Things that go bump in the night
Long, silky, yellow-blonde hair, let down into dead straight hair leftside parted—tote glatte haare linksseitig geteilt—that severe dowdy hairdo—i.e., a nielsen. Eyeglasses and Parts, more often than not. The nielsen, by its lonesome, turns her Alice Crabtree into a Kirstjen Nielsen. No eyeglasses and the girl isn’t strapping, maybe her next Kirstjen Nielsen she will be. Tabby is still doing a Mattie Eddington. They disembark at Gate Nine of the main passenger terminal. As if it’s a docking cruise liner, their Nightflyer transportation stays put.
The spaceport is busy and massive. For the only destination for trillions of parsecs: Titans. The second largest library branch in known Creation. Scholars from all over the multiverse come here to study and do research. Different races. Different attire. EXOs are the predominant wear, though.
In plain sight, kept well off to itself, in strict quarantine, is the Ecclesiastical Alliance Starship, EAS: Jonathan Harker. A ravaged, sixty-year-old derelict that was towed into port by Hercules a Coast Guard cutter, a month ago. Security for the Second Academic District is rotational. This cycle, it’s the Templar’s turn at bat. The Knights are keeping a tight lid on the derelict, but rumors are rampant.
From the presumed safety of her NOOK, the lecherous witch watches and waits. Carving the girl more with the passing of time. She could care less about the derelict.
Sitting on a coffee table in the old witch’s Nook, is quite the depraved outfit. All of it parasitic. None of it with a hygiene mode. Hand-bra. Crop-top made from an A-shirt fashioned from uncured human skin, a so-called cannibal skin wearable. Black fishnet half-body stocking. Eelz. Thicks. Parts. As if it is animate and self-aware, the fishnets get off of the table.
Gravity defying—just standing there all by its lonesome. Filled out, just like it is being worn by an invisible person who’s frozen in place. If the girl were wearing it, coverage would include her from the waist down, while somehow enforcing a wasp waist even though her torso would be exposed.
Upon putting on the fishnets, it will self-activate, fusing seamlessly to her body, rendering her coverage prosthetic—i.e., Transfiguring her, just like exo. Technically and colloquially, it’s known as LITE. Ballistically, it does not offer her the same protection as exo. But. It clearly is much more revealing, which is the intent and purpose for wearing it in lieu of an exo.
Having attached itself to the LITE, against the small of the back of the filled-out “empty” half-body stocking, is something that resembles a small biomechanical spider. That something is a die glocke. One specifically designed to wantonly exploit the girl’s Borg to the extreme of robotic depravity.
Once active and situated in place, this extensively-modified die glocke will transform the girl into something feral and depraved, and thus more to the witch’s liking. Reduced to a mindless, sexually-insatiable submissive. An automaton with no free will, whatsoever.
Geriatric hair: yellow-blonde hair that’s liberally streaked with dingy grey and white. Ruined hair that is worn letdown into messy straight hair, a krazed. A Cousin Itt hairdo that will obscure her face. Bouts of madness; an all-encompassing lunacy akin to that of a race of Hags known as Furies, fueled by extended and extensive alcohol and drug binges, during which the swinger devolves into a drunken, hi-mileage, junkie whore. A special parasitic, highly corrosive, narcotic, plaintive makeup, that will melt on her face upon its application disfiguring her, a melt. Scrawny, with big tits, and a very flat ass. A lunatic girl with those hard, ravaged looks. Resulting in a creepy, unattractive, frumpy cunt. The de facto Gollum in the vein of Ester Serkis in The Lord of the Rings movies and novels.
The girl’s look resets to standard, much to the witch’s chagrin. Becoming that fusion of an Alice Quinn with bits and pieces of a Sarah Palin, and dashes of Miss Prudence “Plan” B thrown in for good measure. There’s also “friends with benefits”. FWB. A heretofore rarely-seen version of her standard. In a word: creepy.
As such: sternka, thicks, perls, prudz, Koo, careys, satin corselette, and rubber panties, and a matching satin half-slip. Bolshoi-bare, of course. Well-hung—big Parts, for this outing—i.e., a lot of junk shoved in the crotch of her latex knickers, in heed of the proverbial screaming of the girl’s nethers to always be strapped and well-hung. Parts, gloves, and slip are optional, of course. Eyeglasses are required, either thicks or thins. With thins, she prefers to wear her hair letdown into a Grune. With thicks, she prefers her hair yanked back and up into a sternka. The pervs aren’t the only ones who give her a long second look, when she’s sporting this creepy version of her standard.
Same husky, sexy voice, but no accent—i.e., Lucy’s real voice. A deep voice, for a woman. That hoarse, raspy, feminine baritone, à la B-movie actress/director Samantha “Sam” Phillips or singer-songwriter Kim Carnes of “Bettie Davis Eyes” fame.
In no mode, whatsoever. Just being herself, circa early-to-mid 1960’s. A somewhat-dated appearance, to say the least. A very prim and proper, young lady. Top heavy, wasp waist, leggy. A bland expression which conveys complete and utter emotional detachment even when that’s not its wearer’s emotional state. That bland expression, is also in no way, shape, or form, the tell of a bland personality. Classic lines on an otherwise-contemporary, young, smoking-hot chick. Stern. Conservative. Stiff. Stiff-backed. Point of reference, because we crave labels? Her standard. A prudish standard which is best described as bland.
Although her standard is prudish, this sexually-flexible girl, this swinger, is clearly not a prude, nor should she ever be mistaken for one. The cleavage-enhancing bullet bra of her corset and no blouse, coupled with a brief pencil skirt and “fuck me” high heels, should be your most obvious hints. Miss Debra meets Miss Manners—i.e., a Miss Handcock of Standards & Practices. Emily Post is positively green with envy.
How can this frumpy cunt be so bland and unattractive, and yet be so attractive? Hers is a hard, pretty face marred by the hairdo, eyeglasses, and bland expression she’s wearing, and a young, smoking-hot body that’s deliciously poured into an equally-bland, yet revealing outfit. The result is a well-endowed grown woman, with shot looks, who personifies severity and restraint, and you crave to fuck her every which way and loose. A proper Victorian gentleman or lady would call it The Erotic Art of Sexual Repression. In other words, in 1950s terms, she’s: The Tingler.
How can she be such a creepy, unattractive, frumpy cunt, and yet be so attractive? Exercising the thicks option insures that she’s frumpy and looks creepy. Wearing thins translates into her being frumpy, but not looking creepy. Either way, she’s a very attractive perversion. A very pretty girl, hiding in plain sight, underneath all of that dowdiness, with a killer body molding that dowdy, form-fitting skirt-suit of hers. Craving thicks, sternka, and Parts, and “needing” a large “chunk” bulging in her panties, twisted proclivities that confirm she is creepy, whether she looks creepy or not.
Thicks, bland expression, and sternka, mar an otherwise beautiful face. They render her face very unattractive. A disfigurement she appears to crave, as if she suffers from the extreme, Dr. Wendy Carr version of BDD. Thicks disfigure much worse than sternns, and for that reason are also known, especially in the librarian and hardcore fetish BDD communities, as sternns-2. In other words, all by its lonesome, wearing thicks equates to a very fucked-up face. Of course, hers is a worst-case scenario where she’s also wearing a sternka and a very bland expression, a blasé, that’s so severe and indifferent its robotic.
Her bland is a contradiction in terms: a frump with a fucked-up face and a smoking-hot body. It is a drab that comes off as an affectation of being haughty. FWB guarantees that her blandness has everything to do with her being aloof with, disdainful of, and supercilious with, her lessers, and deferential to her betters to the point of being obsessive-compulsive about it. The very same can be said of Niffin.
This thicks-sternka-blasé combo amplifies the girl’s bland. Intensifying her drab to suffocating levels. For all intents and purposes, you can, and will, forget that this in fact is a very beautiful girl with the hard, pretty face of a 1950’s movie starlet. Her looks are gone. Very Niffinish. Very BDD. This is the girl’s preference, which is profoundly disturbing and very sick. Is she a BDD devotee?
Bottomline. This creepy, uber-drab version of the girl’s standard is not completely off-putting to the witch. Much of it is quite appealing to the old, ugly biddy. The most attractive aspect of which is that although the girl is still very attractive, from the neck down. From the neck up, the girl is clearly no competition in the looks department, let alone upstaging, in comparison to the witch. Additionally, sickos like the witch actually prefer girls with hot bodies and fucked-up faces. Punish the pretty girls, for me being so ugly. In this case, akin to a masochist, that very pretty girl prefers to be punished severely this way—punished in the worst possible fashion that any beautiful woman can be punished—and that is by sporting fucked-up looks. A punishment, willfully and willingly self-inflicted, which stems from very depraved needs.
More and more the girl experiments with self-flagellation and the cilice. A device used by Catholic penitents and ascetics, a cilice /ˈsɪlɪs/, also known as a sackcloth, was originally a garment or undergarment made of coarse cloth or animal hair (a hair shirt) worn close to the skin. It is used by members of various Christian traditions—including some communicants of the Anglican, Catholic, Lutheran, Methodist, and Scottish Presbyterian Churches—as a self-imposed means of repentance and mortification of the flesh; it is often worn during the Christian penitential season of Lent, especially on Ash Wednesday, Good Friday, and other Fridays of the Lenten season.
Cilices were originally made from sackcloth or coarse animal hair so they would irritate the skin. Other features were added to make cilices more uncomfortable, such as thin wires or twigs. In modern religious circles, cilices are simply any device worn for the same purposes.
Known also as a barbwire garter, the cilice Lucy uses is a small, light, metal chain with little barbed prongs which can be worn around the thigh. When in use, it lengthens into something far more invasive with much greater girth and length, and its barbs become flesh-rending meat hooks. Corporal mortification. Flogging or beating, either as a religious discipline or for sexual gratification: “pursuing the path of penance and flagellation”. She tastes the whip daily for both reasons. Witches use the same type of cilice for the very same reasons. One encircles each thigh of Baba Yaga, constricting, ripping into the witch’s flesh.
More and more the girl is also experimenting with auto-erotic asphyxiation (AEA): the practice of cutting off the blood supply to the brain through self-applied suffocation methods while masturbating. Among devotees, it’s known as “choking the chicken”. Lucy can, and does, indulge it to the point of committing suicide, dying over and over again, while achieving the ultimate orgasm.
While remotely-controlling her cilice, the girl can flog herself into oblivion, literally shredding her back—turning unmarked, lily-white flesh into raw hamburger—while choking her chicken. Again, another Witch practice of the girl, which Baba Yaga also indulges to the extreme. As a rule, Witches are very strict Catholics, refusing to recognize any of the Vatican Reforms.
Depravity underneath banality. Psychologically, the girl is becoming more and more Witch, with the passing of time. For her, her drug, parasite, and alcohol abuse, and her getting “dirty”, have become mere steppingstones to this, that very sick stuff which shrieking nightmares are made of.