The Seeding

Chapter 14 - A Good Night At The Pub

Dave looked in on Jean a couple of times, just to make sure she was ok, on each occasion he assumed she was asleep cause there was no movement and she seemed to be quiet.

‘I reckon I’ll pop down the feathers for a pint’ he mused to himself ‘she’s fast asleep and sleep is the best thing for'er’ with that he grabbed his jacket checked all was ok and headed off to the pub. Upstairs jean wasn’t asleep, Jean had no control over her body, she was held prisoner somewhere deep inside her own sub conscious, unable to cry out for the help she so desperately needed. What’s happened to me was all she could think ‘I must have had a stroke – why can’t I get up and why can’t I talk’?’.

One overriding urge was slowly taking command of Jeans subconscious though, even though she had no control she was aware that her body felt different, it seemed alive but beyond her will. It was a dream state but a dream state with semi lucid feelings and emotions, feelings and emotions that she hadn’t come close to feeling for decades. Jeans body was electric with want and need. But whose want? whose  need? There was one truth she new for certain: She wasn’t alone.

The tzarens now had a host with which they could establish a viable colony

Dave had a good night at the pub. There was the usual crowd, most of whom gave Dave a wide birth, but tonight he had been babbling on about his missus not being well and he told anyone who would listen how his beloved cat had died. Most of the regulars told him to ‘piss off’ but a few had felt sorry for him so bought him drinks as consolation, others bought him drinks to get rid of him. At  chucking out time he was drunk, Dave enjoyed a drink but tonight he was drunker than normal as he staggered off home, meandering across the pavement trying to focus on the tell tale landmarks which meant he was going in the right direction.

‘I mustn’t wake her up’ he kept saying as he fumbled, trying to get the key into the door lock, ‘I mustn’t wake her up or I’ll never here the end of it – moan, moan, moan’ he tried to sound like a nagging Jean as finally the door burst open and half staggering half falling he fell into the house, like rubbish into a bin. ‘Shhhhh!’ He kept telling himself ‘don’t wake the little woman cause her wont be happy’ Dave was now talking to himself having forgotten totally, the traumatic events of the day.

Finally, having staggered up the stairs, making enough noise to wake the neighbours, Dave stumbled into the bathroom, again ordering whoever might be listening ‘to shhhh and be quiet or you’ll wake her up and you don’t wanna do that!’ Trying to compose himself Dave peed all over the toilet seat and surround ‘Oops that’s a little off’ he laughed to himself ‘I must get my targeting systems overhauled in the mourning’. He had a great deal of trouble with the word ‘overhauled’.  Finally and unceremoniously, after managing to shed the bulk of his clothes, leaving a trail from the bathroom, Dave fell into bed next to Jean, his last bleary thought was ‘Well, I gottaway with that!’

The house was quiet, the bedroom was quiet, save for the sound of distant road traffic and Dave’s raspy breathing that would soon  settle into a full blown all night long snore. The only discernable movement, a gentle but silent waft of the curtains touched by a unseen draft of air through an open window; Jean always slept with an open window.

 Suddenly and without warning, Jean sat bolt upright, no shuffling, no straining and no use of arms to support her weight as would be normal, she simply went from lying flat on her back to bolt upright in one smooth and silent motion with her limp arms hanging uselessly with upturned palms. Slowly Jeans head raised, lifting her chin from her chest to look straight ahead, but straight ahead staring at nothing. Moments passed. Dave’s snoring was settling into its rhythmic timbre, Jeans head started to turn, very slowly, methodically turning. Turning until  it had reached the normal limit of muscle and bone, then her eyes, in unison angled downwards focusing, awkwardly staring down at the drunken form asleep next to her.

Jean had no control, she could not speak but as a prisoner within her own being she witnessed everything that her body was doing, like a passenger on a runaway train all she could do was to go with the ride and be afraid.

Arms that had been limp, raised from the bed in short jerky movements. Slowly, Jean removed her nightgown, fumbling at first, as if she had never removed a nightgown before. Still, with head turned, still the eyes staring down at the sleeping man next to her, ever so slowly Jean drew the gown up and over her head then dropped  it on the floor and leaned ever closer over Dave’s snoring form. She studied him as if she had never seen him or any man before. No emotion showed, Jeans face was devoid of all emotion, just an over-weight jowly white face in the dark night, with no emotion, only those cold staring grey eyes, unblinking and un-focused, staring through rather than at anything.

Little by little  she proceeded to sniff at the focus of her attention. Then with cat like speed and grace, she swept over the prone, sleeping figure, deftly lifting her leg to straddle him, pinning him under her weight, whilst two strong arms held his, preventing any movement. At closer quaters the sniffing gave way to licking; she needed to take his very essence, his smell and his taste. She licked his neck and upper chest, making snuffling animal noises as she progressed, licks that turned to  kisses, kisses that turned to gentle pecks. Gentle little pecks at first, becoming more focused and ardent.

In his semi conscious drunken state there was no reaction from Dave, with his arms pinned and his more than ample wife straddling him, and now grinding her hips on him, Dave, unable to move even if wanted to, was oblivious, away in the land of nod. Jean lifted her head away from Daves chest and focused her attention on the face, in the darkened gloom of the bedroom, she studied his features carefully, with cold unemotional eyes she studied his pock marked cheeks covered in 3 day stubble , in the limited light he appeared deathly grey as she peered at each feature, devouring the information that she glimpsed. In a deftly swift movement of her head, Jean jerked to her right, at the same time spitting, releasing her partial top set of false teeth and the complete bottom set in one explosive movement. Turning back to face Dave, she forced a smile exposing swollen red gums and the three remaining true teeth as she bent forward focusing her attentions on his mouth. Jean covered Dave’s mouth with hers and kissed hard forcing her tongue deep inside, exploring his before venturing deeper, deep into his throat...

Dave struggled from his drunken sleep and  fought to regain consciousness, he felt pinned and smothered under a great weight, frantically he tried to focus and opened his eyes only to find that Jean was on top of him, kissing his mouth, only this was more than kissing, it was rough, rougher than a rampant teenage couple snogging outside a cheap nightclub, At first Dave tried to respond, trying to ease her off him so that he could grab a breathe and maybe kiss her, but deep down he new this was not ‘his’ Jean, least ways this was not ‘his’ Jeans normal behaviour. Little by little Jean grew more forceful and rampant, this was violent and rough. Dave gagged and tried to push Jean off but his efforts were met with an incredible strength of force and weight pinning him to the bed, only his legs were free to flail about, his arms pinned by Jean’s hands and his head held down by her terrible kiss. His groin held under that terrible weight as jean straddled and ground hard on him. Struggling for breath he choked, writhed and gagged. Already drunk, his fragile stomach instantly reacted by trying to void its contents. Jean’s mouth pressed even harder , her tongue deep in his throat.  Dave’s frantic struggles, gradually grew weaker as what little strength he had ebbed away. When all signs of struggling life stopped, Jean lifted her head still holding Dave down pinning his shoulders, slowly and methodically she raised a leg that straddled him and looked disappointingly at his prone lifeless corpse and began to whine, a deep keening, repetitive cry of anguish came forth, low in tone atb first, but quickly building to a deep guttural animal scream.

They say that the ability to hear is one of the last senses to close down at the point of death, in Dave’s case that deep guttural whining cry that morphed into a cry for a baby, I need a baby repeated over and over was Dave’s last memory before darkness took him.

The next morning Jean rose from the bed, took a shower and headed off to the kitchen to make tea. Bringing 2 cups back she offered one to Dave but he did not stir. Jean sat in bed next to Dave, sipping tea and chatting lightly about everyday things but none of which was relevant to the present. Random statements and opinions with random names all dragged from Jeans memory but no comprehension of structured conversation. Dave did not stir.