Old As Time ((LitShark & princesssexci))

[LitShark]

Belle was strange.

Everyone knew it and spoke about it openly whenever she wasn’t around. Her father was an eccentric, to say the least, but she never helped herself either. Belle never seemed to be concerned with the things that concerned other girls her age. She’d never been known to date—though plenty had tried. She never stopped into the tavern for wine or ale or even just to socialize with other people.

She just stayed up in that terrible tower that drew lightning strikes every time there was a storm. Stayed in that massive library, reading medical books. Her closest acquaintance was with the grave digger. Rumor was that she often took pieces of the newly deceased back to her father for some macabre purpose.

God only knew what she offered the grave digger in exchange.

With so many mysteries swirling about her, it was little wonder that her name was heard more often in hushed whispers that spoken aloud. But to Gaston, the mystery surrounding her made her all the more appealing. The fact that she seemed chaste appealed to his ego and the rumors excited his libido.

“The long hunt pays off the biggest!” Gaston was boasting, drinking Merlot straight from the bottle, “I’ll fell that prize and mount her proper! Then, if she be sullied by grave digger hands or any other, I’ll cast her aside like so much offal.”

It was just after sunset and Gaston was already wasted.

He wouldn’t say so, but he’d been monitoring Belle’s habits. She was due for a rendezvous with the dirt shoveler. He intended to wait at the tavern until she appeared, then intercept her and show her a better way.

“Surely the girl is only interested in the dirt hauler because she doesn’t think that she can do any better. I’m going to show her a better way. LeFou! Has she arrived?”

“Not yet, Boss!” LeFou answered quickly.

“She will be…” Gaston rubbed his hands together and licked his lips, “she will be.”

*-*-*

Within the tower, Dr. Gaultier was meticulously inserting the tips of long, copper needles into the nerve centers of a severed hand. The skin was gelatinous and had a tint of blue from so long being kept in a jar. Cuts and holes from hundreds of experiments still lay open, the hand having long since lost the ability to heal itself. The muscle fibers were still auburn below the blue skin, as the doctor so often ran electrical currents through it.

A wide array of black and red wires were clipped to the copper needles which corresponded to the complex and largely uncharted network of nerves throughout the hand. The wires all led back to a rudimentary typewriter that was joined to a free-standing arc tower where a pair of Tesla coils whipped a blue arc of electricity from one to the other.

Dr. Gaultier stroked his chin for a long moment before pressing a key tenuously.

The index finger twitched.

Another key.

The middle digit curled inward as if making a fist.

Another key.

The thumb curled and then went straight, rigid in fact.

“Daughter! Daughter, I’ve done it! Come and see!” Dr. Gaultier shrieked against the stone walls, his voice echoing all throughout the huge tower.

Dr. Gaultier’s laugh continued as he waited for Belle to approach. He was so close. A few more keystrokes to confirm that the nerves he’d previously charted were still working as expected and he abandoned the typewriter to scribble furiously into his worn book of notes.

He abandoned his desk in favor of a stack of yellowed newspapers. Hand over fist, he tore through dozens of missives in search of the specific weather forecast he was seeking.

“And right on time…” Dr. Gaultier’s eyes sped greedily over the page.

“Daughter! Tonight is the night! Tonight what I need is the most important piece of all. A head! A whole, perfect, fresh human head—the apparatus that runs all of the contingent parts,” Dr. Gaultier went back into the stack of newspapers, “a poet! A great mind of French artistry died in a carriage wreck—his body was crushed, but his head untouched. Bring me that head, daughter. I must have it. Do whatever that friend of yours requires, but bring me that head.”

Dr. Gaultier loaded a massive specimen jar into a harness of leather straps of his own design. He poured formaldehyde into the jar and then wrapped it in a black sheet. Hopefully enough to disguise the head in a jar.

“It will be heavy, even moreso on your way back—just remember to keep your stance wide.”

The thought of him going himself never even occurred to the genius scientist.

 

[princesssexci]

For as long as Belle could remember she was the oddball ofher village in France. In fact, one might say she was way ahead of her time. She enjoyed reading and helping her father with his atrange inventions hoping that one day he would come up with something that would make the townspeople do a double take and regret all the nasty things they’d said and all the rumors.

It was hard being the most unique woman in the village. Belle didn’t mind it though. It set her apart from all the other women, all the other people.

While most girls were focused on whom they were to marry that didn’t concern Belle, at least not right now.

All that mattered was taking care of her dad, helping him with whatever he was going to do.

Belle blew a strand of dark hair out of her eyes and set her book down. It had been about some fae kidnapping a girl for killing one of their own and her payment was to live with them.

Belle made her way into her fathers lab quickly.

“It’s finished?” She looked at him excitedly.

“Daughter! Tonight is the night! Tonight what I need is the most important piece of all. A head! A whole, perfect, fresh human head—the apparatus that runs all of the contingent parts,”


Belle felt her stomach turn. While she had always been one to look for adventure in the great wide, somewhere fetching her father heads from dead bodies wasn’t exactly something she had imagined for herself.

However, she couldn’t never tell her dad no.

“a poet! A great mind of French artistry died in a carriage wreck—his body was crushed, but his head untouched. Bring me that head, daughter. I must have it. Do whatever that friend of yours requires, but bring me that head.”

Belle slowly nodded her head in agreement, though it was hesitant. “Father as much as I love assisting you, there is truly no one else who could retrieve the head?”

Why did that sound so vulgar?

Nevermind that. She shook her head,”Apologies, that was silly of me. I would be more than pleased to help out.”

See, the example was quite clear that her inability to please rhe only living family member she had left was strong.

After all, it wasn’t as if her father had a whole bunch of friends in this town.

 

[LitShark]

Renee Henry pulled his shirt back on as the sun met the horizon, casting long, jagged, crimson fingers across the sky. To most in the town of Colmar, Renee was known only as his job title—gravedigger. The rigors and demands of profession had left his body chiseled and lean, but whether it was superstition or open-handed racism, he was an outcast among his peers.

His closest friend and confidant was a fellow outcast—Belle. But though Renee treasured her companionship and her council, her father had more than a few concerning habits—not least of which was using his daughter to procure for him recently deceased body parts for who knew what purpose.

Renee had been raised in the church and held his faith very closely. He wanted nothing more than to eventually marry and start a family, live a humble and peaceful life—but despite her proclivities for the macabre and her father’s questionable character, Renee loved Belle, which made his wishes for a peaceful life less attainable.

Some days, it seemed impossible.

The hole was dug and Renee had scarcely managed to clamber up his little stepladder before the poet’s coffin was being lowered from the rough-looking cart.

Renee knew of Jean-Phillipe Renoir, the poet’s genius was world renowned—which undoubtedly would make his mind a prize for Belle’s father’s insatiable habit for collection. But rumors had already been spreading about Renee’s treatment of the bodies in his care and moreover, the routine disgracing of innocent remains was nagging at his conscience.

Could he be forgiven? Could he be saved? Or was he already damned? The thought nagged him nightly.

Even now, with his heart heavy in guilt, he felt a vain excitement that he might soon see his intended once again. Belle, who he loved—who also led him into temptation. Was it selfish to look forward to her arrival?

“Merci,” Renee nodded to the cart driver as he helped him lower the casket into the ground.

“The family was very specific. Under no circumstances should the remains be disturbed in any way. Is that clear? The gendarmerie have been alerted and any sign of tampering will be dealt with harshly.”

“Understood, monsieur.”

*-*-*

Dr. Gaultier pursed up his face when Belle suggested that he himself should go get the head himself. Though he didn’t want to think about why, he was aware that she had a special sway over the gravedigger when it came to procuring body parts for his project.

Some pieces had been freebies—like the genitals of a rapist who the law had publicly castrated for his crimes. The right hand of a thief. But for a suitable mind… only Belle’s particular talents could deliver for him.

Gaultier sighed and cradled her face his his palm, looking deep into her expressive brown eyes.

“I know that this has been difficult, chérie. I know that my work has made us outcast in this… community. But I’m so close to completing my great work and then everything—everything is going to change for us.”

Dr. Gaultier leaned in to gently kiss her forehead.

“Now run along and bring me back a head.”

 

[princesssexci]

“Yes father.” Belle said in response to his words. She tucked a strand of her brown hair behind her ear. it was a very good thing that she didn’t really care what the townspeople thought of her.

How she was supposed to convince her friend Renee.

She pulled her hair into a ponytail using a stray piece of material she had scrapped from sewing her own dress.

“Besides, father you know I don’t really care what everyone thinks.” She shrugged her shoulders lightly. It was most of the town that looked down at her but she never really cared all that much.

None of the men seemed to tickle her fancy and most of them were idiots who disliked well read women.

That is except for her special friend.

“I shouldn’t waste time though standing around.” Belle went for her satchel and headed straight for the door. “I will return with your head father.”

And with that, Belle left the small house and made her way to Renee.

 

[LitShark]

Though nothing had been said directly, Renee was expecting Belle to come calling on him today. He felt inwardly conflicted, at once eager to see the young woman who so captivated him and also lamenting the detestable thing she would undoubtedly ask of her. The head of a poet, it was exactly the type of thing her father would covet for his abomination. Like most of the village, he reviled the old man—an enemy to the pious and god-fearing people of France. But unlike the rest, his sincere disgust with the doctor’s work did not extend to his daughter.

No. Renee loved Belle.

In many ways it seemed and felt hopeless. The animosity between Renee and her father only grew each time that she was sent to collect another part for the monstrosity, and moreover, he would never consent for his daughter to marry a lowly grave digger—much less one of his complexion. But none of that mattered to her, when they were together, it was like a world apart from the rest of France—even the rest of the world.

It ached at his conscience that he would do this for her, dismembering and mutilating the bodies of the recently deceased, but no matter how often or ardently he swore to stop doing these favors for her, the sight of her always seemed to melt any resistance within moments of their lips touching.

His inner turmoil was reflected in his work, as he’d dug the poet’s grave in the heat of the afternoon, telling himself that if he hurried to get the man in the ground, he might just pass into the ever-after with his head still attached, but now, as the sun was setting behind the mountains, he was moving painfully slow to fill the hole back in. He might not admit it, but he knew that if he finished burying the man, he would just have to dig him back up when Belle fluttered her long lashes or dragged her fingernails along his scalp.

The sky was afire with reds and oranges, backlighting her as she approached as though she was walking through fire. Even backlit, he recognized her silhouette. She was the devil, coming in the shape of an angel, coming to claim the last bits of his soul.

“Mon Cherie,” Renee smiled, climbing up from the barely filled hole, spiking his shovel into the ground and using it to climb out, “I’m so delighted to see you.”

Renee was damp with sweat, his tank top streaked with dirt and clinging to his muscular body, but he didn’t care. He embraced her enthusiastically, his large hand gently cupping the back of her neck, pulling her closer.

“I’ve missed you so,” he whispered, his lips brushing her neck slightly.

If he could, he would have stayed just like that, in her arms forever—with no room for her father, her father’s work or the blowhard Gaston to come between them. Nothing could come between them if he only ever held her this close… but it was a futile hope. No one could live forever in someone’s arms.

“What brings you here, Mon Cherie? I pray it’s not the head of a poet—settle instead for the heart of a grave digger,” his hand moved from her neck to the small of her back as he parted from the embrace just enough to kiss her softly.

 

[princesssexci]

“Mon Cherie,” Renee smiled, climbing up from the barely filled hole, spiking his shovel into the ground and using it to climb out, “I’m so delighted to see you.”

Belle felt like a fraud. She was instantly pulled into a hug and could smell the sweat on Renee’s skin. A fraud, because she did truly care for Renee but sometimes it seemed like the only time she came around was when her father needed something.

She did care for him so in that, she was not a fraud. She shivered as she felt his lips on her neck as he told her he missed her.

“I missed you too.” She whispered.

Despite her own father being an outcast, she wasn’t sure how he would feel if she were to reveal that at times they were more than just friends or perhaps he already knew.

Perhaps that was why he always told her to find ways to encourage Renee to get her a body part.

“What brings you here, Mon Cherie? I pray it’s not the head of a poet—settle instead for the heart of a grave digger,”

“Can it not be both?” She murmured against his lips as her hand trailed down his chest through the material of his tank top.

“Please Renee, my father is almost done with his project. We just need one head. I will be forever in your debt.” She purred as her hands ran down his strong arms.

 

[LitShark]

Renee closed his eyes, trying to focus on the feeling of Belle against him to distract from what she was actually saying. He was right, as usual. The beauty wanted something beastly from him. His heart churned with conflicting emotions. Her slender fingers seemed to pierce straight into him as her breath caressed his chest. Was he a puppet, that she could so easily extract from him what she wanted by merely clutching his shirt? Perhaps so. He was already considering logistics for the ghastly deed by the time her hands moved onto his muscular arms.

He wanted to refuse her—to tell her if she loved him as he loved her, she wouldn’t ask such a thing of him—he wanted to tell her how much it weighed on his gentle heart to profane the remains of strangers, much less a known genius—but her touch washed away his rehearsed and heartfelt objections like puddles in the rain.

Her lips on his neck released a quivering sigh from his chest as the tension in his muscles went slack. He was her puppet and he was helpless to resist the tug of the strings. The man who had moved tons of dirt, one shovel at a time and built himself into a mountain of muscle was carried along the current of Belle’s wishes as easily as a single grain of sand in a fast-moving stream. Despite everything, as long as the current drew him closer to her, he had no will to fight his way upstream.

“Can we not at least go inside for a little while, let me touch you before I must make my hands unclean?”

Renee didn’t need to wait for her answer, if he was helpless to resist her, he would at least enjoy the process of being seduced. The truth was, she was always going to get what she wanted, but Renee wasn’t interested in skipping the first half of this ‘quid-pro-quo’ bargain they had.

Renee carried Belle into the modest groundskeeper residence that he called home. He owned very little, a furnace that doubled as a cooktop, a twin bed, various tools, axes and shovels—his only real luxury item was an exquisitely plush, leather armchair. He carried her into the warm embrace of that chair as his lips sought out hers.

Renee had been saving money, enough to leave this status obsessed rural life behind. He wouldn’t be able to put them up in a castle, like the one Belle had grown up in, but they could live a luxurious life in the big city—or another country, long enough for them to find new work for themselves.

Perhaps it was intuition, but Renee felt strongly that if Belle remained in the shadow of her father’s legacy, it was only a matter of time before Renee would be digging a grave for her.

For now, he wanted her—wanted to feel her soft skin under his rough palms, to feel her urgent sighs of passion breaking against his skin. He pulled his tank top over his head and dove back into the kiss while his fingers began the process of unlacing her bodice enough for his large hand to move inside and cup her breast.

“May we?” Renee sighed, breaking the kiss to look deeply into her eyes, “tell me you want this too. Even if it’s not true—make me believe that you desire me with the same burning flame that I crave you.”

Renee lowered his lips onto her collarbone, kissing tenderly.

 

[princesssexci]

“Can we not at least go inside for a little while, let me touch you before I must make my hands unclean?”

Belle smiled and nodded her head. A bit of guilt washed over her for a few minutes because she shouldn’t be using her body to convince Renee to help her and her dad.

Though, it wasn’t as if she didnt enjoy it. She squealed softly when he picked her up and carried her into his home. Groaning, Belle’s arms wrapped around his neck as he kissed her.

Her tongue delved into his mouth as her hand ran over his head.

Belle didn’t mind kissing Renee for he was such a good kisser. She could only whimper when he pulled away to remove his tank top. Her eyes glazed with lust.

She eagerly kissed him back as his miuth crashed against hers again. Her hands stroke down his chest enjoying the feel of his muscled chest.

Belle’s back arched into him as Renee grabbed her breast.

“May we?” Renee sighed, breaking the kiss to look deeply into her eyes, “tell me you want this too. Even if it’s not true—make me believe that you desire me with the same burning flame that I crave you.”

“Yes, please I—-I need all of you…”

Her hand moved down his stomach until she found his cock through his pants. Belle’s head tilted to the side as she felt his lips trail down her collarbone and she started to undo his pants.

 

[LitShark]

When Belle begged for him, Renee complied, setting her onto the chest of drawers at the foot of his bed. With his height, the bureau was a more suitable surface than the bed to line up her body with his. As soon as he felt her slender fingers around his rigid cock he gathered up her skirts around her waist and moved forward, letting her align his huge cock and guide him into her wet, silken paradise. A shuddering sigh rattled free from his chest as he pushed himself deeper and deeper, the clenching sensation both familiar and brand new at the same time.

When the tip of his cock reached the end of her pussy, he held himself there, allowing her to adjust as he always did. Many of his previous lovers had shied away from his size, but Belle always treated him as though every part of him was perfect—nonetheless, he had developed the habit to allow his partner the opportunity to accommodate him.

“Mon cheri,” Renee sighed against her neck, leaning in as her pussy began to cling and squeeze him, “Je vous aime.”

He couldn’t hold himself back anymore, drawing his hips back just slightly and pushing back in fiercely. The wooden bureau slammed against the wooden wall as Renee’s measured push tipped it onto its back legs and he stuffed himself deeper.

As he withdrew again, increasing his tempo, Renee kissed Belle’s lips again, his tongue eagerly searching for hers as the bureau slammed the back wall again. Now it was like a rhythm, a tempo, a baseline for a song as old as rhyme…

Renee was making love to Belle. The wooden chest banging against the wooden wall as their bodies moved in unison. Like gliding across a ballroom floor that existed only in their hearts.

 

[princesssexci]

Belle groaned as she guided his cock to her pussy. Goodness, everytime they fucked his size blew her mind away.

She heard his declaration of love in French and shivered. It was like guilt washed over her, using his feelings for her own gain. Still, the main benefit was that she was always fucked so perfectly with him.

“Ouiii, Fuck meeee…” Belle buried her face into his neck as her nails scraped down his back.

The sex had never felt as good with anyone else. “B-baise-moi plus fort!” Her pussy clenched around his thick cock. She could feel him slamming against her cervix.

At this point, she was just surprised he hadn’t gotten her pregnant yet. She kissed him back just as desperately, enjoying the slick feel of his tongue rubbing against hers. Her muffled whimpers and cries of pleasure filled the room as her nails dug deeper into his beautiful brown skin.

 

[LitShark]

It probably didn’t do anything good for their already tarnished reputations, the outcast, rich-girl and the lowly grave digger having loud, rough sex in his thin-walled shack, but Renee was as helpless to resist her sexually as he was any other way. The bliss he felt, slamming his big cock to the hilt, over and over—it gave purpose to everything else in his life.

The dresser continued banging against the wall, harder and faster, knocking some of the lower shelves open as they kissed and writhed against one another, moaning and sighing in unison with their mouths and tongues intertwined so it was unclear whose moan was whose—and the sighs were simply theirs as they shared breath.

The bottom drawer fell free of its dovetailed track and clattered to the floor, tossing his few, well-worn garments around his feet but it barely registered with Renee as he was so lost in the bliss of making love to the woman of his dreams. As she squirmed and cried out for more, it was easy to forget the transactional nature of what they were doing—that she was here for body parts, but not his and not the one she was currently wringing out by some supernatural power from within her that Renee didn’t entirely understand.

“I’m cumming!” Renee cried out, breaking the long kiss just as he hilted himself again and erupted deep inside of her.

Neither of them knew it, but Renee would never impregnate Belle, no matter how much he wished it could be so. As strong as Renee was, his sperm were weak—and both of them had a different fate than “Happily Ever After.”

“Mon cherie,” Renee sighed, dragging his thick cock out of her, letting his dense cum dribble out after, “I’ve made a mess.”

Renee shrugged sheepishly, grasping the back of her neck tenderly and kissing her again before pulling his shirt back on. Next, he pulled on his pants, then he retrieved the jar from Belle’s pack.

“Wait here. I’d not have you see me do what I must…”

Renee dragged the tip of his shovel on the floor as he picked it up. The metallic ring as the shovel left the ground remained behind as Renee strode out to decapitate a dead poet. The sun had finally set. Some deeds were meant to be done in the dark.

 

[princesssexci]

The way Renee’s cock fit inside her like a missing piece of puzzle always seemed to amaze Belle. She gasped sharply as he slammed into her once more now causing the drawer behind her to rattle.

“Oh, mon dieu!” Belle cried out between kisses.

They continued to kiss and she could feel her body trembling beneath hum. Her eyes rolled in the back of her head as pin pricks of pleasure trailed through her body. Fuck, fuck fuckfuckfuckfuck!

She wasn’t speaking the curse words as she nipped as his bottom full lip and pulled. Her nails scratching down his back.

“I’m cumming!” Renee cried out, breaking the long kiss. Belle was now seeing stars at this point.

“M-me t-t-too.” Her orgasm washed over her like a waterfall falling down a mountain side. “Reneeeeeeee!!!” She cried out clutching him tightly.

“Mon cherie,” Renee sighed, dragging his thick cock out of her, letting his dense cum dribble out after, “I’ve made a mess.”

Should she be concerned? He had cum inside of her and that could cause her to be with child. They’d gotten lucky thus far but who knew when that luck would run out?

Belle nodded her head at his words and tried to fix her hair. At his words about needing privacy, she nodded her head and stepped out of the room as she fixed herself up. Though her lips were still swollen from all the kissing they shared.

The guilt once again washing over her for using his feelings against her. She quickly forced it away. She would do anything to see her father succeed.

 

[LitShark]

Renee used the edge of his shovel to sever the throat and spine of the blue-lipped wordsmith. It wasn’t so different from a stab into chunky mud, he only needed a single strike to sever the head cleanly away from the rest of the body—clean being operative of the strike itself, not the cut made by the dirty shovel.

He stuffed the head into a burlap sack that previously held potatoes and synched the top with a rope. He found Belle emerging from his home and handed the dread bundle into her slender hands—pale but not clean.

“I pray this is the last time, Cherie. No good will come of this work of your fathers’. It is an affront to God,” Renee clung to Belle’s hands, his large, work-weathered hands encompassing hers, “such things…”

He’d said it all before.

Who was he really trying to convince, Belle or himself? Belle was cold against such entreaties, he knew all too well. His hands slid away from hers slowly.

“Take my cart back to the castle. I wouldn’t want you caught with… that.” Renee glanced back down at the bag before embracing Belle and kissing the crown of her head, “besides which, the weather is darkening. Bon nuit.”


*-*-*


Lightning split the sky as freezing rain battered the shingles of the high spire of the Gaultier Castle. Dr. Gaultier was racing up and down the wrought iron staircase turning over switches and opening valves as the machine lit up and began humming to life.

He ought to have worried over why Belle had been gone so long, or how she was faring climbing back up to the castle in the icy storm—but all he was concerned over was getting the head attached in time to utilize the lightning rods mounted atop the highest spire.

“Cogson! What time is it now?” Dr. Gaultier demanded of one of his lab assistants.

The misshapen chimera of stitched together flesh made a slapping sound as it slid itself across the lab floor. A vintage clockface from a grandfather clock had been stitched into the torso of a sea otter, with the creature’s beating heart woven into the mechanism that kept the second-hand ticking. Instead of the flippers that had allowed the otter to slip gracefully through the water, Cogson had orangutan hands that he used both for science and locomotion.

“Fifteen to nine, Master,” the misshapen creature managed to croak through an owl’s beak.

“Stormfront is coming in, Master!” Lumine cried from the rafters, the creature with glowing bulbs for hands gestured toward the sky.

“Daughter! Are you here? The time is neigh!” Dr. Gaultier cried out, “I need that poet’s head before the lightning finds our tower!”

 

[princesssexci]

“I pray this is the last time, Cherie. No good will come of this work of your fathers’. It is an affront to God,” Renee clung to Belle’s hands, his large, work-weathered hands encompassing hers, “such things…”

Belle smiled softly at him instead of giving him an answer. She was a horrible person using his emotions the way she was.

“Yes, once my father finishes this last experiment then we shouldn’t need to do all this. I swear.”

Though it felt like she was always saying things like this to him. When would all of this end, truly?

Belle stood on her tip toes and kissed his cheek as if that sealed her words and made them true.

“Take my cart back to the castle. I wouldn’t want you caught with… that.” Renee glanced back down at the bag before embracing Belle and kissing the crown of her head, “besides which, the weather is darkening. Bon nuit.”

Nodding her head once more, Belle climbed into the cart and made her way back home. She only hoped she wouldn’t have to put Renee through this, She did care for him and all of this nonsense made it seem otherwise.
It felt like hours as the cart moved through the oncoming storm. Thunder crackled around her and Belle silently prayed she would make it back safely.

It felt like she had been gone for months rather than a few hours. She must’ve been getting closer though because she could hear the echoes of her fathers voice calling her.

 

[LitShark]

Mrs. Potts was waiting in the courtyard with a wide-open parasol to help shield Belle from the rain as she came inside, hopefully with her critical acquisition. Mrs. Potts had been a loyal servant of Dr. Gaultier’s father before her passing of natural causes. Still young and unwilling to part with his matriarchal figure, Dr. Gaultier had crudely reprogrammed her consciousness into the body of an adult chimpanzee.

“I trust the errand went well, my darling?” Mrs. Potts’ familiar voice crackled through the wires of a speaker mounted in the bottom jaw of the chimp, she passed the parasol off to Belle, waddling with some effort to retrieve the jar in the back of the cart, “oh yes. Handsome as could be.”

Mrs. Potts used her long arms to wrap around the large jar and make her way inside. She closed the door behind them with one dexterous leg as Lumine contorted himself from the rafters to shine a light on their arrival.

“Master! She ‘az returned!”

“Not a moment too soon, my darling child. Mrs. Potts, the head!”

At the doctor’s command Mrs. Potts gripped the jar with her dexterous legs and swung from banister to bar to pipe, climbing the tower in just a few long swings, delivering the head to Dr. Gaultier.

“Yes! He’s perfect…” the head made a crude sucking sound as Dr. Gaultier removed it from the liquid with gloved hands. He began sketching a rudimentary map of insertion points for the cluster of copper needles that came up through the neck of the headless torso.

Many of the long needles needed to pass through the skull, so Dr. Gaultier used a small hammer to pound each one into the brain. The last several dozen went to the brain stem, which was easily pierced from below and didn’t require a hammer.

The lightning struck the rod atop the tower and the whole lab flung arcs of sudden and uncontrolled electricity between coils. All the muscles in the body began clenching and relaxing, like every fiber of muscle was flexing and relaxing at the pace of hummingbird wings.

“Raise the body, Cogson!” Dr. Gaultier used an oversized staple gun to quickly attach the head to the neck.

Cogson’s orangutan hands made quick work of operating the chain crank and raising the copper gurney bed up into the spire where the network of conductive coils were pointing. Long blue arcs of latent power lashed out as the hyper conductive basket moved higher and higher.

“Yes! Higher! Higher!” Dr. Gaultier slid tinted goggles down over his eyes, reaching over to wrap his arm around Belle and pull her closer, “This is it. A true human consciousness in a human body. At long last, they will regret mocking my ambition. You’ll be welcomed into any university in the world! Our name will be known and our wealth boundless!”

Lightning!

The whole network of coils surged to life at once—blue arcs converging on the metal basket that glowed orange in an instant. Even over the loud crackling of electricity and the rumble of instantaneous thunder, an agonizing, masculine scream soared out into the night—rising above the storm and throughout the tower.

“It’s alive!” Dr. Gaultier rose his own voice to match the Beast’s, “IT’S ALIVE!!!”