Babykins

Babykins

A Horror Story

Marva Dale

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2017 Marva Dale

Prelude to the Damned

I need you desperately.

He spoke to her in a low, secretive tone. Then his lips brushed hers. Why not run away from all of this? You hate him, don’t you?

Of course. Her laughter contained an alluring appeal. But how can we go away together?

Simple. You and I leave Joseph behind. I hate him, too, you know.

He’s your only remaining relative.

That doesn’t mean I have to like him. He’ll leave all of this to me eventually. Yes, Bellwood would be his, Guy Seton’s, all of it from the seventy room mansion to the surrounding property. He had only to wait for Joseph Bellestero to die a natural death or by other means…

Now the two deceitful lovers lay entwined across the brocade divan in her private quarters, a collusion of bodies and souls, warm and inviting despite the fact they still wore their party attire from the waist up.

Claudine Bellestero glittered with diamonds at her ears and throat. Her cocktail dress came in royal blue, a perfect match to her eyes. The ruffled bands of her sleeves had been poised delicately along each upper arm to expose her throat and the beginning cleft of her breasts. Men fantasized about her silky smooth flesh as well as the tantalizing secrets that lay beneath the satin bodice and her cinched waistline. A few tendrils of her hair had strayed from its mooring on top of her head and now brushed the nape of her neck. Guy had dislodged most of the strands during his avid lovemaking, and she would have to secure her hair again before she joined her other guests.

Guy Seton, her lover, her father confessor, her soul mate, her first cousin by marriage.

Reluctantly he moved to sit up and readjust his clothing. He wore a cut-away tux tonight with a stylish silk-lined jacket and a velvet cummerbund. Just minutes before, he had opened the fly of his slacks to bring out his formidable shaft, pressing, thrusting, tickling and then pummeling her until she wanted to cry out with extreme pleasure. But they had to be careful, despite the fact her husband, Joseph, knew nothing about the affair.

As she shifted with the crinkle of her crinoline petticoats beneath, Claudine realized the skirt of her gown had wrinkled with their efforts and a stream of Guy’s semen had stained a little of the hem. Yet it would no problem tonight. By now their guests would be so drunk on the generous flow of alcohol beverages that they wouldn’t notice a thing. Plus, earlier during the black ceremony, the Unholy One had bestowed upon his disciples the gifts of longevity and euphoric prowess, thus enhancing their bacchanal pleasures. But ceremonies aside, the followers of Satan would drink, frolic and engorge themselves on food and sex all through the night.

The fountain on the back patio flowed with real champagne and various couples had stripped naked to fornicate in the lush grass. Soon the pairs would connect with others to form an interesting pyramid of undulating bodies revved on wine and lust. No one would care. No one would see beyond his or her own joyous sins.

I can’t leave you, not now. We either go together or stay and rot.

Guy’s statement took on a pleading note as Claudine reached for her compact on the nearby table. Opening it, she glanced at her image and began to rearrange the errant strands of her shiny sable hair. Joseph would never allow us to leave, especially now. I’m pregnant you know, and he thinks it’s his.

Guy’s laughter reverberated off the window panes as he stood looking down at the party below. Strains of a Nat King Cole song drifted up to their secluded nest on the fourth floor. Well, my darling, he announced as he turned back to her, it’s not mine, that’s for sure; and it’s not Joseph’s either. No, your bastard is not of this world. He belongs to his father in hell.

She shut her compact with a determined snap. What are you talking about? You’re crazy! I’ve come to tolerate your sick little jokes, Guy, but this goes way beyond sick.

You don’t really know, do you? Strolling back to her, he donned a tight smile meant to be clever. Yet it only served to mar his handsome features. Tsk, tsk, you have no idea that Joseph drugged you that one night you thought you drank too much. Then we summoned our master to come up from hell and fuck you! Guy offered another hefty laugh, this time tinged with irony. And guess what? You enjoyed it—every bit of the monster’s throbbing, long cock and hairy, rotting flesh! You reveled in his foul stench and the way his claws scraped your tender flesh. He wants a son of mortal woman, and he chose you. In fact, Joseph sacrificed your young, supple body so Satan could take his pleasure and impregnate you. What a generous and giving man your husband is, don’t you think?

Bastard! Jumping up, Claudine swiped his cheek with a resounding, indignant slap.

Guy reeled back, startled for a moment, but he quickly regained his momentum. Oh, no, no, my love! The thing inside of you is the bastard. I’m just the kid’s uncle in name only. And I suppose Joseph is his stepfather; or at the very least, the little devil’s guardian.

Humiliation stained her face and shoulders a deep carnelian. She could not and would not believe such a horrible thing! Guy could be cruel, but he was being deliberately and disgustingly sadistic tonight. Sure, she and Joseph often went to bed drunk, but Claudine would have been lucid enough to feel the forced attentions of their Dark Lord and Master. Joseph would have told her ahead of time, he would have warned and prepared her for what should have been an honor… Unless he deliberately held back to punish her!

He would be loathsome enough to use her as a pawn. Claudine would go to Joseph and demand that he tell her the truth! But first, she would rid herself of Guy and his cruelty. And if she had to, she would rid herself of the foul seed she now carried inside of her, no matter the father!

Get out! she screamed, oblivious to the way her voice carried down the hall. Get out, Guy! I hate you…I hate, loathe and despise you! Get out before I kill you!

Ah, yes, kill the messenger. Remember though, I’m not the one who offered you up as the sacrificial whore. You own husband wanted you raped by Lucifer himself. Just remember that, my dear! I’m innocent of all charges.

And yet you are hardly innocent. She glared at Guy for the last time, at his beautiful and bright but cunning blue eyes, and the silky waves of his wheat-hued hair. How could someone so handsome on the outside be so foul within?

"Well, we can’t all be perfect. Au revoir, mon amore. If I remember, I’ll send you a baby gift. What about a rattle made out of human flesh and with real teeth inside to make noise? I guarantee that it will soothe your baby’s savage breast!"

Fuck you, Guy!

Ah, you have my darling, and vice versa. But like all orgies, this one must end sometime.

Guy started for the door, intent on returning to the party downstairs; but as he turned the doorknob and unlatched the lock, he felt a push from the other side. Standing back, he allowed the person outside to open the door. It swung inwards slowly with a light squeak of the hinges.

Joseph Bellestero stood in the doorway, his face a mask of quiet rage. Normally a handsome and distinguished looking man, his anger had turned his features and his tall, commanding frame into something ugly and stunted. His hands remained balled into tight fists, his nostrils flared.

Guy tried to dismiss the tension by offering a lighter, sugar-coated version of events. Hello there, old man. I was just leaving. Claudine asked me to take a look at those new ceramics she bought. I find them a bit busy, but if she likes them—

As Joseph entered his wife’s private parlor, he pushed his cousin aside with the sweep of his barrel arm. His gaze remained focused on Claudine. I know what’s been going on between you two, and for months now. I can’t believe that you have the audacity to flaunt your affair right under my nose. Did you think I wouldn’t notice, hear and feel your betrayal?

Claudine, who been gazing in the big gilt mirror over the fireplace, merely shrugged. What do you want me to say, Joseph? Guy and I fucked. That’s all. Of course, in the process I’ve found out a few disgusting things. She suddenly whirled around with the swish of her underskirts, her lovely face mottled with her own growing anger. "Tell me the truth! Did you drug me and offer my body to Him?"

Joseph strode into the room but stopped short when he faced his wife. It had to be done. He commanded it. He needs a child to return to power. The time has come.

And you offered up your own wife as his whore! Claudine spat out the words like powerful venom. Did you think I would agree to this…this sacrilege?

Why not? You are one of us after all, and one of his disciples, one of his whores.

So, you assumed I wouldn’t fuck the devil voluntarily!

I knew you would never allow it if given the choice. That’s why we had to drug you. You’re a selfish, vain and cruel woman, Claudine, and one who believed you’re better than the rest of us. But you’re no better than the sluts who yearn to suck the Master’s dick.

And so bearing Lucifer’s child is my punishment for the sin of passion, is that it? At least I have passion, Joseph! You have nothing left to offer a woman. You have become just a shell of a man, a cold, heartless and impotent freak!

Moving away from his cloying presence, Claudine placed her hands on her hips and gave her husband a defiant look. So what do you get in return? What has the Master promised you? More money, I suppose, and more power to crush those little people you despise so much. And yet they must toil and slave to keep you rich, to feed your avarice and greed.

A mute point, my dear. Joseph shook his head. We could stand here all night and call each other names, but I grow tired of this insignificant sparring when there’s so much more important work to be done.

You’re so right, Joseph. I prefer to mingle with our guests with the intention of getting deliciously and delightfully drunk. She began a slow pace around the Persian rug, intent on leaving him and the room. But tomorrow, my husband, tomorrow I am going to rid my precious body of this bastard child you forced upon me. There will be no unholy successor. I’m going to see to that, even if I have to rip the beast out myself.

On the contrary. Joseph took a few strides forward and then reached out to grab Claudine’s wrists. I had plans for you, my dear, and for us as well. But I can amend them to suit the present situation. You have no choice now. Come! We must announce my success and your downfall. Together it will be our triumph.

You’re insane! she hissed as her husband began to drag her along with him. She tried to dig her heels into the carpet, but the rug’s silky fibers resisted her attempts to hold back. And even as she kicked off her heels, it continued to act as a slick runway. She had no means to hold back as her husband jerked her forward.

While the Bellesteros’ domestic drama unfolded, Guy had been inching towards the door. As much as he loved to witness a fight between the irate and cuckold husband and his harlot of a wife, he preferred to return to the party and pour himself a double brandy. His cousin’s back-handed thrash had bruised his chest, and he wanted to lick his wounds, so to speak. But before Guy had a chance to escape, Joseph turned his attention on him.

Where do you think you’re going? I want you to witness this, Guy. I want you to see the results of your duplicity as well as that of my wife’s. From infamy comes restitution and from restitution comes redemption.

Really, old man. I think I should skip this little celebration. After all, this is between husband and wife, and I’m just the insignificant third party.

Joseph started for the hall. Come, Guy! Witness the birth of a new era!

You’re mad! Claudine screamed as she continued her fruitless struggle, for the more she fought, the more he tightened his grip. "Guy! Help me! Call someone, anyone, to get this monster off of me!"

I’m so sorry, my dear, Guy demurred, but he is our leader as well as your husband. I can’t resist him any more than you can. So you see, there is really nothing I can do. With purposeful but hesitant steps, he began to follow the couple into the hallway.

Joseph dragged Claudine down the corridor and over to the spiral staircase that led to the fourth floor cupola. As a present to his wife, he had built the hexagonal aerie so that Claudine had a private place in which to look down on the sweeping lawns of their estate, to draw and paint and read as she saw fit. The cupola came with a glass ceiling and built-in benches with comfortable chintz cushions. A single door opened to a narrow walkway along the roof, commonly called a widow’s walk.

Guy stopped short of the staircase and watched as Joseph dragged Claudine up the steps. She had stopped resisting now, allowing him to simply pull her along as a light but unwilling weight. Could his cousin be mad as all that? He knew Joseph to be many things, but the business man ran his paper mill and lumber empires with a savvy, acute and practical hand. He wouldn’t have all of this—a large and beautiful manor, fine furnishings, objets d’ art, and acres of land—if he hadn’t. His kind of leadership held no room for capricious, foolish acts…or insanity.

Slowly and reluctantly, Guy began to climb the stairs after them.

When he heard a rip, he realized that Claudine’s beautiful party dress had torn on a protruding nail at the top of the stairs, slicing the gown from the waistline down to the hem. A flash of petticoat white replaced the deep blue fabric. Another sound, that of a ping, ping, ping, alerted him to the fact her necklace and clasp earrings had come lose and now fell through the cracks in the steps. Such beautiful jewelry, too! If he had the time and the courage later, Guy planned to search for the items. After all, such high-quality diamonds and their gold settings would fetch a hefty price in today’s market, as a whole or broken down into smaller pieces. He could take a decent vacation and have some leftover cash on their wholesale value.

By the time Guy made it to the threshold of the cupola, Joseph had already thrown open the roof door, hard enough to smash its glass panels. Claudine tried to resist again as he tugged her through, but her husband, fueled on anger and revenge, simply pulled her along the parapet like a rag doll.

By now, the commotion from above had drawn the party-goers attentions from down below. Standing still, everyone glanced up while someone aimed one of the patio spotlights on the roof.

Joseph stopped in the middle of the walkway and gripped his wife’s upper arms as he thrust her in front of him. Look down, he commanded in a harsh, purposeful voice. Look down at your subjects, oh Queen of the Damned!

Guy stood at the broken doorway, paralyzed.

Look! Look! Gaze upon the Sinner! Joseph’s voice rose in timbre, strong, purposeful and enticing, loud enough to be heard above the drone of the record player until someone wisely turned it off. Look at this Whore of Babylon! he intoned like a preacher from his pulpit. She is to bear Satan’s child, but now falters in her duties! The Unholy One chose her out of all mortal women and of all the whores in his concubine, and yet she is not fit to wear the title of Exalted Mother! She is but a jackal, a bitch, a harlot!

By now, Claudine had managed to shrug off his grip. She knew she looked a mess, her dress torn, her hair flying in clotted masses, her makeup melted down her face. Yet, she stood proud and ready to flagrantly disobey not only her husband, but the High Priest of Satan himself.

He’s insane! she called out in a tremulous voice. Don’t listen! He’s taken your money and your loyalty, used it all to make himself richer and more powerful! But he will destroy all of you! Condemn him now, condemn him as I do! Silence ensued as the guests continued to stare up at the roof. None of them moved to come to her aid. Stupid, stupid people, she thought bitterly. They’re nothing but a herd of mindless sheep, worthless!

Suddenly, Claudine felt hands press into the small of her back and push her forward until she teetered on the edge of the roofline. No! Not even Joseph could be crazy enough to push her off the roof! Her toes sought a hold along the slick stone as she tried to maintain her balance, but a piece of the slate trim beneath her feet began to give way. Fancy iron grillwork served as a border along the edge, but it was just as low and flimsy as a garden fence border, and now it, too, broke away.

Claudine flayed her arms in a desperate attempt to grab on to some nonexistent railing. For an instant, she would even accept the hand of God. But the slate beneath her finally gave way and she fell forward, into the night air.

Guy stood rooted in the doorway, unable to move or speak as Joseph whisked by him and bounded down the staircase. What he had just witnessed seemed too impossible, too horrific to contemplate. His own cousin had… No! He couldn’t think like that, not now!

When he finally felt the courage to move, Guy inched forward and looked over the edge of the roof. Claudine lay sprawled along the flagstones of the patio below. Blood oozed from beneath her and stained her lovely gown, while her guests formed a mute circle around her splayed body. She looked so fragile, her outstretched arms and hands so white and delicate.

She had not asked for immortality just as she hadn’t asked to bear the Unholy One’s child. A pity really. Claudine Rousseau Bellestero would have made an elegant, articulate and breath-taking mother of the Antichrist, despite her petty faults. Taking in a steadying breath, Guy moved back, prepared to descend the stairs and go for that double brandy after all.

* * *

And so they needed another female supplicant to bear Satan’s only mortal child, a child who would lay waste the extravagances of organized religion and smash the hypocrisy of peace and goodwill towards men. He would rise to become King of Hell, the Antichrist, and those who embraced him would become his loyal followers, a vast army of Satan’s disciples. Hatred, carnage, pestilence, lust, greed, murder, gluttony, torture, bestiality—all would become man’s destiny, a destiny long in coming.

The woman chosen as the Unholy One’s partner need not be beautiful or intelligent, charming or sophisticated. She need only to be a quiet, unassuming, and a fertile woman who would be blessed with the honor bearing Lucifer’s son. Those who served him before had tried with no success. But this time, they planned to leave no room for error, or allow Satan’s bride to renege on her promise to bear his offspring. This time they would make sure she fit all the qualifications, perhaps even to exceed them. They had to try again. Perhaps it would be years to find another bride, but they would find her. Their Overlord had waited centuries before, and he would wait again. Time had no meaning, although the world ached for Armageddon and Satan ached to rise from the depths of hell to heed its summons, to mate.

Now with the right candidate, they would present a unified front and offer constant care and vigilance during her pregnancy. And after the birth, the woman would be recognized far and wide, showered with gifts and praise, and lauded above all others as the mother of the Unholy One. What woman wouldn’t want such a glorious, esteemed honor?

Chapter One

Only ten minutes from downtown Seattle, the village of Emerald Bay offered a variety of amenities not found in the city proper. Residents enjoyed an Olympic-quality swimming center, tennis courts, a premium golf course, fine art venues, and a shopping district with a chalet village theme. Just down the road, people had access to abundant parks, from the seashore to wooded hiking paths. Emerald Bay properties remained affordable to middle and lower income families, professionals, students, singles, and same-sex partners alike.

Emerald Bay was truly an equal housing community.

Just minutes away from the main drag and nestled in the heart of a twenty-acre forest retreat, Bellwood Manor had once been an elegant mansion. Joseph Bellestero, the 1950s paper mill and lumber tycoon, had built the seventy-room, Victorian-style manor for his lovely bride and named it Bellwood. But tragedy struck three years later when Claudine Bellestero became a victim of a freak accident. A grief-stricken Joseph closed up the residence and moved back to Seattle. It remained empty until his death in 1962 when the property reverted to Joseph’s only remaining relative, a cousin named Guy Lesley Seton.

After his initial inspection, Seton decided the mansion was too big and unwieldy for his or anyone else’s use, and so decided to convert the place into individual apartments for income property. His idea of elegant and stylish accommodations for