Lucifer's Lottery - Edward Lee [85]
A bed made of tits, you tell yourself. And not just any tits—GREAT tits.
“But didn’t you also say something about—”
“Your personal harem,” Howard went on. “Oh, yes.” Again, Howard snaps his fingers.
A door clicks open and in walks a very perfect and very buck-naked—
“It’s Pam Anderson!” you wail.
And so it is. The woman curtsies for you, then stands in a displaying pose.
“She’s even better-looking than she was in Barb Wire,” you observe, but then your eyes bulge when five more identical Pam Andersons enter the bedroom and stand in formation.
Your gaze snaps to Howard. “Six Pam Andersons? All for me?”
“All for you, Mr. Hudson, should of course you accept the Senary.”
You stare at the impossible line of spectacular women. “But how did you . . .”
“They’re products of quite an impressive occult invention, called Hex-Cloning,” Howard explains. “They look—and feel—exactly like the genuine woman in the Living World you so desire, but they’ll do anything you tell them. Anytime you want.”
You gulp again, looking at those six pairs of legendary breasts . . .
“And I suspect you’ll enjoy the next prospect: the Bath,” Howard says and takes you into what you guess is the bathroom.
Solid gold toilet. Solid gold sink. A claw-foot tub made of still more gold sits on the immaculate floor.
“Pretty nice bathroom,” you say.
“You’re welcome to partake in baths with pure water, or, if you prefer . . .” Howard snaps his fingers one more time.
Several large-bosomed and sultry She-Demons enter next, their bodies nearly as provocative as the half dozen counterfeit Pam Andersons in the bedroom, only these women have petite horns and various colored skin.
“What’s the big deal with these chicks?”
“They’re your Bath Girls, in the event that you don’t want to take a normal bath.”
You blink at Howard. “Huh?”
“Girls?” Howard addresses them. “Be so good as to show Mr. Hudson your surgical augmentation.”
All at once, then, the She-Demons open their mouths and stick out their tongues.
“Woe-boy!” you exclaim.
Each woman extrudes a tongue the size of a beef liver.
“Their tongues are huge!”
“Of course, they need to be. They’re Bath Girls. Only Privilatos, Exalted Dukes, and District Emirs are afforded this very expensive luxury—along with Satan himself, of course. Their sole purpose is to administer to you what’s known as a tongue-bath.”
You stare at the women’s tongues as much as you stare at the consideration. Tongue-baths . . .
“Anytime you so desire,” Howard says. “For eternity. It’s my understanding that the sensation is most stimulating.”
I’ll bet it is . . . I’ve got all these hot chicks here, that I can get it on with anytime I want . . . IF I accept the Senary . . . But then the reality sets in. “Look, I’ve never even had sex before but I’ve been told that a guy can only do it so many times before he gets worn out.”
“Ah, yes, refraction, the bane of all masculinity, but let us convene now on the north bulwark, and I will show you yet one more otherworldly benefit of Privilato status.”
The Bath Girls all wriggle their giant wet tongues as Howard moves you out of the chamber and onto a lofty balcony. From here you see the entire castle grounds, the inner wards, various stone buildings, intermediate towers. Birds that appear to be normal—falcons, doves, sparrows—sweep across the sky; while the sky is normal, too. Blue, with wisps of white clouds.
“How can . . .” you begin.
“Hallucinosis Transformers at the fringe of each Privilato estate provide the preferred environment,” Howard answers. “Should you so desire, Mr. Hudson, your sky will always look exactly like the sky in the Living World.”
“Incredible,” you mutter, but then you think of something. “There’s an awful lot of—what?—supernatural technology here—”
“The proper term is Occult Science or Systematic Magic.”
“Fine, but it’s still the opposite of