Fleshware Requiem

FLESHWARE REQUIEM 

BY 

XAVIER CECIL 

AMAZON EDITION 

COPYRIGHT © 2011 

ISBN: 978-1-4657-2979-8 

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters portrayed herein are products of the author's imagination. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or any portions thereof, in any form. 

Cecilauthor@gmail.com

*A CARNAL OBJECTIVE* 

I waited, muscles knotted into anxious cords, with a steel crowbar ready to kill. I heard her footsteps just beyond the door, and I knew the exact position her head would first appear as she passed the threshold into the lab. I knew where to swing for maximum damage. I adjusted my sweaty grip upon the smooth steel as my heart pounded beneath my immaculate white lab-coat that bulged slightly near the top from my broad shoulders. That had been her idea. Did she actually find me... handsome in it? Would that even matter to her? In reality it was my nerves I truly needed to grapple. Not to mention the familiar stiffening that occurred within my dark cargo pants. As it always did when she drew near - or when I even thought about her drawing near. 

My body could sense her approach with an alacrity that seemed to defy the conventional five-senses. As my breathing accelerated a thin sweaty trickle ran from my tousled, mahogany head of hair, past my sharp brow ridge. I would tell myself, in the other iterations of this identical moment that had occurred so often these past months, that the Hatred was my true lover. Not this nemesis of living Desire that I forced myself to despise. The Hatred was my mantra. 

I would have at least this one, small victory. This one, petty blow towards personal liberty.  

And there would be many, many more to come, so I hoped. She was responsible for all of it, this laboratory of horrors. The experiments on the cadavers, the imprisonment, the perverse form of inverted slavery that had slipped over the others that had accompanied me to this refuge of shame and pleasure. The vile machines, the preserved flesh surrounding me on cold worktables scattered throughout the chamber where I labored with futility. And the windows of course. 

Bullet-proof, triple-layered, reinforced anti-shatter glass. As useless as my struggles had been so far, hitting those windows with the intent of breaking them would prove even more futile. Actually looking at what lay beyond them was out of the question. 

If I wanted to entertain even the illusion of survival, of a future. 

Everything that I looked upon in the workroom before me served as a stark reminder of why she needed to die. One perversion upon another, leading off on an unwholesome tangent of abominations long past the territories of behavior and innovation that any man had business exploring. Her latest dictates seemed as if she were compounding the degradation and madness that had slipped over me - and the other survivors like a tarnished burial shroud. And it was all so senseless, she didn't really need me for any of the unholy experiments. What was the real reason she kept me around? It wasn't that I was smarter than her, could do anything she was incapable of. Contemplating the possibilities as to why I was even here, why she allowed me this... this... research only served to deepen my dread.  

My lonely resolve, to never stop until I had killed her was soon accompanied by the merciless certainty that these depraved inventions she demanded removed any possibility of pity. The pity that I longed to give her. The reason why I hadn't acted sooner was not overwhelming force on her part, despite the evil of the experiments, prior to now my own feelings where the true enemy. More to the point, my own lusts. But I had reached a tipping point. Or so I hoped.