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At His Service, Of Course	By : Darkrogue Category: +A through F > Brain Dead 13 Views: 9633 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Brain Dead 13 or the characters involved, and I ain’t making any money, here. Apologies to the creators for this holocaust of wrong. Here be squicky material, so be ye warned.

Chapter List
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Lance found consciousness sometime later to the growl of his belly. Aside from a few swallows of soup, he hadn’t eaten since before his arrival. Probably just as well, as he’d have to…eliminate…sooner or later.
Shifting, he winced at the soreness in his limbs. Feeling a sting at his side, he looked down to the scrapes on his hips where those hooks had held him in place while Fritz ravished him but good…
Ugghh. A wave of shame and disgust flooded his veins, and for a moment he felt ill. That awful, reminding soreness in his ass would be with him for awhile, but the stickiness on his thighs was gone, as was the mess he’d made on the floor, twice. Someone’s done some cleaning up. But he could use a more thorough wash. A shower, to be exact. Scrub that freak off—and out of him.
Yeecch!
For probably the hundredth time he tested ropes with numb arms. Wrists twisted, fingers wriggled. Gotta get outta here!
And for the hundredth time he gave up with a miserable groan.
Come on, Lance, think of something!
How long did they mean to keep him here, like this?
Would…w-would he die here?
Nope! Lance quickly shuffled the thought from his mind. Growling, he furiously thrashed and tugged, and if he pulled down the whole damned beam and the castle with it, so be it!
Fritz entered to find that human fighting his ropes again.
His human.
He watched, amused as the man twisted and bucked like an unruly stallion, until he eventually grew weary and frustrated with his own, foolish efforts.
Lucky for him, he was coming down from those ropes; the master required his service. But most unlucky for him, he’d have to be subdued, first.
Lance heard the floor’s creak, felt the presence and turned, craning his neck.
Fritz. Should’a known.
He frowned. “You….what do you want, freak?” The imp said nothing, but as he hopped down the steps and approached, Lance saw the wooden mallet he carried and gulped. “Hey, little fella. W-what are ya gonna do with that?” he asked, nervously, his voice sweetening.
Stalling before him, Fritz grinned, drew back, and swung.
Bonk!
Stars, and darkness.
Groggily Lance woke. Oh, his head hurt! He groaned, and as the room came into focus, realized his hands were free.
Huh?
Lance wriggled his fingers as though feeling them for the first time, grinned.
Heh. Whaddaya know? They still work! Feeling cool wood against his body, he stretched, pulled himself to sit.
Ouch! Be feeling that for awhile, he thought with disgust. Shoving it from his mind, he dragged his sore limbs upright, staggered to find his feet.
As he took one stride, something grabbed his ankle and yanked him to a halt, causing him to fall clumsily forward and land crash on his face.
Ow! What the…?
There came a laugh, and that monitor crackled to life.
Lance sighed. Dr. Neurosis. This guy, again.
“Maa-haa-haa!" That talking brain leered over him. "My, but haven’t you turned out to be a delightful little jester! I do hope you're enjoying your stay. But now, I have a different service for you to perform. Your previous work has indeed repaired the mainframe. But the performance remains far too sluggish for my elaborate plans. You will locate and correct the problem.”
Lance frowned, awkwardly staggering to his feet.
“Oh, and don’t bother trying to escape," added his disemboidied host. "That chain on your ankle bears a steel ball weighing fifty pounds—much heavier than you, I’ll warrant. Hahahahaaa!”
Ha-ha-ha, Lance thought, with an inner snarl. I ever get out o’ this, I’ll find you, knock over that tank, and then where’ll you be? On the floor, that’s where! Ha!
“In addition to your restraints, Fritz will be monitoring your progress.”
Behind him stood Fritz with that lash.
Sighing, Lance took a glance down at himself. “I don’t work so well in the buff. You wouldn’t happen to have a spare robe lying around? Toga, maybe? Pickle barrel with straps? Extra jar?”
Dr. Neurosis scowled. Even stark naked this dunce was a cheeky upstart!
“You will work as you are. Fritz!”
Pow! That whip popped, striking his hip.
“Yeow!”
“You are permitted to ask nothing of me,” said the brain. “If you’re lucky, slave, I may find you a colorful suit with little bells. Now, drag your wretched carcass to that computer and get to work!”
“Alright, alright, yessir.” With an indignant scowl, Lance awkwardly scrambled to the computer case, dragging that damned ball behind him and thinking he’d settle for bells at this point. As he bent over the cabinet, he could feel Fritz hovering behind him, lash in hand—well, where his hand would be.
He saw the problem, all right. Fritz’s cannon blast had shaken loose a couple memory modules. But as he scanned the computer’s motherboard, his mind wandered to possible ways he might sabotage the thing. Didn’t most evil geniuses keep a self-destruct button lying around? He wondered if it was on this computer? If only he could find it, then there was a good chance he could make this whole place go kablooey!
“What are you doing?” Dr. Neurosis felt him stalling.
“Oh…just…diagnosing the problem, sir.”
“Do you take me for a fool?”
Don’t answer, Lance…
“Of course not, O wise and evil master.”
Hearing the poorly-concealed bite in his voice, the doctor frowned.
“You will learn how I deal with impertinent servants.”
You don’t deal with anything, thought Lance. So far all he’d seen him do was float around in that tank and scream at Fritz.
“Yip!” Lance yelped as the whip stung his ass, followed by a succession of smarting blows. “Ouch! Oh! Alright, alright, already! Yeesh!”
“That's what I thought," gloated the brain. "Now, do as you are commanded, in silence!”
Sighing, Lance turned to poke a quick tongue at Fritz before moving back to the computer. All the while he studied the mainframe, his mind working for possibilities…
Fritz’s eyes wandered over that human’s upturned buttocks, bent over the cabinet, and he entertained the thought of goosing him or prodding a hook up his chute, forcing him to make a mistake—which of course would free him to punish him for the screw-up. Fritz laughed, his simple mind gleefully turning. How he would thrash those quivering cheeks, make him squirm…
His actual task took less than thirty seconds, and Lance stood back, allowed Neurosis to execute his tests and survey his work from wherever the hell his tank resided.
“Hmmm,” the brain hummed at length. “Well done, for a meager sack of flesh. Fritz! Why not have him perform some of your duties as well? After all, what are slaves for? Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha!”
Blip, and then he was gone.
Lance frowned, a clever retort on his lips when Fritz hooked him round the neck and dragged him over to a bucket and mop, settled in a corner.
“Hmm?” Lance blinked. Fritz nudged him toward the pail and nodded to the spread of wooden floor.
“Oh, man,” he groaned.
That mallet swung, striking his noggin—not hard enough to knock him silly, but enough to get the point across.
Lance grumbled, rubbing his head. This was going to get very old very quickly.
Physical labor was not his thing, and hours of mopping and dragging that ball and chain began to take their toll on his joints, his arms, his back. Once in awhile Fritz would employ that whip as a reminder, the smug little ghoul lounging from a distance like a self-satisfied slave driver. And all the while Lance’s mind cooked up several things he could do, if not for this damn weight on his foot. He still couldn’t believe these ball and chain devices existed outside ancient history and video games! Leave it to a crazy brain in a jar…
At length Dr. Neurosis reappeared to inspect his work.
“Hmm. Not bad, for a mere slave and jester. What do you say, Fritz?” The henchman hopped with sadistic glee. “We may as well keep him around, if only to have someone to clear this old place of cobwebs.”
With that, he launched into a stream of laughter, which Fritz soon joined.
Lance scowled, folding his arms. The events of the past few hours had left him more than a little cranky. He was sore, he’d been humiliated, and these two freaks mocking him was almost enough to send him into a full-on tantrum. He wanted a shower! He wanted a proper meal! And dammit—he needed to use the bathroom!
Biting his tongue, he stopped just short of an outburst. That’s what they expected and wanted, and lashing out at them, well, that would just give them another excuse to thrash him, or worse…
Lance thought, and after a moment he leveled a sweet smile on the doctor, assuming a nonchalant tenor.
“I s’pose it’s no bother.”
Both stopped laughing to stare at him in frozen astonishment.
Lance smiled coolly.
Dr. Neurosis blinked. “No bother?"
“Sure, no problem!” the prisoner cheerfully sang. “No skin off my back tidying up the place for ya. In fact, it’d be an honor working for the future ruler of the world! But I warn you, I’m pretty high maintenance.”
“What do you mean?” The brain narrowed dangerous, mad eyes.
“Well, sir, I am only human—inferior, as you pointed out—with needs a superior…thingy…like yourself is waay beyond. If I’m going to do my best for you, I’ll need tidying up, myself. Plus a little nourishment, water…”
“Very well,” the doctor agreed, and Lance inwardly sighed, relieved. Flattery always worked on evil geniuses. “But remember, my friend, the day you cease amusing me is the day you cease breathing. Fritz! We will take no chances with this one! We have seen the mischief of which he is capable. He shall have no more than the minimum of what he requires. Free roam of the castle shall absolutely not be permitted, nor shall he be released from his bonds unattended. Should he be allowed from this chamber for any purpose, he shall be accompanied not only by yourself, Fritz, but Moose, as well.”
Lance’s self-satisfaction shifted to worry. Now, who the hell was this ‘Moose’?
“Should our fool overstep his limits in the slightest, Fritz…you will terminate him immediately. Understood?”
Fritz nodded, and Dr. Neurosis vanished in a blip and white speck.
His ball and chain was removed, but not before he found out the hard way who ‘Moose’ was: a hulking gray brute of stitched metal and flesh in a football jersey and a purple flattop haircut.
Man, this place harbored more freaks than the Rocky Horror castle! Moose stomped in like a bull, toppling several pieces of furniture. He was speaking, Lance thought, though all he could make out was “duuh duuh duuhhh!”
Oh, man. Now wha—ooww!
Frankenjock, as Lance quickly named him, grabbed him by the waist in one massive fist and lifted him off the ground. With Fritz’s tiny feet pattering behind, they left the chamber and moved out into the castle.
As Frankenjock carried him to an unknown fate, Lance didn’t dare kick or squirm, fearing his innards might pop out his mouth if that grip squeezed tighter. Snips of the castle passed before him as he lay draped over a broad shoulder, and he made mental notes of features and turns while he struggled for breath in that brutal fist.
Frankenjock didn’t speak much, but when he did, it came out in braying shouts, and what Lance could understand was usually nonsensical.
Idiot was the only word he could think to describe his newest jailor, and as Moose handled him, Lance was reminded of a story he’d once read in school about a big, childlike brute who longed for a rabbit farm. Lance gulped, remembering the fate small, furry things met at his hands.
Staircases and hallways sped by in a blur, until he came to a place called a ‘salon’—though it looked more like a morgue, from the toe-tagged corpses jutting from the outer façade.
Soon enough he was carried inside, where Moose dropped him on his face. Dizzy, Lance had to gather his wits as he gaped up at the ‘salon’s’ proprietor: a thin, shapely ‘woman’, her first notable features the biggest—assets—Lance had ever seen, outside the busty magazines his boyhood friends had kept. Her skin was blue, and her hair reminded him of a Bride of Frankenstein flick he’d watched alone one night as a youngster. Hmm, I wonder if these two are an item, he thought, glancing at Moose.
She sauntered near on black heels. “My, my! Moose? Fritz? What’ve ya’ll brought Vivi, now? Fresh meat? And already unwrapped for me! You shouldn’t have. Oh, I see. A prisoner,” she said, crestfallen. “I wasn’t aware we kept any slaves.” Long purple nails extended like almonds from her slim fingers. “Tidy him up, you say? Well, I’ll do more than that, sugahs. Just you leave it to Vivi.”
Lance had almost grown spellbound by that sultry voice, and he gasped in surprise when she swept him up in a single hand and flung him into a barber’s chair.
“Let’s make you more comfortable,” she said, removing his shoes and tossing them aside. As she wheeled him to a mirror he glanced up, afraid to look at himself, but anything that might have startled him about his own appearance was quickly forgotten when he saw her reflection---or lack of one.
He glanced behind. Yep, there she was, all right, with Fritz and Moose in the background. He looked again to the mirror. There he was, and there were Moose and Fritz, gloating back at him. As for this woman—nothing.
Lance gulped, but when he opened his mouth to comment she filled it with his own hat, effectively gagging him.
“My, what pretty red locks,” she said, taking a strand between slender long-nailed fingers. “Are you a natural?” He blinked and mumbled, confused. Glancing over his shoulder to his naked lap, she gave a sultry purr. “Oh, you are a natural. Well, sweetie, let’s just revive this pretty coat’s shine, Vivi-style.”
She wheeled him to a sink.
“Here we are, sugah,” and as she spoke, he caught a flash of sharp fangs.
His heart skipped, his whimper muffled beneath his own cap.
The lyrics of a song he kept among the music in his truck rang through his head:
Oh, you were a vampire
And I may never see the light
And Vivi could hear his pulse rush faster, could feel the thump, thump, thump of quickening heart, the throb and flood of sweet, fresh blood.
“Hmm, you seem a little jittery. Let’s fix that.” She swooped down, and when she rose, his wrists were strapped to the armrests.
As he mumbled in complaint, she seized him by the hair of his crown, and he pitched a muted squeal of alarm when she tilted his head back, stretching his neck.
Sniveling, he waited for the stab of sharp teeth, and was startled instead by the spray of water on his scalp. For a moment he sighed, feeling strong yet gentle nails massage his skin, but his relief was cut short when he caught a glimpse of the skull and crossbones on the ‘shampoo’ she intended to use. His scalp began to sting, and instinctively he scooted away, his butt walking down the chair. “Now, now, hold still,” she chided as if to a fidgety child, dragging him upright. Lance could hear Fritz and Moose laughing like a pair of schoolboys as she scrubbed, and after a rinse of what felt like acid, she whisked him upright and swirled a towel tight round his head.
“There ya go!” With a snap of her wrist the towel spun away, revealing his auburn mane, newly shining and fully dry!
He blinked, surprised he had any hair left. At that moment he realized his fingernails had clawed into the armrests, his knuckles white.
Vivi wheeled him into a back room from the others’ sight, where with a quick flick she pulled a lever and that collapsible chair flung him backward. Cheerfully humming, she approached and fettered his knees to the armrests to join his wrists. In his new, awkward and vulnerable position, he whimpered in alarm and complaint through that silencing cap.
“It’s all right, cutie,” she winked, approaching him with an ominous nozzle….
Panic-stricken, he squirmed.
Oh, no…not th---
“Mrrpph!” He grunted when she shoved the hose inside his sore channel, and for several minutes she stood, pump in hand, siphoning what he hoped was warm water into his belly. With horror he watched his gut swell. Sweating, he trembled, unable to speak or protest beyond muffled complaints.
Ohh, God! He groaned, feeling his belly expand and cramp.
“Don’t worry sugah, it’s almost ovah,” she assured with a wink.
At last she let him release. He blushed, mortified—though at least it flushed that imp’s presence from him—and his more private needs were taken care of, for now.
“Now for the rest of you!” she sang. Lifting him with one hand, she toted him toward a rounded tub filled with steaming hot water and…bat shaped bubbles?
She tossed him inside.
Splash!
He squealed, and she was upon him, scrubbing him down with a rough sponge.
By the time she whisked him out and toweled him off, his skin was beet red, and she could smell sweet blood, fresh and hot in his veins…
When it was over, she pitched him back into that barber’s chair and rubbed him down with a salve that, to his surprise, didn’t hurt, but cooled his skin, eased his soreness.
“There, now, all bettah, sweetie?” she asked, almost tenderly.
He sighed and mumbled, managing a dopey grin.
“Aww, aren’t you just the cutest thing? You’ll have to forgive Vivi if she steals a bite…” Setting the salve aside, she seized his arm.
Huh? Wha—no…
“Oh, don’t worry. Vivi’s just gonna have herself a little tastyloo.”
Sharp points sank into his skinny wrist.
He screamed behind that cap and squirmed.
“Mmm,” Vivi came up, smacking her lips. “O-positive. Why, you’re a universal donor, honey!” As she latched back onto his wrist, he could feel his blood draining, life fluid stolen.
S-stop! Squealing, he struggled against her alarmingly strong grip, until at length he dizzied, fainted.
“Oh! Oopsie!” Vivi dropped his arm and rose, wiping her mouth with a belch and a giggle.
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At His Service, Of Course