Micki is kidnapped by a disturbed doctor who forcefully uses a cursed silver syringe on prostitutes she abducts in an attempt to create a replacement for her promiscuous imaginary wife.
Kirstjen comes to herself in the alley behind the Blue Velvet lounge. An establishment of ill repute that she has been known to frequent from time to time. She has no idea how she got here.
From her perspective. One moment, she was running to catch the bus, having taught her last class of the day at Brakebills. The next moment she was here. In-between, she blacked out.
Clearly, for some reason, unknown to her, Kirstjen has been summoned here by someone or something utilizing the correct protocols.
Kirstjen stumbles about. A blinding migraine nearly doubling her over. She’s having trouble thinking rationally. This hard pretty thirty-something Kirstjen, who is not strapping butch thus she’s not strapping Piranhas and Parts.
There are voices in her head. Many voices. Angry demanding voices. A deafening chorus, that becomes one voice shrieking in her head. A woman’s deep, raspy, borderline masculine voice.
Kirstjen recognizes the voice: it’s a discernable facsimile, not a convincing deep fake, of Mx. Lauren Fix’s voice. Increasingly, here and there, there are automaton bits and pieces to this manufactured voice. Increasingly, the voice is transitioning into a robotic monotone.
This genderqueer voice explains: she’s here for the repossession of a cursed item that’s the plus-one of a matched, but not identical, pair.
After being given the ins and outs of the repo by the disembodied voice, she drops to her knees and passes out. Just before she loses consciousness, she hears a woman scream. That woman is her. It is the blood-curdling scream of a lunatic.
That wretched plaintive makeup applies itself heavily to her face, neck, and cleavage. The girl is no longer pretty. Rendered ugly and plain, she looks much older and well-used as well. Thirty-something has given way to fifty-something. Cougar, MILF, well-past-her-prime-bimbo.
Thick-readers download onto her now ravaged face.
She’s now easily mistaken for a junkie spinster who’s strung out and badly in need of a fix.
By now Kirstjen is strapping butch, thus she’s strapping Piranhas and Parts.
Her crazed theatrics catch the attention of eighty-something Dr. Ellen Pollock aka Aunt Harris aka Auntie, who’s getting high in a makeshift head beside a dumpster.
Auntie is that lecherous genderqueer bulldyke ilk taken to the next level.
Auntie. A creepy fugly elderly prostitute.
Auntie. A “displaced” Victorian used-to-be psychiatrist.
Auntie. A radicalized defrocked Catholic nun.
Auntie. A Lovecraftian-obsessed “amateur” scientist: her primary OCD.
Auntie. An obsessive collector of cursed antiquities: her secondary OCD.
Auntie. A “minor” deity, of ill-repute.
Auntie. Thick-readers. Plaintive makeup heavily-applied to face, neck, and cleavage. Lily-white complexion. Big yellow blonde hair, a jeannie hairstyle. Perls. Prudz. A stodgy Kaye Maxfield business suit. No blouse. Flats. Barelegged. Lacy white underwire torpedo bra, and no panties. Manicure and pedicure.
The plaintive makeup that’s applied heavily to Auntie’s face, neck, and cleavage, amplifies the ugly and plain of a woman who has always had ravaged looks. Ugly and plain without plaintive makeup. Uglier and plainer with plaintive makeup.
Some of the affectations that apply? Bitter spinster, sexually repressed, sexually frustrated, mean, loathsome, disdainful, RBF, frumpy, stern, severe dowdy, fugly, plain, petty, spiteful, abusive. In a word: harsh.
Auntie. Envious of attractive women; she craves the punishment of pretty women for the “crime” of being pretty, with the preferred punishments being WGS, ascetics, cilice, flogging, disfigurement, and gender-bending, all of which are self-inflicted (i.e., punishments inflicted by the pretty woman upon the pretty woman).
Ascetics?
For Catholics, restraints are viewed as integral to one’s identity as an ascetic; i.e., restraints are used by the person during life to limit mobility as a part of a religious ascetic lifestyle. These religious followers put themselves in restraint as a matter of religious piety. In the secular realm, BDSM aficionados do it for depraved reasons. As restraints, barbwire is a more extreme way to practice asceticism; more moderate practitioners prefer chains and straps. An example of an ascetic that’s popular with Catholic nuns and female laity are hobble half-slips known as Laverta-Diggs.
Strapping Laverta-Diggs. Wearing a flesh-colored rubber half-slip which does business as a wide strap that’s so restrictive it greatly amplifies a limited walk. Hence the stilted walk of strapping butch becomes its more extreme expression of a cloistered nun’s bound walk. It’s as if the hobble slip’s wearer is wearing one of those ankle-length hobble skirts one of those long skirts with a narrow enough hem to significantly impede the wearer’s stride. Those hobble skirts were a short-lived fashion trend that peaked between 1908 and 1914.
Auntie. In appearance, represents the anti-feminine: big-boned, heavy, and squat, with thick legs and very strong calves for a woman. Big, mannish hands, for a woman. Creates an overall impression of a grotesquely deviant femininity, sexual repression, and the devious overtones of a sexually-repressed Victorian dominatrix.
Auntie. Creepy and obsessive-compulsive. Fugly. Neither attractive nor very feminine-looking. A stocky-built Harpy who is easily mistaken for a mongrel of Goon and Witch bloodlines. A pure-breed Hag for whom consensual sex is indistinguishable from rape most brutal and most foul.
Additionally.
Auntie blood-drinks her lovers as if she is a Vampire. And. Her archaic accent is an odd mix of proper Queen’s English, vaguely Eastern European, and something else indistinguishable and very ancient. A woman’s deep, raspy, borderline masculine voice: mangled vocally, in spades.
To reiterate. She sounds manly with her husky voice: The staff at The White House wants her to quit using the men’s bathroom.
The quintessential dominatrix. Unfettered hatred. Strident. Severe. Stiff-backed. Astringent personified. RBF. One of those resting frown-face chicks aka resting bitch face girls.
Stone-faced, when she’s not flashing that maniacal Joker’s smile of hers. A toothy grin that makes her look like she’s completely unhinged.
Dour, stern, humorless, and severe. Relentlessly severe, stern, or gloomy in manner or appearance. A hard, dour, humorless fanatic.
A face that says: “I got too much Botox and I need help”. and “My face hurts to smile, to even try”. and “I messed up. Look, this big ass Joker’s smile is the only smile I got anymore.”
“Who would want that, let alone pay for it?!” You might ask, considering Auntie’s physical appearance—she’s not even a pig in a poke—she looks like the pig that the poke wouldn’t want. The answer is quite simple: any woman or man, who Auntie has ever gotten her hands on, has wanted what she’s got in spades. Sexual prowess has nothing whatsoever to do with looks. Some of the most fucked up looking people are peerless performers “between the sheets”, and some of the best-looking people are dead fish in bed.
Auntie has seen the girl hanging around the club before, and instantly took a shine to her. It was obsession at first sight. An OCD, Auntie’s tertiary one, that Auntie has yet to consummate, until now.
This old biddy Auntie is walking stilted (stiff robotic gait), as if she’s a butch who’s strapping Piranhas and Parts, and having an MTG 24×7 “bleach-blonde, bad-built, butch body” moment. Because. This old biddy Auntie is strapping butch and having an MTG 24×7 BBBBBB moment.
Auntie drags Kirstjen’s limp body into the head, shoots Kirstjen up with what’s left in her cursed silver syringe, and proceeds to undress the girl. Unbuttoning the girl’s jacket, unhooking the girl’s bra, and yanking down the girl’s panties.
Auntie sucks on the girl’s succulent tits after groping them, and then deep throats the girl, licking the girl’s balls, pussy, and anus.
Then. She, Auntie, stops dead in her tracks and just keels over. Leaving nothing to the imagination. Proof in pictures. Kim Timpf, 36, has spoken.
No RTW, per the girl’s discretion. So, Auntie will later resurrect.
A clearheaded lucid Kirstjen stands up. Hard pretty thirty-something Kirstjen. A Kirstjen who’s no longer strapping underneath her skirt. Bolshoi-bare in place of plaintive makeup. Thick-readers uploaded back into her features. The genderqueer voice in her head quieted. Jacket buttoned. Double-Ds shoved back into a now fastened bra. Panties yanked back up in place.
Kirstjen pockets the cursed silver syringe, and walks out of the alley.
For the very briefest of moments. Kirstjen walks stilted (stiff robotic gait), as if she’s strapping butch and having a patented MTG “bleach-blonde, bad-built, butch body” moment. A clear reminder that although what transpired in this alley was in point of fact the “real thing”, nonetheless it was theatrical too minus the hackneyed troupe of a last minute agreed upon script and with lethal consequences that could have been easily permanent.
Notably. The injection site for the cursed silver syringe is identical to the entry point of a transorbital lobotomy, a so-called “ice pick lobotomy”. This is why the cursed silver syringe is colloquially known as an “orbitoclast”.
How is an ice pick lobotomy performed?
The “ice pick” (an orbitoclast) is be placed under the eyelid, but not through the eyeball itself. It is placed at an angle usually. Doctor Adolf Freeman (the creator of this procedure) would often just do it more perpendicular to the head, but for many others, the orbitoclast would be placed parallel with the nose bone. Then, the tool is hammered in to break the thin bone in the eye socket and is sent a few centimeters into the brain. The tool is swiveled, cutting the brain, then hammered in two more centimeters and swiveled once more. This is done through both sides.
This is a procedure done without anesthesia. The patient would usually be talking, singing, or reciting prayers so that the doctor would be able to tell if they went too far based on the clarity, intelligence, or even presence of their speech. If it was altered, or the patient went silent, they’d done something wrong.
A barbaric practice. This treatment was most popular during the Victorian Era.