Sparkly Horn Horror needed some additions to what I posted a couple of weeks ago as Part Two. And so I have been poking at things a bit, trying to make this part of the story a bit better, if possible—certainly a lot more verbose, at least …
If you’d like to read the first part of Sparkly Horn Horror, you can find it here on the Tale.
Sparkly Horn Horror
The scene in the Realm Library was one of organized chaos. The staff all understood what they were looking for, though some of the younger ones didn’t honestly believe that Tera was serious about things until she crossed her arms over her chest and then started tapping the sleeve of her jacket with a finger—a clear sign that she was on the edge of being disappointed. That shocked them into taking the work before them very seriously.
The Queen was very clear that they all needed to search the Library, and that they had just under two hours to do so. They didn’t need that long to come up with an answer: Miriam’s computerization of most of the card catalogue took care of the heaviest searching. So it was in short order and with some worry that she approached Tera’s office and knocked on the door frame. “Your Majesty … um … Tera? There’s nothing. I can’t find a reference to this … thing … anywhere.”
Tera was sitting on her desk in thought when Miriam spoke. She nodded and ran her fingers through her hair: “I’m not really surprised. It is something that my parents would not have wanted to become common knowledge in their time.”
“What do you know about this?”
She looked at Miriam and smiled: “Only the stories that my Mother and Father told me. Keep in mind that, to me, the stories were the sort of thing that was meant to frighten little me and make me go to bed.”
Miriam giggled: “I can’t see you being a problem child, Tera. That isn’t at all like you.”
Her Majesty allowed herself a bemused smile in return: “Well of course not. Perish the thought.”
Miriam walked just inside the door and closed it behind her, fidgeting with her hands as she asked: “Tell me one of them, please. Maybe it will give us a clue or something.”
“Keeping in mind that I haven’t the storytelling ability of my parents …”
The yellow-tailed librarian shook her head: “With respect, I doubt that. I’ve seen you telling stories to the young.”
Tera tucked a lock of hair behind one ear: “Right … Seriously, I’m nothing compared to them. To be honest, I have been mulling over the stories in my mind and none of them are really specific. But then they are children’s stories, so there are a lot of bogeymen in them to scare and not a lot of facts to hold onto. The one that I remember the most is one my Mother told often.”
Miriam looked at the clock and then at the Head Librarian: “And?”
Tera had a faraway look in her eyes as she spoke: “It came from the dark and touched the lost, the seeking, the needful. One by one they all succumbed to the hungers they held in check, waiting. A wave of what was came across the lands, unstoppable by those who were. All seemed lost until the moment when the lost were found, and then the battle was won, save for those that were never to be found. The lost were taken, never to be seen again.”
Miriam was quiet for a time, then said: “Not really all that useful, is it?”
Tera shrugged: “Remember that all stories have some truth in them. There is an answer in there; we just have to figure out what it is.”
The strawberry-blonde succubi nodded and looked out the door at the library: “Well, the answer isn’t where we can find it.”
The brunette pushed off from her desk and walked towards the door, taking Miriam by the hand as she did so: “Then we look in the places that aren’t meant to be found.”
Miriam stumbled a little as they marched through the Library and then started to walk down the spiral staircase towards the Grotto and the Special Collections far below. “Tera, there’s nothing down here that we haven’t cataloged and indexed. All of the Collections were checked, and your friend in the Grotto hasn’t any idea of what’s going on. I asked.”
“Miriam, I know this will come as a shock, but there is one part of the Library that you have never seen and were never meant to.”
Miriam came to a stop on the stairs and watched as Tera continued on her way: “Hang on a second. I know every inch of the Library. I know this place intimately.”
The Queen didn’t stop as she called out over her shoulder: “Oh, I’m sure of that. You and Irving do have the most fun late in the evenings, don’t you?”
Miriam’s blush was redder than red and her tail turned just that little bit more yellow than it usually was, even for the most strikingly yellow of all of the yellow tails in the Realm in at least a hundred years.
“Come on. Not mad at you. I mean, Keith and I have had fun in every room of the Castle … twice? No, no … more times than that. I’ll have to check my diary when I get home.”
Miriam shook her head and replied in a sing-song voice: “Not listening!”
Tera looked over her shoulder: “Not coming either.” Crossing one landing, she added: “Point is that there are some secrets which you aren’t meant to know until the time is right. Perhaps this is the time when you are meant to.”
She watched Tera come to the bottom of the stairs and then wait for her. When the younger librarian arrived, the red-tail explained: “There is a part of the Library that only the Head Librarian can open. It isn’t meant to be a place where anyone can get in, because it holds the most cherished secrets of the Realm.”
Miram nibbled on her lip: “Like?”
Tera took Miriam’s hand and led her towards what appeared to be a solid wall of red stone, roughly cut into, unfinished, and seemingly out of place with the rest of the Library. Miriam recognized it, though she really hadn’t paid much attention to it before.
“Like how old I am?”
“Okay. Seriously, Tera.”
“I am being serious. Okay, I admit that it is not the most vital secret, of course, but it is one of them.”
They stopped just short of the wall and Miriam asked: “So? Now what? Does it open or …” The rest of her sentence was swallowed by a flash of purple light which surrounded the two of them and, in the next moment, they weren’t there any longer. Miriam found herself gripping Tera’s hand tightly in a place which seemed to be no place, with nothing around them at all. There wasn’t even a glimmer of light around them, and Miriam couldn’t see a single thing.
“Welcoming, isn’t it?”
Miriam’s answer was an uneasy sounding: “Your Majesty …”
“Just wait. It has to wake up.”
“Yes, “It.” This might take a bit. It hasn’t been woken in a very long time.”
“How long is long?”
“Not since I became Head Librarian. There hasn’t been a need to trouble it, to wake it from its rest. This is not the sort of thing one does simply out of hand. It does not like being bothered for the sake of trivialities.”
Miriam’s tail wrapped itself around Tera’s waist as they waited. The red tail did the same, drawing Miriam a little closer to her: “Hopefully it is in a good mood.”
“Great. I hope Florence is okay.”
Tera gave her a hug: “I have faith in her.”
Florence, meanwhile, had been hunched over her desk back at the hospital long enough that her back was beginning to complain loudly to her about it. She had gone over what little information Miriam had found, and it was very little indeed. Worse still was that the reports of what she was facing were, to be blunt, so superficial that they were next to useless.
She swiped the glass of her desk and looked over to where John was still pacing: “Time, John?”
John stopped and looked at her in what appeared to be irritation: “Will you be specific? Really, Florence, you must learn that skill.”
She leaned back and sighed: “How much time until I am infectious?”
“Assume approximately one hour. I have deducted some time, as your exposure time cannot be accurately calculated.”
She looked at him with a slight smile: “Who’s the one that keeps talking about being specific, again?”
John’s glare was surprising. If he had been real, Florence might feel hurt by it.
She rubbed her right horn and looked at the blue flakes that came away in her hand: “It’s rather insidious, isn’t it? Can’t really be sure I am or I am not. So, have to assume that I am.”
She considered her hand, rubbing the flakes between her fingers: “We don’t even know the actual transmission method, or if there is a means to resist it.”
John walked up to the desk and glared: “Really? Your mind must be dulling. Are you only thinking of sex already?”
She stood up and glared right back: “Fuck you, John. I’m all here, and I’m not looking to have a cock up my ass or to be eating out someone.”
Florence thought he actually looked angry as he replied: “You will, Florence. And soon it will appear in your thoughts based on what legends say. At least you had the sense to get away from those in the isolation ward.”
She looked down at her desk and sighed: “What is their condition?”
John turned away: “At the moment they are both rutting away. I believe that they each have reached orgasm at least ten times in the past hour; possibly more. The stamina of those in the Realm is legendary, after all.”
She considered this: “Okay, if this is specifically tied to what we are, then we have to assume that our sex drives are compromised, which isn’t much of a stretch. And what do you mean exactly by ‘rutting’?”
He was short and to the point: “The definition of ‘rutting’ in animals notes that rubbing of horns upon trees and so forth is common. They have been doing so in their captivity.”
“Which means that the flakes are being spread throughout the room, and it follows that anyone entering that room would then be contaminated, or, if protected, their protection would be, and, if that gets out, then it spreads.”
“Precisely. But also, the added material in the air speeds up their own transformations.”
She looked at the little pile of blue flakes on the desktop and the floor around her: “And I’ve been rubbing my horns absentmindedly.”
“Yes. But it seems not to be speeding up your changes. It may be that, once infected, a host must be exposed to others who are infected for there to be an additional effect.”
“Well, that’s something to consider. Isolating the infected in time could slow down the spread.”
“It does not provide a solution. It only buys some time, if any of that is of value in this crisis.”
Florence was normally a calm, thoughtful individual, and the growl that came with her words was surprising: “Of course it is, you idiot.”
John walked to the edge of her desk and shocked Florence when he yelled: “Focus! Now! Get control of yourself!”
There was confusion in her eyes as she stuttered: “I … I … That is …”
John wagged a finger at her: “The drifting of your thoughts is a clear sign of danger. You must focus on the problem. All else is immaterial.”
She thought for a moment, then sighed: “Let me see them.”
“This is not advisable, Florence. You do not know what the effects would be.”
She laughed bitterly: “I know that if I am in the room with them I’m doomed. I need to know how far the two of them are. At least then I’ll have a clue what’s coming.”
She slammed her hand on the desk: “Dammit, John, stop fighting me! I have to know what to look for, what the signs are, or at least know more than I do. You aren’t helping me at all! You’re being a pain in my ass, and I’ve just about had enough of you!”
John’s scowl was piercing: “Very well.”
Across the room, one wall shimmered as an image came into focus. It was of the isolation room where Adam and Deborah were trapped. If someone else had been viewing the image they might have assumed that what they were looking was wasn’t an actual hospital, but rather more likely the set of an adult movie. Deborah was bent over one of the gurneys in the room, completely naked, and Adam was right behind her. Florence idly remembered that Adam had a lot of stamina, and yet, somehow, he seemed to have even more than she remembered.
The sound was off, but it was clear that Deb was screaming her head off in pleasure with every thrust that Adam made. She seemed to be looking into the camera, her eyes deeply purple instead of the normal grey that Florence remembered. She couldn’t see John’s eyes, but she assumed that they were every bit as purple.
For a moment she wondered why they both looked odd, and then it struck her. Their skin was as purple as their tails—in its own way very erotic she thought—and then another thing about the image hit home: they didn’t have feet; they had hooves.
She walked around her desk and approached the screen … to have a better look … not because there was a dampness between her legs … nor because her breathing had become deeper … nor because her eyes had slightly glazed over … nor because her nipples were achingly stiff as she rubbed her fingers over them.
Standing in front of the screen, she traced one hand over Deb’s face and remembered the feeling of Adam’s cock thrusting into her own sex, recalled how he brought her to the edge of climax over and over again until finally he pushed her over the edge. Her other hand slipped between her legs, a fingernail stroking … slowly … She licked her lips and the thought came that she needed to go to them … needed to be sandwiched between them … needed to be fucked by them both.
That would be so deliciously hot, Adam pounding himself into her while she nuzzled her lips against Deb’s sweet pussy. A seductive smile passed over her lips as she imagined the scene.
She imagined herself on her hands and knees, tongue lapping at Deb’s folds, Deb’s legs spread wide while she licked and tongued Deb. She felt Adam as he pressed his shaft against the folds of her cunt. A moment later and she easily took him when he thrust his way into her. Her lips bounced against Deb’s pussy, her tongue being forced in and out as Adam fucked her roughly, animal-like. It felt so right, so hot that she wanted to be completely absorbed by the heat that was building up within her. Florence crested as her fingers slipped inside, finding that one spot that made her cum and cum so hard that her toes curled. Her knees failed and she fell to the floor as the pleasure ripped through her.
She cried out in lust: “Oh, fuck me!”
Her mind began to lose focus as the fantasy slowly took over ever-deeper parts of her psyche. The thought came that she didn’t need her intelligence, her soul, who she was. None of that mattered, for all she needed was her so-fuckable body … nothing else. Giving in would be wonderful and forever …
The sound of an air horn blasting in the room shocked Florence out of her daydream and she screamed in surprise at the interruption, turning away from the image of Deb and Adam as she started to yell at John.
John stood there, the horn continuing to wail, his arms crossed as he mouthed something, but the noise was so loud that Florence couldn’t hear a word.
She walked up to him and swept her hand through the air where he stood and then the horn stopped … and there was silence for a time before John spoke again.
She saw his lips move, but the words weren’t being heard over the ringing in her ears. Shaking her head, she yelled at him that she couldn’t understand him. What followed was John ranting about something she couldn’t hear, but whatever he was saying meant something to him. He pointed at her, slammed one hand into his other, and, strangely she thought, he seemed to have an expression that, on someone else, would be called “terrified.”
As her ears cleared, she caught a few words here and there, but they didn’t make any sense. Something about being stupid, about putting … someone … in danger. Finally her ears cleared as he said: “Why the hell can’t you listen?”
“I’m listening now. What the hell were you thinking?”
His expression became neutral as he spoke: “You were not listening to me, you were entirely focused on the scene and nothing else. It was clear that you were slipping away. Obviously, your sexual drives are higher than normal for you to be turned on so quickly.”
She shook her head: “No shit. Anything else you learned from my stupidity?”
“Clearly, the outcome of this syndrome is to turn those of the Realm into what they were before: creatures of sex and nothing more, both physically and mentally.”
“Again, no shit.”
John waved his glasses at her, and she wondered why it was that he needed glasses, being that he wasn’t real: “I believe the term is: ‘The shit has hit the fan,’ and the fan’s on high.”
Florence turned away from him to brace herself against her desk: “Five hours. Then I’ll be there, too.”
John just continued to glare as he put his glasses on: “One hopes not, and …”
The pause made Florence turn to look at him, but in the midst of doing so, another voice echoed in the room: “Um … Doc? Where’s Adam? And what’s going on?”
Standing there in the room was a pink tail with green hair and a confused look in her eyes.
“Oh shit! Abby …”
In all of the rush to try and figure out what was happening Florence had forgotten that the rest of the hospital wasn’t quite empty. Abby, the pink tail who was a hypochondriac and had a doctor fetish a mile long, was trapped, as well. Florence had forgotten about her, and now she was likely infected as well.
Abby had a confused look as she asked: “Doc? You don’t look so good. There’s something wrong with your horns and … umm … wow … you’re really horny, too … I mean … wow!”
Neither Florence—nor John, for that matter—had a response to that.