— Posted in Always into Darkness, Mein Kampf …, My Struggle, Torture Porn, Vampire Noir

Mein Kampf …, My Struggle – Chapter 07

CrossFit, “The House of Ragnheiður Sara Sigmundsdóttir”


This is an Icelandic name. The last name is a patronymic, not a family name; this person is referred to by the given name Sara.


Ragnheidur Sara Sigmundsdottir (born 12 September 1992) is an Icelandic weightlifter and CrossFit athlete known for her third-place finishes at the 2015 and 2016 CrossFit Games and her first-place finishes at the 2015 and 2016 Meridian Regionals and the 2017 Central Regionals. She was featured in 2017 documentary “Fittest on Earth: A Decade of Fitness”. The Nordic beauty competed at the 2015 World Weightlifting Championships in the 75 kg category.


Ragnheiður Sara Hassen-Sigmundsdóttir. This is the new interim name that the girl has legally assumed. She is no longer Marta Lucille Kristen. Not so coincidentally, the mundane Icelandic weightlifter and CrossFit athlete Ragnheiður Sara Sigmundsdóttir, is the favorite athlete of Mrs. Gretchen Corey Carson III. And, Mrs. Carson is a CrossFit aficionado.


CrossFit is a branded fitness regimen created by Greg Glassman and is a registered trademark of CrossFit, Inc. which was founded by Greg Glassman and Lauren Jenai in 2000. Promoted as both a physical exercise philosophy and also as a competitive fitness sport, CrossFit workouts incorporate elements from high-intensity interval training, Olympic weightlifting, plyometrics, powerlifting, gymnastics, girevoy sport, calisthenics, strongman, and other exercises. It is practiced by members of over 13,000 affiliated gyms, roughly half of which are located in the United States, and by individuals who complete daily workouts (otherwise known as “WODs” or “workouts of the day”). CrossFit has come into some controversy for allegedly causing people to suffer from unnecessary injuries and exertional rhabdomyolysis, a condition in which muscle tissues die.


In Hollywood, budgets for big-time blockbusters have an unfortunate tendency to spiral out of control, but the major studios still put forth an effort to make sure they avoid spending more on a movie than they reasonably intend to make back. After all, movies, in addition to being auteur-driven benchmarks of visual storytelling, are also a business driven by profits.

So, in the same vein, Lucy is Ragnheiður Sara Lucille Hassen-Sigmundsdóttir for a very short while, seemingly to please Mrs. Carson’s whimsy. It is her second and her last interim name. In the end, Coco politely suggests and Lucy accepts the name of Greta Lucille Röhm, which is akin to her legal name when she was a mortal human being. It becomes her legal name as an immortal being of the Nosferatu persuasion. Coco calls her Greta, of course, while Mrs. Carson still calls her Sara. Thus, pragmatism wins out in the end.

Lucy sits on a sofa in the posh lobby of the “club house” of the Ladies Athletic Club of Saint Elizabeth Parish. Mrs. Carson, a founding member of the ladies club, lives in one of the private apartments upstairs.

This downtown building’s nondescript exterior belies its palatial interior. A historic landmark. And, a female-only preserve, into which males can only enter with great exception.

Thanks to a prohibitively expensive and very complicated implementation of spatial displacement mechanics, the building’s interior is many times larger than its exterior would indicate possible.

How much larger? The uninitiated, and many jaded multi-verse travelers, would gawk wide-eyed at the luxurious interior. It’s huge. Compression mechanics on this scale are almost unheard of in the modern world outside of Federal governments and the world’s militaries. The cost to manifest such civilian-purposed architecture is prohibitive even for the pocketbooks of most of the trillionaires of the worlds. But for this ladies club, cost is never a consideration. What its coffers cannot purchase, its “friends” can.

In sharp contrast to the plush sofa upon which she sits and the breathtaking interior. Coco’s Girl Friday is not only wearing sternns-miles, her hair is yanked back into a sternka. Both are cornerstones of her severe profoundly-unattractive on-duty look. As such, she can upstage neither Coco nor Mrs. Carson, which is its express intent.

A seventy-something woman enters the lobby and sits down on the couch beside Lucy. The old biddy is a disgraced former Bene Gesserit nun, and, as such, explicitly sexually-repressed, implicitly sexually depraved. This is the first time in her life that Lucy has seen an indigenous Martian in the flesh, so to speak.

“Hello, our name is Giggerota. And, we are very pleased to meet you.”

Martians often refer to themselves in the third-person plural.

“My name is …”

“Yes. Yes. Yes. Giggerota knows all about this you. You belong to Coco. Your headmistress is Barbara. Your Mrs. Carson is our elocution teacher.”

Lucy shakes Giggerota’s gloved hand. Giggerota is well-endowed, slender, and somewhat aloof with feminine looks, ways, and mannerisms. As such, her pretense is that of a busty, attractive, older human female, with the face of an elderly Tallulah Bankhead. The antithesis of a stereotypical manhating bulldyke.

Her set of heavily-hanging tits are larger than Helga’s.

Sporting a geriatric moe. She’s wearing prudz, flats, a Kaye, and perls. Bolshoi-bare. No blouse or underwear. No stockings. Lift her skirt, and you’ll find that she has female plumbing only.

In their native form …

Martians look like Kum. But. They are not Kum.

They have a razorblade smile and a killer tongue. And those creepy grey eyes—i.e., grey eyeballs, constricted red pupils, and no irises. They look like a giant leech, and are the size of an adult human female. They are liken to a species of Gorgon.

Their face is akin to that of Medusa—i.e., a hideous parody of a woman’s face. And they have poisonous snakes, instead of hair, growing from their scalp. From the waist up, the torso of a woman. From the waist down, an octopus with numerous tentacles. And they still retain the genitalia of an adult human female.

A she leech. The torso of a woman mated to an octopus. Numerous tentacle in place of two legs. The hideous face of a Gorgon. Three floppy pendulous tits that almost hang down to its narrow waist. Horrid tits with stretch marks and stringbean nipples. Long boney fingers.

Martians are sentient, and are not creatures of pure instinct. These huge parasites are thinking and self-aware beings. Super intelligent. They have personalities unique to the individual, just like a “real” person does. In point of fact, they are people.

“Mrs. Carson hasn’t mentioned you before.”

“Why should she. We are just some random Darc thing that she teaches to speak well.” She rests her hand on Lucy’s knee. “We would like to enslave you, junkie whore.”

Lucy pushes the thing’s hand off of her knee.

“I’m married.”

“Living the dirty life. Depraved. Dressed in a torn black fishnet bodystocking, wearing rough and perls, sporting messy straight hair, and noticeably thinner. A strung-out you is quite fetching and feral, indeed. Our venom is chemically analogous to reanimation reagent, but much more addictive with a more potent high. We will talk later, after our shifts are over. Clean and pristine, we work here, filling in for the head maitre’d, as needed. Mostly, we manage the down under for a downtown eatery that specializes in authentic Martian food known as the Fitzwilly; working down there we can be our dirty self.”

The Fitzwilly. An all-you-can-eat, very high priced, high-end restaurant. Its main competition is the Jiamener an all-you-can-eat, hot pot restaurant, moderately-priced, targeting diners who are looking for that “other white meat” eating experience. As expected, being local and Martian, “businesswoman” Fats Waller is the Fitzwilly’s silent partner. With it being a being Chinese eatery, it’s no surprise that the Jiamener’s silent partner is a Dragon, in this case it’s Ancient Mia.

Fifty-something Fats is a Groll, one of the major breed-races. They result from those dalliances between Giants and Trolls. Waller’s a full-head taller than most Trolls and thicker built than most Giants. She’s got the expected brunette hair, green eyes, generous mouth, and more-than-well-endowment.

Waller runs the largest and most notorious, loan sharking and bookmaking operation in the city. An associate in-good-standing, Fats subcontracts for all of the big boys; that includes Tyronne “Golden Spike” Geo-Gucci, who’s one of the made guys in the country, and The Nature Boy, Ric Flair, who owns the St. Louis rackets lot-stock-n-barrel. Fats is also that rare mafioso who does business with the aptly-labeled lunatic fringe: volatile crazies like Hal “Tobbie” Hooper, co-founder of the Antediluvians.

“There’s nothing to talk about. I’m married, and therefore already taken. And. Besides being monogamous, I’m also a strict teetotaler. I’m not a junkie, a drunk, or a whore. And, needless to say, I have no interest in being enslaved by you or anyone else for that matter.”

Giggerota’s response is an inhumanly-wide grin. Then, her eyes fluorescence blue, momentarily. The girl’s mind goes blank and she becomes completely vacant. The possessive-compulsive creature covetously strokes her cheek. Removing choice from the equation, entirely. The Martian has taken Lucy, that easily and completely.

Then again, Giggerota is a god, a very old god. And, a god as old and thus as powerful as she is, who freely chooses to ignore ROE, and who has found a way to circumvent the numerous Clubhouse safeguards, can take a lot of people and things that easily and completely.

Once again, seemingly out of nowhere, her Karen Digney fixation consumes her, completely. She slips a gear and goes off the deep end. Psychotic episodes such as this are why Giggerota is no longer in The Order. A crazy god is a danger to herself and to others.

A psychotic episode is a period of psychosis that can last varying amounts of time. Some physicians distinguish between brief psychotic episodes lasting between one day and one month, and much longer periods of psychosis.

“Ours. All ours. Forever,” Giggerota coos. She is a very old thing, indeed. She is a Goddess on par with the Goddess Kali. “You can lie to yourself. But, you cannot lie to your Goddess, your Goddess Giggerota. It took us a very long time to find where you had gone. No more of this pretending to be who you are not. Soon, Karen, you will be back where you belong, with us.”

To reiterate. The girl is totally vacuous. A vacancy. She acts as if she were under the influence of a kronos device.

A kronos device. The small biomechanical device would anchor itself into the back of her neck. It looks like a hideous biomechanical spider. One of its least invasive effects would be to lobotomize her. And. She would remain lobotomized, while it was in place. Its other effects are much more insidious. But. There is no such device anchored into the back of her neck causing her bizarre submissive behavior.

Telepathically, Giggerota instructs her where they will meet later. After her shift is over, today, Lucy goes on holiday. It will be quite a while before she will be missed.