Join My Cult - Original Falcon Press

that the archway did indeed end in a lit room here. Eager to be in a
somewhat familiar environment, she dashed toward the light a trifle too
quickly, slipped on the bottom of a mossy curtain, and wound up nursing
a hurt tailbone in the black sludge. Cursing her impatience, she stoop up
carefully, wiping her slimy hands on the front of her jeans.
This was a room worth the sludge, at least for an intrepid underground
explorer. A bare but working light bulb hung from the ceiling, illuminating
the damp concrete walls and two sets of institutional green double
doors. Jesus stepped in, slowly. She saw a desk showing signs of recent
use—a coffee ring stained the blotter, and a half empty pack of cigarettes
sat next to a full ashtray. Shelves lined the walls and were filled with
strange and frightening paraphernalia. Jesus saw wicked looking leather
restraints, headgear, stainless steel trays, and things she just plain could
not identify. Hidden in the far end of the shelves, Jesus found a rusty
metal box, with vacuum tubes peeking out through a decaying grate.
“Somatics Thymatron® System IV”, read the front panel, in green paint
on a white background. Clustered around the product name were various
dials, gauges, and jacks. She bent down to examine it more closely, and
as soon as she saw the word “electrodes”, she dropped it in revulsion,
realizing it was an electroshock device.
The sound of the heavy metal box impacting the concrete floor rung
and reverberated through the tunnels and came back to her in echoes.
Fearing discovery, she tried the first set of double doors, only to find
them barred tight. On her way to the second set of doors, Jesus passed
the desk and froze, staring. There was a girl looking back at him from the
window over the desk. Window? Mirror, she corrected, and suddenly
Jesus felt it click into place. She looked down at the swell of her small
breasts distorting the logo on the black Primus t-shirt she had been wearing
all evening, then back at the mirror, tingling with excitement.
There was a smudge of greenish mud on one cheek. Her hair was plastered
across her forehead, but as Jesus looked into her shining blue eyes,
he recognized them as his own. He was seeing his face, undistorted by
the Y chromosome and years of testosterone. Presently, it was too much
to bear, and a tear rolled down her cheek, but she could not look away.
I knew it I knew it I knew it! Only dreaming. Tell yourself you’re only
dreaming!
A fist pounded against the locked door, shocking Jesus away from her
recognition. As she turned to run, she heard keys jingling, then the sound
246