Kasyn, the Spunk-Prince

While Kyler learns more about Kasyn’s strange offspring, born of the orchid boys of the Moon, his enemies plot a new outrage…

The priest young priest, Elisha, had suspected that his return to the Chaos Ejaculatum, after having failed in his mission at Prince Kyler’s compound, would be poorly received by his peers, but he’d seriously underestimated the dark depth of his superiors’ dismay. He understood it much better, however, when he found himself stripped naked and bound by his wrists and ankles to the Frame of Discipline, receiving one strike upon the next of the Righteous Paddle to his bare buttocks. After the twelfth blow, he cried out, sobbing for mercy. The Head Disciplinarian was unmoved. He circled around the Frame to peer into Elisha’s face. Elisha noticed the thick bulge in the Disciplinarian’s jock, and felt a twinge of outrage and fear over how the torturer was evidently aroused by his work upon Elisha’s ass. Said the cowled man: “If you cannot be silent for your remaining eight strikes, then I will switch from the Righteous Paddle to the Sublime Cane and turn your punk ass into a bloody ragged mess.” Elisha forced himself to silence, forced himself to concentrate heavily on the silent mantras of the Cult Cthulhu and he even prayed to his new Church’s impassive deity that he not be subjected to the cane. Eventually, eight paddle-strike later, the excruciation was finished. Or so he thought.

The Frame of Discipline rotated and then tipped end-to-end and it lowered, suspending Elisha in the air on his back. The bindings gripped more tightly under his full weight, pulled down by gravity, and he feared his joints would break. But then a small relief came when his back settled to rest on a platform that had been slid beneath him by the Disciplinarian. He assumed that he was about to be released, but, again, he was mistaken.

Into the dank stone-walled torture room entered a trio of men he’d not have recognized in any case because of their masks, though their bare chests bore some of the markings of the Cult as well as icons of the Cult’s new allies the Church. And among them was a woman, tall and copper-skinned and white-haired, that hair pulled back severely, and she was dressed in a conservative grey business suit. “What is this?” Elisha said. “Why is there a nektonic witch among you?”

“So this is the young priest Elisha,” said the woman, stepping close to the Frame of Discipline, peering down at him, at his naked body. “It’s hard to believe that they relied on a green young lad like you to bring us the balls of the devil boy.”

“Us!” gasped Elisha. “And who do you mean by ‘us?’ We have no truck with the witches!” He looked at the impassive masked Church trio. “What is going on here? Answer me! Why is there a dirty witch down here deep in our Holy Keep?”

The witch chuckled. “You may call me Corvis. And you can drop the sham that you don't know anything about working with witches. These men know your history. And you knew my coven-sister Magran, and you accompanied her to Lord Kyler’s compound the last time she was seen. For all your protestations, you know full well that your Church and my coven have some concerns of common interest. At least for the moment.”

“I told everyone,” Elisha said, “that there was little to no chance that Lord Kyler would simply hand his husband over to me and allow me to castrate him! My audience with Kyler was just the opening of our negotiations, not the end game. You all know that!”

“You’re going to have another chance to succeed in your mission, Priest,” said Corvis. “After we give you some more convincing motivation.”

Two more people entered the chamber. One was clad like a surgeon from an old horror play and the other like a nurse, pink-kilted and crowned with a white tricorn cap. The nurse pushed ahead of him a clanking metallic cart laden with unidentifiable equipment, though at least one item on it looked familiar to Elisha: the bulbous clear sphere of an axolotl device, filled with magenta ur-gel. His stomach sank and he thought that he might vomit even though he did not yet know what was happening. “What is all this? What are you doing now?”

“You,” said Corvis, “were to have solved the mystery of Magran’s disappearance and brought back here the testicles of Kasyn Mutara, and you failed on both counts. I am now going to take your nuts and not give them back to you until you succeed!” She stepped closer and reached between Elisha’s legs. “Such a pretty virile boy,” she whispered, “with such big full balls. But, no more.” The witch squeezed the base of Elisha’s ballsack, nailed squeezing into his skin, and he screamed. 

The doctor and the nurse moved upon Elisha quickly. In less than two screaming, shrieking, impossibly painful minutes, they had sliced open his sack and detached his nuts and cauterized the wounds and stitched his sack-skin back together. Gasping and sobbing, Elisha saw the nurse drop his balls into the gel within the axolotl device. Said the witch, “You’ll get these back. I promise. But first you’ll bring us Kasyn’s. Or , if it’s easier for you, just bring us the whole boy and we can take the parts that we need from him ourselves!”

Elisha was released to his chambers within the Holy Keep, mercifully given a pain-numbing drug, and he spent the next hour or two alone and reeling in horror, occasionally touching the tender empty sack underneath his penis, and vomiting into the toilet. He cried and raged over his humiliation and mutilation for a long time. But eventually he calmed himself, steeled his resolve, and decided upon his next course of action.

From Kyler’s journal…

Once more, in the darkest middle of the night, the hum of the aetherglass awoke me, again due to a call from Blue Radical. “Why can we never speak during normal business hours, you prick?” I whispered. Blue Radical started to reply but I shushed him. “Let me go to my study so I don’t wake everyone up!” Kasyn lay on his back next to me in bed, uncovered and naked, a nocturnal erection making his big penis stand up like an arch reaching toward his belly. Next to him, nested like spoons were my sons Torus and Naxon, cuddled naked together in sleep, undisturbed so far by the noise. I had not recalled any of us making a decision to go to sleep together like this, all four of us in my bed, but we were all quite intoxicated from sparkling wine and weary after the couple hours of our athletic four-way fucking. I rose from the bed and went naked into my study, closed the door and pulled Blue Radical’s image through to the glass on my desk. Some of his smell came through the aether: late-night whisky and cigarettes.

“Now,” I said, “what the fuck makes you call me right now in particular?”

“It couldn’t wait until morning!” he said. “Some crazy shit is going down and you need to get ready for it.”

“What crazy shit? I was visited this morning—or maybe it was yesterday morning—by an Inquisitor from the Chaos Ejaculatum, so if you mean crazy shit regarding the Church, then I know about it already.”

Blue Radical shook his head rapidly. “There’s more! That Cthulhist exorcist that the Chaos sent to you—his name is Elisha—he came to see me tonight!”

“About what?”

“First to quiz me about Kasyn, but I told him nothing he did not already know, namely that you bought him from me.”

“And so?”

Blue Radical’s eyes went wide. “But then he asked me for something else.”

“What?” I said, wishing I could smack him through the aetherglass.

“A favor.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Blue! Just tell me!”

Blue Radical gaped at me and then, finally, he said, “He asked me to give him new nuts.”

“What!”

“He said that a nektonic witch took his. He wouldn’t tell me why. But he wanted to buy a new set.”

I almost started to ask him if he actually somehow has literally in inventory extra testicles to sell to people but, of course, he would. That’s exactly the kind of thing he’d keep in stock. I said, “And did you assist him with this?”

“I did. I figured he was on a Church expense account, and that I could charge whatever I wanted. He didn’t care about the price, and I sold him a very premium set of balls.”

I sighed. “What does that even mean? Premium how?”

Blue Radical grinned. “Well, a few weeks ago I happened to acquire a pair from a doctor of, shall we say, questionable ethics who had been hired to de-ball someone you may have heard of.”

“Who?”

“The singer Jaustin Moss. I assume you know of him.”

I knew that Jaustin Moss was quite popular among my sons’ generation, and that Daemon in particular often jacked off to his pictures, enjoying the plentiful images of this well-built and ornately tattooed lad who had a tendency to let himself be seen in public shirtless and sometimes entirely naked, sporting a thick circumcised dong and an unkempt bush of pubic hair. I sighed and said, “Do you mean to tell me that Jaustin Moss has been fucking castrated and that you bought his balls? Why? How?”

“Evidently his career manager—who is also his literal owner—thought to stop the boy’s singing voice from changing, and to moderate his unruly behavior, by depriving him of his big fat spunk-factories. But that’s not how it works. Moss is way past the age already where that could matter. You can’t make a kid that age into a castrato singer. But they did it anyway. They knocked him out, took his nuts and stuck fake ones into his sack, as if he’d never notice that something is wrong. The doctor preserved these balls in ur-gel and looked me up a few days ago to see if I was interested.”

“This is monstrous!” I said. “And you actually sold those nuts to this priest?”

“Installed them right away! No fuss at all.” Blue Radical laughed. “I gave him the best healing-accelerator, too. By the time he left my lab, just a couple hours later, he was cumming like a rutting teenager again. I had him test out his new gear with Blue Junior. He really gave the boy a sweet fucking! Though I guess it’s actually Jaustin Moss’s sperm that he’s shooting out of his cock now. It could make for an interesting paternity case should he ever get anyone pregnant.”

“Unbelievable!” I said. “So this priest is still at large but with new balls, and I assume I have not seen the last of him?”

“Hell no, you haven’t. Because then this happened: about an hour after Elisha left, a fucking nektonic witch showed up!”

I suddenly felt cold, like icy fingers had been placed between my asscheeks and into my armpits. “A witch? Surely not Magran?” What if she had survived somehow?

“No! She said her name was Corvis and that she was looking for Magran. But she also asked questions about you and Kasyn. I think she is trailing Elisha, trying to find out what he knows and when he knows it. They’re both on their way to you at some point. I can feel it!”

Things are starting to close together, like tongs, I thought. “This is useful information,” I said. “Thank you for sharing it.”

“See, I did need to call you the middle of the night.”

“It could have waited for morning,” I said. “But thanks anyway. I will keep you updated, and you will do the same for me.”

“Of course!” Then Blue Radical twitched and lit a cigarette and, after a long pause, said, “I want you to do something. I can help you research what’s up with Kasyn’s pups. Why they are so weird, you know? And why the Church is so freaked out by them.”

“What do you need?”

“Get samples for me of their sperm. All of them—the boys that he made with your daughters and also the ones he made with the six Moon boys. If we can figure this out before the Church does, then you’ll have a huge advantage over them.”

I agreed, ended the call and considered a couple more hours of sleep with Kasyn and the brothers, but I was now too wound up. Open warfare was nearly upon our house.

Later that morning a courier arrived with a large paper-wrapped package from Blue Radical. The courier boy’s lean and muscular body tempted me, and I easily tempted him—with a couple of kisses to his plump lips and to his musky armpits—out of his leather shorts and his jock and his harness and his sandals. I took him naked to my office couch and bathed his tangy taint and sweaty nutsack with my tongue and slurped on his long slender prick, alternately taking it deep into my throat and then tongue-teasing its swollen head, making him moan until he spasmed and boyed out in my throat, after which I jerked off and spattered his stubbly cheeks and chin and chest with white ribbons and blobs of cocksnot. With my fingers, I swabbed some of my cum from his skin and smeared into his pubic hair and into the fuzz under his arms so that he’d keep some of my smell with him at least until his next bath. He used the pouch of his own jock to wipe up what cum remained on his chin and neck before pulling it back up over his cock and balls. 

It was not until after the courier boy had left that I opened the box to see what had been sent to me. At first, it looked like a bunch of small sportsballs, maybe half the size of a normal soccer ball, slightly egg-shaped, their surfaces covered in red and black hexagons. On closer examination, I saw that each one had a small gash at one of its poles. I pressed a finger into one these openings, and it expanded easily…and wetly. I unpacked all of the balls from the box and found at the box’s bottom a note from Blue Radical explaining these objects. They were semen-collection devices. He told me in his note to order all nine of Kasyn’s suddenly-matured sons to slip their pricks into these balls and fuck them until they jizzed inside them. Once finished, a courier would return to collect the balls and bring their cum-samples back to Blue Radical’s lab for examination. 

I summoned Seth, Koth and Dath—the sons of each of my three daughters by Kasyn—to my office and told them what I required them to do. With enthusiasm they opened their flies, pulled out their erect shafts, their wide arrowheads cloaked in veiny translucent foreskin like their father’s. I gave each of the boys a ball and they speared them onto their cocks and jerked off with great vigor, staring at me the entire time. I found that I was becoming used to their strange monochrome gaze, that weird scintillating shift from black to silver to white and back. The smell of their sweat—so much like Kasyn’s—aroused me intensely and I wished that I was using some other method of extracting the fresh thick cum from this trio of lithe young men than simply making them fuck a rubber ball, but there was serious business to conduct, and time felt to be of the essence. As the boys climaxed and emptied their juice into the balls, I collected them, labeled them by their names and returned them to the box. 

Just as this was finished, Kasyn wandered in looking as if he’d just woken up, naked save for his white jock, his thick black hair very sweetly matted and tousled. He smiled at his sons and I was struck again by how alike they all looked: the boys were virtually identical triplets and each looked only slightly different than their father. And I was again awed and a little spooked by the strangeness of how these boys were as physically mature as their father after just a few days of life (we would notice later that their mental maturity lagged only very slightly, as the ancestral memories with which they were born coalesced into their rapidly-forming intellects).

Kasyn said, “What are you kids up to?” He laughed. “Are you entertaining your old granddad?” I really wished that Kasyn would not use that term—granddad—to refer to me. At just forty-four years of age, it seemed to depict me as far too old. But thanks to Kasyn and my daughters, and Kasyn and six of my orchid boy sons, I was now a grandfather nine times, and I probably had dozens more descendants on the Moon that I’d never know about. 

I explained to Kasyn that I needed to collect sperm samples from all of his sons. These three were done, and it was now time to see the sextet of orchid boy pups.

“You haven’t really spent any time with them yet, have you?” Kasyn said.

“Not yet.”

“They’re a little…different.”

“I am sure they are. But won’t they cooperate with this easily enough? We just need to get some of their spunk. I’m sure they have no hesitation about releasing it.”

Instead of answering me, Kasyn turned to the Seth, Koth and Dath and said, “You three are supposed to be in school in one quarter of an hour! Proctor Berg Kattse will be pissed off if you are late again like yesterday!” The boys laughed and looked guiltily at one another. “Now! Go!” Kasyn said. “Or it will be the paddle on all three of your asses this evening!” 

Still laughing, the trio stowed their dicks, fastened their flies and fled my office. Kasyn slumped on the couch on a spot probably still-damp from my fellatio on the courier boy and he said, “Those dudes! How did you put up with it for all those years with your normal sons very slowly growing up? These guys think they know everything already—and they probably do know most things already—but their social skills are atrocious. Hence, school!”

I found Kasyn’s frustration with these sons, who were all physically the same age as him already, to be adorable and I found his nearly-naked repose on the couch to be lust-inducing, but I needed to get back to the topic at hand: cum-collecting from his orchid sons. “What exactly do you mean when you say they are a little different?”

“Now,” said Kasyn, “is probably a good time show you, in fact. Do you remember how Seth, Koth and Dath spent most of their time at first playing with that weird Cthulhist ouija board?”

“Yes. Do they still? It’s rather creepy, to be honest.”

“Not as obsessively now, no. But wait until you see what the orchids are doing! It’s weird as fuck!”

On an ancient underground level of the compound, on the very lowest one, in fact, save for the necropolis, there is an enormous warm saltwater swimming pool. It has maintained itself for centuries using a lost technology, deep under the main house, this vast mass of water contained within a deep white marble basin, and I am surprised when I realize that it is to this pool that Kasyn is leading me. “The boys are swimming?” I wonder, but he shushes me as we approach the antechamber to the pool room and then pass through it into the warm humid space. “Just watch quietly,” Kasyn whispers. “If we do not make a ruckus, then they will let you see what they are doing.”

Five of the lavender-skinned youths—now all as tall and mature as their cis-human brothers and their father—partially ringed the pool, two standing on each of its long sides and one at the end nearest us. All were naked and I noticed that while they all had on their heads that strange leaf-like hair of the Moon’s orchid race, they also had body hair more like a “normal” male’s, pubic bristle and a trail of fuzz between that and their navels, and—when one of them raised his arm—I saw he had a thick tuft of black armpit hair like his father.

For a moment I wondered where their sixth brother was, and then, when I stepped closer, I saw him adrift on his back in the water, languidly floating with his legs and arms extended, his body like a shiny and wet “x,” his long prick rising stiff over his pelvis. And their were numerous black floating objects in the water just under the surface, like buoys tethered to the bottom. “Look more closely,” whispered Kasyn.

And then I saw it: the floating shapes in the water were letters, formed like those in the Cthulhist writing system from the ouija board that so interested the slightly older boys. “Come with me,” I whispered, and I pulled Kasyn into a stairwell that led us up to a balcony overlooking the pool. From here, I could see more clearly those forms in the water. “I recognize some of those individual letters from the Cult Cthulhu script, but what are those big words near the center of the pool ? Do you know?”

Kasyn drew close to me and I instinctively hugged him close to my side. He said, “From left to right, they say ‘YES’ and ‘NO’ and ‘MAYBE’ and ‘CAN YOU REPEAT THE QUESTION?’”

I pulled away from him and then drew him close again, my hands on his shoulders and I looked him in the eyes. “You’re joking.”

“I am not.”

A susurrus rose from the pool side below us, boys’ voices rising as if in a low chant. The floating boy bumped his head into CAN YOU REPEAT THE QUESTION? and he bounced slowly away from it. He flipped over, tucked his head under his shoulders and executed a serene underwater flip. He returned to the surface, again on his back, and drifted. 

The five at the poolside chanted this:

“Zero! Zero! O-rekt!

Zero-path rad-na!

Rad-na A-Star!

A-Star! A-Star!”

The tone of this chant sent a creepy thrill down my spine. These words were not in the Moon language of the orchid boys, which I recognize the sound of and even used to be able to speak a little bit. But I had ever heard anything like these words. And they did this again, and a third time, and the floating boy moved again, but it did not look to me like he had a deliberate course, nor even that he was actually paddling himself through the water. Instead, it looked like he simply moved, as if made to do by an unseen magnetic force. His five brothers raised their ten arms outward toward the water, and their sixth turned as if on an axis and glided toward one of the arcane floating symbols. I understood now that the boy in the water was somehow being used like a planchette. He glided into one of the floating symbols. YES, that one meant. YES.

Eventually whatever ritual or ceremony the orchids had been conducting concluded and they settled into a few minutes of splashing about and brotherly horseplay in the pool with each other. I signaled a houseboy to bring the box of cum-collection balls from my study down to the pool. Eventually the sextet climbed out of the water and Kasyn and I left the balcony to join them poolside. The houseboy arrived with the box. I suggested we all go into the changing room where the boys had left their clothing (which turned out to be nothing but jocks and sandals). I handed a ball to each boy and told them what they needed to do with it, but they all looked somewhat bemused or perplexed and, without saying anything, looked to Kasyn for confirmation. “It’s okay. Here,” he said. There were a couple extra balls in the box. “Like this.” Kasyn pulled his own stiff cock out of his shorts and spiked it into the ball end gave it a few pumping jerks. “Cum in it,” he said. “We need a sample of your juice.”

“Of course,” one of them said, and the normalcy of his voice rather startled me after the strangeness of their chant over the pool. The sixth youths inserted their penises into the balls and seemed to enjoy the sensation for a couple minutes, until they all simultaneously climaxed. I took the first newly-filled cum-ball from the boy closest to me, intending to tag it, and then I realized that I did not even know what all their names were, nor even how easily to tell them apart. Kasyn assisted. “Look,” he said. “The backs of their necks, just the like the other three.” And I saw etched on their napes just below the hairline little black characters, each different, each supposedly a name. Kasyn translated for me—Dagon, Hex, Mosch, Thuga, Kaam, Nod—and I lettered each of these names onto tags and affixed them to the balls. Kasyn handed me the one that he’d demonstrated with for his sons. “I left some in this one. You might as well send it over, too.” I labeled it for him, and again sent for a houseboy, this time to convey the box to the courier and back to Blue Radical.  

Doctor Phibes was supposedly a very old man, over a century—and he had been the house doctor since before I was born—but he somehow never looked to be more than maybe forty. When I was a boy, this strange perpetual youthfulness was a source of rumors among the house servants. They whispered and joked that he must be some kind of witch or perhaps a vampire who had staved off age and death by sipping the blood of young boys. In fact, he was merely an ardent consumer of cosmetic treatments and biochemical enhancements that helped him preserve an illusion of relative youth. But when he spoke, his age and the gravitas of it that he’d accreted over his many decades came through. “Boy!” he snapped as he stepped into my study. “I’ll show you this new information now.” He’d called me “boy,” ever since I was one, and it had never stopped. I recall that this used to annoy my father who had held to a greater formality than I do, and who generally insisted that people outside the family address me “Lord Prince” or at least “Master Kyler” when I was still very young. Doctor Phibes couldn't have cared less.

“The orchid kids take a bit more after their father than their ‘mothers’ took after you, it seems.” He showed me on his portable glass a series of images that I assumed were representations of genomes. I wondered if Phibes had taken sperm samples from them, and I did not mention that I had sent such samples to Blue Radical, whom Phibes regarded as a “cheap body hacker.”

I said, “Doc, you know that I can read none of this.”

“You’d be able to,” he said, rather tartly, “if you’d paid a whit of attention in my biology class!”

I laughed, recalling how he’d occasionally slap my cheek or the back of my head when I’d doze in his classroom. “But I did not,” I said, “so you’ll have to interpret for me.”

Phibes explained that this generation of boys, Kasyn’s orchid sons, were three-quarters cis-human—“From your genes and Kasyn’s”—even though they looked very much like typical lunar orchid boys. “But unlike your spawn—these boy’s birth-mothers—Kasyn’s pups have typical Earthling body hair and a few other traits that distinguish them.”

“That makes sense,” I said, “given that they are that much less ‘orchid’ than their mothers.”

“But there is one trait,” Phibes said, “that they do retain in this generation: they are all perfectly able to get pregnant. Their heats won’t be as extreme as those of their ancestors, but they are entirely fertile and they have all the correct internal anatomy to support Moon-style child-bearing.” I suspected I knew where Phibes was leading me, but I remained quiet and let him continue. “If Kasyn plans to have the same kind of relations with his pups that you do with yours, then he needs to either wear a rubber or—better—get a vasectomy. I can give it to him this afternoon if he agrees to it. In any case, until we understand how and why his offspring mature so rapidly, and why their behavior is so bizarre, he must not under any circumstances knock anyone else up! Do you understand?”

I sighed. “I understand that he will never cooperate with using condoms. I’ll raise the topic of the vasectomy with him later. Or I will at least make sure he understands the seriousness of this matter. Will that suffice, Doc?”

Phibes frowned. “I suppose it will have to. But do speak with him very soon!”

Blue Radical called me again, and I was surprised at how soon he did so given that he could not possibly have had the boys’s cum-samples in his lab for more than a couple hours. “I wanted to share my initial findings right away, Kyler.”

I waited while he seemed to wind up to what he was going to say, fidgeting and lightning a cigarette. Finally: “The first thing is that their sperm counts are ridiculous, like off-the-chart, way beyond even yours or Kasyn’s. We’re talking upwards of several hundred billion per load. If this is the result of a mutation—an adaptation—it’s only possible useful purpose is to make them extremely fertile and extremely well-suited to reproduction. This could be bad news.”

“Why?”

“Because they are carrying a rogue gene, something we haven’t seen before. It was passed to them from Kasyn, and it is not quite human.”

“Not quite human. Explain.”

“The nut-enhancement that I did on Kasyn, using the aetheric tissue from that trans-aetheric gay punk poltergeist that I told you about.”

I sighed, not wishing to hear about this ridiculousness again right now. And I wondered why he found it necessary to repeat that entire phrase each time, as if he were distinguishing it from some other type of poltergeist about which I should know! Said Blue Radical, “I know you still don’t quite believe me about the trans-aetheric gay punk poltergeist that was exorcised from that boarding school, but it is fucking true, Kyler! And these boys—all nine of Kasyn’s pups—carry a signature of that preternatural entity in their sperm! Let loose upon the world, these boys—given how horny and fertile they are—could in a very short period of time become the fathers of a whole new race of weird new humans just like them. And it would happen so fast, too, if their pups grow up as fast as they did!”

I considered this for a moment. “Excuse me,” I said. “I’ll be right be right back.” I went to the wet bar under the wide picture window in my office and poured myself a large glass of wine and inhaled a line of narcowhirl. I gulped half of the wine, refilled it. Feeling somewhat fortified, I returned to the desk. “Listen to me, Blue,” I said. “You are to share this information with no one else. Do you understand me?”

“Of course, Kyler! I’d never!”

“You better not! Not for any price! Got it? This is why the Church is so afraid of Kasyn and these kids. They know more than they are letting on. Can you imagine what could happen to this world if an agency like the fucking Church got its filthy hands on something like those boys and their sperm? They’d weaponize it and enslave whole nations.”

Blue Radical gaped at me. “Fuck! You’re so right! Do not worry: I will say nothing, not even under torture! I swear! The fucking Inquisition itself can show up here and I will send them away! I promise!”

“I believe you,” I said. “Now I need to have a conversation with Kasyn. He needs to know what’s going on.”

Blue Radical nodded. “I will keep working here, and let you know what else I find.”

“Keep working on what specifically?” I wondered.

“Well,” he said, “don’t you think that we should try to find a cure or some kind of block against this?”

I agreed that it made sense to at least research into it, but I questioned Blue Radical’s ability to get very far into such an ambitious science project. “We’re probably going to have to include Phibes on this.”

“Phibes!” Blue Radical scoffed. “As if that old prude would even look at any of my research!”

“I suspect he will this time. Because I suspect he will discover the same thing that you did when he gets a look at that cum. But he won’t know what it means.”

Meanwhile, in the stone torture room in the Holy Keep of the Chaos Ejaculatum…

The Frame of Discipline hangs empty, parallel to the floor. Corvis and three cowled men of the Church sit around it as if it is a table. They sip from large gold goblets of communion wine and smoke ginger-laced cigarettes. “Why has this become our meeting room?” Corvis wonders. “Especially when we have no one to question in the Frame?”

“There are no unwanted ears down here,” one of the men said.

“Ears?”

“Listening devices.”

“But you are men of the Chaos. You mean to tell me that your own people are spying on you?”

At first, none of the three replied, but eventually the one seated across the Frame from Corvis said, “Our work with a witch has drawn attention from some people who have not been read in on our project. We are a secret unit. You know that.”

“Well, then,” said Corvis, smiling. “Then it will be just the three of you who will learn what I have to share today…”

To be continued…