Vapour

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A woman walking home in London encounters a strange fog.
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JukeboxEMCSA
JukeboxEMCSA
3,736 Followers

The gas lamps turned the autumn mist into a solid yellow wall, but Nellie didn't mind. She'd walked home in the London fog so many times she could tell by the shape of the slippery cobblestones underfoot which street she was on...and after a full day on her feet, she could feel every single one of them. Still, work was work, and at least making nails kept her in the warm and out of the workhouse. She surreptitiously checked her petticoats to make sure that her purse was still nestled up snug against her belly. She wasn't worried about cutpurses; with the fog this thick, she'd probably go the whole way home without seeing a living soul even if they passed her on the other side of the street. But she had nearly eight shillings' wages in her purse, and she didn't want to lose them.

Nellie was already budgeting the money in her head, divvying out rent and food and thread to patch her worn cloak for another winter, when she noticed that something was wrong. She didn't know what, exactly; the sounds of London were the same as any night. The mist deadened them and made them echo strangely in the night air, but she could still hear the sound of foghorns all the way from the river and the steady clop of horseshoes on cobbles in the distance.

She drew her cloak closer about herself, thinking that perhaps the winter was closing in early, but that eerie, persistent feel of wrongness didn't go away. If anything, it got worse, stretching up from the soles of her feet to send shivers up her spine with every step. She caught herself looking behind her, stopping to listen for the sound of boots on the cobbles that might signal the approach of an unseen assailant. Then, unnerved by the muffled noises in the fog, she sped up again as best she could given the slick and uncertain footing.

Nellie didn't see anybody no matter which way she looked, but she couldn't help feeling like she was being watched. The fog seemed thicker, more oppressive, but somehow she imagined a presence in the mist observing her every movement. She knew she was just frightening herself-the fog was just as thick for anyone else as it was for her. They wouldn't see her unless they were right on top of her, not with a pea-souper like this...

Then it hit her. It didn't smell like a pea-souper. It didn't smell like London fog at all.

On any other night, stuck walking home in a London particular, Nellie would practically be able to taste the thick mist as she walked through it. The heavy, wet scent of water vapour mingled with the thick fumes of burning coal and the smell of burning wood to make an aroma that Nellie almost greeted like an old friend, but this...

She took a deep breath, trying to describe the scent to herself. It had a thick, animalistic air to it, not unpleasant but strong and getting stronger. It smelled a bit like walking past a pub near the steel mill, when all the men got off work and went to have a drink still drenched with the sweat of a hard day at the furnace. Less the booze, of course. Nellie took another whiff, wondering if she didn't have someone following her after all. Have to be a pretty ripe gent, to give off an air stronger than the fog, but she'd bumped into a few in her day.

Now that she noticed it, Nellie couldn't ignore the smell. It seemed to get more intense the further she walked, and more distinct, too. It didn't just smell like sweat, it smelled like a rank animal musk. Like putting her head right down next to a man's John Thomas and taking a big deep breath. (Not that she spent a lot of her time breathing deep next to a man's John Thomas, but Arnold the publican had a fondness for pretty young blonde things and Nellie wasn't averse to giving him a kiss every now and then under his apron. She wasn't no strumpet, but a girl couldn't spend all her money on drink if she was saving up for a ticket to New York.)

She stepped faster, hoping to put a little distance between herself and whatever it was that smelled like an unwashed and randy cock, but all that did was make it thicker and stronger until it practically streamed into her nose and mouth like she was smoking a pipe. She sped up as fast as she dared, glancing down at the rounded cobbles to make sure she wasn't putting a foot wrong in her haste. They were slick and slippery with condensed fog, gleaming in the gaslight and-

Nellie stopped so abruptly she skidded. She didn't recognize these cobblestones.

She looked around, consumed by sudden panic, and realized she didn't recognize the red brick walls of the buildings around her. It was a posh part of town, which left her feeling a little bit relieved-if she was going to get lost, better to be somewhere posh than down a dark alley. But she couldn't ignore the fact that the important part of that sentence was "lost". She had no idea where she was. She had completely lost her bearings in the thick, strange-smelling fog.

She tried to listen for a foghorn, hoping that it would at least tell her which way the Thames was, but the sounds echoed strangely in the mist and she knew she was striking out in a more or less random direction. Still, better that than be arrested for vagrancy; Nellie was starting to get thoroughly exhausted now, and she knew that if she fell asleep she'd wake up in a jail cell somewhere. And that eight shillings would be gone. She struggled to keep moving.

She tried to keep an eye out for landmarks as she walked, hoping that sooner or later she'd see a familiar building or at least an intersection with a street she recognized, but the mist kept getting thicker and thicker until soon she could barely even see her own feet. She felt almost like she was walking in place; no matter how fast she moved, all she saw was that same thick, musk-scented fog in front of her eyes. When she stopped, she felt a strange disorientation taking hold of her, like she was floating in a void of pure white. She found herself wanting to cling to the ground just to make sure she wouldn't start falling up by mistake.

The scent was everywhere now, like she was in a whole room full of men with their cocks out, ready to rut. When she started moving again, it got stronger and stronger no matter which way she turned, even when she walked straight along-not that she knew which way straight was anymore. She could have been walking in circles for the past ten minutes and she wouldn't know it.

The fog thickened further, until the only difference between keeping her eyes open and shut was whether she saw white or black in front of her. She couldn't see her hands, she couldn't see her feet, she couldn't see anything at all. Her limbs took on a strange, floaty sensation somewhere past exhaustion, moving invisibly like she was swimming through the endless stream of flowing mist. She kept walking. She couldn't think of anything else to do.

She couldn't hear the sound of the foghorn anymore, but somehow Nellie knew she was moving in the right direction now. The muffled silence of the misty night deadened her sense of time, made her feel a sense of dreamy calm that lulled her into an unthinking acceptance of her helpless wandering. She just breathed in the thick, heady miasma around her, almost as if it was nourishing her and sustaining her drowsy limbs. The smell grew strangely pleasant now, and Nellie almost wished she could stop and give herself a quick rub. But she had to keep going. She had to. She wasn't there yet.

She didn't know how long she walked. The endless sameness of it all made her lose track of everything; she felt mazy and light-headed, and her cunt throbbed like she was being fucked by every single one of those rank, horny cocks. The first sign that she had finally reached her destination was the sound of a human voice, and it felt like it had been so long since she heard one that she scarcely even recognized it.

"There, Crowden! Do you see? She approaches! I told you it would work, I told you!" The voice sounded posh and plummy, but it echoed strangely. It was as though Nellie was hearing it inside her head, but she was also hearing it in the room around her. The room...she was in a room, she realized. Indoors. She'd walked straight into someone's parlor without even noticing it.

As the mist began to clear, Nellie began to take in details of the scene. The room was large, not a traditional drawing room but some sort of workshop. There was a man, standing and watching her with fascination on his face...but something else was mingled with it. Horror? Was she horrifying? She didn't feel horrifying, she felt absolutely perfect. Her whole body glowed with a sleepy, exhausted warmth like she'd just polished off a bottle of gin.

On the far end of the room was a vast apparatus, the purpose of which Nellie couldn't even begin to guess. It looked like an upside-down pyramid made of metal slats, each one wrapping around four rods that crackled with lightning supplied by cables that ran over to a generator on the floor. They hung down from the ceiling at an angle, converging at last into a skullcap over a padded chair. Another man sat in the chair, secured in position by leather straps. He had dark brown hair and a thick mustache, but Nellie couldn't see what color his eyes were. Because his eyes...oh Lord, his eyes...

Thick smoke was streaming from them, so thick it looked more like rushing water than like a gas. It joined up with a stream of identical mist flowing from his wide open mouth and flaring nostrils, turning into a rushing torrent that twisted its way through the air to gush directly into Nellie's face. Her vision was clearing, she realized, because now that he was close enough to see her, he could direct the strange foggy exhalation straight into her lungs without wasting a single puff.

It felt like the sight should have scared her witless, but all Nellie could feel now was a glassy, sensual calm washing over her whole body. She took a deep breath, deeper than she thought possible, breathing in the smoky breath of the other man like she would never stop, and it felt like it went straight down her spine to tickle her cunt with a furious heat. Nellie pawed away at her clothing, desperate to remove her petticoats and get at her wet pussy.

"Do you see now, Crowden?" the man in the chair said. His mouth didn't move when he spoke, but the fog seemed to glimmer with a faint yet resonant light with every word. "I have done it! My spirit is communicating directly with hers through this vapour! I told you that my Electro-Ectenic Generator would succeed in creating synthetic ectoplasm, did I not?" His voice boomed and echoed, as though he spoke in a much larger room than the one the others were standing in. Nellie shivered, but more from arousal at his power than fear. She knew instinctively she was no longer capable of fearing the man in the chair.

"But Doctor Sebastian," Crowden said, his voice filled with trepidation, "what are you doing to her? What are you making her do? This, this was never the intent of your experiments. You wished to communicate with the spirit realm, to learn the wisdom of the halls of eternity! Not, not to..." His face twitched in indecision as he struggled to preserve Nellie's modesty by turning away even as she flung off her clothing and began to roughly stroke her labia, but his curiosity kept his eyes glued to her. Nellie didn't think to wonder how she could suddenly read the face of a stranger; the knowledge of Crowden's personality flowed into her so easily that she accepted it without a second's thought.

Doctor Sebastian's laughter boomed through the hall like a malevolent djinn. "Stuff the halls of eternity!" he shouted, the force of his voice buffeting the others like a gale. "What could the dead teach me that I haven't already surpassed a thousand times over, Crowden? What could they show me of power that I can't learn on my own? Watch!" He didn't gesture physically-his body was still strapped to the chair, still absorbing the electrical energy. But the smoke rippled in the air like a snake as it flowed toward Nellie.

She felt the impulse to come closer. Now that she recognized it, it was the same impulse she had followed all the way through the streets of London, moving unknowing toward this house and this room. It felt so natural she didn't think for a moment to question it; the idea seemed to come from within her own mind, unbidden, and she followed it without a second's hesitation. She knew that it was exactly the right thing to do, just in the same way she knew it was exactly right to unbuckle Doctor Sebastian's trousers and pull out his stiff cock.

"Why speak to the dead, Crowden," he said, "when I could control the living?" Nellie turned, then bent over to squat down onto him. She moaned as he entered her wet, dripping cunt; the sound echoed through the stream of mist connecting them and met his own gasp of pleasure traveling the other way.

"You can sense it, can't you, woman?" he said, as Nellie found the desire to bounce up and down on his cock suddenly irresistible. "This power of mine is like nothing any man has ever possessed! I am like a new god to you, and your cunt worships me in supplication! Bow your head, touch your hands to the floor, and bring forth my offering!"

Nellie couldn't help it; she didn't even want to help it. She did as she was told, lowering her body down until she was practically bent over double and riding his John Thomas for all he was worth. When it came, her orgasm came out in a scream that shuddered all the way up the tube of mist to be swallowed by Doctor Sebastian with a smile that looked like a scream.

"This is...this is literally obscene!" Crowden shouted over the crescendo of her climax. "You cannot take away a person's will and play with their body like a toy, Sebastian! You cannot simply will yourself to become a new Almighty! This, this vapour of yours, it is your soul that has left you, and I fear you will be damned never to recover it! You must stop!"

Doctor Sebastian's hips bucked up in the chair, his whole body straining against the restraints as he fucked Nellie to a second peak. "And who will stop me, Crowden? There is not a man in this world who can stand against my spirit, not when it is amplified by the power of this device. The Queen herself would kneel before me, the...the serried ranks of soldiers would...ohh, would prostrate themselves at my feet...oh, yes, girl, fuck me, fuck me harder, beg for my seed inside you..."

Nellie let out a low growl of desire as her mind overflowed with the need to please and obey her new master. "Oh," she whimpered, scarcely recognizing the whimper as her own voice, "Oh please, sir, please fuck me, please spend inside my cunt, please I need it, oh fuck, oh..." Her eyes had slipped shut, instinctively echoing the rising pleasure in Doctor Sebastian's body that sent him into a blissful trance as he came closer and closer to cumming. They were locked, linked, helpless to resist the ecstasy that rebounded back and forth between them, lost in the pleasure and helpless to resist the feeling of oh oh OH! The world went electric as Doctor Sebastian came, and Nellie came right along with him.

Then all the electricity stopped.

Literally. The sound of the generator stilled and Nellie stumbled forward to the floor, the suppressed confusion and terror suddenly bursting forth as she darted her head around like a trapped animal. She could no longer feel Doctor Sebastian in her head, coaxing her mind into accepting his every thought as her own. She was herself again, albeit a shocked and violated self...and as her eyes rapidly glanced over the room, she spotted the cause of the sudden silence. Crowden was standing next to the ruined generator, a crowbar in his hand.

"I had to do it," he muttered, as much to himself as to Nellie. "It was the only chance I had. Perhaps the only chance humanity had. He was...distracted, in that instant. If I gave him a moment to react, he would have simply controlled me too. It was the only way."

He looked pleadingly at Nellie, his eyes tortured, and she knew she had to say something to him. "He was a devil, sir," she whispered, crawling away from the slumped figure in the chair. "Not a god, not ever."

Crowden sighed sadly, coming over to examine Doctor Sebastian's body. It still lived, after a fashion; the heart beat, the chest rose and fell. But the eyes were devoid of any intelligence, and it sat immobile in the chair with the patience of a corpse. "No, worse, I fear," Crowden said, brushing those staring eyes closed with his hand. "He was a man. We have all the passions of devils and all the ambitions of gods, and Heaven help those of us who fall victim to either." He helped Nellie to her feet, decorously looking away as she dressed herself.

"What happened to him?" she asked, once her petticoats were back in place and her purse safely tucked away once more.

"I can only guess," Crowden said, still staring at Sebastian's empty shell of a body. "The machine allowed him to multiply his spirit and send it from his body, but he always assumed he would be able to return completely before shutting it down. When I..." He trailed off into silence. "He's trapped, I suppose. In the halls of eternity he once hoped to reach."

Nellie shrugged. "Let him rot there," she whispered, before she turned on her heels and returned to the London night.

THE END

JukeboxEMCSA
JukeboxEMCSA
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wiscman45wiscman45about 6 years ago
Very interesting

The story is well written and interesting. I could see this as a horror film with the ghostly spirit of the doctor in the London fog after it could no longer return to his body with the destruction of the generator. Each night as the fog descends on London people feel the ghastly presents of Dr. Sabastian. He can touch their minds but not control others without the machines help. He invokes nightmares now instead of anything else.

PhiroEpsilonPhiroEpsilonabout 6 years ago
Steampunk! That's a new one for you

I like the story.

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