This link will give you links to the first five chapters.
This is Chapter 6
6
‘The
born girl ran and ran. She didn’t care or think about where she was going. She was just glad to be alive. While she was in the mansion, her mind and
body were masses of confusion, acting as if on their own, independently of one
another. But now that she was in the
fresh air, outside, she was feeling better.
When she tried to think about what had just happened, it didn’t make any
sense.
What did make sense, and what felt good to the girl
was being alive again. Alive,
again? Feeling was once again coursing
through her body, this strange body, and the sensations were electrifyingly
sensual. Her hands, whose hands?, felt
like they were buzzing. It was as if she
could feel every cell in her body breathing, every ounce of blood moving
through her veins.
As she ran, the mind of the new girl started to
comprehend the miracle of what had happened.
It understood somehow that each piece of her body came from different
parts of different girls. In her mind, she could sense each of the girls’ own
personalities in the different body parts of this new body, and could sense
those personalities gradually dissipating as the blood and fluid’s of five
girls intermingled throughout the body.
The new girl’s mind could even sense its own awareness of a new self, as
a new girl, growing.
Eventually, by the time she stopped running, all the
independent parts began to move, under the thoughts of the mind, as one fully
integrated mass of body parts and fluids, and began thinking, not as an
aggregation of parts, but as her own new self.
The woman in the mansion had called her Amalga-Girl. She did not like that name. She would call
herself Newgirl.
After
running, aimlessly for about twenty minutes, she came upon a clearing and
stopped to more closely experience the rush of her return to life. She felt strong and healthy. Despite running such a distance, she was
hardly out of breath. Her only complaint
was that she was feeling very hungry.
“After all,” thought Newgirl, “some of me hasn’t had anything to eat for
nearly a year.” She laughed out loud at
the absurdity of this thought. When she
had finished laughing, she thought she heard singing.
Carefully,
without making a sound, she moved in the direction of the song. She came upon a lake. Inexplicably, the storm, the wind and rain
had stopped. The dark, ominous clouds
had disappeared, unfurling a bright, full moon.
The light from the moon cast itself upon the water of the lake, causing
a beautiful shimmering affect.
Silhouetted
against this lake of shimmering waters, she saw a boy, sitting on the
bank. She judged him to be approximately
eighteen years old. He was singing a
song about soft ice cream.
Of the five
girls that made up Newgirl, only one of them, Pristle Schprengel had ever
tasted soft ice cream. Newgirl could not
get a strong enough sense from Pristle’s heart, breasts and other things, to
grasp the whole concept of soft ice cream.
It sounded heavenly divine, thought Newgirl, almost at the same time
wondering which part of her used to talk like that: heavenly divine. Newgirl wondered if this boy had any soft ice
cream that she could try.
Quietly, she
made her way to just behind where the boy was sitting, facing the water. He had a beautiful voice, she decided. “I wonder if he’s cute,” she heard herself
think. She wanted to make contact with
him, but she didn’t know how he’d react to her.
She didn’t really know what she looked like. She felt like she might be pretty. But then again, she’d just gone through some
major surgery, so she might be pale. “I
wish I had some blush,” she thought.
That sounds
like Pristle Schprengel, said Newgirl to herself. Newgirl figured that because Pristle’s heart,
a major organ, was used, her personality must still be lingering, pumping
itself through the body. “I hope that
doesn’t last long,” thought Newgirl.
“Pristle
Schprengel sounds like she was vain. I
don’t think I would have liked her.”
This time the independent thinker inside of Newgirl was the orphan girl,
the brains of the operation. Newgirl
quickly shushed herself.
What was
going on? Newgirl decided that the orphan’s brain and Pristle’s heart must be
taking longer to assimilate due to their relative importance in the scheme of things. She figured their personalities would
eventually die and, then, she would be fully Newgirl. Newgirl concentrated and tried to think for
herself. For the time being, at least,
that seemed to work, as she stopped hearing the other voices.
Newgirl looked
at the boy again. He was still sitting
there by the water, singing, oblivious to the fact that just five feet behind
him stood the world’s first mechanically produced human. She decided she would risk the consequences
and make contact.
“Hello,” she
tried to say, but the voice got stuck in her throat, and it only came out into
the world as a murmur. Newgirl realised
that she hadn’t spoken since becoming undead.
She cleared her throat and tried again.
“Hello.” It was said loudly, clearly. Newgirl liked the sound of her voice.
It made the
boy jump. He quickly turned around,
looking left and right, panicked. “Who’s there,” he yelled.
“Don’t be
afraid,” said Newgirl, impressed with the quality of sincerity she achieved
with only her second sentence ever. “I
won’t hurt you.”
“Who are
you?” asked the boy, still sounding scared, but less so. “What do you want?” He was looking in her direction, but not
directly at Newgirl.
“I’m just a
girl. I just wanted to say hello,” said
Newgirl, trying to answer the boy’s questions.
“I heard you singing.” She had
noticed the boy’s lack of eye contact.
“Are you blind?” she asked.
“Yes,” said
the boy, getting up. “I don’t recognise
your voice. Are you from around here?”
“I am
mostly,” said Newgirl. “You wouldn’t
know me, though. I’m a new girl.”
“A new girl,
eh.” The boy smiled.
“Very.”
He’s not bad
looking. The thought came from somewhere
deep within Newgirl. “I heard you
singing. You have a lovely voice.”
“Thank you,”
said the boy. “I like to come down to
the lake, especially after rains, bring a picnic, and sing here. The water and the surrounding trees gives
one’s voice a magical quality.”
“What are
you doing here so late, and in the dark?”
“It’s always
dark for me, so it doesn’t matter,” said the boy. “I could ask a young girl the same question,
though.”
“Oh, nights
like this one seem to restore my health,” said Newgirl.
“My name is
Birt,” said the boy. “Birt Gill. I live in that house up there.” He pointed in a generally Western direction. “I have some food, if you’d care to join me.”
With the
mention of food, Newgirl suddenly remembered how hunger she was. “Yes, I’d love to,” she said, trying not to
sound as urgently hungry as she was.
Birt bent
down to pick up a cloth bag. As he did,
Newgirl’s left eye noticed, approvingly, Birt’s nice, tight bum. Her glance at his bum took her totally by
surprise, and she wanted to quickly look away the second she caught herself
staring. She managed to look away a
couple of seconds later.
“There’s all
kinds of food in my bag,” said Birt. “Help yourself.”
Newgirl
reached in and felt around. She grasped
two long, hard cylindrical objects.
“What are these? Carrots?” she
asked, pulling them out of the bag. They
were carrots, and she devoured them quickly.
Birt and
Newgirl sat down by the lake and ate and talked. Newgirl did most of the eating, and Birt did
most of the talking. After the food was
all gone, and the cold settled down upon them, Birt and Newgirl found
themselves inching closer and closer together.
Newgirl really liked Birt, and she felt that he liked her. He was being really open, honest and sincere
about all manner of topics. It was
obvious to her that he was intelligent.
“May I touch
your face?” Birt asked at one point.
“What?”
replied Newgirl, not understanding the question.
“May I touch
your face?” Birt said again. “It’s how
blind people see. By touching. I want to see if you’re as beautiful as I
imagine you to be.”
“I would
love you to touch my face,” said Newgirl, closing her eyes. When her eyes were closed, she could feel
something building up inside of her. It
was as if she were hungry again. But
that can’t be, thought Newgirl. All this
food has satisfied that urge.
At the
moment his fingers gently caressed her cheek, then quickly pulled back as he
felt the scars, and swollen puffy lips, Newgirl understood what this new urge
was, and before she could stop herself, she acted, fully and without thought,
on it.
Lust had
overcome her. Pristle Schprengel’s heart had once again taken momentary control
of Newgirl. She jumped on Birt and began to smother him with kisses. At first, he was terrified, not knowing what
was happening. But as he quickly began
to understand what she was doing, kissing him passionately, grabbing him in
places he’d only dreamt of being grabbed, he more than eagerly went along with
it.
Newgirl
tried to put a stop to the heavy petting.
She tried to gain control of herself, but was losing the battle. She could sense, as she was thrashing about,
ripping the clothes off a blind boy, the other individual parts of her rising
up to their own consciousness. Soon, she
was not trying to control just Pristle’s wild lust, but the teenage lust and
curiosity of each and every girl that was Newgirl. Only the orphan, the brain, refused to join
in the frenzy. Newgirl felt like it was
feeding time in a pool full of sharks, each shark fighting for the biggest
piece of meat. What else could she do
but join in? Although there were only
two bodies rolling around by the lake of shimmering waters, six individuals
were having the orgy of their lives. One
individual, the one that made up Newgirl’s brain, simply watched.
When it was
over, Newgirl, lying on the matted grass, now back in control of herself, more
or less, was exhausted. Birt Gill, lying
there beside her, was dead.
After a few
moments of quiet, not quite understanding how this terrible, terrible horror
could have happened, Newgirl heard some rustling in nearby brush. She sat up to investigate, and saw a young
boy running away fast, heading in the direction of town. Newgirl got up and too tired to chase him
down, proceeded to lope off along the bank of the lake in the opposite
direction. She got only three hundred
yards away when she passed out and collapsed, falling into some dense brush.
------------------------------------
Next time: Chapter 7 - "Exultant Regret"
No comments:
Post a Comment