Anya Goes to Vorhees Ch. 17

He picked her back up and walked with her down the hall, turning at the last door, which he pulled open and then walked through to the inside before setting her down and shutting it firmly, locking it from the inside. He took out the key and walked over to a desk and placed it inside with the rest of the items in his pocket. His blue eyes held hers as he picked up his phone and spoke swiftly in French to the person on the other end, most likely Deandra.

She looked around, there was very little furniture in the room. The bed was simple, king sized, but with only a wire headboard and no baseboard. The dresser was wood, lightly stained and polished, with nothing lining the top. No pictures of family, no knick knacks from past trips, nothing that would give someone a hint to the man in the room. The desk and a large overstuffed chair near the window were the only other pieces of furniture that she could see.

When the handle was down, he moved towards her and picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder easily as Anya bit her lip and smiled. He took her into his bathroom and closed the door. Putting her on the tiled floor of his shower, he turned on the water, made sure it was nice and hot, and then pointed to the soaps and shampoos before leaving her alone to wash herself. Anya gazed after him surprised, she had expected him to stay and help wash her, maybe even strip and get into the shower as well. That would be nice. He could massage her aching muscles.

Picking up the loofa that was hanging on a hook, she squeezed some soap on it and then spread it over her body, this was where the woodsy mint smell came from, Anya thought to herself. She closed her eyes and luxuriating in the water hitting her skin and the smell that wafted up around her as she covered herself with the soap.

She was rinsing conditioner out of her hair when Mr. Hughes came back into the room, a jar in his hands that he handed her through the slightly open glass door.

"Spread that over your pussy and your ass, Anya. It will soothe you." He told her as she unscrewed the lid from the jar.

It was the stuff they created from Chrysanthulus, and she moaned, he was right. It would feel wonderful when she smoothed it on and inside of herself. Turning, she let the water cover her head as she smeared some thick goo on her hand and worked it over her tender pussy lips and within the confines of her stretched cunt. It tingled and warmed her, and she felt her muscles twitch a little and gradually, she knew, she would tighten up and you'd never be able to tell that she'd taken such a great force in either holes.

When she was out of the shower, her body wrapped in a towel and half bent over rubbing another one through her long hair, she was sure by the time she left here it would be well below her ass if it kept growing, Anya saw him enter the room again.

"It's a little more of a tart flavor this time, Anya." He told her as he handed her a shake and she took it from him and sighed.

"This would be easier all around if I was on birth control." She told him as she plugged her nose with two fingers and took a huge gulp of the shake.

"It would be easier for me, as well. However, several of our service providers are only able to perform if there is a fertile woman given them to pleasure. It is a necessary evil."

"Will you be able to get me pregnant tonight?" She asked when the shake was gone, it had been horrendous, like drinking a glass full of the children's aspirin she remembered her mother having around the house when she was little.

"No." Came his firm reply.

"Okay." Anya sent him a curious look as she ran her hands through her hair, he had no brush in his bathroom, why would he, of course? He had no hair.

"When you are ready, come into the bedroom." He told her and walked away, shutting her into the bathroom as he disappeared on the other side.

Anya took her time, she picked up some of the tubes by the sink and found a bottle of regular body lotion that smelled like vanilla and rubbed it over her skin. Then, looking down at the cup on the shelf above the sink, her eyes sparkled in mischief, she picked up his toothbrush and quickly brushed her teeth, rinsing and spitting before finally wiping her face on the towel she'd used on her hair before stepping over to the door and turning the knob.

Opening the door wide, she stepped through and raised her hands to see that he was standing in the middle of the room. Her eyes widened and she froze, unable to do anything other than take in the sight of him as he stood, naked, in the middle of the room. But it wasn't even his body that she looked at first, it was the wings. Feathered, each almost the size of his body, flared out in either side of him. Holy shit. Holy total shit, Anya felt her breath come out in a cough, Holy FUCKING shit. In the darkened room, lit now only with candles, he looked, he looked like...Holy SHIT.

Moving her eyes from the great white, feathered appendages, wondering how the hell he'd hid those under his expertly tailored suits, she took in his tightly muscled body. He looked like a street fighter, all ripped lean muscle and tight skin. The tattoos, that strange language, it covered him from collar bone to groin, it stopped at his wrists and went down to his ankles as well. Anya knew if she had him turn around, the back of him would most likely be covered as well. Then her eyes centered on the part of him that she had been waiting for so long to see in the flesh, and she was transfixed. And then she was incensed and her body grew hot and her face flushed and her mouth tightened, and she took a step forward, a hand raising to point at him, her mouth opening to voice her immediate accusation, and then she stopped and looked back down and stopped, a giggle suddenly escaping her lips, and then her eyes filled with tears. Anya felt the hard laugh fly from her mouth seconds before she covered it and felt herself begin to cry at the same time she bent in half from the hysterical laughter that had taken a hold of her whole body.

"This is not quite the reaction a man wants when he stands in front of a woman naked." His words held no emotion in them, and his body stance had not changed in the least when she began to sob in laughter before him.

"You-," Anya laughed, and then shook herself and straightened, and then broke out into laughter again before trying to continue, "you're not a man, you-fuck, you, oh my God, you-."

He sighed and his wings lowered just a smidgen.

"Anya."

"Holy FUCK, Mr. Hughes." She jabbed a finger in his direction and she wiped her tears with her other hand.

"Archimendes." He told her softly, still not moving towards her as she responded to his appearance.

"Archimendes." Her head shook at its base, as if she was wanting to make a decision to shake her head but was undecided about it, "What the FUCK, Archie?"

"Don't call me that." His voice darkened at that and his wings raised and Anya immediately felt something hit her that made her stand still and her emotions calmed instantly.

She knew immediately that whatever this power was, he had used it on the werewolves, and probably tonight on the satyrs. It didn't stop her surprise, her anger, her frustration at the body of the man before her.

"Oh my GOD, Mr. Hughes, you're-you-," Anya looked at him, her eyes wild, she didn't even know how to put it, "you don't have a penis!"