The Court of the Fleshmongers

By Connor MacDonald

DECEMBER 20th, 2148

I’m a fleshmonger by trade. When I tell people that, they usually have one of two questions. “Can you get me somebody?” or “How much does it pay?”

The answer is I can always get you someone, and the pay depends on how rare that someone is. Women and men are the easiest. Especially if the client isn’t too picky. Boys, girls, and stranger flesh are much rarer. The rarer the flesh, the more valuable it is.

In the Red District, the Court of the Fleshmonger reigned supreme. Our guild was restricted to that district, but it didn’t stop the hundreds of thousands of sivvies from flocking to our pink and magenta palaces.

Tonight was special. The Dancing Flamingo was hosting some fleshmongers who specialized in amputees. I had been holding onto some merchandise for far too long, and I knew that the Dancing Flamingo might facilitate some easy trades.

My penthouse overlooked the Red District, with the soft glow of pink lights illuminating my white and sterile condo. Standing in front of the mirror, I fixed my purple silk shirt and golden chains. My hair was slicked back, and I made no effort to hide my receding hairline. The more slimy I looked, the better. That’s what Dougenes would say. To play the part, we had to look the part.

“If we look like scum, the sivvies can put all the sin of their actions on us.”

It was the truth of it. They acted disgusted under the light of the Church of All Gods, but they still lined up to visit places like the Dancing Flamingo. They professed their innocence under the white light of their temple, but would come to the pink light no matter what. Riding the elevator down to the city level, the harsh scent of my cologne was so overpowering I could smell it myself. The security guard waved me through, but not before holding his hand up to his nose.

Below the city level, I could see the slums of the industrial district. The blackened smoke of the district lingered several hundred feet below me. I casually glanced down from the catwalks that sprawled between a labyrinthine complex of pink palaces and nearly gagged at the industrial waste below my feet.

The Red District was large, but tight enough that we had no need for vehicles up here. The loud music coming from each tower, illuminated in pink and purple, was so loud that the vibrations disrupted the machinery of the vehicles. Just ahead of me, the giant holographic image of the dancing Pink Flamingo floated outside one of the towers.

A long line of sivvies was pushed together, nearly pouring over the catwalks. I walked down the Fleshmonger-designated catwalk towards a large gilded door with a dark-skinned Court Enforcer standing watch.

“Heraclones!” the large Court Enforcer called out to me. “You’re here for the show?”

I smiled towards the brute. “I have some merchandise I need to offload, Crates. Is Epicures holding court?”

The large man picked me up and squeezed me tightly. His big wet lips pressed against mine. “Oh, yes! They told me they are expecting you. Go in, go in!”

The gilded doors slid open for me, and the smell of the Erotomix entered my nose. I raised my chains up to my nose. Two metallic plugs were clipped to the ends of the chains, and I plugged my nostrils. A writhing ball of naked flesh pressed up against the cage that surrounded me, with moans of pleasure and pain echoing throughout the first floor of the Dancing Flamingo.

Upstairs, the second floor was far less chaotic. The screams and cries could still be heard below, but the rhythmic pulse of the electronic beats drowned out the animalistic barking. Sitting under a pink canopy near the middle of the room was Epicures.

Epicures looked towards me with their big eyes and thick black eyelashes. Their face had been powdered, but the heat and sweat had begun to make it streak slightly.

“Heraclones. To what do I owe the pleasure?” they said, leaning back on their bed. Two naked men flanked them, wearing nothing but leather straps attached to their nipples.

“Epicures.” I was curt. “I was hoping that you would buy some merchandise.”

“Yes. I received your message. Six amputees, surgically altered by sculptors. Do you have images of them?”

Pressing my temple, I projected the six amputees across the bed. “These images were taken yesterday.”

“I like that one.” Epicures pointed to the woman missing her nose. “I have a client who would pay a lot for her. The rest I’m not too interested in.”

“I’d prefer to get rid of all of them.”

Epicures moved their long white hair away from their face. Their elongated fingers caressed their torso in thought. “Perhaps, as a professional courtesy, I can take them off your hands. I didn’t realize you were trading in amputees now.”

“I’m not.” That was the truth of it. “The seller didn’t tell me of their deformities.”

“True, true…” Epicures rose from their bed, revealing that they were totally naked under their satin covers. A small penis was protruding out of Epicures’ vagina. I looked away. “Well, I’ll take them all off your hands for ten thousand marks.”

“Only ten thousand marks? I paid significantly more for the product.”

Epicures shrugged. “Take it or leave it. I don’t care.”

“I’ll take it, then. I’ll send over the contract later.”

“Oh, there is one more thing.” Epicures walked towards a serving man holding some drinks. “The Count wants to meet with you. He sent me word earlier.”

“He wants to meet with me? Why?”

Epicures casually sipped from their glass of purple. “I have no fucking idea. He didn’t tell me. Just said to send you to him once our business had concluded.”

I ground my teeth. “Fine. Thank you, Epicures.”

Epicures pulled me closer to them and placed a wet kiss on my forehead. “Go, go. Before I weep that you have left my sight.”

I placed my lips on their head. “I have already wept, dear Epicures,” I recited, and turned without much flair to leave. As I was stepping down the stairs, the taste of Epicures began to leave my mouth.

The Count’s Pleasure Palace was located not too far from the Dancing Flamingo. It made the Dancing Flamingo look subdued. Actual women who were sculpted to be ten-foot-tall giantesses danced outside naked in cages, suspended above the thick black smoke below. Sivvies were lined up watching them, crying for a chance to see more.

A small line of other Fleshmongers was waiting by the gilded side door of the Pleasure Palace. Several Court Enforcers stood around with electro-whips in their hands.

“I wonder why he is calling all of us…” one fleshmonger said to another.

“The last time he held court was three years ago. Remember what he did then?”

I stood there unimpressed and lit a synth-stick.

When I was ushered in, I saw several hundred fleshmongers of various ranks standing below a floating ball of black liquid. Inside the suspended ball was an enormous mass of naked flesh. Count Platones rolled around in the suspended liquid, not paying much attention to us below.

“Court is in session!” A thin man stepped out from the crowd. The Herald of the Count, I figured. He had a new one every time he forced us to go to one of these things.

The murmur died down as the liquid suspension drifted idly over each of us. A deep, booming voice vibrated throughout the pink hall.

“Fleshmongers, sculptors, and enforcers. Baron Pytagrenes is to be exiled, ostracised, and denied business going forward. Pytagrenes was found engaging in illicit business practices, stepping outside of the domain of the Court.”

Some members cheered, others booed. Most of us remained silent.

“Where was the vote?” a Baron shouted from the crowd.

“Oh, fuck your vote!” another shouted him down.

“Long live the Count!”

Pytagrenes was, from my recollection, a rather unremarkable fleshmonger. He typically traded in children, which some people found disreputable. He had made many enemies over the years, though I did not count myself one of them.

“SILENCE!” the Herald shouted, and the arguing crowd fell into silence.

“If any member of the Court is found dealing in business with Pytagrenes, or aiding him in any way, you will also face the same consequences. You have been warned.”

I didn’t see a need to stick around, so I started to leave. Two enforcers stopped me at the door.

“I have business to attend to.” I looked them both over.

“The Count wishes to speak to you in private. You will wait.”

I sighed and sat down at a nearby bench. The choir of the Court began to move out, singing their songs to one another about whether the Count was right or not. I sat there smoking a small synth-stick.

“Heraclones,” the Herald said, “come with me.”

The giant suspended black ball began to drift slowly towards us. The Count poked his head out of the ball and blinked at me with his one good eye.

“Betcha wondering why I wanted yah, right?” His voice was shrill and high-pitched. The folds of his fat covered his genitalia, and his stench crept through my nostril plugs.

“It better be for a good reason.”

“Oh, it’s a great reason. You’re gonna track down Pytagrenes.” He coughed black liquid out, and it landed on my leather boots.

“Why would I do that?” I flicked the cigarette away casually, though my heart beat loudly.

The face of the Count flashed red, and I could see him tensing his neck. “Cuz I fuckin’ said so. That’s why! Fine? You wanna know? He stole merchandise.”

“Stole merchandise? That isn’t like Pytagrenes. He’s always followed our laws. He’s a traditionalist.” I turned to the Herald, but he continued to stare at the ground.

“Not anymore.” The Count brought a tube up to his nostril and inhaled deeply. “He was supposed to deliver some flesh to some District Chief. He was paying well for it, too. Pytagrenes decided he’d rather have her for himself.”

“So he’s taking part in the merchandise?”

“I don’t know.” The Count frowned at me. “Do you think I’m some fucking inspector? Some investigator? That’s going to be your job. Your. Job. He stole a girl named Genie Hamilton. Some gutter trash who we were going to raise up to be a pleasure girl. Now what is she? Pytagrenes’s plaything?”

“Why me?” I asked, though I already anticipated his response.

“Why you! Hah, hah, hah!” He let out three laughs. “If I move against him, they’ll say I’m trying to take his territory. Everyone knows you don’t deal with girls and boys, so why not? You go retrieve her. You did train to be an Inspector yourself, if I recall.” He gave a big smile, exposing a crooked row of yellow and brown teeth. “And I’ll give you the Dancing Flamingo.”

I raised my brow. “The Dancing Flamingo? It’s owned by Epicures. Are you going to take it from them?”

“They forfeited it when they helped Pytagrenes. Figure out what’s going on. It’ll be yours. I’ll even give you a sculptor to make your pleasure women and pleasure men into whatever your clients want.”

Now that was interesting.

“I can see you’re interested. Well, Heraclones! What will it be? Will you assist your Count?”

“I’ll do it. But I want two sculptors.”

The Count thought for a heartbeat and smiled. “Very good. See it done. Under my authorization.”

I bowed and made my way out of the throne room. I’d have to get to work quickly. Pytagrenes, you damned fool. Epicures, too. As I walked above the suspended catwalks, a shrill voice boomed out on the speakers.

“Nobody may enter or leave the Red District for the next 24 hours.”

The Dancing Flamingo was nearby the central plaza, and the crowd was beginning to pile out of the club. I spotted Epicures as they were carried in their litter, making their way towards a service elevator.

“Epicures!” I tried to push through the crowd of sweaty bodies. “Epicures! Stop!”

Epicures turned to me and tried to scurry off the litter. Their frail, pasty-white body slid out of the litter and onto the concrete below. Getting up, they made a mad dash towards the elevator.

“Stop them! Stop them!” I shouted. Court Enforcers were looking around, but none of them dared move against either one of us. I continued my pursuit through the crowd of people.

I was out of breath when I caught up to them, but they were huddled near the elevator pad, pressing numbers furiously. Their bare ass was exposed for everyone to see.

“Epicures…” I panted. “Epicures, why did you help Pytagrenes? It’s not like you…”

“Help? He forced me to!” Epicures turned around and looked at me. Their eyes darted to the railing to the right, and back to me.

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know.” Epicures was sweating so much that the makeup had run off their face.

“When did you last see him, then?” I stepped towards them, but they pressed up against the wall like a dog about to attack.

“Just a couple hours ago. He was supposed to hand that girl over. He said he couldn’t, though. That she deserved better.”

“She deserves nothing.” I took another step towards them. “Where are they?”

Suddenly, Epicures looked calm. “They’re already gone.” They flung themselves over the railing, screaming as they fell into the black smoke below. I leaned over and watched as their white body disappeared into the cloud after ten or so seconds.

“What the fuck!” I shouted. “God damn it! God damn it!” I beat the railing. I caught my breath while leaning over it. They’re already gone. I knew that wasn’t true. I could feel them hiding up here.

Thousands of bodies surrounded me, and I pushed myself off the railing. If I wanted to steal a pretty girl, where would I hide? Not my penthouse. Not the clubs I frequented. It’d be somewhere nobody went.

I glanced towards the illuminated white building several hundred feet away. The Church of All Gods.

He was there. She was there. A voice inside of me told me.

Nobody crowded the Church of All Gods. Its bright white lights illuminated the marble structure, but it was devoid of any flesh. No sivvies walked the catwalks nearby. I could not see any priests walking around in their white robes. Only ghosts of a bygone era were here.

And one very naughty Fleshmonger.

I pushed open the wooden doors of the temple and saw two figures sitting on a bench, cloaked in white robes. I stepped towards them.

“No sense hiding,” I called out. “I got you.”

The taller figure rose and turned towards me. It was Pytagrenes. His face seemed softer and sadder.

“Of course they sent you.” He sounded defeated.

“I was promised things. Hand the girl over. I’ll let you slip away, but the merchandise is coming with me.”

The smaller figure rose and hid behind Pytagrenes.

“Genie Hamilton, I assume?” I stepped towards them.

Pytagrenes snorted. “You’re not getting anywhere near her. Run! Run!”

She did not seem to want to leave his side. Pytagrenes charged me and pushed me outside of the Church. I could see Genie running down the catwalk. I pushed Pytagrenes and chased after her.

“I won’t let you touch her!” he screamed, and bolted towards me again.

“I’ll do whatever I want!” I pushed him, and the old man lost his balance. He clung to the railing, dangling above the darkness below.

“Help me,” he said. “Help me up. Don’t do this, Heraclones. You can save yourself.”

I turned towards the fleeing Genie Hamilton and followed after her. I could hear Pytagrenes screaming behind me, but it grew fainter. I turned around, and he was no longer clinging to the railing. He disappeared into the city below.

Genie was stuck at the end of the catwalk. It led to an abandoned area, and she had nowhere to go.

“It’s over. Come with me. Your owners want you back.”

She glanced over the catwalk. Not another one.

I rushed towards her, and before she could fling herself off, I gripped my hands around her frail arms tightly. I pulled her away from her death and gave her back life.

“Fuck you! Fuck you!” She continued to kick at me, but I hugged her so tight she couldn’t move. I dragged her across the catwalks and back towards the Court.

Nobody was there, save for the Herald and some Enforcers. Even the giant black sphere had disappeared.

“I brought it.” I tossed Genie at the feet of the Herald. Several Enforcers ran forward and clapped electro-chains on her.

The Herald handed me a paper without any ornamentation. It was the Proclamation of Ownership for the Dancing Flamingo. I was now a proper Baron.

. . .

JANUARY 3rd, 2149

I stood alone on the top floor of the Dancing Flamingo. I had moved out all of Epicures’ old belongings. Below me, the dancing flesh moved to the rhythm of the beats I had curated. I was proclaimed the Baron of the Dancing Flamingo and was given a large party in my honour. The Count told me that he was impressed by my speed. In just a few short hours, I had solved the case.

For some reason, I could not get that girl out of my head. It was as if she had wormed her way into my psyche. I took a drink of the sparkling wine and glanced towards the sculptors. They were sculpting a new Genie Hamilton, just for me.

Innocence is such a simplistic concept. I don’t know if anyone is innocent, or even born with innocence. We’re just animals. That’s what I say now when younger fleshmongers come to me. Dougenes taught me well, but I expanded upon my lessons. Genie wasn’t some pure soul in a white robe. She was as tainted as the rest of us.

“Is she to your satisfaction?” the sculptor asked me.

I turned towards the flesh and looked it over.

“No, she’s missing something.” I grasped her face and looked into her eyes. What was she missing?

The naked people below continued to dance. I could smell the Erotomix in the air. It made me feel good. I’d need to get more girls to make up for the loss of profit, I thought.

Did I save myself? Pytagrenes wanted me to save myself. I felt saved. I was totally free.

I finished the last of the sparkling wine and walked towards my party.

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