Cold Slabs

Farah walks behind the throne and you hear the grating of rock on rock. A door slides open. It is pitch black in the room beyond, but you can see fine.

The room has a large dais sits in the center, with a large obsidian slab in the center. Two smaller marble slabs sit on either side. Around the room there are dozens of slabs.

Farrah points to a marble slab. “Time to rest. The sun is rising.”

“That! I’m not sleeping on that.”

“You promised to listen. Try it.”

You glide over to the slab of rock and lay down. You expect it to be cold, yet it’s not. Indeed, it is comfortable. In moments darkness takes you.

Your eyes flicker open. You know the sun is gone. You defy gravity and levitate to a standing position.

“Wakey, wakey, Brandi.”

Farah’s voice has a distinctly musical, inhuman quality to it. You find it soothing.

“So are you going to open the door?”

She laughs. “No need. Do as I do.”

You watch as she becomes a ethereal and then a mist. She seeps under the door into the next room.

You try to follow. At first it is hard. Then you feel yourself becoming less solid. You senses change as you become a mist. You push forward against the door and begin to seep under and around it. In moments you are on the other side. You pull yourself back together, drawing the mist into you. You grow solid again.

You feel exhilarated. You feel like some kind of wicked superhero.

Farah motions to you. “Come look at yourself.”

You expect a mirror, instead there is a polished slab of obsidian. Your image is far from clear, but still your jaw drops. Your breasts have grown fuller, your skin paler and flawless, and your hair is nearly black and lustrous. You smile showing long fangs. You are finding them more and more sexy.

“Come Brandi. Your thirst must be growing. I have plans.”

With the mention of thirst, your realize you are parched...