The Red Goddess, Chapter 1: Chosen

When Heather applied to be Dr. Severine’s assistant, there were any number of reasons she might have been disqualified.

For one thing, Heather Marie Krakowski was a communications major; Sasha Adrienne Severine had doctorates in medicine, genetics, chemistry, and physics.

For another, Heather was a B minus student at best. Dr. Severine had earned a list of honors longer than she was tall, including three Nobel Prizes.

A third problem was that Heather had no scientific background, training, or inclinations. She didn’t know a beaker from a beet, thought relativity had to do with who you couldn’t marry, and still tried to catch her bath water spiraling down the drain the other way. You can be scientifically ignorant and be a good person – but you can’t do it and be a good lab assistant for the world’s foremost scientist.

However, Heather had one qualification that put her head and shoulders above all the other candidates for the job; a jaw-dropping, drool-dropping, zipper-popping body. Helen may have had the face that launched a thousand ships, but one look at Heather would have had every sailor in the fleet coming hard about at full speed.

She’d been Miss January in that year’s "Campus Cuties" calendar. Every guy on campus knew her picture very well: Heather in a sleek silver bikini and a "Happy New Year!" sash with a glass of champagne, standing up in a hot tub while Old Man Last Year sat there having the best heart attack of his life. She was blamed for no end of late term papers as the year went on; guys just couldn’t bring themselves to flip past January, even in October. A few clever nerds with a copy of the "Campus Cuties" calendar and some fancy software had worked out the figures every man on campus longed to crunch by hand: 36D-24-35. Five feet eight inches and 117 pounds of flawless female flesh.

She’ll do, Dr. Severine thought, watching as Heather walked up the driveway to her mansion. Short golden curls, blue-grey eyes, sharp cheekbones, and a wide mouth painted watermelon pink. A blue angora sweater stretched tight over breasts as sweet and inviting as two scoops of French vanilla ice cream. Black leather miniskirt smoothed over hips that often stopped traffic. And impossibly long legs, tapering from firm luscious thighs to strong slender calves and delicate ankles, made impossibly longer by black nylons with pencil-thin seams running dead straight down the backs of her legs to her four-inch stiletto heels.

She’ll do just fine.

Heather had been a little nervous meeting the great scientist. She’d seen pictures of Dr. Severine: a beautiful woman with long red hair like burnished copper wire, brilliant green eyes, and classical features. She had a reputation for toughness and ambition, so Heather prepared herself to be pushed hard.

But when she felt the force of the scientist’s personality like a wave sweeping everything else away, she knew she couldn’t possibly have prepared enough. Dr. Severine gave her a pristine white lab coat and a pair of safety glasses, shook her hand firmly, and led her into the lab.

"This will be a quick tour," Dr. Severine said, clipping her silky French-accented words. "Your station is here, on this stool, where I can see you. When I have no need of you, this is where you sit. Over here, this is the shielded room – never go in without your goggles. Behind the containment field is a meteor recovered from the South Pole. The green nodules are alien biomatter, very dangerous, very radioactive. I am trying to find out more. In a few minutes, I will need you to bring me some of these devices. These are anti-proton stabilizers, these are charm field wave refreshers, these are random quark generator, and these are electron flux inhibitors. Can you remember? Anti-proton stabilizers, charm field wave refreshers, random quark generators, and electron flux inhibitors. Don’t bring me the wrong one. Come quickly when I call!"

Heather soon learned that her outfit hadn’t been a good choice. Dr. Severine expected her to move quickly, and that wasn’t always easy in a tight miniskirt and stiletto heels. And although she wasn’t fool enough to think anything other than her looks had gotten her the job, she still wasn’t entirely comfortable with the way the scientist’s eyes never quite got past her shoulders.

Heather felt even less comfortable with the look in those bright cold blue eyes. She didn’t mind being ogled. Eyes always followed her. It didn’t bother her, and there were times when she even enjoyed it.

But there was something different in Dr. Severine’s eyes. There was fierce intelligence there, and strength of will – and a hint of madness peering out like a predator lying in wait. Something told her that Dr. Severine had gone too far outside the box to ever come back in.

"Heather!" Dr. Severine snapped from the other room. "Bring me the electron flux inhibitors, now!"

"Right away, Doctor!" Heather called back, grabbing the bulky gizmos and dashing as quick as she could in her not very practical skirt and heels.

In later years, Dr. Severine had time to regret many things. And the two things she regretted most were choosing Heather for her assistant, and not sending her home to change that night.

As Heather rounded the corner next to the containment field, she took a bad step and stumbled. She was falling right into the glowing, buzzing energy field. She dropped the electron flux inhibitors as she fell – the field dropped instantly as soon as the devices touched it.

That’s when Heather’s whole world changed.

Before Dr. Severine could restart the containment field, the glowing green globules embedded in the meteor burst, showering Heather with hot green goo. She screamed as the radioactive alien biomatter ate away at her clothes with a hiss. Dr. Severine dragged her out of the field radius by the shrinking remnants of her lab coat and switched the field back on. Every stitch Heather had on dissolved away as the green goo ate its way toward her increasingly exposed flesh. While Heather struggled out of her clothes, the scientist shoved her into a shower cell, sealed the door behind her, and activated the anti-toxin rinse.

The hot water hit her at high pressure from all sides. It didn’t even slow the slime down. The slime ate away her clothing, and spread over her body like a second skin. It covered Heather completely in seconds, only to be completely absorbed by her skin. A hot electric tingle throughout her entire body jolted her, and she blacked out.

When Heather woke up, she was in a king-sized four-poster bed by an enormous hearth. Light from the fire flickered over her as she lay on a sea of orange-red satin. She couldn’t see the walls or the ceiling; she was on an island in a sea of black.

The nightstand held a single pearly taper in a silver stand beside a note in a precise spiky hand.

The pomegranate imprint of Dr. Severine’s lips followed the signature – looking down at herself, Heather saw an identical imprint on her left breast. She shuddered and rubbed it away as she gathered the sheet around herself and tried to understand what was happening.

A man’s voice came out of the dark, sudden as a shooting star and nearly as distant.

"She must be tested," the voice said. "That was the agreement."

"She is not the one," Dr. Severine said.

Heather looked around, but she couldn’t see where either voice had come from. They seemed to emanate from the air, everywhere and nowhere at once.

"She must be tested," the voice answered. "She is anointed. She is Chosen."

"What kind of test?" Heather asked timidly. No one answered.

After a moment, five men in bondage hoods and leather pants came out of the dark around her. Powerful torsos gleamed with oil in the firelight, but Heather was in no mood to appreciate a quintuple serving of beefcake – especially after she saw their cruel hungry smiles and the alarming bulges in their pants.

"Stay away from me!" Heather screamed.

"Or what?" one of them snarled, jerking the sheets away as he yanked her out of bed by the arm. Without thinking, she kneed him in the groin and he doubled over in pain.

Free again, Heather scrambled across the bed, trying to put it between her and them. But they were too fast. Rough leather gloves seized her ankles and dragged her off the bed onto the white fur rug by the hearth.

They pinned her arms behind her and wrapped them to the elbow in heavy chains. They shoved a ball gag in her mouth and secured it with a rough leather strap and a tight-fitting bondage hood that left her deaf, dumb, and blind. She felt a choke chain pulled over her head and fastened to something above her as they jerked her to her feet. Heavy manacles locked her feet as far apart as they could. They left her there – naked, helpless, terrified.

She could feel their gloating eyes taking in every inch of her before they started. Then she felt two pairs of gloved hands on her hips, one in front and the other behind. And she knew what was coming next.

They thrust themselves deep inside her – one in her pussy, the other up her ass. Driving harder and harder, deeper and deeper with every brutal thrust, the two men raped her hard as she hung there helpless. They didn’t take long to come – they couldn’t hold it in as they took their savage pleasure of her spectacular body.

They traded places. All five took turns with her; sometimes two at once, sometimes just one. They groped and fondled every inch of her. Her breasts ached from being kneaded and gnawed. Their gloves chafed her thighs raw. They squeezed her ass black and blue. Sometimes while one of them was fucking one side they all beat the other. Every time she started to sag in her bonds from exhaustion and despair, the choke chain cut off her air and forced her to straighten her quivering legs.

It went on and on for what seemed like hours. Inside the hood, Heather was alone with her agony. There was no sound but her own screams. The nightmare went on and on. Slowly, inevitably, Heather felt it – a change, first subtle but growing ever stronger; a new power, growing deep inside her and rising to the surface.

A sun exploded in her head, filling her mind with white light and heat. Her eyes were closed. And the thick bondage hood still imprisoned her head in stifling hot silence. But she could see everything – all at once, all around her, in every direction, in every detail. Time slowed to a crawl. She could see a flake of chrome, worn off her choke chain by the steel rafter above, falling slowly to the ground, reflecting the fire as it tumbled with surreal grace. She could hear their heartbeats clearly and distinctly, slowed to a funereal pace in her enhanced perception.

The two men inside her finished, and started to pull out. All five gathered by the bed, talking about what they could do next. Heather knew what she could do.

A single thought vaporized her bonds. Heather laughed as shock and horror slowly drove the gloating grins from her tormentor’s faces.

She grabbed two men by the ears as she brought her hands down, smashing their skulls together with a sickening crunch. Before their shattered skulls and splattered brains could hit the floor, Heather planted her heel dead center in a third man’s chest with a lethally perfect backspin kick. She felt his ribs go with a satisfying crunch, and knew the splintered bones had shredded his heart.

Heather stopped to let time catch up. She stood there grinning with her hands on her hips, her body spattered with gore. The two remaining men stood shocked, staring at the sudden carnage.

"What’s the matter, boys?" she taunted with a mocking pout. "Don’t you want to play with me?"

They recovered quickly. One of them pulled an ugly hunting knife out of his boot and rushed her, slashing viciously up her exposed belly to gut her like a fish. The gleaming steel didn’t even leave a scratch on her immaculate skin. He swung again, this time at her throat.

She caught his knife hand easily. Crushing his fist as easily as a dirt clod, she drove her fist into his solar plexus and straight through his spine. The man fell to the ground a screaming ruin, begging for death in a spreading pool of his own blood.

Behind her, the last man scrambled for the bullwhip. He’d practiced with it his whole life; he could snap off a fly’s wing in mid-air. He aimed straight at Heather’s brilliant blue-grey eye, hoping to blind her and make his escape.

The bullwhip froze just short of her eyelashes. Heather smiled. Quick as a snake the whip shot back at its owner. The long leather whip coiled tight around his throat. He fell to his knees, purple-faced and clawing at the whip in a desperate but futile bid for his life.

Heather collapsed, her heart pounding and her breath coming in ragged gasps. All her strength and power were gone; she had never been so exhausted. She sunk into the fur rug, barely conscious, unsure if she had the strength even to keep her heart beating. All she wanted to do was lie there with the soft fur under her tortured breasts and let the heat of the fire sooth her beaten back.

"Heather, you must get up," Dr. Severine said. "You need to lie on the bed."

But the fur felt so soft, and the fire was warm. She longed to let herself slip into the darkness pressing in on her.

"You need to lie on the bed, Heather," Dr. Severine said. "If you fall asleep by the fire, you will die. This is the test. You must make it to the bed."

"I don’t care," Heather whispered. "I’m so tired. And I hurt, everywhere."

"I can make it better for you. But only on the bed."

"I don’t . . . understand," Heather said. "Why can’t you help me."

The scientist’s cold precise voice sounded almost regretful. "You are the Chosen One. You are alone, one and only. You must be the Red Goddess. Get up, Heather. Get into bed."

"You don’t make sense. Help me," Heather pleaded softly.

"Get into bed. You will die if you do not."

Heather sobbed. Drawing the last of her strength, she rose shakily to her hands and knees. Stars flickered in her vision. When they cleared a little, she forced herself to crawl to the foot of the bed. By force of will she dragged herself up one of the ornate carved posts and collapsed in the disheveled sea of orange-red satin she’d been dragged from nearly an eternity ago.

"She passes the test," the other voice said. "She will become the Red Goddess."

Heather could barely form a coherent thought, much less express it. "What are you – what – Red Goddess? Help me, please."

She found herself surrounded by pillows. The sheets and comforter lay at the foot of the bed; she had no strength to pull them up. Her head swam with exhaustion, and her heart pounded in her ears. As darkness crept up and her vision narrowed, she thought she saw one of the pillows move.

I must be dying, she thought. I’m seeing things now.

The pillows all began to move. Hands in orange-red satin gloves snaked out under and between them to touch her. Soon there were several pairs of hands on her body – stroking, massaging, caressing.

Part of her mind still resisted, though she had no strength left to fight. "Stop touching me," she whispered. "Make them stop, please."

"They are helping you, Heather," Dr. Severine said. "Do not fight them. Surrender. They will make you strong."

Heather felt her welts and bruises begin to fade under their expert touch. The abrasions on her thighs faded with each tender stroke. Soon she began to enjoy it; she felt her nipples stiffen as a pair of hands fondled each breast. Her limbs weren’t impossibly heavy anymore. Heather rolled onto her belly and they started to massage her aching back. She slid her hands down her body between her legs and touched herself. There were hands working the tension from her shoulders, thighs, and calves. One hand touched her cheek, and as it traced a fingertip lightly over her lips she took it in and sucked on it.

"Very good, Heather," Dr. Severine said. "Let them help you."

Heather felt her power returning as she grew more and more aroused. The light came slowly this time, not in an awesome burst as it had when she was bound and helpless. She drew it into herself, let it suffuse her being. Her body felt charged, energized, renewed. She lifted herself a little, teasing the hands by raising her breasts just out of reach. She lowered her body onto their palms, savoring their touch as they supported her inches above the bed.

Her climax was building slowly. There was a hand between her legs now, working her most sensitive spots with a virtuoso’s skill. Other hands fondled her breasts, caressed her hips and belly, stroked her perfect thighs. The light in her mind grew brighter and brighter as her pleasure rose to a crescendo.

Her orgasm broke over her like a wave. She felt herself floating in a sea of light, free of all pain and limits. She was pure, and clean, and loved. As wave on wave of pleasure drew long moans from her, the hands slowly lowered her to the bed and receded. She let herself slip blissfully into unconsciousness.

Heather came to a little while later in her own bed. On her nightstand she found a gift box with a single red rose and a note from Dr. Severine.

Heather opened the box and put on what was inside; red satin opera gloves with a matching G-string and boots. The only hint of a top was a vest of delicate gold chains that fastened in back and draped over her breasts without even pretending to conceal them. Heather studied her reflection with pride.

A new costume, she thought, for a new superheroine. Look out, world, here comes the Red Goddess!