Nightmares: Disembodied Vengeance
Newsflash!! The serial rapist that has terrorized all of Jacksonville the past six months was captured earlier today by police at the home of local residents, George and Martha Pruitt. The assailant, unknown at this time, had entered the home by unknown means, immobilized the husband, and brutally raped the young woman. Unable to help his wife, the husband managed to reach a cell phone, and dialed 911, alerting police. The assailant was caught in the act, and taken away. The Pruitts were taken away to a local hospital to be treated. Martha Pruitt died of her injuries later that day.
“This is Carmen Vasquez, with Channel 34 Action News! There’s been an update on the serial rapist case. Police have released the name of the rapist. Dr. James Specten, head researcher for the international TransCorp Marketing corporation, headquarted here in Jacksonville, was indighted on eight-six separate counts of rape, assault and battery, and one count of murder in the first degree. Specten, aged thirty-eight, faces trial later today in what will no doubt be the next ‘Trial of the Century’ with a turnout expected to make the OJ Simpson trial pale by comparison. If convicted, the Doctor could face the death penalty, death my electrocution.
A spokesperson for TransCorp Marketing, Marquita Queenland, pubilcally renounced any ties with Dr. Specten, trying to put as much distance between the man and his former workplace. Sources tell us that Dr. Specten was working on a top secret research project, a way to revolutionize the shipping industry. Because of this fiasco, the company has placed further research on hold, and may decide to scrap the project altogether. More news as it develops! This has been Carmen Vasquez—”
“Nice looking woman, don’t you think Charley?” Dr. Specten asked his cellmate, as he flipped off the television. “Not that you are really in any position to judge.” That much was true. Dr. James Specten was a brilliant scientist, an expert in physics and electromechanics. He was also a sadistic sexually depraved man with a taste for extreme dominance. He was physically unassuming, standing about fice foot eight, one hundred sixty-five pounds. One would not have expected him to last very long in the maximum security prison locked in with a six-two, three hundred and ten pound serial killer, with an extreme penchant for violence. Charley certainly hadn’t. Until he found himself naked in their cell, squealing like a pig while his roommate ran him up the ass.
Charlie and the rest of the inmate soon learned that Dr. Specten had a talent for dominating. A thorough study of hypnosis and brainwashing, Doc Specten made a public show of handling anyone that sought to provoke him in any way. Charlie had become nothing more than his own little fucktoy, cowering fearfully in the corner, naked, still sweaty after their last romp. James shook his head softly. It wasn’t NEARLY as enjoyable dominating and fucking his cellmate as it had been fuck and dominate all those lovely young women. Oh well, in jail there were only men, and beggars couldn’t be choosers. Still, with a little luck he would soon be back out on the street, and THIS time he wouldn’t get caught. This time he’d not get to carried away in the pleasure to mindwipe his victims so they couldn’t identify him.
“Specter? Dr. James Specter?” the prison guard called out. A young woman was with him, and he recalled her from earlier as the district attorney. “Which one of you is Dr. James Specter?”
“Specten! With an ‘N’ not an ‘R’!” James cried out. Whomever the court clerk was he was personally going to fuck her good for not fixing the damn ‘N’ key. Every paper having to do with his case had smudged the letter ‘n’ to look like a lowercase ‘r’ so everyone kept calling him Specter. Like he was already dead and gone, a specter, a ghost! It infuriated him to no end.
“Ah, yes,” the woman said nasally, snorting in disgust at the sight of Charlie huddling naked in the corner. “I’d like to talk to you for a moment if I could...perhaps in a PRIVATE room?” She eyed Charlie again with unease, and chuckling with evil glee, James nodded.
“Sure. Alone in private sounds kinda cozy.”
“Alright, Doc,” the guard said, unlocking the door and shoving James out. “No funny stuff. I’ll be in the room with you, and three more guards will be standing right outside, ready to rush in and beat your ass at the first sign of trouble! Now be nice for the lady and move it!”
Grumbling sullenly, he complied, following the pair to a visitation room. “Let me get to the point and let you go back to your cell,” the young woman said. “We have enough evidence in this case to send you to the chair. The man positively identified you as the assailant, and the woman’s statement before she died will no doubt push the jury to recommend the maximum sentence. You are NOT going to walk on this one, Specter.” SPECTEN! the doctor shouted in his head. “So why talk to you at all? Simple. There are eighty-three other unsolved rapes going back over the past six months, and all the victims were too traumatized to recall who had raped them. We know it was you, doctor, but we have no proof, and we have no evidence to support it. If you are willing to confess to the other rapes, then we’ll try and push for life in prison. You won’t get the chair, I promise you.”
James was a smart man. He knew he was between a rock and a hard place. A man could always escape from prison if he was clever enough. There was no escaping from DEATH. He decided to deal. “If I confess, you’ll cut a deal? No chair? Is that an IRON-CLAD promise?”
The woman smiled softly, extending her hand. “I give you my word.”
I give you my word, I give you my word, I give you my word. Those very words echoed through James’ shattered mind as he sat on death row, awaiting midnight. The trial had gone smoothly, efficiently, and quickly. He had confessed to over eighty counts of rape and torture, one of which resulted in the death of a young woman. However, the jury decided on the maximum penalty, and glancing at the lawyer’s face as he was literally dragged out of court kicking and screaming, he saw her smile serenely at him, confident that she had gotten the last laugh.
For a few days afterwards, moved into an isolated cell awaiting his date with the chair, James became slightly unhinged. He ranted, raved, foamed at the mouth, bit and clawed at the door and the walls, seeking some kind of escape. Eventually, he calmed down, and relaxed, slipping into an almost dormant state, saying nothing, seeing nothing, merely staring straight ahead at the wall for more than five days. The warden feared he might starve to death, but just as the time came to order medical assistance, he miraculously snapped out of it. He was like a new man, the complete opposite of the old arrogant, cranky, overt James Specten. The NEW James was polite and courteous to the guards and the inmates, quiet and introverted, almost to the point of being withdrawn.
Inside his mind, however, the same evil James plotted and planned. During his near breakdown, he’d had a moment of clarity. The final component to his research, that he had worked on so long ago, appeared in his head. Like a flash, he knew how to fix it. His invention, his Transitions phasing device, model four, or Trans-4 device as he called it, could literally transport matter from one place to another. The problem had been creating a flux inverter capable of handling the massive amount of power used to disassemble and reassemble matter without burning out. In that one moment of clarity he discovered the solution: the components were irrelevant to the process, it was the orientation, or the shape of the inductor’s flow that provided the catalyst for the process. Trading favors and cigarettes with several inmates netted him the components he needed to construct a small portable device. All that was missing was a power source.
The day of his execution arrived, and surprisingly to all, James looked forward to it. He had concealed the small device, the size and shape of a slender metal rod, inside his ass. He had set the destination, and the time of his escape. And at precisely midnight, the state of Florida would provide him with the power for his device. James smiled to himself as he was led into the room, his hands and feet strapped down. Whether or not his invention worked, this would be his last night of incarceration.
The witnesses walked into the adjacent room, and James noted with disdain that the female prosecutor was in attendance. She still wore that same superior smile on her face, and inside his calm exterior, the mad doctor raged. The executioner placed his hand to the switch as the priest asked him for the record if he had any last words. Speaking loudly and clearly for all to hear, he said, “I just want you all to know, that I will STILL get the last laugh on all of you. Especially you, Ms. District Attorney. When I get out of here, you’ll be the first one I fuck over but good!”
The clock struck midnight and the handle came down. BOOM! A million volts of raw power coursed through James Specten’s body, firing every synapse, every neuron, every cell of his body with energy. The seconds seemed to stretch like hours, as the mad doctor could feel every cell of his being explode one by one, his brain steaming and expanding like a hot dog in the microwave. Unimaginable pain filled his being, dominating him as he had dominated all those women, until it eclipsed him, shadowing his entire being in that one sensation. A roaring heat started to fill his body, from deep within him, starting low in his chest and filling out slowly, and in the few seconds before his death, James cursed that he was living long enough to experience yet ANOTHER torturous pain. As his unseeing eyes finally glazed over, and his body fell limp, the last thought on his mind was to wonder idly what had went wrong with the inverter.
Judge Brian Turner shook his head softly as the prison staff removed the body, taking it to the prison morgue. He turned to the lawyer, Brenda Gleeson. “Well, one less psychotic on the street,” he said in a tired voice. “Crazy to the very end, I get the feeling that he was actually surprised when he died.”
“Crazy as a loon,” Brenda agreed. “But at least he’s gone now. I for one can sleep better knowing that bastard is gone from this world.”
“CAN YOU, Brenda?” Judge Turner said, eyeing the young lady candidly. The room was now clear of everyone except the two of them. “I admit that this was a man I personally wanted to see fry. One of his victims was my next door neighbor, and a long time friend. And I know about your aunt. But we both know that things went sour on the deal you made with this man, and I for one still lose sleep over the fact that the system cheated him!”
“Well, your honor, there may or may not have been an ‘alleged’ deal with him, and he may or may not have been cheated. But officially the case is closed, and neither side has any complaints. Not anymore, anyway,” she said, gesturing at the smoking remains. “If you’ll excuse me, your honor, I have court tomorrow, and I better be getting home to bed.”
Judge Turner sighed softly, shaking his head. Watching the young twenty eight year old lawyer exit, he felt he could almost understand a man going crazy and wanting to rape her. “She is a nice piece of ass,” he thought to himself.
Driving back home, Brenda switched on the local radio station, relaxing as the sounds of Metallica’s ‘Whisky in the Jar-O’. She wasn’t worried about the judge reporting her, or calling for a board of inquiry. If he had meant to, he’d long since done so, instead of waiting until after the man was executed. Still, it bothered her that he was concerned at all. To her, that bastard had gotten exactly what he deserved, and she hoped Hell had a nice cozy little spot reserved and waiting for him when he finally arrived. A familiar smile spread across her face as she relaxed, turning up the radio, as the guitars faded, and the next verse came on:
“Bren-da, you were naugh-ty...”
“Bren-da, you were sin-ful...”
“So I’m gon-na get you...”
“You’re gon-na get an ear-ful...”
“Don’t think you can run...”
“And don’t think you can hide...”
“And no you ain’t a dream-in’...”
“I’m gonna fill you with my sem-en...”
“I’m gon-na...fuck you long and hard and deep...”
“Fuck you in that sex-y twat!”
“Yeah, fuck you in that pus-sy...” Then the guitars cut back in as normal, the original song resuming as if nothing unusual at all had happened. Brenda, her hands clenched in a death grip on the steering wheel, managed to pull off the road and stop the car while she tried to regain her composure. The lead singer of Metallica had been singing her a threat, to HER! She had heard the song a few hundred times, and knew the lyrics, the music, everything by heart, and the voice was definitely that of James Hetfield. James...could it have been a message from ANOTHER James? James Specten?
“No...no that’s impossible!” she told herself, pulling the car back into traffic, continuing on her way home. “James Specten is dead. I watched him die myself less than an hour ago. This was just some trick, probably something he had one of his friends outside of jail set up.” Brenda calmed down somewhat at the thought. He HAD said he’d get the last laugh, and if he knew how badly he had just shaken her, he would no doubt be rolling in his coffin. “Stinking bastard!” she yelled. “I hope you rot in hell!”
Brenda managed to make her way home without any other surprises, and deactivating her security alarm, she entered her house, undressing tiredly as she made her way to the bedroom, before dropping exhausted into bed. As soon as her eyes closed, she drifted into a dark murky place, a place of dreams. She found herself floating in the darkness, weightless. Soft whispers sounded from somewhere outside the darkness, whispers she could not discern, but somehow still registered in her sleeping subconscious. Slowly a face began to form in front of her eyes, a familiar face, still mostly hidden in the shadows, but visible enough for her to recognize. It was the face of James Specten.
“Nnn...No. No...you’re...you’re dead,” she whispered softly in her sleep, twisting and turning in her bed. The face in her dreams merely smiled. “You’re just...just a dream...not real...not real.”
“ Oh, you’d be surprised how real I am, Brenda,“ the voice in her head spoke. ” Thanks to you, I was forced to play my trump card, try an all-or-nothing chance at freedom. It worked...although not like I planned. My invention transported me safely out of the prison to my laboratory—that is the ME that is my embodiment, my essence, my soul. My body remained behind, where it was fried to a cinder! But don’t think me helpless, Brenda, oh no! In my line of work, you either adapt or you fail. I’ve chosen to adapt.“ Brenda shook her head furiously, struggling still in her sleep. Sweat ran off her forehead, even with the temperature a comfortable seventy-five degrees. In her dream the man reached out and touched her cheek, and she shivered, the touch feeling so real it was UNREAL. Still she could not awaken, could not open her eyes.
“ Oh no, my little victim,“ he gurgled evilly, running his ghostly hands across her naked unmoving body. ” I don’t want you waking up and spoiling my fun just yet! You see, I’ve learned a few things in the past few hours since my...separation. Like how I can basically influence your mind and your way of thinking, just like rewiring a computer.“ She shuddered, letting out a moan, her pussy starting to moisten. ” And you have some really really BAD wiring in here, Brenda. Like this...what use is it for a hot young girl like you to want to be so dominant and controlling of everything around her?“ SNIP Still asleep, Brenda’s eyes flew open, and rolled into the back of her head in pleasure. ” And sexual orientation? Men only? How boring in this day and age. And yet you think of yourself as a truly modern open-minded woman. Well, you’ll be MUCH more ‘open minded’ now, I think.“ SNIP Brenda’s body began to shake and twist spasmodically in orgasm, twitching as if she had been electrocuted. Inside her mind she was screaming, in rage, in fear, in frustration, as every change he made in her mind caused her body to writhe in sexual pleasure, but despite it all she was helpless to do anything but lie there.
“ Let’s see...oh no no no, this will never do. Taste in clothes?” SNIP ”choices in make-up and beauty aids“ SNIP ”sexual inhibitions and feelings against exhibitionism, SNIP SNIP SNIP ” all have to go. Now, what does that leave us? Oh yes. One final piece of mental engineering to install. You will learn to recognize me and anyone else I so choose, as your Master. I don’t have a body...per sae, with which to carry out any discipling but that will change soon enough. I want to make sure you’re properly submissive and compliant when the time comes.“
A surge of warmth seemed to rise slowly inside her, from the tips of her toes to the crown of her head, filling her with such untapped pleasure that she felt her very being buckle under the onslaught. Deep inside, Brenda knew she was being changed, being redefined, by the ghost of the man she had sent to the chair. It frightened her, yet as each second passed, she found her fear giving way to the pleasure, being swallowed up by the desire to give in, even willing the changes to proceed faster. Soon Brenda was begging the spirit to corrupt her more, lead her deeper into depravity, to the point of no return. Her sleeping hands moved to her crotch, plundering her slickened thighs as the sweet torture continued, leading her into an excruciatingly slow rise to orgasm. Finally, sensing his work complete, the mental embodiment of James Specten released his hold on her passions, allowing the frantic woman to climax, and she came, and came and came, until her body could take no more and she fell back into a peaceful restful slumber.
The alarm went off at exactly eight o’ clock AM, and Brenda quickly hit the button, yawning and stretching as she came awake. Her hands touched the wet soaked sheets between her legs and she smiled. “Wow, I must have had one very erotic dream last night,” she thought to herself. Her fingers wandered unbidden to her clit, teasing the little nubbin gently, as Brenda sighed in pleasure. “Mmmmm, that feels good. I wonder why I used to look down on masturbation all this time, this is sooo fucking great!” She stopped, confusion marring her features. Where had that thought come from? It had been ages since she’s had sex of any kind, and NEVER with herself! Sex wasn’t important to her, work and success was. Time enough for other such pursuits later in life once she was established.
“I need to shower and get ready for court,” she thought to herself decidedly. Rising from the bed, she went to her closet, picked out her clothes, and walked to the bathroom. Glancing in the mirror for a moment, she smiled and licked her lips. “Damn, baby, you are one hot little piece of pussy!” Hands closed around her mouth in surprise. What the hell was going on? Was she losing her mind? Yet the thought stayed with her, seeming to increase not decrease. She felt dirty, slutty.] Moving into the shower, she began washing her body, rubbing the soap on and around her lithe form, but soon descended into another round of auto-erotica, concentrating on her supple breasts, and her hot steamy pussy. By the time the water turned cold, her thighs were wet, not from the water, but from her own juices. Panting, shaking with confusion and arousal, she managed to make her way back into her bedroom.
“What’s happening to me?” she asked aloud, almost expecting someone to answer. She felt out of control...control...the very word sparked something in her. Brenda was out of control. What she needed was someone to control her, someone to put her back in her place, someone to use her like the wanton slut she was! These thoughts and others began to gain momentum as she swiftly dressed, grabbed her suitcase, and made her way to the courtroom.
“All rise!” Bailiff Smith called, as Judge Turner walked into the room. The fifty-two year old man, nodded to all as he climbed behind his bench and sat down, gesturing for everyone else to do the same. Reviewing today’s file of cases, he didn’t immediately notice Ms. Gleeson sitting at the prosecution’s table, but once he prepared to call the first case he noticed. And he promptly dropped his gavel onto the floor below, resulting in a loud clanking sound that caught everyone else’s attention as well.
“Ms. Gleeson!” he sputtered. “Is this some kind of joke? If it is this is in very poor taste! Half an hour recess, everyone—Ms. Gleeson I’ll see YOU in my chambers. NOW!” Brenda winced under the harsh words, wondering idly just what she had done to piss of the judge so early in the day, while secretly enjoying the forceful way he had ordered her to his chambers. Once the door closed, Judge Turner turned around to face Brenda. “Okay, Ms. District Attorney, what is this all about?”
“Huh?” Brenda said, dumbfounded. “What do you mean, your honor? What did I do wrong?”
“What did you do wrong?” The man shook his head. “Ms. Gleeson, I warn you that I will not tolerate you making a mockery of my courtroom. If you don’t want to end up spending the night in jail for contempt, then you had damn well better explain your clothes!”
“What? My...my clothes?” Brenda looked down at herself, as if seeing for the first time the ultra short black leather skirt, the thigh high kid leather boots, the black leather corsets, pronouncing her breasts so exquisitely, and the black studded collar around her neck. Turning red with shame, Brenda struggled to explain. “I’m...I don’t know what came over me...I remember taking out my navy blouse and dress like always...I’ve never even seen these clothes before! Judge Turner, please you have to believe me!” It sounded lame even to herself, yet every word was the truth. Worse, her clit was throbbing like crazy, and she suspected that Judge Turner could smell her juices flowing like tapwater down her thighs.
“I don’t know what has gotten into you, Brenda,” Judge Turner said softly, trying not to give in to the sinful slutty image before him, “but I cannot allow you to get away with such a blatant disregard for proper courtroom procedure. I’m afraid that I have no choice but to have you disciplined!” Discipline! Brenda moaned loudly, her legs buckling, as she slipped to the office floor in orgasm. “Brenda!” the judge shouted hauling her to her feet. “Get a hold of yourself! Do you want me to come up with a stiffer punishment?” Punishment! This time, the mind-mazed lawyer let out a loud scream of pleasure, grabbing the judge’s robe and ripping it wildly, exposing Brian Turner’s underwear (she had always wondered what they wore under there) which she quickly pulled down, and pressed herself tightly against him, thrusting her hips, seeking to guide and force his powerful cock into her needy pussy.
“Oh God, Judge Turner! Please...uhhh uhhh please! PLEASE! Punish me, spank me, discipline me, punish me! I was bad, so bad, so fucking naughty! A tramp, a tart, a little slut! I need you to fuck me, your honor! Please fuck the bad naughty little slut, punish her poor wet pussy! UGGHHHHH oh GOD!! Yes, please, Judge PLEASE!”
Brian Turner, a bit surprised and appalled by the normally cold calculating lawyer, finds himself roused by her words, his raging cock seeming to thrust of its own accord inside her pussy, fucking her like the whore she was, like the tramp she claimed to be. This was the fantasy he had dreamed about ever since he had first met Brenda Gleeson, and the realization of his dream coming true sucked away any thoughts of impropriety, as he gave in to his inner demons and fucked the girl for all he was worth, reaching back and spanking her ass randomly between thrusts. “Yes...yes, Brenda. You were a bad girl! A little tramp...walking around in my court like that! What a BAD BAD girl you are! I’ll redden that plump little ass of yours until you learn how to behave!” His words driving her deeper into her lust, Brenda crossed her legs, locking her heels together and forcing Judge Turner’s cock in even DEEPER, screaming as she felt the tip touch her very core, before sliding out and thrusting in again just as deep, tickling her insides with pleasures she had only imagined in her dreams. Too far gone now, the one noble judge slipped a long slender finger into the whimpering girl’s sore red ass, sliding it in all the way to the knuckle, fucking her asshole as his cock worked her pussy. With a deep grunt of pleasure, Brenda began to cum, her body shuddering in orgasm, her pussy walls clenching the judge’s cock like a vice, causing him to follow close behind. Finally with one last heave, both fell to the floor, exhausted, clenching each other tightly, lost in the pleasure, as they drifted off to sleep.
James Specten watched idly as the two lay on the floor, asleep. His influence on the judge’s mind had helped bring out his latent sexuality very nicely. Within minutes, the bailiff would enter, finding the two asleep together, naked, and the fiasco that followed would end with the Judge and lawyer both disbarred and disgraced. They would never outlive the scandal. Specten smiled softly to himself, his ethereal form residing for the moment in the judge’s computer. In time he would figure out how to fix the problem his transporter had caused, changing him into a being of mind instead of body. Soon enough, he would find a way to re-enter the physical world. But in the meantime, he was content to use his new found abilities to help him gain vengeance on all those who had wronged him. After all, being able to enter the mind and body of anyone at will had its advantages. Just then the door opened, and the court bailiff entered, staring at the couple in shock. With an unearthly laugh, James the SPECTER dialed himself back out, traveling by modem back to his lab.