaking with one of the doctors would have been nice, so far they were in the throes of suspense. They couldn't believe their son had been doing all of this without them knowing.
Agent Jefferson entered the waiting room. Jefferson was a younger agent, pleasant to the eye, lean, and dressed accordingly in his white and black suit. He sat down in front of both parents. A lawyer entered the room; next, Lacy Neal from the public defenders' office, she was pretty, brown hair, shoulder-length, and in a white suit and skirt. She looked like the type that was a hard hitter.
Jefferson started first. "Mr. and Mrs. Newstead?"
Both parents got up and came over the table. Hank was cursing. "This better be fucking good news?"
Marium slapped his arm. "Hank, would god want you talking this way?"
The man rolled his eyes and looked at the Agent and the attorney present. "Yeah, that's us."
Jefferson nodded. "Your son is being charged with prostitution without a license."
Lacy looked over at the Agent and smirked. She butted in. "Interpol is imposing a ten thousand currency bond before he can be released, but he does need medical treatment. I tried to argue it down to five, but so far, Interpol is being less cooperative." She looked at the Agent roll his eyes. "This is your son's first offense of any kind, so I am sure I can get his fines reduced."
Hank looked at her. "My son had a beer bottle shoved up his ass and hanging out in some whore house strapped to some ungodly sex toy. Not to mention, he has been slutting his ass around till he got dropped from his classes. I don't care what deals you make for my son, but we are not bailing him out."
Lacy looked surprised. "Mr. Newstead, if you do not post his bond, he is looking at six weeks or longer before they even get to his case. Not to mention, this is his first offense, and according to…"
Hank interrupted. "That doctor that was in here earlier? Yeah, what a load of bullshit."
Lacy tried to take charge of the conversation. "Doctor Wade examined your son thoroughly; he does have signs of cranial swelling that could…"
He interrupted again. "No flipping sensitive did this. I have never heard of sensitives being able to manipulate anyone to this degree. My son got himself in trouble. He can get himself out of it."
Marium spoke up. "Don't forget he gave Michelle that horrible virus."
Lacy couldn't believe what she was seeing. "Your son needs your help. Cranial swelling along with swelling to the cerebrum is a textbook sign of sensitive manipulation, especially the amount of micro-tears in the cerebrum we have seen in case after case of sensitive influences, which your son has, along with decreased levels of oxytocin and his dopamine levels were off the chart which again is textbook symptoms for mind control. For the record, there are different levels of sensitives, a level four or higher, could have easily manipulated your son."
Hank yelled, "SO YOU'RE GOING TO PLAY THIS, THE DEVIL MADE ME DO IT BULL CRAP?!" He simmered down. "If my son said the devil made him do it, then he clearly doesn't love Jesus enough to have been protected from God's loving grace."
Lacy rolled her eyes. "What kind of Christian leaves their child to fend for themselves?"
Hank yelled. "ONES PRACTICING TOUGH LOVE!" He stood up and looked over at Marium. "Come on Marium, At least we know where he will be."
_____
Thirteen weeks later.
Having nowhere to go, Travis, thanks to Lacy Neal, and Doctor Wade, they had set him up in a group home for those who had been victims of mind control. Travis's parents had never contacted him since leaving him that day Lacy Neal had spoken with them about his bail.
Travis was on his own. It had taken thirteen weeks for the judge to hear Travis's case finally, and with the medical evidence, Lacy had given a good fight, the charges had been dropped, but now, he was on his own, alone, and having not a friend in the world to come to his aid. During the investigation, most of his friends bailed on him, thinking the allegations to be true. Even with the evidence, Michelle couldn't accept it either.
The building Travis was in, was located in an older part of what was once Brooklyn that was still being refurbished and added to Bastion City. It was an old apartment building. Everyone living there was either victims or residential staff members. Some of the victims required around the clock care due to the programing some of the more nefarious sensitive criminals would inflict.
Travis had just carried some city-issued attire to his apartment. It was small, only a single sized bed, a small kitchenette, and a table with a metal chair, nothing more than that other than a closet to store things in. Once he put his things away, he was to report first thing to a group session on the bottom floor. Thanks to Doctor Wade's neural dampening techniques, some of the damage had been reversed. He was still dealing with the traumatic parts, however.
Dressed in a blue shirt, jeans, and white hand-me-down shoes, Travis walked into the large room and took a seat in a metal chair. It was just as he expected it to be. The chairs were arranged so that everyone could see each other.
There were forty-two seats, one for each person staying here, though, by the time the door shut, only twenty-five seats were filled. A man wearing thick black glasses, a tablet in his right hand, short dark hair, and blue eyes that were dressed casually came and sat down. He seemed a little nervous. "Hi everyone, welcome to the group. Those of you who are attending for the first time, my name is Atlas Chrome, I will be your group therapist for the next few weeks." He looked around the room, "would anyone like to start?"
The name announcements started. It wasn't long until the circle reached Travis. He was shy, "I'm Travis."
Every time a person said their name, most of the seasoned patients spoke in unison, welcoming the newcomer. Travis was one of seven new members. The next one was a bald man about Travis's age, thickly built. The man looked like the type one would expect to see bouncing at a bar; he had that look about him. "I'm Todd Ablestien." The man looked over at Travis then around the room.
After the names were announced, Atlas got to the grit of it. "Let's start by saying it out loud, What has been done to me, is not my fault, and I forgive myself."
Most everyone said it out loud except for the newcomers. Atlas looked at Travis and the others. "Each day, when you wake up in the morning, I want you to say that to yourself in the mirror. It was not your fault, what happened to everyone in this room, every person here had t
heir minds taken from them, some in this room did horrible things, and it is not your fault."
He pointed to a woman rocking back and forth a little. She had a homely look about her, unkempt, and deranged to a degree. She was young, around her late twenties or so. Travis couldn't tell. Atlas asked her to stand. "Harmony, would you mind starting off with your experience?"
Her stringy looking brown hair was in her face. She moved it as she stood up. Her body posture indicated she was timid, but she did as he asked. "I've been here for two years… A sensitive had robbed a store, and when I was getting into my car, he made me give him the keys. I had just strapped my two-year-old into her car seat. She was sleeping when he came up to the drivers' side window and made me give him the keys and get out. I had no control over it. I felt like I was a puppet. No matter how hard I screamed inside my head, he had control. He didn't even give me a chance to get my little girl. He crashed my hovercar while law enforcers were in pursuit; she didn't make it." She looked around and sat back down.
A man stood up, an older man. He looked Hindu maybe, or perhaps Indian, Travis just watched and listened. "I'm Heskle Sira. My grandson was a sensitive that got involved with the wrong crowd. He got hooked on drugs and used my wife and me against our will to pay for his habits. He... was high on Mexaphedamin when he caused my wife's brain to hemorrhage. I... I watched my own grandson, cause my wife's head to…" He choked up. "To explode because she tried to resist giving him more currency." He started weeping. "He killed two law enforcers before being gunned down." He sat down.
Travis listened to several stories. Each one varying in detail, but to Travis, the story was the same. A sensitive made good people do bad things.
Dark Temptations Page 3