The Cancer Series

In this continuation of "the Cancer Series", this time we find two men carrying the silent vehicle for giving every woman they meet a fatal stigmata. One intrepid doctor is determined to solve this mystery, but can she root out the cause in time?

Leora's Quest

"What is ruining all these women?" Doctor Leora Savatelli was pacing again. "Godamned police won't listen to me. Again." She fumed, ready to pull her hair out. Seventeen women had come into Bricktown Medical Center in the past month. Seventeen! All had had cancer of varying degree. She couldn't believe the statistic---seventeen women? Four women were on the road to recovery, with only small 1.5 centimeter lumps being removed. Three more had each lost one breast each, but it looked like they'd gotten it all. That left ten. Oh, Christ, those ten! Leora had never seen such ravaging. Three petite little girls, all under age 23, both mamaries gone forever. Five more had lymph node involvement, severe reconstructive surgery was what they had to look forward to. And even if the scars could be dealt with, what if the malignancy had compromised them?

What if?

Then there were the two fatalities. The women who had wandered in, only three weeks ago, the ones that had started this horrible pattern. Susanne was gone, a host to huge, splitting, rupturing tumours. Eilene, 26, struck down before reaching 30, was so far advanced that even radiation and chemicals combined wouldn't work. Leora reminded herself, "I must stop conjuring up that image," Eilene had expired, two sagging masses of wild tissue, there in plain sight, for all to see. And when they were sent down to pathology, oh sweet mother of God, greasy lipids, ropey tendrils swimming in fluids, yet to be analyzed; marble-sized lumps numbering half a dozen! It was too much. Expired? no, died. Yes, died! And she couldn't stop it. --Or slow it down. Or even get a handle on what was causing it. She threatened to go back to biting her nails down to the quick. "Stupid, fat oaf of a detective!" She was certain that after this call, she was on the police's "chronic complainer" list, the never-talked-about list that brands you as "crying wolf, ignore it". But there was something. There had to be!

Over a dozen women, in one small town? All at once?

Oh, they'd checked all right.

"No common work environment,"

"No trace of industrial chemicals,"

"No odd toxins, no tainted this, no tainted that," Blah, blah, blah. She was reminded by both the cops, AND her hospital administrator, "You're not an investigative reporter, or a detective, or an epidemiologist, back off." Well, fuck you all!" she growled, "I won't back off." She reached for her blazer, then the light switch--turned to lock up. "How can I back off?" she audibly questioned. What she inaudibly whispered was, "I just know there'll be more. This isn't the end of it."

She was right.

There would soon be many more.

it was not the end of it---

in fact, it was just the beginning.

II.

Anthony loved his life. Twenty-two, hot shit kick ass! He and his best bud, they did it. They survived school together, as well as the armed forces. They'd gotten out of New York, high prices, whining jews, two-bit vigilantes, all that crud. Crud everywhere. Yeah, they'd done it good. Moved down here to Bricktown. Not a one-horse town, but at the same time, not a congested city either. And the women, oh, the women! His tongue traced the confines of his mouth, as he primped in the mirror. What was that ol' ... Wine, women and song? Well, wine was OK, and fuck! If she tries to sing, put a bag over her face, and do it for Wal-Mart! hahaha! And doin' it was what his Friday night was gonna be.

Nick hung up the phone. He loved hangin out with Anthony, he called him Antny---like in the show Cheers. That's what Karla called her eldest son. They were a great pair, alike in so many ways, yet different. Anthony was five-seven, built like a little soccer player. He could put away as much all-you-can-eat from the Olive Garden as Nick could. Nick always wondered "where did all that food go?" Nick was six-one, black hair, intimidating Sicilian great looks. Some women found his appearance frightening, he could always tell. Oh, the price of being a devastating love magnet. While he was the outgoing, loud, big love magnet, his bud Anthony was the shorter, quieter suave woman-hunter. Together, they'd set out to terrorize the town, Nick swooping down, scooping up his catch-of-the-night, while Anthony, cool and quiet stalked his prey. They were a great team, big and small, studs to the end. And tonight was gonna be a start of a big weekend. A "bring your own body" orgy was happening. Nick really wanted his last conquest Adriana, whom he just met, and scored with just three weeks ago, to meet him there. But, she opted out, complaining she had the flu or some shit. Anth called to tell him that Marzee wasn't showing either, dumb twat had some rash! Great, hope he wasn't about to get it---it was just ten days ago that they'd done the nasty. So, with both babes out o' commission, it was time to round up some new stuff. This was gonna be a combo of rave, swinging singles bash, shit! probably anything goes, and comes. Nick located his suede shoes, and as he bent to put them on, he patted his pole-vaulter "down boy, the night's still young."

It was a big-ass warehouse. You could get lost in it.

Musta been over 90 people there, and more were driving in.

In one room, Anthony was sitting astride a brunette, nice medium breasts; he could feel them on his thighs as he fed it to her. She was servicing him real good, he liked the main course after the intro the best. As he shot a major load down her, he was already thinking of what would come next. So many guys he'd known couldn't wait to get off, and that was it. They didn't know his secret, "the whore's secret" as his father use to call it. The second time takes a lot longer, so get the first one out of the way. Then you could go for an hour, if ya wanted. Lori was swallowing greedily, as he relaxed his riding. As he pulled out of her mouth, she began wiping her lips. "Hey, Lori, what would you think of me if I did this?" Anthony got up on one knee, and proceeded to clean off his member with her long, brown hair. "See ya a little later huh?" He got up, pulled up his pants, zipped up, and went looking to see what his bud had found.

Nick was easy to spot, there were three girls, and two guys, all high on ex, and the little circle was entranced, watching big old Nicholas, drooling on one set of huge knockers, while tit-pounding another pair. Leave it to Nick, woa! Two girls! He just had to get a close-up. "Hey, Nicholas! Give it to her!" As Nick forced his big veined rod between two succulent girl mounds, other girls started shrieking, and the guys started wolf whistling. A cascade of big hair got in his way, so Anthony didn't see the first barrage. But he guessed, everyone else did. When she moved her butt to take on a guy she was with, then Anthony saw it. This blonde's bazongas were covered with cream. Shit, she looked like someone emptied a tub of Cool-whip! A mousey little girl, apparently Nick's girl's companion, began to play with it, spreading it around her friend's breasts, licking her fingers, cooing all the while, "oo, its so gooey!" Nick got up, looking down at his handywork. "Woa, not bad, and I'm just getting started. I need a drink."

Four hours later, the ex was all taken, drinks were getting piss warm, and both buds had had enough for tonight. "I'm partied out for now," Nick said. "Yeah, let's go home, I wanna get some sleep, tomorrow night's the pudding wrestling! And I ain't missing that"" As they walked towards the exit, sweat-drenched shirts clinging to both their bodies, Nick stopped and turned; he had an idea. "I feel like its time for the brown beauty joke," Anth dropped his lower lip. "Oh, no, you go ahead, I don't really want to watch." "Its cool, I spotted a black-haired girl behind us, she's perfect!" Nick's tall frame made its way over to a corner of one of the rooms. There, he spotted a girl in fishnets. She was out cold, curled up. "That's not safe, sis," he laughed. "Anything could happen," With that, he backed up, pulling down his jeans, and squatted over her. "Hey, ... matches your hair baby! hahaha!" He rejoined his friend, and they walked out into the cool night air, as the gray light of the on-coming dawn began to appear. "I don't know why you think that's so funny, dude," Anthony said, punching his friend's arm. "Hey, asleep like that, and all? She'll never know who did it. She might even think she did. That's the funny part."

Saturday night was a big success too. Both guys took on two girls apiece, this time there was THC along with the ex, and Nick got some GHB from somewheres. "Hey, Yllona, is it pudding, or is it me? haha!" Anthony didn't do too badly either, he scooped up huge globs of pudding, mixed with his man juices, and slathered two girls with it all. There was a blond limp-wristed queen there, and Anth just had to show him how truly bad,pudding is as a lube. Ouch, sorry honey, too big for ya? Next time, stop staring at my ass while I'm doing a girl." The two guys got four phone numbers from girls they'd taken on that night. "Hey, let's meet for brunch, or something," Lisa, Audrey, April and Janna were all hyper, and promised everything. They were happy.

III.

Doctor Savatelli was overjoyed, her first break in all this crap. True, none of the girls afflicted were related by workplace, colour, age or diet---however, she had pumped the parents and the hospital computers enough to find out that all those girls---every one of them had visited "the Sure Thing" club. That was a start. Maybe something in the pipes, the fog machines? Something! She got into her little blue Citation and purred off to check out the club. Answers were there, she felt. Her job was to find them.

IV.

Janna was excited, what a hunk! She thought brunch was a great idea. She towelled off, that Olay shower jel was yummy. It smelled like vanilla and berries together. Now, if only it didn't make her skin itch. Oh, well, Nick was worth it.

She began drying her hair, eyeing the cute little pants suit she'd just laid out to wear. . . . . . .

Audrey thought Anthony was crude, rough, coarse, and ... and if she kept it up, she'd wet her drawers again. Why am I attracted so much to that?" She rummaged through her closet, oh, bloody Marys would sure hit the spot. She absent-mindedly patted the area around her nipples---"can't imagine I'm sensetive to pudding. I gotta put some baby oil on this."

. . . . . . . .

April was a party girl, and a party brunch on the morning after was gonna kick major butt. She inhaled the Pantene scent, a bit overdone, she'd have ta make sure not to have her perfume clash with it. As she rinsed off, and scrubbed the last vestiges of Dyle from her skin, "ow!" she yipped, sounding like a hurt puppy. "what the fuck?" She felt around THERE, her areole, and then under her breasts. "Whew, I got that damn insult dermatitis again." She relaxed a bit, after remembering the last episode. She went to her drmatologist, and he gave her a nice soothing cream, with orders not to keep switching shampoos and new soaps every week. That's all it was! Don't need no STD rash thing.

. . . . . . .

Lisa was a little apprehensive, she already knew Janna from the Gap, and April from school. Oh, well, Nick was worth it, she just had to get some more of that. Hmmm, she mused, can you o.d. on cum? Nah! She pulled on a wool sweater, beige slacks, so slimming, and her newest flats. Yay, a hot outfit at a bargain price. "Damn, this sweater!" She was scratching a lot like, all night. "I didn't wear this sweater last night," she thought. Don't tell me my fabric softener did this. She looked toward her wardrobe, and decided to go with an oatmeal-coloured top, fuck the sweater. Besides, oatmeal is soooo slimming. Yum. As she tore off the offending garment and heaved it onto the floor of the wardrobe, she glanced down at her breasts, those were her pride and joy. Never saggy, so big! All men drooled for them. Screw those feminists, haha, pun intended. Feminists were either dykes in grrls' clothing, or they were so ugo or psycho that they couldn't get a man, so they resented it. I like my breasts, and I like everything they bring me." As she tried to satisfy the reddening itchiness of her lovely breasts, she thought of Nick's big mushroom head, emptying huge streams down her throat. "Yeah, after brunch, its dessert time ... cream, hold the coffee!"

. . . . . .

"I love eggs Benedict!" sighed Lisa. Its so ... so,"

"You like it, Lis, because the hollandaise is so creamy, like lots of things," responded Audrey. "So Nicholas, care ta work off all that coffeecake?"

Janna teased.

"Only if you and Lisa will prime the machinery with some girl action." "Sounds good." Lisa shot back. "Well, I'll take this economy model, right here." Audrey poked Anthony in the ribs, "and April honey, do you think there's ... um, enough of him for the two of us?" "Sure, after what I saw last night, and well, if he can handle the both of us." "Shit yeah, the question is; will both yous girls survive it?" They all laughed, as Lisa went all glassy-eyed. "Oh, great, Lisa's gonna have ta change her panties, even before we start." Audrey sang. "Hey," Nick said. "speaking of that, do ya know what would happen if women didn't have nice, long legs? They'd leave snail trails, ha ha ho ho ho!" "Yuck, keep it up, if you want to keep your balls," Janna scolded. "Oh, don't threaten those, dear. That's the only good part of him." April said. "Let's go."

. . . . . . .

Nick had the bigger spread, so they all converged there.

After he poured a huge punchbowl of screwdrivers, shoes went flying, and tops came off. Lisa wriggled and jiggled, April made animal noises and crawled around ending up over Anthony's face, Janna decided on the belly dancer approach--"Shakira, eat this!", and Audrey opened the bag of vibrators. "OK, about that girl-to-girl action! I think ... holy shit!" Lisa stopped her gyrating and looked over at Janna "Honey, did you have a bad day with a sunlamp?" "Huh?" Everybody stopped what they were doing. Janna's skin around and over her breasts was ... was red and peeling. Flinching from the sight of it, coveting her own huge ones, Lisa looked at her own, and saw---two different discolorings, and a ... a kind of funny insect bite marks. Now, the guys stood up, and approached the two silent women. Audrey quit fondling the dildo she'd chosen, and touched herself up there. "What the hell?" She pawed the left one, then the right, then the left. Anthony came over, and grabbed, trying to figure it out. "Hey, this one has things in it!" "What do ya? Huh?" April ran from Nick, into the bathroom. A blood-curdling scream reverberated from down the hall. "Oh, oh, it can't be!" Lisa ran to her, and understood those sacred hand signals, every girl understands. She gently took April's hands away from the defensive position they had taken. She stared in horror. "What in God's name is that?" It was like a third breast, a huge lump, but IN BETWEEN April's breasts, it shared about a quarter of both, intruding on one side of each one. They didn't look like breasts anymore. Neither one matched each other, and the large forbidding chunk of flesh in the middle of them; totally disfigured her natural cleavage. Lisa, the biggest of them all, began examining herself. It couldn't be, it just co... what were the odds? "All of us?" wailed Janna. Lisa, with the most to lose, broke out in cold sweats, and was about to throw up. She had detected a hard round thing in her left, and a squishy, free-moving long thing in her right one---her wonderful breasts! "What did this?" she shrieked. Anthony ran over to April, as Nick looked closely at Audrey. "Jesus H. Christ!" His mouth dropped open. There, where once, perfect nipples greeted the world, was an entire new landscape. One nipple was moved aside, to make way for a golf-ball shape of SOMETHING!

He held his breath, as he dared look at the right breast. Audrey began to cry, as she saw Nicholas turn white, and look away. Her right breast was scored with spots, and they were expanding, weeping watery trails, like second-degree burns would do. "What is this?" was all she could sob. As she put her hands to her face, sniffling, her bare arms brushed the misshapen blistering clumps, that were once her breasts. As her arms pressed them, the goo began oozing down her arms, dripping onto the rug. She fainted.

"Well, that was a downer," Anthony said, as he opened his door for the two of them. "Yeah, I don't get it. Is it the nutrasweet, or some shit?" "All four of them, yuck, I'm glad I didn't touch that stuff that dripped out of her, you never know." "I wanna watch the game, kick back a case of beer. I gotta forget this shit," The door closed.

V.

Doctor Savatelli was dumbstruck! What, again?

Four more?

She'd just gotten back from a leisurely and unofficial trip to club "sure thing". Nothing, nothing! Then her page went off--Brenda wouldn't call if it wasn't serious. And it was. Four new cancer horrors, all admitted at once, by two men, after they'd had a morning get-together---how was possible? Lisa Coe, Janna Rennolds, Audrey Hersch and April Rodham, all in very bad shape! And she, for the first time in her professional life, hadn't a clue.

VI.

Dare was good. He had it goin' on, he could pass as guy or girl. He was the next RuPaul, he knew it. All the miss thangs, the madonna wanabes, screw 'em. He could do a number for half an hour at any show bar, then take on three tricks, then go to greasy Denny's and leave a $20 bill, and never think twice. The evening was commin' on, as evenings in Jersey Shore towns do, and Dare was putting her foundation on. So glad she waited. Doing that black dude was a little more involved than she thought, but the hundred bucks was nice vacation money. Bora Bora blowjob. Yummy. But hot damn, if that brotha's juice didn't taste like Altoids. Shitmother! He must've eaten the whole box. Oh, well, better that than garlic. He'd had one of those recently, and that one had given him gas.

. . . . . . .

Dare wasn't use to this. He/she'd been dancing and lip-synching for only ten minutes, and shit, she was nausious! She romped and jiggled, Whitney was so easy to jiggle to, so was Janet. Must be lunchtime's mayo. Great, bad chicken salad? All I need."

. . . . . .

Cory was exploring; enjoying this bi-curious thing.

He still liked to bust girls, but guys were so ... muscular, you could ride 'em for hours, and with what he was packin' the bigger mouth on most guys was nice. He'd just challenged this Dare creature---and damn if she hadn't taken everything he sent into her, this was the only time he'd ever stayed hard enough to keep going, until his round two hit. Usually, he'd screw a woman, rest up, then the C Man's tool was ready.

But not tonight. He was knocking down this new herbal combo; fo-ti, gotu kola, ginkgo, some other shit. He didn't need any recovery time any more. He just kept pumping bolts of juice down this guy. Both of them thought it would never stop. "Didn't fill you up did I?" This guy didn't know how true that question nearly was. "Oh, no, I enjoy giving a guy his money's worth. See ya around town, handsome."

. . . . . . .

Dare was really off. She was losing the rhythm, bad lipping is worse than no lipping. She was having hot rushes, cold sweats, what the fuck was this? "If I get sick, I'll lose money for my vacation. Sometimes, uttering an oath causes it to happen. "If I'm getting the flu, I'll die." How ironic! The universe took note. Dare didn't know just how right she was.

VIII.

Doctor Togarashi's phone buzzed.

Yes?

He never liked saying hello.

"How's Mr. Darovich doing?

I see, what about blood gases?

Hmmm. Do an electro-phoresis, then if you would please, run a slide by splitting off an amino fraction. Very good.

This was odd. His most unusual patient.

Mr. Stan Derovich, or "Dare" as he was known to friends and his various audiences, was a medical anomaly. He was pre-op of course, but the hormone supplementation shouldn't cause this. He was growing rounder, more feminine, which is as expected. But then, this! He was developing gynomastic formations---breasts. Very good. But then all hell broke loose. Cancerous lumps were growing, setting up housekeepping, ... and they were real serious on staying in the neighbourhood!

. . . . . . .

Marzee Felton was pissed. "Damn Italian stallion gave me shingles, or herpes. She was applying Calamine by the pint, ick! when it hardened, it felt like dried mud, caked on her skin. But at least it stopped the itching. She dressed, and headed to the bank. "This time, I'm ready," she dared the universe. "If I'm gonna handle money, I've got Isotoner gloves against all the germs. Let's see anything happen now!" Most times, challenges to the invissible are ignored. Then, inexplicably, other times, they are answered. Had Marzee known better, she might not have aserted herself that way. She had no idea that as she walked along, taking in the beautiful spring day, lines were being drawn, things were set in motion, A war was declared; And her body was in the middle of it all.

. . . . . . . .

Adriana Vorheise was totally out of it. She did manicure, and the flu didn't go over too well in her profession. Creepy flu to. Her armpits hurt, her hoo-hoo hurt down there, and something she'd never had in her life was hurting too. On each side of her neck, a couple inches below her earlobes, something like a little knot. All these little aches added up to a real bitch anda half. All those little aches also added up to keeping her from noticing OTHER CHANGES. She gulped down three more slugs of Niquil. Maybe that'd help. At least she wasn't coughing or running or hacking. She could go to work, ok, she'd feel like shit, but she had to go to work.

. . . . . . .

Leora was walking back from rounds, and passed the ER coridor. She almost smacked right into that little doc, what's his name? Sashimi, sushi, ... ah, Togarashi. "Oops, doctor Togarashi, I'm so sorry, I was off a million miles away." "Very sorry, my fault also. I am running around mentally, I have a distracting patient. Will you walk with me to ER? "Of course, tell me what's troubling you."

As the two physicians rounded the corner, a bonging sound was heard. An ambulance, no. Two of them, were heading in. "Oh, great, wailed an intern. It never ends." "Hmmm, let's see if we can do some triage." said Leora Savatelli. "I agree, must have been an automobile accident or the like."

Stretchers and e-med men were everywhere.

The ambulances only had one person onboard each.

Two women, mouths full of thermometers, BP cuffs, the usual. "Nurse, status please." ordered Leora. "We have two girls, both have severe disfiguring conditions." "What kind of accident?" enquired doctor Togarashi. "We don't know, both were at work. One is a bank teller, the other does nails." Doctors Savatelli and Togarashi attended, pulling back the drape material. They both gasped in unison. One woman, caked in coatings of poison ivy treatment, was in a bad way. Her breasts were strange -looking

"Look at me, no one will ever ... want me!" Marzee screamed. Her breasts were covered in little holes, as if a tool had made small dents. No! More like those holes were caused by tissue being eaten away from within. Leora kneaded, felt for---yes, shit! there they were. Scattered lumps. Doctor Togarashi looked over at her, looking up from his charge. "This one, this Adriana Vorheise, has incredible tissue damage. The breasts are all spoiled from inside. I count cysts, that I do not need to examine to know---they must be removed! Now! Adriana shook violently, as her bladder lost control. Six feet to her left, Marzee, half-hearing this, began to gasp; hyperventilating.

"My god, its happening again!" Leora said through clenched teeth. "Oh, I meant to explain to you before we were interrupted. I have a trans-sexual patient, pre-op, male to female, who is undergoing this exact same thing!" He saw Leora turn clammy white with shock. "Doctor, I have something to tell you." she slurred."

She added up the original ten, then Janna, Audrey, April and Lisa, now these two, and his transie.) Your patient makes number seventeen." Now, it was the good Japanese doctor's turn to pale.

IX.

Doctor Orocu Togarashi stared, unbelieving, at the strange new never-before-seen macro-cancers on his table. His patient, Dare, was full of it. His dream of obtaining a body in which he could finally gain some peace, shattered forever. There were so many horrors going on inside him at this moment, no one knew how to even begin treatment.

The samples of this cancer looked like square-sided kernels, much like cooked wild rice grains. Leora Savatelli gazed at them, then back at her latest tissue cultures. Marzee and Adriana were at this moment, being prepped for breast surgery, but there wasn't much hope. Dare's entire blood system was now a septic river. Marzee had tennis-balls under each armpit. Adriana's nipples both were blackened bits, as if cooked from within by an unseen torch. Leora was losing her mind. When did it go from "How?" to

"How much more?"

How many more cases would there be, wheeled through those doors? How much more horror could she take?

XI.

After "that thing" in Atlanta, Cory ran.

He ran like a cheap pantyhose.

He ran like Del Taco food through ya.

He ran like a nigga with his ass on fire.

How could they blame him?

He didn't have cancer, he was fine.

He felt better than he ever had before!

She got breast rot some other way.

OK, maybe he had lost it there in the end, but that was simple assault. Fuck this "you gave this to ma daughta" shit. So, he headed up the coast, near enough to the big city to party, far enough away to live cheap and remain anonymous.

. . . . . . . .

"Man, I'm bummed out." Every girl we know, has boob crud, fuckin' a!" "Yeah," agreed Nick, "every girl we've done, they're all sick or checkin' out!" "I'm really creeped out by this," Anthony downed another beer, a forty-ouncer. "Yeah, what if they got something, and passed it to us or somethin'?" "Shit yeah, it ain't us, we're healthy, even after the GHB wore off, we're fine." "Hey Nick, how 'bout this? We go do our usual gettin' some, but let's play it safe." "Oh, shit, you mean rubbers? No way, I hate those things, ya can't feel anything." "Fuck no, I mean, we go one or two towns away, there's a hot place I heard about called "the playgrouned."

"Hmmm, what's it like, house? Disco? Techno?"

"Nah," Nick got a slap on the back.

"Its anything goes. Ten bucks gets you upstairs!"

XII.

Melissa loved the new mawl. There was something about a brand new one--the smell, the unspoiled look, something. She wandered through the Limited, then Ups and Downs. Oh, what'll it be? Daddy would pay for it, whatever it was gonna be. Mel never even saw the statement. "Well dah," she chided, "since you don't trust me with a card yet, then you can just pay the bill."

"OO! Sunglass Hut, I just gotta!" Melissa was cut short by two noisy twerps zooming past her, where was their mother, if they even had one? Probably hatched out or something, I'm sure Then she spied their destination---of course! the video game center. Oh, fuck, another one? This was supposeda be her new find. Detouring from sunglass hut, she decided to scope out the food court.

"Let's see what I can find here,"

As Melissa window-binged and sniffed, and took in a huge foot-long something or other sandwich an exec-type, wearing a tie yet, was carrying, she spotted the taco place. Yes! She adored tacos. At least the gods were smiling---it wasn't crowded over there. She cut across the section with tables and chairs; finally seeing the source of those long sandwiches--and they weren't foot long, they were two feet long. gIGUNDO'S, where You Get More! Yipes, meat and cheese, and lettuce. Everything from Greek to Italian. Some other time, when she had a couple of her girlfriends along to help her. She spotted a couple, about her own age, she guessed, pantimiming as they carried one; each one took an end of the sandwich. They were fake mouthing and chomping, smiling and cracking up. "You gonna eat that or play with it?" Oops, Melissa saw the guy who'd asked the question. "Mind your business, you stupid fuck." "Yeah, well when I was your age language like that would get you wearing that sandwich!" "Yeah, when you were our age, they didn't have sandwiches, just caves and dinasaurs," "Drop dead ya old--- Then everything happened at once. Some black dude ran past her with one of those huge jaw-buster specials, she flattened herself to avoid him--just in case, and in doing that, lost the precious moment. "Ulp!" The old guy was now wearing the sandwich, and it looked pretty tomatoey too! Oh shit! And I missed the shot. As she turned aside, trying to hide the rolling laughter that was building, PALOP! Something hit her, on the back of the neck! She whirled around, thinking that now, they were all throwing food? She began scanning ahead, at the same time raising her hands to avoid any adolescent food-fight. SPLOK! "What the ..." Another wet slimy thing. This one landed on the side of her face, but it didn't stay there. It oozed down her neck, and before she could clamp a hand to her shoulder, it invaded her bustline. "Great!" and she didn't even know what the hell it was.

With the thought of tacos rudely batted aside, she ran into a J.C. Penny's. "Ladies' room ladies' room," she uttered the mantra, that would make it all better. Running in, she put two heavy doors between herself and the outside world. As she fumbled through her purse, she used her other hand to unbutton her clothing fortress. (Cream Savers, pads, little soaps, Tic-tacs, pen.) She was rooting around, feeling god-awful creepy with this goo under her bra. (notepad, change purse, ATM reciptes, movie stubs!) She was getting frantic, where were they? That stuff felt funny. At least it was now the same temperature as her boobs. Or was it warmer somehow? (Pocket knife, key ring, broken nail clippers, pen light that didn't work, batteries, batteries for watch --aha!) There they were, nice sanitary wet wipes. This will solve everything. She put down the traveling armada she called a purse full of stuff, and tore open her blouse, expertly unfastening her bra. "Oh, my God, mega-yucko!" It was ... was a---She thought she'd puke. The look and the aroma, now that she was inches away from it gave it away. "Oh, gross! Its cum! Somebody "did it" on me!" The word she was hunting for was probably ejaculated, but in her mental turmoil, it didn't connect to her memory. She ripped open towellette after towellette, she wanted four or five of them. Then as she backed into the wall of the stall, she remembered the first hit. "Eeooo, there's more down my back too!" She tore open the whole box full, all of them, shit! She wanted a nice barrier between that man goo and her fingers. Ick! Fifteen minutes later, though smelling like a Wet Ones factory, she exited the bathroom, numb to everyone and everything around her. As she made her way toward the exit, then the exit out to the parking lot, she was still queasy. Who would ...? Yuck! Must have come from the second level up--you could look down on the food court from there. That was it. Melissa had a bad feeling in her tummy about this. She didn't see the raincoated figure up above.

She wouldn't have recognized his smiling face, if she had seen him; they'd never met. Allowing a broad grin, now, Troy went through the little-used office aisle of the complex, where nobody went much. "He didn't intend to stalk her, no. That was for serious perves and psychos. He just liked to have fun with them. Bring a little rainfall into their lives. Then move on, never meeting them."

It wasn't rain that had pelted Melissa.

Water was neutral.

Rain was innocent.

No. What was about to happen to her was neither neutral, nor innocent. It was terrible, all-consuming evil. Perfectly hidden now. Time ticked on.

/XIII.

"Unbelievable!" Doctor Savatelli gazed at the slide, then at the print-out. They'd done it, her and Togarashi had at last, done it. This was the breakthrough they'd been screaming for. A totally new class of organism! Mycoplasms! They were not bacteria, nor were they viruses. That's what threw everybody for a loop. Something ... in between. And they were present in virtually all the afflicted women. They could slip past the body's defenses. Mycoplasms didn't cause fever, since the immune system didn't even know they were present. They upset one apple-cart after another, corrupting cells by the hundreds. This strain seemed to have an affinity for mutating breast cells. Once the body discovered this guerilla operation, it was too late---far too late. Mycoplasms, or mycos, as the two doctors shortened the name to, were completely unaffected by antibiotics. There was no compound on Earth that could stop them, let alone slow them down.

. . . . . . . .

"General, we have a problem."

General Danforth Henderson didn't like that phrase. He never liked it. "And what sort of problem has popped up, this time?" Captain Polock bit his lip, and stood at a lazy semi-attention. Well, sir," he began. "We uh, went ahead with adapting soldiers for future chemical warfare. All that crap about Gulf war syndrome, its still with us, we couldn't eliminate or shut everyone up. We got rid of as much data and proof as we could. After you signed off on the new Chamelion project, we tested it on about 200 men." "And this has created a problem?" the general leered, pointing a finger at the captain. "Yes sir, we have some unexpected side-affects." "How bad?" "There are now some 100 men, out in the general population; and they're carrying something we can't stop. We don't have a vaccine for it yet, if ever." "What is the bottom line, son?" the general lowered his voice. "Sir, bottom line is that the boys are carriers, it doesn't compromise them at all." "So, if they go on their merry way, what's the problem? We can chalk it up to failure, blame some new food additive on it, and keep trying." "Sir, ..." the cap looked nervous and

ready to do a gastrointestinal meltdown.

"--Sir, they are carriers, with one problem.

Their body fluids---all of them, contain a compound which reduces any woman they come in contact with, to a malignant mess." The general unclenched his fists, and couldn't seem to focus. "And this means, what?" "Sir, if any tears, urine, blood, or saliva from these guys touches a woman, its a sure trip to the oncology wing. If their semen gets into her, she's dead for sure, and its a very undignified, disfiguring death. Depending on how many times she's exposed, we're talking tumour masses, all the way up to total cellular assault." The general reached for the phone. "Sir, what do we do? This stuff can't be stopped, and all those guys have gone on their way. Even if we can track them down, its been six months---and we don't know how much damage has been done!" "Captain, we do what we've done before. Ever heard of Okham's razor? The simplest answer is usually the right one. We deny everything." "Sir, what if ..." "Captain, with this present administration, the FBI running around snapping at the CIA like annoying puppies, budget cuts, and my retirement coming up, I have just one order for you. Just one. Cover it up. Bury it all. Scientists can unravel the mess, if it can be unraveled. Someone will clean it up. R.I.P." And with that speech, the stunned captain was dismissed.

XV.

Mark didn't know what all the fuss was about. You didn't need to sell drugs and risk breaking the law.You didn't even have to work either. All these research projects, drug studies, money was easy to come by. He'd just gotten fifty bucks from the sperm bank--that was really cool, ten minutes and a big smile, and you get paid for it. They had screened him for any diseases, and he was as healthy as a horse. They tested him for everything they knew about. That was boring, took forever. Just like those Army doctors.

. . . . . . . .

Julie still had misgivings.

Iris and Ramona both coached her, telling her it was safe. --convincing her it was the right thing to do. Just her luck, she had married this great hunk of a guy. Money was good, her public relations career was taking off. All her dreams were running at full speed. It wasn't so hard, being immersed in a "man's world", just a few tosses of the hair, batting the baby blues, and casually flaunting her voluptuous breasts--those were the key. You could take the most hard-ass accountant, a construction worker, a Marcedes-driving CEO, it didn't matter; unless he was gay. You could get anything out of them, if the old chest was the right cup size. She had men totally worshiping her breasts. And that would last for years. Only one problem; her dreamboat, although great in bed, turns out, was shooting blanks. So, she was gonna get artificially inseminated, after perusing the stats of the donor, and not tell him. Hey, why should George know. It would crush his masculine ego. Besides, a baby was a baby was a baby. As long as she didn't accidentally get a black, latino or eskimo. That wouldn't happen. They had computers for that.

. . . . . . . .

"Its my first time here, Iris yelled over the music.

Nick was by himself tonight, his smaller counterpart was out of town, looking up an old flame. Battabing battaboom! So, he had decided to come back to the Playground, and carry on the tradition. Iris was a nice girl, all bouncey and fresh. Her long blonde hair looked natural-- ya couldn't always tell. But that didn't matter. He steered her around the dance floor, then she piped up "hey, wanna go for pizza after this?" Hey, pizza and a blonde? Sounded good to Nicholas.

Besides, he might get lucky afterwords.

XVI.

Five months came and went, and mercifully, they took the winter with them. Iris' phone rang. "Hello, Oh, hi Julie. How's the little bun in the oven doing? "Fine, I get real sick every day though. I know this happens, but wow! Its bad." Iris smirked, "glad it ain't me. I don't wanna baby, its not my thing. Never. "Yeah, I know, but I like children, and hubbybear does to. Can you recommend a natural vitamin? I'm so tired, living for two." "Sure, that's no problem, we can go shopping around later. I gotta date, again! He really likes me, treats me like gold, and like a tramp when I want him to. We do that role-playing thing alot these days." Now it was Julie's turn to smirk.

Uh, I'm not sure about him, he's kinda you know. Like a used car salesman. Not my type." "Yeah, he's a little like that I know, but after all, what good is a man if a woman doesn't have something about him to change? That's my project, to change Nick into something better. And unknown to Iris (or Nick), Nick was changing her--but not for the better.

. . . . . . .

Julie felt rotten. Is this how it goes? Big as a house, tired, run down. Throwing up? Great, can't wait till it ends. My breasts hurt, my feet are swollen. Damn. What was inside her, she was five months along, and the size of a woman carrying quints.

Julie was jarred out of her lamentations by the phone.

She clumsily worked her way over to the cordless.

"Hel lo?" she grumbled.

"If your a telemarketer, take your sales pitch and shov---, oh Iris, what's the matter?" "Julie! I've got-- there's a ..." Julie didn't like the sound of this. "Iris, take a deep breath, tell me slowly, what," "I've gotta lump in my, my left--" she gulped and almost choked. "Oh, god, are you uh, are you sure/" "They took a sample, a biopsy. I get the results tomorrow." "Oh, no!" How could this be? Iris seemed so healthy. "Julie, I think its serious, it feels like more than what the doctor saw." "What do you mean? Didn't you tell them everything?" "Yeah, but since I drove home, something's different. Its like you know ... when you gain a few pounds, that padded feeling. I got that in my breasts, both of them. But it doesn't feel like fat!, oh Julie, I'm so scared!" Julie was trembling, her own health had preoccupied her now for weeks. "I, I just settled in, and feel pretty rockie, oh, like a hangover. But I haven't had a drink in months.. Hey, drive over here, you can stay here till tomorrow, we'll go to the doc and get your results. George wouldn't have it any other way--you know he loves you as much as I do." Iris sniffled, hesitating. "O, ok. I'll be over soon. Thanks Julie. George is so lucky."

. . . . . . . .

Iris barely remembered the drive over. Her little red car seemed so claustraphobic, so closed in. She pounded on Julie's front door, and almost fell inside. She didn't look good. "What happened," George asked. "Julie lumbered into the kitchen, "a, ... she's a little out of it," Julie didn't want George causing Iris any further humiliation. "Honey, um, can you go grab a light blanket, check the guest room lamp, you know, go make things nice." "Sure, sweetie. Be back in a minute." Iris sat, hunched into a chair, as if made of stone. "I, I feel sick. Something's wrong inside me!" She looked seasick. "Oh,my boobs are on fire." Julie unbuttoned Iris's blouse, and worked the bra off. She grabbed a kitchen towell, to shield the examination from her husband. She began to probe--to explore. She stopped, transfixed. "Honey, which br ... breast did they take the ...never mind, I see the incision." Iris's tongue was like lead. Why was this happening to her? Julie had it all, a good man, money, baby on the way, she ...Then she felt a tearing in her right breast. "Your left one has the, ah, the lump." Julie said robot-like. "Then why is---?" She felt in pure horror, what was all around the right breast, the nipple, it was shrunk up, and white pinkish darkening blotches were leading away from it. And that breast, just like the other one, had a lump---a much larger one. Julie silently cursed, mouthing the words "two lumps, dammit!" Iris began to cry, tears pouring heavily down--"its burning, the tearing!" Her right boob was feeling like a big set of teeth was chewing at it. Her left one was like it had been stuffed into the microwave! "what was this!" "Get me, get me ... call 911! I'm its, this isn't normal cancer, too much!" she shrieked. Normal cancer, now there was a phrase for you. Julie grabbed the cordless, just as a wrenching pain smashed into her. "OOf!" She had the wind knocked out of her, how could this be? Too early! She took a deep breath, steeling herself against the gut-wrenching punching by unseen fists. "George!!! Help me!"Julie screamed at the top of her lungs. Iris, startled, felt adrenaline rush through her body, on top of all the internal ripping she now felt. "what, what?" Julie fell out of the kitchen chair, her newly-acquired weight pulling her down to the tile floor with a tremendous thud. "George, its coming, I'm, ... the b b baby!, George!" she shrieked, flat on her back now--unable to raise herself up. The pain was excruciating! George came in at a run, seeing the two women traumatized, the phone off the hook. He called the 911, he wasn't able to get them both into his car by himself. That concerned him, if he tried to hoist his wife out of the room, the baby could be injured. Oh, and that fall, was the baby injured already? Jesus Christ!

. . . . . . . .

Since she was still more than three and a half months too soon, the attendants wheeled Julie into the ER, along side Iris. Groaning, crying, screaming, praying. No one knew what was happening. Iris now had one misshapen breast, and only one. While prepping her for examination, her right one had began to fester, like a septic, pus-filled balloon. The nipple, and the once-beautiful round little mountain, slowly began to melt, like a breast made of ice cream; left out in the hot sun. Doctors were stunned, what was happening here? There attentioned, rivited on Iris's condition, was abruptly torn away, when a popping noise indicated that Julie's delivery was bursting forth, early or not. Nurses looked at one another, "probably stillborn," they silently agreed with each other. That wasn't quite the case however. As Julie howled, she began slapping at her swollen distended tummy, pushing it down, down. As her legs parted, a torent of foul, rancid water erupted from her thighs.

As this sloosed out of her, she grabbed her breasts for something to hold onto. At least, they were healthy!"

That was a comfort, she thought.

She was also much like the nurses, not quite correct.

As she pushed, and contracted, and spasmed and screeeeeamed!, she pulled and yanked at her breasts--"gotta hold on, hold on!" she gasped. Have ta get it out of me, it'll be out soon. all over ... never again!" RIP! As something broke through Julie's cervix, simultaneously, her arms shot back onto the bed. She felt disoriented, how could ... her hands be free, yet not empty? Then she realized, ...and her mind left her. Her arms were out at her sides, still clutching both her breasts! Two gaping holes now stood where two pre-lactating breasts were, only seconds ago. As her body automatically vomited forth its passenger, the holes in Julie's chest gushed forth blood; and more! People ran screaming. Nurses threw up, seeing the ropey, veiny, masses of rot that use to appear as fine mubile breasts. With the nurses vomiting their guts out, doctors raced to grab the baby, at least to get the miscarridge down to autopsy.

As one doctor's reach closed around it, grasping ... It wasn't a baby he held. It was a gigantic, 8 pound tumour! Tendrils came from it in every direction! It oozed, slithered, semi-shapeless! No, it wasn't alive, merely a huge unwanted parasite. The doctor holding it, dropped it. Not knowing that it wasn't a live infant, another doctor intercepted the thing's progress toward the floor, and grabbed it by a handful of strands. It split open, then into pieces, like some alien turd thing, and chunks and bits of it fell through his hands, down his lab coat, landing on his shoes Then the doctors ran.

Unseen and alone, with no one to give them final assurance or comfort, both women died.

Vrykolakas