Talk to the couple and try to gain information

Duncan decides to see if he can gain any information from the older couple that might be useful.

Carl rises from his chair to look out the window as Gladys picks up a piece of human remains from the table and sniffs it gingerly. Having done so, she thrusts it in front of Duncan and asks, “Does this spleen smell spoiled to you? I think Cassandra imagines things.”

Duncan suppresses a shudder and says, “I’m quite sure it is fine. You would be a better judge of that sort of thing, I imagine.”

Gladys takes another sniff of the morsel before nodding to herself. She clears up the remaining things from the table and asks her husband, “Can you see who it is, Dear?”

“I can’t tell,” he says. “Some woman, that’s for sure, but she’s wearing a cloak with a hood, so I can’t get a good look. I wonder if it’s Mrs. Fenstra.”

“Now, Dear, Mrs. Fenstra was our neighbor three or four houses ago. We ate her ages ago!” She turns to Duncan and smiles sadly. “He’s starting to get a little forgetful, poor dear. Last week he woke me up to warn me that there was a chicken roosting in the outhouse. When I got up in the morning, I discovered he had gotten disoriented and had peed on the chicken I had roasting in the oven overnight.”

“Just how old are you?” Duncan asks. “If that’s not too impolite to inquire, that is. You are the first Gratiri I have encountered.”

“Well, a gentleman typically should not ask a lady about her age, but I’m not vain,” she replies. “I am 697. Carl is 672. I robbed the cradle with him, you might say!” She laughs as she takes a broom and begins to sweep the kitchen floor.

“That’s astonishing!” exclaims Duncan.

“I know what you’re thinking,” says Gladys, with a self-conscious smile. “I’ve been told that I don’t look a day over 400. People have asked Carl if I am his daughter!”

That’s not what Duncan meant, but he goes along with it. “Indeed, the years have been most kind to you. And your race survives by — how would you say it — seducing human makes?”

“Seducing sounds so vulgar,” says Gladys. “Do you humans seduce the deer that you end up eating? No, you hunt your food, using the means available to you, and that’s what we do, as well. And it’s not just males, by any means; you are just the easiest to trap. Personally, I prefer the taste of a fresh, young female; females are less gamey in taste.”

“But we don’t fuck our food and subjugate its will under our power before eating it,” thinks Duncan, who wisely keeps the thought to himself. Instead, he asks, “And just how have you learned to exert control over us? Is it by conjuring? Blood oaths?”

“Oh my!” Gladys exclaims, stopping her sweeping for a moment and resting against the broom to think. “It has been so long since my high school biology classes; I’m not sure I remember all the technical mumbo jumbo. I just remember that the Gratiri vagina emits some sort of — what did they call it? Endzone? Endtime?”

“Enzyme?” offers Duncan.

“Yes, that’s it!” Gladys responds brightly. “Who knew I’d remember that after all this time? And I was so distracted during that class, sitting next to Fletcher Keeswalter.”

Carl turns from the window at this point. “Fletcher Keeswalter? Where? Are we expecting that boorish oaf? I won’t have him in my house, I tell you!”

“No, Dear,” says Gladys, reassuringly. “We aren’t expecting Fletcher. I’m just telling Cassandra’s pet here about high school biology.” She turns to Duncan and whispers, “Carl has always been jealous about Fletcher.”

“High school biology, indeed!” says Carl, with disgust. “The only subject Fletcher Keeswalter was interested in was anatomy. Specifically, yours. He had quite the nerve! As if he even had a chance with you! You were way out of his league, and I told him so!”

“Yes, you did, Dear,” Gladys tells him, soothingly. “Once I saw you, I never had eyes for any other boy in that school. Now just don’t give it another thought!”

Carl, apparently satisfied, returns to the window. Gladys turns to Duncan and smiles conspiratorially before whispering, “Fletcher and I used to screw two or three times a day! That fellow was insatiable, and he could move his schlong without touching it. He could use it the way a maestro conducts an orchestra! One time he even snuck over when I was spending the night with Carl, and we fucked twice on the floor while Carl was sound asleep in the bed!”

Duncan shook his head silently at this revelation, wondering why she felt the need to tell him and wondering if he could ever picture Gladys as anything other than an ancient, wrinkly prunelike thing, let alone the nympho that she apparently once was.

“So you were talking about an enzyme,” said Duncan, hoping to change the topic.

“Oh yes,” said Gladys. “I’m sorry. That just brought back a lot of memories!” She smiles and fans herself briefly with her hand. “Yes, apparently we create some kind of enzyme, and it is activated when it comes in contact with human sperm. The resulting chemical attaches itself to your skin and enters your bloodstream through your penis. That chemical creates some kind of psychic connection between the female Gratiri and the human male, making you most open to suggestion.”

“So if that chemical is washed off?”

“Once it enters the bloodstream, that’s all that matters,” says Gladys. “It works its magic for several days, depending on the potency of the Gratiri, but it can easily be refreshed by a little roll in the hay. As potent as I have always been, I always made sure I refreshed the connection at least once a day. Not only is that safe, but it’s downright fun. You males may not taste as good as females, but I certainly do love the feel of a young, hard cock shooting a hot load inside me!” She shudders and grips a breast at the thought.

Duncan finds the whole experience horrifying, but having a 700 year old hag talk so freely about sex is positively surreal.

“And you sell us as **** labor and — what was it Cassandra said? Breeding stock?”

“Oh yes... the breeding stock market here isn’t what it was when I was growing up. Halpatroi are nearly extinct in these parts, but you occasionally will find them.”

“Halpatroi?”

“It’s not surprising you haven’t heard of them, Dear. They look very much like your human females. In fact, you hardly ever will find a Halpatroi male; that’s why they need humans for breeding.”

“But why do they have to buy us as slaves? Sex between mortals and magical beings is frowned upon, but it is by no means rare. In fact, it’s an adventure for many a young man to couple with as many exotic creatures as possible.”

“Ah, but the problem with human and Halpatroi coupling is that it takes quite the toll on the human. For one thing, Halpatroi live in colonies, so there can be anywhere from a dozen to hundreds of Halpatroi, and they need to mate monthly in order to survive. Without the sperm inside her, a Halpatroi would grow old and die in less than 3 months. And once she has bred with a male, she cannot do so again with the same one; she is in constant need of fresh sperm.”

Duncan thinks about this. He still cannot see a downside to this. In fact, the prospect of spending a month or two hanging up to a hundred different women, with no expectation of any kind of long-term commitment, actually sounds like a dream vacation he would gladly volunteer for.

“But it isn’t just the physical toll of breeding so many demanding females,” continues Gladys. “Each breeding saps the life **** of the male. Most humans last no more than a month or two around Halpatroi before dying of **** old age.”

Realization dawns on Duncan and his wide eyes show it.

Gladys, seeing his expression, smiles and says, “That’s probably why Cassandra is thinking about you for that task. A strong, young buck like you.... You might be good for four to six months of service before you kick the can.”

Before Duncan can respond, the door opens, and Cassandra enters, followed by a tall figure in a long cloak.

“Mother and Father, may I introduce Madam Banntrach?”

Their guest removes her hood, revealing a proud, strong feminine face. Her hair and eyes are black, and her bright red lips stand in stark contrast to her pale white skin.

“She would like to take a look at our guest to see if he might be of value to her.”

Madam Banntrach steps toward Duncan and looks him over carefully before speaking to him. “Do you have a name?”