The Fraternal Brotherhood (1)

by Zapped!

   Some of you readers may recall seeing the term “Fraternal Brotherhood” mentioned in a few of the “Girls Under Glass” stories. This would be in reference to the fraternal order that Jack Claussen, Maxwell Abner, and Stanley Pitt were all active members of during their college years. The purpose of this next story is to perhaps “shed some light” on the mysterious and little-known world of the Order of the Pygmalion Brotherhood . . .  

Inspirations: I’ve had the general framework for this story sitting around since the Stanley Pitt character was introduced into the “Girls Under Glass” series, but I wasn’t quite sure of what to do with it. It wasn’t until I read the as-yet-to-be-completed “Ready and Waiting” by Q, that I was immediately inspired to write my own tale of what I would call a “scholastic conspiracy!” Other acknowledgements should be given to: “Visual Aid” by Robotdoll; and horror/ cult film, “The Brotherhood of Satan” - (later on, in part two). Thanks should also go out to Dmuk and the “Inga” character: her vocal mannerisms were an excellent reference that made this story fun to write. (And besides: I don’t know how to read or write in actual German).  
 [Inga BTW was intended as a caricature, so little actual German (or Svedish, for that matter) was harmed in her melodramatic style. Ed]

Note: Some of these characters were inspired by people in real life. For a quick reference tool, I suggest reading or even printing off  the character list given before starting this story!


   When hearing the words “Fraternal Temple,” one might envision a prestigious structure made of concrete or brick. A predominant building perched high on a hillside, featuring   rows of ornate pillars out front; massive steps; and adorned with various bronze or marble statue heads of respected figures associated with that particular institution. The building where the “Pygmalion Brotherhood” held their private council meetings was anything but that . . .

   Placed behind the main faculty office building and just below the universities impressive sports complex on the hill above, the structure often went unnoticed by most. The rocky exterior surfaces blended in with most of the other “medieval styled” buildings on campus. However, the building simply known as The Muse was unique in many ways:  it lacked windows of any sort; there was only one known entrance - the large wooden “castle like” door mounted to the front, with its menacing “lion’s head” cast iron door knocker being the only feature. (Oddly enough, there was no door handle on the outside, and nobody was ever seen entering or leaving the facility).

   For years the foreboding structure alone, was enough to inspire local tales and speculation of possible strange activities taking place inside . . .



5 a.m. on the girl’s floor of Weston Hall, just two days ago:


. . . A sleepy-headed girl rubs her tired eyes after being rudely awakened by her alarm clock. Her chocolate brown eyes begin to focus on the digital numbers that glow in the darkness: “5:00 a.m.? That can’t possibly be the right time . . . Shit!”

   Allyson Ling crawls out from beneath her cozy bedcovers and stumbles across her dorm room in nothing more than a pair of undies and a wrinkled “Property of Glendale Phys. Ed” t-shirt. She quickly pulls on a pair of clingy gray sweat shorts before sliding a sport bra beneath her shirt to strap it in place. As the Chinese student pulls on a pair of ankle socks and running sneaks, she notices that her breath tastes stale.

   “It’s not like I’m going to see anybody out on the trail,” thinks Ally to herself, as she pulls her tangled black hair into a ponytail. “No sense in showering either; I’ll be covered in sweat in a few minutes and would have to take it all over again by the time I get back.”

   Allyson always preferred jogging in the morning, as opposed to at night. There was nothing like the crisp morning air and the sound of chirping birds at this early an hour to start off her day.

   As the American born Asian quietly steps out of the room and carefully closes the door, (to avoid awaking her roommate), she’s immediately startled when she turns to walk and sees the janitor exiting the girl’s restroom! (Ally freezes in place and almost reaches back towards the doorknob in fear, as the janitor emerges).

   Dressed in a stained pair of maintenance coveralls and wearing a musty looking pair of combat boots, the janitor looks equally startled when he sees the nearby female jogger. The man quickly pulls a bundle of toilet paper out from beneath his armpit and assures in broken English, “All zet . . . Just changing zee paper!”

. . . The man then pushes at the door and holds it open, offering the cute looking girl access!

   “Mmm, no . . . That’s quite alright,” declines the jogger, before walking at a fast pace towards the nearest exit door. As she steps outside, she can’t help but wonder, “What if I had been in the shower or had to pee?” (Ally briefly recalls of complaints that other girls in her four room quad had about the creepy old man; incidents of him inappropriately walking in the girls’ bathroom after a quick knock, or staring at them as they walked down the halls).

   Those thoughts soon fade though, as the lone jogger eases into a slow trot to gradually warm herself up. After the first hundred yards or so, Ally began to loosen up and set her rhythm - the stride of her powerful legs now lengthening. The girl’s breath came in sharp, repeated gasps at first, but became deeper and more relaxed as she cruised her way across the dark, mist shrouded campus.

   It had always amazed Allyson that she could be a first string starter for Glendale’s soccer team and still gain weight. (At five foot three, Allyson’s small frame and quickness allowed her to exploit defenses and create opportunities for herself and her team). Even though her body was in good shape, the jockette thought that her thighs and butt could use a little more work - especially with spring break and a long awaited trip to Myrtle Beach less than a week away!

   Allyson’s talents weren’t limited to the playing field either, as her 4.4 GPA showed she was not only one of the East Coast's top rated female soccer players, but also one of the brightest. The girl was a mid-fielder who was recruited straight out of high school and by the time she was a sophomore in college, she had already qualified as an All-American candidate.

   However, with such impressive credentials to back her up, Allyson already felt as if she had outgrown Glendale University. The nineteen year old was now considering a transfer to Stanford . . .

   Twenty minutes into her run, Ally was well across campus; her arms swung rhythmically and her sneaks trotted in a steady rhythm. (If anyone were to observe the Asian in her element, they would notice that she was sporting her precious smile). Her eyes had already adjusted to the slight darkness, and the girl could make out some of the detail of her surroundings. Allyson had run this particular pathway dozens of times and she felt quite safe; the trail had a broad path, allowing the jogger to glide along with ease. (The girl had certainly cherished the anonymity she felt when running alone at this nocturnal hour, as it was the only time that she truly had to herself these days).

   As Allyson crested a small hill lined with brush and trees, there was a particularly unnerving part of the trail - not necessarily due to the darkness, but because of the overgrown tangle of vines that draped across the path from a low-hanging branch. The girl always sensed a certain amount of danger whenever passing through the shadowy stillness, but just chuckled at herself as she neared the end of the dark opening. With her glutes still jiggling along, Allyson couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder as she passed through the other side. As she does so, Ally hears a snapping sound- like somebody stepping on a fallen tree branch, before the girl also notices movement in the corner of her eye!

   The jogger’s heart skips a beat just as a voice speaks out from the darkness ahead of her!

   “Allyson Ling, is that you?” asks a flat, but feminine voice.

   Before Ally can answer, she is already upon the woman that spoke out, and nearly topples her over! The runner locks up her feet and lets out a “Yelp!” in shock . . .

   “Allyson dear, it’s me - Mrs. Kessler!” says the woman that stands in the middle of the path and wearing a tan trench coat that hung down to her knees.

   “Mrs. Kessler? . . . Wh . . . What are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere?” asks the startled jogger, (as her eyes try to readjust to her surroundings).  Allyson kept jogging in place to maintain her pace during the unexpected pause.

   “Oh I was just taking an early morning walk,” replies the Student Advisor. “A good walk tends to relax me before the start of the school day.”

   “. . . But at five in the morning?” asks the Asian with a sense of doubt.

   “Yes indeed! . . . But now that you’re here, there’s something that I’ve been meaning to speak to you about,” reveals the woman. “I understand that you’ve been considering a transfer to Stanford, is that true?”

   Allyson gets a confused look and replies, “Yes, that’s absolutely true; Stanford is obviously a better choice for me at this point . . . But I don’t think this is the time or place to discuss . . .”

   The advisor cuts the Asian off in mid-sentence and presses two fingers up against the student’s lips . . . “Shuussssh! . . . That is all I needed to hear. You do know that we need your talent in our soccer program, don’t you?”

   Ally starts, “Well I have to look out for what is best for me, and . . .”

   The advisor cuts off the student once again, “Shuuusssh my dear, we understand your point of view, we just fail to support it! Coach, could you come here please . . .”

   “Coach?” repeats Ally with confusion.

   The advisor digs out an odd looking pair of goggles from within her coat, and then tugs them down over her head, as an unseen hand forcefully grabs Allyson by the shoulder to turn her around!

   The jogger yells, “OWWW!” before quickly looking up in the dark to see a man wearing the same goggles and holding up a weird looking camera . . .

   The jogger looks even more confused when she speaks out, “Wait . . . Coach Walker?”


 . . . A brilliant burst of blue light suddenly illuminates the portion of the path that the trio is standing in, leaving the jogger frozen in place exactly where she stood!

   After a brief period of silence, a male voice speaks out, “Jesus, I thought she was never going to show up!”

   The female voice replies, “Lets not pat ourselves on the back just yet; we still have to get her back to the lab before students start leaving for early morning classes; it’s getting light out here awfully fast!”

   “That’s a good point… It’s a good thing she didn’t oversleep, eh?” says the male.

   The female voice replies, “That’s just one of Miss Ling’s qualities; she’s so focused and determined, I knew I could count on her sticking to her routine.”

   “Hmm that’s a good point,” says the male, before he ads, “From the smell of her, she might be in need of a good shower.”

   “I’m sure the professor gives them all a thorough bath before he preserves them,” assures the female voice . . .

   A short moment later, Allyson’s immobilized body is dragged off of the trail and through the overgrowth of weeds to an awaiting car nearby. Within ten minutes, the girl would be deposited at a secret location in the middle of campus, and her dreams of transferring to Stanford would be forgotten forever . . .


 Women’s locker room, Glendale University Gymnasium, current day:

   It had been yet another long, hard work out for the Glendale Gargoyles cheerleading squad, and the shower stalls were filling up fast. Girls were wandering around wrapped in towels, while others were still stripping out of their uniforms. Some of the shyer team members were changing out of their uniforms and quickly pulling on their street clothes.

   Regardless of whether a team member was shy or outgoing, the one thing they all had in common was the ongoing buzz of the feeling of victory. Having just won the state championship exhibition a week ago, the squad was the pride of the campus and the talk of the town. And without a doubt, it was the hard workouts like they went through this afternoon that got them there.

   Alicia Dewitt’s wet feet pitter-patter across the locker room floor, as she makes her way back to her locker. The redhead scrubs the dampness out of her hair with a towel, while other team members around her wipe off their tight, healthy-looking figures. There are a few girls in the background that are horsing around in their panties, trying to whip each other with rolled up towels. Alicia quickly dries her own body off, and then reaches into her locker to grab a pink G-string. The head cheerleader steps into the lacy underwear and pulls them on, allowing the elastic waistband to snap in place. The girl pulls out a matching bra and slides the straps over her shoulders, before reaching around to clasp the foundation in place . . .

   As Shawna “Hoopz” Parker emerges from the shower room, she’s wearing nothing more than the towel wrapped around her head. Her wet, light-cocoa hued skin glistens as her athletic body struts its way over to her locker. (The name “Hoopz” was given to her by her homeboys back in Queens for her fierce game of street basketball). Beside Hoopz, there’s a Mid-Western girl with long black silky hair, that’s climbing into a pair of faded blue jeans . . .

   “Hey Hoopz, a couple of us are going over to Pizza Hub to grab an early supper, wanna come?” asks the sophomore.

   “Mmm, not tonight Lana. I think I’m just going to stop at the cafeteria and grab something . . . I’m feeling pretty beat!” replies Shawna, now pulling a black thong up her legs.

   The girl named Lana turns to her team captain next to her and asks, “How about you Alicia?”

   The red head replies, “No thanks Lana, I think I’m going to head over to the cafeteria myself. I don’t have any classes this evening, and I just want to grab something quick and get back to my dorm. I’d like to get some studying in for my finals, before we go on spring break, cause I know I won’t get anything done on vacation!”

   “Great! . . . I’ll walk over there with you, cause I’m frickin’ starving!” says Shawna from two lockers down, before pulling a tight white “tummy-shirt” out over her ample breasts.

   From the row of lockers behind the girls, a petite chesty blonde by the name of Claire Bennet, dries herself off. As she does so, she turns to the team captain and asks, “Alicia, do you plan on going to the bonfire Saturday night, or are you going to be cooped up in your room?”

 Alicia:  “Well my roommate is going to be hanging around all weekend, so I’ll go just to avoid her annoying ass . . . God, I can’t wait to get out of here for spring break!”

Shawna:  “Is that the Italian girl from Jersey?”

   Alicia answers, “Yes, unfortunately. Between her cigarette smoke, crackling her gum and the fact that half of my clothes seem to be missing, she’s one thing that I won’t miss about college!” The red head then pulls her shoulder length hair up into a ponytail, and thinks to ask, “Oh hey, speaking of missing; does anybody know where Jamie has been? I haven’t seen her in class, and she hasn’t been to her practice in like . . . three days now!”

   Shawna answers, “I heard she got homesick, and went home on break early, just to see her boyfriend.”

   While pulling on a pair of tight sweat pants, Claire suggests, “Maybe she caught this bug that’s been going around. There have been a couple of girl’s in my classes this week that went home sick for the break already, including Allyson Ling.”

   Alicia warns, “Just be sure you don’t catch anything Claire; this is going to be our last trip to Cancun, and your not going to do me any good lying sick in a hotel room!”

   “Oh believe me, if I have to get up and puke in the ocean every five minutes, I still wouldn’t miss that trip!” assures Claire.

   Alicia slams her locker door closed, and gathers up her backpack and gym bag from the wooden bench behind her. She raises her long legs up over the bench, and begins walking past the coach’s office to exit the locker room.

   Alicia pulls her heavy backpack up over her shoulder and complains, “You know what pisses me off? I’m the damned captain of the cheerleading squad, and Jamie is one of my girls . . . you’d think that the coach would have at least told me if she went home sick!”

   Shawna shrugs her shoulders and suggests, “Maybe you should try calling her parents to see if she’s alright.”

. . . From inside his office beside the women’s locker room, Coach Walker turns off the video camera that’s hidden by the screened cover in a ceiling vent. After watching the girls get dressed and overhearing the girls’ conversation, he decides it’s time to make a call. The man looks over at the female cheerleading coach seated across from him, and says, “I appreciate your little tip Ms. Jackson; I’m sure Dean Kessler will be quite impressed . . .”

* * * * * *

   As Alicia and Shawna make their way across campus, they discuss their plans for the break; Shawna tells of how she can’t wait to go home to see her family back in Queens, while Alicia brags about how tanned she’s going to be once she comes back from her final trip to Cancun. They also discuss their surprising win at the state finals . . .

   “Surprising? Why should it be such a surprise?” asks Shawna. “I mean look at us; we were totally the shit this year girl!”

Alicia nodded:  “Yeah, we definitely had it together this season - especially at the finals! . . . What I meant was I was surprised that we won considering how many freshmen we had on the team this year. There were only three veterans returning from last year: you; Claire; and myself. And let’s face it; we were up against some schools that had a lot more experience, and a lot more money invested into their programs than we did.”

   “Yeah, but I would rather be at a small college like this one and win big, as opposed to going to a highly ranked school and be lost in the crowd,” reveals Shawna.

   Alicia pauses for a moment, to open the door of the cafeteria and welcome her teammate inside.

   “Well, maybe it’s just me, but it seems like every year the competition gets just a little fiercer,” observes Alicia. “They really pushed us hard this year and I’m a little worried that some of these new girls won’t be able to handle the stress. I mean, just look at what happened to Jamie for example.”

   “Oh please . . . You don’t know what the situation was there,” says Shawna. “I think she was just homesick, or maybe caught that “spring flu” that Claire was talking about.”

   Alicia unexpectedly whispers, “. . . Or maybe she just missed her man-meat!”

   “Oh no you didn’t!” exclaims Shawna. “I can’t believe I just heard that come out of that pretty little mouth!”

   Alicia confesses, “Well . . . ya did!”

   Shawna asks, “Where can a woman like me find some of this man-meat? . . . Maybe I’ll ask one of them lunch ladies while we’re standin’ in line, if they’ll serve me up some of this so-called man-meat!”

   The two cheerleaders begin laughing loudly in unison. The pair quickly draw attention to themselves from a table of girls nearby, before stepping through an archway and blending in with the rest of the line of hungry students . . .

   “What do you suppose those two bimbos are laughing about?” asks a gothic girl with jet-black hair, lipstick and nails. The girl named Patty turns back around towards her friends, with a sour expression on her pale looking face.

   A second girl who is a bit on the chubby side comments, “It’s bad enough that they get all of the guys on campus. After winning that stupid championship, I’m sure they’ll be getting other “additional benefits” as well.”

   Patty adds, “I heard that they were letting the cheerleaders leave for break a few days earlier than the rest of the campus, as a little fucking bonus.”

   The chubby girl asks, “That isn’t true, is it Karen?”

   From the head of the table, a slim leggy blonde by the name of Karen Hunter responds, “Yeah, you do get certain benefits when you’re an athlete - especially a successful one!”

   “Just what kind of benefits are we talking about here?” inquires the chubby girl.

   “Well, the typical stuff, like improved grades; you can miss a class now and then without the teacher writing you up,” answers the blonde.

   The Goth growls, “Those stupid bitches!” 

   Karen looks around with a bit of caution, to make sure that nobody might over hear her, and then reveals, “During my freshman year, we were getting ready for this big cross-country track meet against Arizona State. I signed up for this intramural program that was supposed to improve your physical stamina . . .”

   Patty interrupts the blonde, and asks, “. . . And what was that all about?”

   The lithe blonde shrugs her shoulders and confesses, “I don’t know, I don’t even remember how I even got there, to tell you the truth! . . . All I know for sure is: we won the meet, and I got to miss classes for an entire week!”

   A nerdy looking girl who had remained quiet up until that point, presses her glasses up on her nose and mentions, “My friend Miley was on the softball team, and she got sent to one of those intramural programs for a week, and she couldn’t remember what happened to her there either.”

  Patty makes a confused expression and asks, “What do you mean she can’t remember? How the fuck do you forget an entire week?”

   “Look, all I know is that she just started seeing the school psychologist . . . She’s been waking up in the middle of the night and having nightmares - it’s totally freaking her out!” exclaims the nerdy girl.

   “I don’t recall having any nightmares, but for a long time after that I would see bright spots when I closed my eyes,” recalls Karen.

   The nerdy girl pushes her glasses up on her nose once again, before asking, “You don’t think it had anything to do with . . . you know, that building they call The Muse? There have always been rumors floating around about that creepy place!”

   “What? . . . That old stone building across campus with the vines and moss growing up the side of it?” asks Karen. “You can’t be serious! . . . I’m pretty sure that I would remember going into that place!”

   “Those stories are just campus legend, and I highly doubt that there’s even a slightest bit of truth in any of them!” offers Patty. The tough looking girl begins to wiggle her fingers as if casting a spell and says in a sinister voice, “Don’t get caught wandering around campus after midnight my little pretties, or else; WOOOOOOOOO!”

   As the girls around the table crack-up with laughter, they fail to notice one of the campus advisors - Mrs. Kessler, listening in on their conversation from a few feet away. The advisor’s expression turns to that of concern, as she sizes up Karen. A moment later, Mrs. Kessler flips open her phone and presses a pre-programmed number, before stiffly “clacking” her hard heeled shoes out of the cafeteria area . . .

* * * * * *

   As Alicia walks back to her dorm, she notices some drunken guys wrestling around like immature idiots on the grass. She reminds herself that in a few more weeks, all of this nonsense will be over with . . . “God; I can’t wait to graduate!”

   Alicia climbs the stairway to the second floor, and walks to her room to unlock her door. Even out here in the hallway, she can hear the steady beat of dance music thumping from within. A moment later, the senior walks inside and tosses her backpack and gym bag haphazardly towards her bed. She then yells, “Did you get the mail today Jess?”

   The only reply the redhead hears is the constant clicking of fingers on a keyboard and the thunderous bass track vibrating in the floor. She walks over to her pre-occupied roommate and taps her on the shoulder.

   Jessica is quite startled, and immediately jumps up from her chair . . .

   “Jesus Christ!” cusses the petite Italian, while nearly dropping her cigarette. “What is your fucking problem?”

   Alicia reaches to turn down the stereo for a moment and then responds, “Relax! I just wanted to know if you got the mail, that’s all! . . . Pheeew, it reeks in here Jess.”

   The annoyed freshman crackles her gum, as she watches her roommate struggle to open up a nearby window. When Alicia finally turns around, Jessica points at the pile that’s sitting on top of a dresser.

   Alicia says, “Thank you,” before picking up the pile to sort through it all. “Let’s see here: credit card bill; phone bill; Victoria’s secret catalog . . . And what’s this?” she wonders; now checking out an odd looking envelope made of crushed velvet. Alicia’s name was embossed with fancy cursive writing in silver across the front, and there was an old style “paste” seal on the back. A delicate pink ribbon was wrapped around the perimeter of the envelope.

   “This was actually in with the regular mail?” questions the redhead. “How did it get through without a postage stamp on it?”

   Jessica shrugs her shoulders and replies, “I don’t have the slightest clue . . . That’s exactly how it was when it came out of the mailroom.”

   Alicia peels open the cute looking envelope with the look of curiosity, and plucks out the paperwork inside with her fingers. The girl then unfolds the paper, and goes on to read:

   Due to the recent expansion of our campus historical preservation program, the Glendale Theatre of the Arts Group needs your help. We are seeking physically fit students who are willing to think outside the box, and would appreciate being in an environment that’s a little different from the traditional college setting. Creativity, maturity and a genuine love and respect for your body are a must. Candidates will find themselves surrounded by academic staff, appreciative alumni, and professional artists who are passionate and dedicated to their craft, as well as their students. Participants will be fully supported by an involved and dedicated administration.

   These positions are temporary, but will involve long hours, with good pay as a result. Package includes competitive salary, state of the art health and beauty benefits, as well as 3.0 ceu’s worth of credit towards your education. This program is an excellent source for keeping up with rising tuition costs...  

   Please report to the student advisor’s office at the appointed time below and be sure to be prompt.   

Alicia Dewitt  4/26 11:30 am

NOTE:  This is an official school document containing confidential information for the named party, and it is not to be viewed by, or discussed with anyone else! Failure to do so may result in disciplinary action by administration, up to and including automatic student suspension.

   Alicia immediately turns to her roommate and says, “Hey, take a look at this freaky letter I got!”

   Jessica scans over the contents briefly, and quickly makes a puzzled face. “So is it a job invitation?”

   “From the sound of it, I would assume so,” replies the addressee.

. . . What Alicia doesn’t know, is that more than a dozen other girls across campus have received that very same sealed letter, only addressed to them.

   The senior turns to her freshman roommate and asks, “Is this something you would be interested in?”

   Jessica rolls her eyes and says, “I could always use the money, but the part about long hours doesn’t work for me . . .”

   Alicia shrugs her shoulders, and tosses the letter onto her desk. She thinks to herself, “I have far too many things to deal with: finals are coming up; I have to pick a new team captain for next years squad; the bonfire is this weekend . . . Like I have time in my schedule for whatever campus job they might have. Let some freshman schlep who needs the money take it . . . like my dip wad roommate over there!”


Decker Hall, the next morning:

   Karen Hunter is trying to stay awake during her 7:00 am physics class, when the phone on the wall begins to ring. The teacher takes her sweet ole time getting there to answer it, but when she finally does: she surprisingly looks in the former track star’s direction . . .

   The teacher relays the message, “Karen, you’re wanted down at the student advisor’s office.”

   “Me?” asks Miss Hunter with a surprised look.

   “Yes, that’s what they told me . . . and be sure to bring your books with you as well,” reminds the teacher.

   The girl asks, “Did I do something wrong?”

   The teacher responds, “I don’t know, why don’t you just go down there and find out?”

   As Karen gathers up her belongings and eventually walks off down the hall, she doesn’t realize that this is the very last moment that her peers will recall having seen her . . .


Braxton Hall, that afternoon:

   Alicia Dewitt is trying to pay attention to the Political Science lecture that she’s sitting through. Unfortunately, her thoughts keep drifting off to the upcoming bonfire tomorrow night, as well as her upcoming vacation to Cancun Mexico that’s less than a week away. The redhead looks at her watch for the tenth time in the last half hour and rolls her eyes.

   “2:39! . . . God this day is taking forever!” thinks the girl to herself, before the phone rings on the classroom wall, and breaks the monotony . . .

   The teacher crosses the floor and answers the phone, “Yes . . . Uh huh . . . Ok, I’ll send her down Bebe . . . Yes, you too! . . . Bye now!”  The teacher then looks over in Alicia’s direction and says, “Alicia, Mrs. Kessler would like to speak with you down at the student advisor’s office.”

   “She wants to talk to me?” asks Alicia, with a surprised look now appearing upon her cute face.

   “Yes, and she said to bring your belongings with you.” says the teacher.

   Just as Karen Hunter had earlier that morning, Alicia gathers up her belongings and walks off to the student advisor’s office, wondering what Mrs. Kessler could possibly want to talk to her about.

   From the back row of the classroom, a gothic looking girl named Patty Temple watches the cheerleader walk off with a noted look of suspicion . . .

* * * * * *

   By the time Alicia makes it to the first floor where the Advisor’s office is, she can’t help but wonder if this all has something to do with the velvet envelope she received in the mail yesterday. “That’s right; I was supposed to be there at 11:30 this morning! . . . Oh well . . . I honestly can’t take the job anyway,” thinks the girl to herself, before opening the door to the office to go inside . . .

   Sitting in the waiting room, was a fashionably dressed girl with sandy blonde hair. She had one leg crossed over her kneecap, and was lightly bouncing it up and down as if she were nervous. Alicia made a quick note of her dated hairstyle: mildly crimped; parted off to the side; and cut to hang just above her shoulders. The first thing that came to mind was Elizabeth Shue in the movie “Cocktail” . . . “No kidding, and she looks just like her too!” thought the cheerleader to herself, while nearly letting out a chuckle.

   It was then that the girl glanced over and said, “Hi Alicia!” in immediate recognition.

   Alicia is somewhat startled at first, but instantly recognizes the girl as Mary Ellen Saxby - a member of the Gargoyle’s majorette team.

   “Mary Ellen: I almost didn’t even recognize you!” confesses the redhead. “You went and got your hair cut and I absolutely love it!”

   Mary Ellen rolls her eyes in a somewhat shy manner, and reveals, “Nah, you're just being polite. I actually had to get it cut off for spring break.”

Alicia:  “Wait, are you going away for the break too?”

Mary Ellen:  “Yeah, actually my cousin lives about an hour outside of Ft. Lauderdale, so I’m flying down there next week. She knows these guys that have a condo rented right on the beach, so it should be pretty wild! . . . So how about you?”

Alicia: “I actually went there my freshman year and it was sooo cool! But this year, Claire Bennet, Oxana Penick and I are actually all flying down to Cancun for a week. Since Oxana’s considering a transfer, and Claire and I are graduating, we figured it would be the last bash before everybody goes their separate ways.”

   “Ohhhhh, we’re all going to miss you guys!” says Mary Ellen, before reaching over and giving the graduating senior a “girly-girl” hug. “You guys got everybody so psyched up after winning the finals!”

   Alicia breaks away from the hug and replies, “Yeah, it was pretty wild! . . . I’m actually still practicing with the squad right now; Coach Jackson wants me to choose the team captain for next year before I graduate.”

   “Well that’s pretty cool; you would definitely know who the best candidate for the position was,” comments Mary Ellen. A moment later, the sophomore glances down at her watch and wonders, “What could be taking so long in there?”

   At this point, Alicia glances down at her own watch and comments, “If they don’t hurry up, I’m going to miss my last class of the day!”

   Mary Ellen laughs and says, “Yeah, that’s what I was just thinking! I’m already late for my three o’clock lecture as it is, and I’m not even sure why I got called down here in the first place!” The blonde pauses for a moment in thought, before adding, “The only thing I could think of was that I was late for biology class a few times this month, and missed it entirely last Monday.”

   Alicia leans over and in a lowered voice she asks, “Let me guess; you have Mr. Pringle right? . . . I had him for biology my sophomore year and he was a total pain in the ass about that sort of thing!”

   “Yeah, it is Pringle,” confirms Mary Ellen, before she jokingly comments, “My older sister used to tell me about his handlebar mustache and bow tie; Oh my God is he a dweeb!”

   The two girls begin laughing in unison, before Alicia admits, “There’s quite a few eccentric looking characters walking around campus, if you know what I mean!”

   There’s a brief pause in the conversation after the girls laughter subsides, before Mary Ellen finally asks, “So what did you get called down here for?”

   Alicia cracks open her perfect white smile and admits, “I honestly have no idea. The only one thing I could think of . . . Well, this is going to sound totally stupid, but I got this really weird envelope in my mail yesterday and  . . .”

   “Wait!” interrupts Mary Ellen, (cutting Alicia off in mid-sentence). . . “Was it a crushed black velvet one, with a little pink ribbon and some kind of melted seal?”

   Alicia laughs in surprise, before asking, “Why, did you get one too?”

   “Yeah, I couldn’t believe that it was some kind of job invitation, during spring break of all things!” replies Mary Ellen. “Could you imagine missing out on the beach and sticking around this place?”

   Alicia answers, “Nooo thank you! . . . I couldn’t even picture of how depressing that would be!”

   Mary Ellen laughs in agreement, before glancing at her watch once again. The majorette complains, “This is totally ridiculous; what could she possibly be doing in there?”

   Alicia inquires, “Who is in there anyway?”

   Mary Ellen explains, “Well when I first got here, there was a black girl that was already waiting in your chair . . . I think her name was Shawna.”

   “Wait, her name was Shawna? . . . Shawna Parker from my cheerleading squad?” questions the redhead.

Mary Ellen:  “Yeah, I think that was her. She seemed really sweet, even though we didn’t really get a chance to talk; the advisor called her in just after I got here.”

   Alicia scans the waiting room with a confused look, before saying, “Hmph! . . . That’s totally odd; she just told me yesterday that she couldn’t wait to get back to Queens for the break. In fact, she was catching a Greyhound bus to New York City at 1:30 p.m.!”

   “Well, it doesn’t look like she’s gonna make it!” observes Mary Ellen in a joking manner. She then offers, “Maybe she got one of those little black envelopes and decided to stick around for the extra tuition money instead.”

Alicia:  “No, I seriously doubt it. Shawna’s parents are divorced and she rarely gets to see either of them. There’s no way she would’ve stayed on campus, and besides, she would have definitely told me about the envelope if she got one . . .”

   Just then, the soundproofed door leading to Mrs. Kessler’s office finally opened, and the student advisor stepped out with a clipboard held within her hands . . .

   Glendale University wasn’t exactly the most highly rated or the largest college in the Northeast. But its student body was large enough that it surprised both of the girls when Mrs. Kessler recognized the pair merely by sight . . .

   “Good morning ladies, or should I say good afternoon already?” joked the advisor after glancing at her watch. “I think we’ll start with you Mary Ellen; just step into my office and make yourself comfortable.”

   Mary Ellen hesitates within her seat for a moment and asks, “Am I in some sort of trouble?”

   “Oh no child, don’t be silly!” assures the faculty member. “I had heard that you missed your appointment yesterday, so if you’ll just step into my office for a second, we should be able to get this matter straightened out.”  

   Even after Mary Ellen gets up from her seat, she still pauses in place - as if waiting for Shawna to exit. She begins to ask, “But isn’t the other girl still . . .”

   Mrs. Kessler cuts the girl off and assures, “She’s already left, so go on in.”

   The ash-blonde inquires, “Should I bring my purse and things?”

   “Yes; your books and especially your purse,” suggests the advisor, before actually picking up the items herself and handing them over to the girl.

. . . Alicia just happens to glance over at that moment, and notices the design of the purse from where she’s sitting. The senior mentally notes, “Nice purse! . . . Was that a real Gucci?”

   With her belongings now in hand, Mary enters the office a bit cautiously, until Mrs. Kessler pushes the girl forward at the small of her back.

   Before the student advisor closes the door, she turns back to seemingly size up the seated cheerleader. The woman then announces, “Alicia dear, we’ll be ready for . . . or rather I’ll be right with you in just a moment.”

   Alicia watches the woman flash an obviously fake smile, before closing the door behind her.

. . . A second later, the girl could swear she heard the door latch mysteriously lock in place.

   “How does this woman know me? . . . Do faculty members actually follow the cheerleading competition that closely?” wonders Alicia to herself. “. . . And if Shawna was actually in there, why didn’t she come back out?”

. . . These are the thoughts that play with the cheerleader’s mind for the next two minutes and thirty nine seconds, before the office door unexpectedly opens once again.

   Kessler leans out of the doorway to set her eyes upon the red head. The advisor playfully winks before announcing, “Ok Miss Dewitt, you’re up next.”

   Alicia gets up from her chair and approaches the opened door with apprehension. As she enters, the girl fully expects to see her peers seated inside. However, the girl is quite surprised when she finds nothing more than a desk with a laptop, two empty chairs and the large steel cabinet in the corner that was most likely full of supplies. Other than that, the room had the typical business-like décor that one would expect to see within an administration office. There wasn’t an exit door to be seen anywhere . . .

   The confused twenty year old nearly has enough time to take a seat in front of the advisor’s desk, before she looks up to notice the woman; now sporting an odd pair of goggles and winding up an old fashioned looking camera for who knows what reason!

. . . It was also at that point, that the cheerleader notices Mary Ellen’s Gucci purse and text books spilled on the floor just beyond the advisor’s desk!

   Alicia’s expression turns from confused to troubled, before she asks in a raised voice, “What in the hell is going on in . . .”


. . . A sudden burst of blue light silences the senior in mid-sentence, leaving her frozen in place upon the office chair!

   For a brief moment, Alicia loses her sense of time and place; the only remaining clue being the darkened silhouette of a person (?) that was now burnt into her eyelids.

   “. . . What just happened?” wonders the young woman, now struggling to open her eyes for a better explanation . . . (What Alicia failed to realize, was that her eyes were already open!)

   The girl attempts to fight off the unexpected lethargy that had overtaken her so quickly; she found it hard to breathe and hard to think. But for a fleeting moment, Alicia could have sworn that she heard voices - so close, but yet so far away . . .

   Although she wouldn’t see or feel it, Alicia’s body bobbles slightly as it’s lifted out of the chair. Still frozen in a sitting position, the redhead is easily picked up and carried towards a metal storage cabinet which was already opened. The doors of that cabinet were actually an entrance to a series of steam tunnels that ran between the main buildings on campus - all of which, eventually, led to the Muse!

   Alicia hears the muffled voices once again: one spoke low like a male; the other was decidedly female. The two drifted around in her consciousness, as she struggled to comprehend what they were saying . . .

The female voice:  “The dark skinned one that you took down earlier is going to the council meeting. These two are going into the suspension room.”

The male voice:  “Yeah, I got it . . . Wow, Alicia Dewitt; I never thought it would come to this . . .”

The female voice:  “This isn’t the time for sentimentality Mr. Walker. We have to take care of that other problem before she leaves for the day, so let’s move it along.”

   It was then that Alicia Dewitt was set down inside an awaiting linen basket. Beside her, was an equally frozen Mary Ellen Saxby. The pair stared up at their captors with wide open blank eyes and with their mouths hung open in shock.

   “They look like two newly-born chicks in a nest, just waiting to be fed!” jokes the male. He then looks at them from a different angle and notes their still seated positions. “. . . Or like two bunnies hopping down the trail for that matter!”

   “I think that’s enough,” warns the female.

   Alicia hears the harsh sound of squeaking wheels, as her frozen body slightly jostles about against the side of the cart and her equally immobile classmate. The last comment the girl hears before succumbing to total unconsciousness is, “I thought I told you to oil those damned wheels? Do you know how badly that’s going to echo through these tunnels?”

. . . “Come on Bebe, it’s not like anybody’s going to hear us down here!” replies the male.

   “Well, I suppose you have a point there, coach,” admits the student advisor in her typically flat voice. “At least not these two candidates anyway . . .”


The Laboratory beneath the Muse, several hours later:

   Darkness: all enveloping . . . Immobile: without movement . . . Static: stock-still or rooted.

. . . These were all words that the helpless young woman never had much use for, in her day to day vocabulary. Now they were words that she knew all to well.

   Alicia Dewitt stood naked in the corner of a hidden laboratory beneath the Muse. The room was cold and almost gothic in appearance. It was also poorly lit and noisy; the steady hum of Van de Graaf generators, Jacob’s ladders and an air-conditioning system, competed with an air compressor that was repeatedly cycling on and off every twenty minutes.

   Along with the sounds of the mechanical oddities, there was a pungent mixture of smells hanging in the air as well. Various test tubes and flasks with strangely colored liquids littered the surrounding workbenches and shelves. Other mixed concoctions of formaldehyde and preservatives sat dried within open tin cans that were somehow never thrown away. Standing nearby was a metal utility shelf, with rows of pickled critters that ranged from birds to frogs; each preserved within glass jars that were labeled in German. Two particularly disturbing sights were the fish-type aquariums that held two household cats; one frozen in a block of ice, the other simply floating in amber. Both looked as if they were about to pounce before they were helplessly frozen in time.

   All of these acrid smells combined together, eventually awakened Alicia from her unconscious state - yet she still found herself unable to move . . .

   “Where in the hell am I?” wondered the twenty year old beauty. She couldn’t move her mouth to speak, or open her eyes to see. The girl thought she heard voices, but they were so distant and vague that she couldn’t make out what they were saying. She felt unattached from herself, as if caught up in some lethargic loop and hovering just above the conversation.

   “Please God, just let me to move or wake up, allow me to see - Anything!pleads the redhead in silence. (Alicia wasn’t usually a God fearing person, but considering her current circumstance she would take all the help she could get!)

   The girl could feel her heartbeat ringing within her ears, fingers and toes; it was very slow. Maybe even too slow to remain alive!

   “Well I can’t be dead or I wouldn’t have a pulse at all,” reasons the frightened young lady. For a brief moment, Alicia even pictured her pale cold body lying stiff on a slab, as a creepy old man sizes up her invitingly naked corpse . . .


. . . Suddenly Alicia’s eardrums cleared; the sensation was much like one would feel when emerging from beneath the water in a swimming pool. As the draining sensation subsided within her ears, the girl found that she could hear slightly better. The blonde also noticed movement beyond the redness of her closed eyelids. And there was the smell; that putrid, awful stench that was burning the inside of her nose and getting stronger! (If Alicia’s face wasn’t already frozen in an expression of surprise, she surely would be sporting a disgusted look!)

   That’s when she heard footsteps; a pair of hard heeled shoes walking across a tiled or concrete floor. They were coming this way and discussing something . . .

   “You ver correkt,” said a male voice in broken English. “Zis iz an exceptionally beauzivul spezimen!”

   A rather flat, unemotional voice of a female answers, “Yes, we’ve been grooming her since she was a freshman, professor. Alicia took our cheerleading squad to the state finals this year.”

   “Oh vreally?” returns the male voice, as the man brushes an old bony finger along the girl’s soft cheek. (He was so close to Alicia’s face now, that the girl could smell the fumes of Sauerkraut and sausage on his breath!)

   The old man continues to size up the girl and asks, “Zho you vhant me to immortalize zis fine athlete forever, zen?”

   “Yes Professor Schultz, she’ll be going into the student suspension program per the Dean’s request,” replies the female voice.

   Alicia is still trying to figure out why she would be getting suspended from school, when a more startling matter comes to hand . . .

   Although the cheerleader was still immobile, there was no mistaking the sensation of somebody feeling up her chest!

   “Zeese breasts are perfectly proportioned!” says the man, now twisting and turning Alicia’s globes in admiration. (The professor lifts each one upward to estimate their volume, before letting them jiggle back in place upon her chest!)

   “Yes, she is quite endowed!” admits the female voice.

   “What the fuck? . . . Who is this guy, and who does he think he is?” complains Alicia to herself, after receiving the professor's unwanted advances.

   A pair of bony finger tips press against Alicia’s eyelids to pry them open. Although the room was poorly lit, the sudden light hurt the cheerleader’s eyes . . . She finds it difficult to focus at first . . .

   “Niize blue eyez, a cute faze and delightvul red hair. . . Zee skin haz light tone; could be Irish, no?” suspects the professor. “Zis fraulein vill do veddy well!”

   “Yes, I’m sure she will professor,” agrees the female voice. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Coach Walker and I have a loose end to take care of.”

   “Yez, but of courze Frau Kezzler. Vee vill prepare zis girl for zuzpenzion vhile you are away!” assures Schultz.

   As Mrs. Kessler walks off, she can’t help but recall that Alicia’s eyes were open when they brought her down to the lab. The woman gets a disgusted look and mumbles, “That mongoloid janitor better not be toying around with the girls again!”

   Meanwhile, Alicia - (still humiliated by the professor’s actions, while at the same time trying to contend with her compromising condition), tries to concentrate on the room in front of her. However, Miss Dewitt’s situation turns from bad to worse as her vision comes into focus . . .

   The first thing the senior recognized was her schoolmate: Mary Ellen Saxby!

. . . Poor Mary Ellen stands embarrassingly nude; her arms are held straight out to the sides of her shoulders; her curvy legs placed two feet apart. The girl’s skin was odd in appearance - looking as if it were slimy, or had been possibly greased up.

   The part that worried Alicia the most, was the fact that none of this even seemed to faze the girl! Mary Ellen just stood there complacently in her nakedness; her glassy brown eyes staring dreamily off into the distance, while her face held a befuddled expression.

. . . “Why isn’t she resisting? Why isn’t she trying to run? . . . Could she be frozen like I am?” questions the cheerleader.

   Mary Ellen was surrounded by a collection of unusual looking equipment and electrical oddments. There was a stainless steel tube that was three feet wide by six feet high. It had a clear glass door that was convex in shape and designed to slide open and recede into itself. There were corrugated plastic tubes and metal conduit that sprouted from its top and sides; both curved around the chamber to run up the walls of the lab. There was also a stainless steel cart with wheels nearby that held various instruments and looked as though it belonged in an operating room.

   Alicia continued to watch, as two old men soon came into view and approached the helpless girl. The first wore a white lab coat and was considerably aged, both in physical appearance and in posture. He had a long crooked nose with a pronounced bump in the middle, while a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles rested at its tip. Although the man appeared to be balding, the hair that did remain was uncombed and stuck out wildly at the sides - immediately bringing to mind the appearance of a considerably older and seriously demented Albert Einstein!

   The second man that accompanied him, looked to be sixty or so, and was wearing a pair of light gray maintenance coveralls, that were dotted with stains. (Although hard to tell from this distance, Alicia could swear that he looked familiar from somewhere . . .)

   The man in the white lab coat calls out to the second one, “Vladimir: vee must dress zis fraulein so zhat vee can tranzver her into zee zuzpenzion chamber!”

   The second man acknowledges the first with a simple, “Yah, daas goot!”

   The professor then opens a cardboard shirt box to pullout a small sparkling uniform. As he gives the garment a good snap in the air, it unfolds itself . . . (From the other side of the lab, Alicia immediately recognizes the skimpy item as the sequin-covered leotard that’s worn by the Gargoyle’s majorette team!)

   For the next five minutes or so, the old timers struggle with Mary Ellen’s body: manipulating her arms; legs; and torso, as they redress the young woman in her appropriate attire. First Vladimir flings out a pair of nude pantyhose and pulls them up the girl’s legs, before watching the stretchy material expand to accept the girl’s undercarriage. Professor Schultz manages to pull the royal blue and yellow leotard over the sophomore’s body, and then takes the time to make sure there aren’t any creases, picking at the stretchy garment here and there before finally sticking his fingers into the elastic leg holes and pulling it taught at her hips. (The elastic banding makes a noticeable snapping noise against her Mary Ellen’s thighs and fanny!)

   “Schnell Vladimir, zis fraulein iz starting to harden!” yells the professor, now trying to press Mary Ellen’s arms to her sides. The man then tilts the poor girl back on her heels at an angle, as Vladimir forces the girl’s legs up against each other!

   “Veddy goot!” exclaims the professor, before requesting, “Now help me load her into zee chamber!”

   The old men proceed by lifting the majorette up from beneath the armpits and setting her within the stainless steel chamber. Once she’s deposited inside, Mary Ellen stands upright: her arms placed flat to her sides; her head and eyes continuing to stare glassily forward.

   “And now, let zee tranzvormation begin!” commands the professor excitedly, as he slides the glass door into place - effectively sealing Mary Ellen inside the tomb.

   Professor Schultz steps up to a control panel and tinkers with various toggle switches and dials, stopping occasionally to read a temperature or vacuum gauge here and there. Once satisfied with the readings, Schultz pulls down an aircraft-style controller and a nearby compressor kicks in . . .

   There was a sudden range of sounds even louder than the first, now coming from the surrounding equipment, as well as from the mysterious chamber itself. Gurgling sounds echoed through the tubes that snaked into the chamber, as unknown substances flowed and eddied throughout them . . .

   Meanwhile, Professor Schultz has stepped up to a five foot high gas cylinder made of polished steel. There was a misty halo floating around its top, while a combination of sweat and frost coated the cylinder’s sides. The professor quickly opens a valve at the top and lets out a maniacal laugh, as the cylinder hisses in response.

. . . At this point, the chamber that Mary Ellen was contained in began to fill with a gaseous blue substance. The mysterious fog swirled around inside the chamber; at first tumbling about at the girl’s feet; then crawling up her thighs until it wrapped around her near naked body. Within twenty seconds, the helpless majorette disappeared completely from view . . .

   Professor Schultz lets out another fiendish laugh, as he pulls a second handle downward. The stainless steel chamber immediately begins to shake upon its floor mounted supports, until the glass door suddenly flash freezes; a coating of frost from the intense cold instantly covers the inside surface!

. . . The mad scientist stares at the Swiss-made stopwatch upon his wrist for a minute and twenty seconds - counting down out loud when only ten seconds remained. At the same time, a digital chronometer that’s mounted to the side of the cryogenic chamber also counts down and dings when the timer reads zero.

   As the mixture of noises begin to subside, the professor pulls on a heavy pair of gloves and reminds his assistant to do the same, “. . . Your gloves Vladimir - zhey vill prevent zee handz from getting zee freezer burnz!”

   As Vladimir pulls on his pair of gloves, Schultz excitedly pulls back the glass door on the enclosure; a series of crackling and popping ice noises, as well as a rush of fog, soon escape.

   Alicia watches in horror from her position across the lab, as the fog inside the chamber slowly subsides . . . and Mary Ellen’s snap-frozen body gradually comes to view!

   The sandy blonde nineteen year old stood rigidly inside the chamber, just as she had before. However, the girl’s entire body: from her curvy bare legs to her dainty hands - had all turned a pale light blue color, and she was covered from head to toe in frost! (Even Mary Ellen’s ruby red lips had turned a dark shade of blue!)

. . . There was vapor still rolling off of the majorette, as the two old men scooped the girl up and set her down upon an awaiting hand-cart.

   “Oh my God! . . . They’ve just quick-frozen Mary Ellen Saxby!” screams Alicia in silence. (Just the mere sight of her peer’s crystallized face was enough to make the senior want to vomit - if the gag-reflex in her throat would only allow her to do so!)

   “Vladimir, I haff anozzer job for you to do, vhile I put zis vun in zee cooler,” says Schultz, (now waving the assistant towards the opposite side of the lab).

   “Oh no . . . Oh God, they’re coming this way!” realizes Alicia to herself, as the dastardly duo approach her.

   “Vhat I need you to do, iz spread zis hibernation cream all over zee skin, zho vee can freeze her,” explains the professor, before handing over a gallon sized can of gooey, almost gel-like substance.

   “Zis, all over?” asks Vladimir, now pointing at the immobilized redhead.

   “Yez, all over zee faze; zee handz; spread zee buttocks; (the professor cups a withery hand in between Alicia’s legs) - get it up in zee puderdose . . . All over zee fraulein!” orders Schultz. “. . . But not in zee hair on zee head!”

   “All over her with zis,” confirms Vladimir, now holding up the can full of cream.

   “. . . All over!” repeats the professor, before warning, “And put zeese latex gloves on, or your handz vill be frozen too!”

   The professor hands his assistant a pair of gloves and then claps his hands together twice - as if motioning to “get to it!” . . . Schultz then walks back across the lab to take care of the still fog-cloaked Mary Ellen.

   Vladimir stretches the pair of latex gloves out over his fingers, eventually letting them snap in place at his wrists. The old man then leans in close to gawk at Alicia’s face - as if expecting the poor girl to react.

   “Oh shit!” is Alicia’s silent reaction, as she finally realizes where she has seen the man before. “That guy is one of the campus janitors!”

   The cheerleader’s sense of alarm was heightened even further, once the old man disappeared from her limited line of sight!

   Now on his knees, Vladimir begins working at the girl’s feet: smearing the cream over and around her ankles, and then working the slimy substance in between her toes. A couple of more scoops from the metal can, and the janitor was working his way up the front of her shins, over her knees and then deep into her toned inner thighs.

   “What in the hell is going on here?” wonders the terrified girl, as a tear begins to roll down her cheek . . .

   The captain of the Gargoyle’s cheering squad had never felt so humiliated in her life. However, as the mysterious substance began to take effect, Alicia’s feelings of humiliation would be short lived; there was a faint buzzing within her ears, and with each stroke of the old man’s hand, the girl felt a growing warmth and almost a sense of acceptance that she had never experienced before . . .

   Vladimir digs into the metal can once again - his hands make a “splurching” noise as they sink into the goo and then retract from within. The man works the gel-like substance into the outer edges of the girl’s thighs, carefully massaging each, until they are completely covered. With a couple of more dips, the man works up over the curves of the cheerleader’s hips.

   Alicia’s heart races, and as much as she felt the need to panic, the warm tingling sensation that was now seeping through her pores, almost made her hunger for more!

. . . Alicia hated herself for it - almost.

   The redhead somehow manages to partially reanimate; her “C-plus” sized breasts begin heaving along with her toned tummy. Her stomach raises in short bursts, until Vladimir’s gentle hands glide around her abs - immediately freezing them in place once again.

   The man’s hands sink deeper into the can of muck and make the loudest suction noise yet, as they both emerge . . .

   “Oh god . . . I know where those are going, but how am I going to breathe?” wonders Alicia with concern. (The girl could already feel her nipples swell with anticipation, as her tits continued to rise and fall!)

   Vladimir grips the heaving jugs with both hands and works them over good, first lifting each to smear the substance beneath, and then squishing and squashing them about upon Alicia’s torso. As the old man releases his grip, the pair of melons jiggle in place before they tighten and freeze - each bite sized nipple now eternally erect!

   The janitor worked with the arms next: starting under the armpits and then massaging her shoulders. Vladimir then drew his slippery hands down over each arm and elbow, until coming to her hands. Just like he did with the girl’s toes, the old man carefully worked his gooey hands in between her fingers, making sure to cover each individually.

   No matter how good the mysterious substance was making her feel, the putrid smell of it was getting unbearable for Miss Dewitt. However, it wouldn’t bother her for much longer, as Vladimir began to massage the young woman’s pretty face into a cheerful smile. (The old man pauses momentarily to revel at how well he had manipulated the girl’s features into a look of jubilance, before cracking his own crooked grin).

. . . Like the rest of her body, Alicia felt her face begin to tighten into a frozen mask - void of movement or further expression.

   Vladimir sets his can down for a moment and looks the front of the girl’s glistening body over, before deciding to turn her around. With both hands gripped around her waistline, the janitor rotates Alicia’s stiffening body. (The redhead slightly wobbles in place, until her admirer steadies her).

   With a couple of more scoops, the janitor massages the magical cream into Alicia’s shoulders, lower back, and spine. Before long, the man has moved on to the backs of the girl’s thighs, along with the curvy humps of her sexy calves. Vladimir grunts before digging into his can again, and when his hands emerge - strands of goo hang from his fingers. The sixty year old smacks both hands onto Alicia’s already incredibly firm ass to make it just a little bit tighter! With both paws fanned out and working in a swirling motion, “Vlad the Immobilizer” massages the girl’s tush until each half moon glistens beneath the laboratory lights. The old man spreads her ass cheeks next, and smears a good handful up into her crack. As his wrinkled old fingers brush across her most private of regions, a chill runs up the back of Alicia’s spine. Not being used to being touched “back there” - the cheerleader’s anus twitches once, twice and then tightens up in place!

   By now, Professor Schultz has returned to the scene and he’s anxious to check on his assistant’s progress . . .

   “Vladimir, iz zee fraulein ready to be quick-frozen?” asks Schultz, now inspecting the girl’s backside.

   The janitor nods his head towards Alicia, seeking the professor’s approval.

   “Did you get in between zee buttocks?” inquires Schultz, now adjusting his glasses to the tip of his nose.

   Vladimir proudly spreads the girl’s butt cheeks for a quick visual inspection . . .

   “Veddy good! . . . Now turn zee fraulein around!” orders Schultz.

   The janitor obliges, rotating Alicia’s body back around so that she faces the professor.

   Schultz looks Alicia over closely, tapping at her body here and there - stopping only to grip her breasts to test their firmness. The professor then glances downward towards her crotch and adjusts his spectacles once again . . .

   “Vladimir, you mizzed zee puderdose!” yells Schultz, before grabbing the can from the janitor and taking matters into his own hands - literally!

   The professor sticks his latex gloved hand deep inside the can and scoops out a handful of goo, and then smears it all over Alicia’s exposed pussy. In a rather dexterous manner, the old man works his skilled hands all over the girl’s vagina; spreading her lips apart first and giving them a good coat, and then inserting a slippery finger up inside her. (All the while, Alicia’s deep red pubes make a “crinkling” noise as they scrunch and smear beneath the pressure of the professor’s gooey, latex covered hands.

   As incredible as Alicia had felt before, the constricting sensation that was now overtaking her pussy was such a turn-on that her Clint was pulsating on its own, and the poor girl was so close to orgasm that she didn’t think she could hold it much longer!

   Please don’t let that happen to me in front of these strangers!” begs Alicia.

   The professor begins to withdraw from the juicing cheerleader, and there’s an audible “ssslotch!” noise, as her cooter releases his finger.

. . . Alicia’s clit pulsated once, twice, a third time - and then tightens at the point of climax! In fact, the female’s entire body felt warm and constricted, as if her very own skin was compressing her very being. Each inch of her felt alive with pleasure, but every one of those inches was becoming increasingly confined with each passing second. As the corners of Alicia’s vision began to darken and fade, she began to feel as if her body were being vacuum sealed in plastic. The girl felt a definite calmness overtaking her now, and she didn’t have the slightest clue as to what to do about it. In the end, Alicia’s struggle would be short lived and one sided . . .

   Just before the senior gives in to total darkness, she hears the professor suggest, “Ok Vladimir, letz zuit her up and get her into zee zuzpenzion chamber! Vee haff vone more comingk in after zis vone, zen vee can call zit a night!”


Student relations building, 9:30 p.m., later that evening:

   It had been an awfully long day for campus psychologist Connie Patrilla, who finally gathers up her purse and briefcase for the weekend drive home. With numerous school transfers, upcoming finals and various other day-to-day maladies that come with college life, the divorced Italian had a steady stream of stressed out students coming through her office all week.

   As Dr. Patrilla turns off the lights to her office and makes her way down the hallway towards the elevator, the woman can’t help but reflect back on a female student that was in her office for the second time in as many days . . .

   The psychologist had heard her share of heartbreaking stories in her seventeen years of counseling students; tales that ranged from eating disorders, to sexual abuse and just about everything in between. But the sight of poor little Miley Halliwell’s sleepless, tear filled eyes, was still quite disturbing all the same. Most in her field would brush off the girl’s paranoia as a mental health issue and write out a prescription for her. . . Dr. Patrilla simply knew better than that.

   At some point in their life, nearly everybody has had the dream where they embarrassingly find themselves naked in front of their classmates or even co-workers. In Miley’s nightmare, she found herself posed naked on a pedestal, as a group of strangers drew their impression of her on sketch pads. She found herself unable to move, and unable to run, as the group of unfamiliar faces looked up at her in admiration. The girl was eventually approached by a middle-aged man with braided gray hair, who gently dabbles the tears away from her eyes . . .

   “Now - now Miss Halliwell, there’s no need for sorrow. You’re among elders who truly respect your natural beauty, and only wish to show their appreciation,” assures the man. “They certainly don’t want to see you cry babe . . . ya dig?”

   At that point in the dream, the instructor invited the other artists in the room to join him in changing the girl’s pose - leaving her exposed body to be manipulated at the whim of the strangers that surrounded her!

   To make matters worse, Miley’s description of the man: a middle-aged hippy wearing a tie-dyed shirt; cut off denim shorts; sandals; and a pair of round, wire-rimmed glasses - clearly described the head of the art department! Professor Jerry Bushwick was a credited artist himself; his highly praised, life-like sculptures had often landed in museums such as The Boston Museum of Fine Arts, as well as The Art Institute of Chicago. Bushwick had also been featured in numerous art magazines, including American Fine Art Review as well as High End Sculpture Connoisseur.

   Dr. Patrilla could easily write the description off as mere coincidence - the girl may have seen the eccentric sculptor around campus at some point, even though she never recalled having met the man in person.

. . . However what alarmed the doctor the most, was the fact that a small number of students over the years, (both male and female), had also approached the psychologist, all seeking counseling for similar recurring dreams!

   The tired doctor exits the now opening elevator door, and proceeds on her way through the first floor. It was only now that the forty four year old noticed just how loud her heeled business pumps echoed through the vacant halls. The counselor soon reaches for the heavy steel door that leads her outside . . .

   Dr. Patrilla pulls her black suit jacket together over her ample chest, and pauses to look down at the concrete steps that lead into the empty faculty parking lot. The woman always thought that the parking areas on campus were massive . . . especially at this time of night!

   The doctor scans the area with a watchful eye; for the last couple of nights, Connie had sensed that somebody was watching her. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, and the woman hadn’t let the foolish thought bother her before . . . But tonight, with everybody having already left, at this late an hour - she was feeling a little vulnerable.

. . . Maybe it was those odd stories of being posed nude and unable to move on a pedestal in front of a room full of strangers that were finally getting to her.

   “Come on old girl; you always promised yourself not to take your work home with you,” the doctor reminds herself.

   Dr. Patrilla looks around once more, and then inhales a deep breath; she always loved the smell and sounds of springtime at night, (both were qualities that had stuck with Connie since her childhood and the nights she spent sitting on the front porch of the family farm in rural Pennsylvania). With those pleasant thoughts in mind, the doctor proceeds onward.

   After quickly walking down the steps, the heels of the woman’s shoes begin clacking across the vast asphalt surface of the parking lot. The woman still sensed a raw menace, and for a moment - she thought she actually was being followed! Connie looks over her shoulder nervously, before opening her purse to search for her keys. As her walk increases to a brisk pace, the doctor’s vehicle soon comes into view.

   “Almost there!” thinks Connie to herself, before taking another deep breath to suppress the chill that was running up her spine. “. . . Just a few yards left to safety.”

   Dr. Patrilla reaches her S.U.V. and raises her keyless remote to unlock her door. The woman exhales in relief, swings the door open, slides her tight black business slacks and rounded butt across the driver’s seat and then tosses her purse and briefcase to the passenger side floor. The woman fiddles with her keys and attempts to insert one of them into the ignition . . .

   “I swear, this is the last time that I’m staying this late!” mumbles the woman to herself, before she glances up into the rearview mirror to see a funny looking camera staring back at her!

   Dr. Patrilla lets out a hair-raising scream, before a sudden blue flash from the back seat illuminates the entire cab of her Ford Explorer. It would be the last sound that the psychologist would ever make, before being carried off into the darkness.

   A few weeks later, Dr. Connie Patrilla’s forest green vehicle would be found abandoned nearly a hundred miles away, in an airport parking lot, the woman's whereabouts unknown . . .


to be Continued... As The Fellowship Meets

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