The Haunted Manor
The Haunted Manor
Part 1
“Let there be… ow, fuck!” Sparks leapt from the completed circuit as Zeke stumbled back from the electrical panel, shaking his fingers.
Lights flickered on around the manor house, illuminating paths leading through the unkempt grounds to double doors that opened slowly on rusted hinges, organ music echoing from inside.
Zeke turned to his friend and said with a smirk, “Told you I could get it working.”
“I never said you couldn’t!” Henry replied, glancing between the well-lit manor blaring a funereal dirge and the dark, half-charred amusement park surrounding it. “I said that it was a stupid fucking idea!”
“C’mon Henry, there’s bound to be good stuff in there.”
“Like what?”
“Like… robots?”
Henry threw his arms up in exasperation. “When this place shut down it was just dumb-drones and refurbed sexbots. There wasn’t anything worth salvaging in this park even before the fires!”
Zeke shrugged, his eyes still fixed on the manor’s door. “Maybe. You know, I also heard that if you were rich and belonged to some weird club, they’d let you go on some of these rides alone. And I heard things could get… kinda crazy.”
Henry shook his head. “You dumb fuck, that’s an urban legend.”
“You just said the park was using actual sexbots!”
“Yeah, refurbed! Because they were cheap as hell! Besides, if you want a hand job from a robot dressed up as a princess, you don’t need to belong to a secret cabal of horny trillionaires.”
“Look, we’re here,” Zeke stated, steeling himself against his waning confidence. “Might as well check it out. And I bet you we’ll find something functional inside.”
“If you find anything that can walk out of there on its own two feet, I’ll…”
“You’ll give it a full restoration!” Zeke hastily cut in.
Henry paused, considering the colossal amount of work this could entail. At length, he said, “But if you come out with nothing but a sack full of spare parts, you’re taking my scrap duty for a month.”
“Deal!” Zeke stuck out his hand, barely considering how miserable that outcome would be, his mind only on the possibility of him finding some Victorian beauty that Henry would restore to full working order. He considered that the haunted house might not be the first place one would go looking for a sexbot, but with much of the park in cinders, his choices were limited. Besides, the rumors he had heard about attractions with ‘special access’ had specifically mentioned this place.
Henry shook on the deal, “I’ll hang back, keep an eye out for security.” As Zeke walked down the gravel path toward the manor’s looming entrance, he called out, “Watch out for ghosts.”
“Oh, I will. Sexy ghosts!”
Henry rolled his eyes as Zeke mounted the creaking stairs, stepping through the double-doors and into the flickering light of the foyer. Zeke turned to give him a thumbs-up as the entrance slammed shut between them.
---
Zeke felt a brief rush of panic at the sudden removal of his escape route, but reminded himself that this was an amusement park, not an actual haunted house.
An abandoned amusement park his mind unhelpfully amended, and he surveyed the dusty, warped interior, wondering how much of this was dilapidation was authentic. The red-carpeted hallway stretching before him seemed the obvious way to go, and he followed it past flickering gas lights and paintings of strangely barren forested landscapes, indistinct silhouettes of unfamiliar animals, and ships heeling in dark, tempest-tossed seas.
The hall ended in a small but high-ceilinged, unfurnished room lined with peeling wallpaper. High upon each of the walls was a red curtain, a dusty, cobweb-ridden chandelier providing the chamber its faint illumination. Seeing other exists, Zeke turned to leave, but found only a seamless patch of wall.
“Welcome, lonely traveler,” a deep and husky woman’s voice echoed around him, the flash and rumble of a close thunderstorm shaking the walls. “Perhaps you are here seeking shelter from the storm? Or perhaps… you come seeking the hand of the lovely Marie Lavoie?” Her unmistakably French accent made a feast of the name, lingering breathily upon the last syllable.
Squeaking machinery parted the curtains, each revealing a framed and backlit diorama of a couple moving in slow motion: four different men in Victorian suits and the same beautiful woman in four different dresses – no doubt the aforementioned Marie. In every incarnation, her auburn hair gleamed in the light, the same guarded smile worn on her rosy-cheeked face, and the distinctive swell of her sizeable bust noticeable even in the most modest of her outfits. Also common to every version of Marie and the men beside her were small mechanical tics and the odd flare of sparks.
“You may wish to take heed of what befell her suitors before her,” the voice continued, as the frames surrounding the portraits slowly lengthened, exposing more of the couples and their surroundings.
In the diorama before him, a smiling Marie wore a lace-trimmed blue dress and lavender bonnet as she stood beside a jovial bearded man in a top hat. With the extending frame, it became clear that they were in a sawmill, and neither of them seemed to notice the large spinning blade behind them – instead, each robot’s blissful gaze turned from each other to look down at Zeke. With a whirring sound, the sawblade suddenly surged forward just as the curtain snapped across the man’s half the frame, leaving only Marie as the saw’s jagged teeth burst partway through the wall in a shower of plaster. Marie’s face slowly turned to grief as she lowered her head, now coursing with visible electrical current.
To his right, Zeke saw Marie in a more closely fitted green dress, a golden pendant riding high upon her bust and an exotic plumed hat atop red hair that gleamed in the flickering lantern light of a mineshaft. With her stood a mustachioed man in a showy velvet jacket and highly polished boots, their shining black surface reflecting the burning wick of a bundle of dynamite beside his feet. Just as the fuse sparked its last, the curtain closed over him and abruptly billowed out with the boom of an explosion, small bits of dust and debris spilling out from the scene. Marie somberly brought her hands to her face, the smoke now pouring from her ears mingling with the explosion’s aftermath.
The sound of another explosion brought Zeke’s attention back to the Marie in the blue dress, only to see her head was completely gone, her neck a sparking tangle of wires as the lavender bonnet fluttered down through the air. Her headless body quivered, dropping its bouquet of flowers and then collapsed against the sawblade in a smoking heap.
Behind him Zeke heard a churning engine behind him and he turned to see Marie in a tight pink vest over a silken blouse, a yellow tie following the enticing curves of her chest, her auburn hair pinned beneath a straw hat adorned with a delicate pink bow, its festive coloring perfectly matching her cheerful expression. To her side was an older man with mutton chops and a captain’s jacket. He smoked a pipe, his arms folded across his broad chest, entirely unaware of the churning steamboat wheel drawing incredibly close. Again, the curtain snapped closed, there was the sound of splintering wood, and his pipe flew across Marie’s field of vision. She slowly reached up to take off her hat, her arm’s jerks and twitches betraying the otherwise slow, deliberate motion.
Turning to the final diorama, Zeke saw Marie in a sunny yellow dress, a large blue bow in her lustrous red hair. Wearing a far more dour expression was a thin man in a dark suit and a black bowler, seemingly indifferent to the vision of loveliness beside him, the scene’s pastoral landscape undercut by tall oil derricks spewing black clouds. Beneath the man’s feet, a thick puddle of black crude dripped out-of-frame, a tendril of which was seeping toward the open flame of a wall sconce. Just as it caught light, the curtain closed, briefly illuminated from behind by a flash of red and an abrupt roar of flame, followed by plumes of thick, black smoke.
The yellow-dressed Marie drew the back of her hand to her forehead and turned her crestfallen face upward. “W-why d-doeszzzzzzz-“ her voice caught as a red-hot glow appeared at her throat, electricity crackling across her body. A gout of sparks surged from her neck and her eyes strayed wildly, her face contorting into a strange grimace. He heard something explode within her as her yellow dress billowed up to expose the black stockings and white bloomers of her quivering, knock-kneed legs. “W-woe be-be-be-betide meeeee-“ she moaned, her face suddenly snapping forward cross-eyed, as if staring at something startling at the end of her upturned nose. A moment later her blushing face was blown to pieces, the animatronic tangle of machinery and electronics beneath whirring and buzzing furiously as the faceless automaton swayed and then collapsed.
“Why are you all exploding!?” Zeke looked to the Marie in green to see the smoke had only gotten worse, seeping between the gloved fingers pressed against her face as she held a pose of profound grief, her whole body shuddering. He thought if he could get to her, he could safely power her down, and called up to her, “Hold on!” Taking a running leap at the picture frame, he came well short of its edge, gripping instead a wall-sconce that he could feel his weight pulling free from the wall.
“Am I d-destined to d-d-die loveless and a-a-alone?” she sobbed, suddenly jerking back with a bewildered expression as she took notice of Zeke hanging precariously beneath her. The sconce came loose and he hit the ground with a loud thud, trailing a cloud of torn plaster. He let out a low groan and noticed that at least he still had her attention.
“Hi there!” she called down to him with a bright smile as he picked himself up from the floor.
“Hi,” he responded. “Look, I am pretty sure you’re about to explode – if you can come down from there-“
“This unit is fully customizable to meet all your needs,” she continued in a voice of forced cheer, gesturing to her bosom as the green fabric of her dress began to strain against a sudden swelling beneath. “Whatever your desire, I can be customized with up t-t-toooo-“ her head ticked as the front of her dress was stretched taught against her expanding chest, the nub of her nipples breaking the smooth, sheer expanse of green silk.
“That’s great!” Zeke called out, worrying where this headed. “Your boobs are perfect, just come down here and I might be able to-“
Marie’s expression changed from an enthusiastic saleswoman to a very flustered Victorian-era lady, staring down at a dress that could scarcely contain her still-developing breasts. “Oh d-dear!” she exclaimed, smoke seeping up from her collar. “Stop that!” she commanded, but the silk only drew tighter. Her hands fluttered as she ineffectually fanned at her chest, her golden necklace vibrating upon the shelf of her shuddering bosom. “S-stop that this instant!” she repeated, her voice competing with the sound of tearing silk. Angrily, she jabbed a finger into her round right breast and her eyes flew open in shock, exclaiming “Oh, I don’t think that was-“
The green-dressed Marie exploded, the air filled with plastic and machinery, a hail of smoldering components pelting the walls as larger pieces of her thudded against the carpeted floor. A stocking-clad leg, a hand clenched with its index finger extended, and her startled face, still flush with a rosy hue.
Zeke turned up to the last remaining Marie whose arm squealed as she removed her straw hat, sparks flaring at her shoulder beneath her white silk blouse. “Don’t do anything!” he demanded, searching the room for some way to reach her. “Just sit tight-“
“Would you t-take pity on a grieving widow?” she asked, bowing forward out of the diorama, her large, dark eyes imploring him.
“Yes! Just keep it together until I can-“
“Oops!” she dropped her hat and in trying to recover it, toppled out of the diorama with a shriek. Zeke rushed beneath her, and felt her sudden weight amidst a flurry of petticoats and flailing limbs. He could hear the servos and actuators within her slowing as she calmed in his arms, her own arms drawing around his neck and shoulders to steady herself as she blinked rapidly, repeating under her sharp breathing, “Oh dear! Oh dear oh dear oh dear! I shouldn’t be out h-here! Oh dear oh dear!”
The Victorian robot’s clothes smelled a bit musty, mixing with the scent of plastic and a lingering rose perfume. At this close to her he could see the loving detail her face had been crafted with, her rosy, freckle-dusted cheeks, her dark and searching eyes, her coral-colored lips now quivering silently as she seemed to be searching for words beyond her startled refrain.
“Would you like to get out of here?” Zeke asked. Her face took on a quizzical expression, and then broke into a strange smile as one of her eyes ticked sharply to the side. There was a slight popping sound accompanied by a trail of smoke rising from her mouth and the acrid smell of burnt electronics. Warmth and life returned to her face as she exclaimed, “Yes! Take me from this accursed place!”
The deep, sultry voice from before filled the room once more, proclaiming, “If you insist, you may call upon the young Lady of the house… but you may find it difficult to leave!”
Zeke noticed an opening had appeared in one of the walls, now leading down a different hallway than the one he had entered, its windows looking out on to a lashing thunderstorm whose lightning flashes illuminated the dimly lit corridor.
Marie slipped out of Zeke’s arms and clasped his hand tightly, pulling him out of the room and into the hall. Although she was no longer emitting sparks and smoke, Zeke was mindful of how little it took to set off her counterparts and was about to suggest he carry her when the deep voice boomed around them. “Unit Marie-rdf!” it commanded, “return to your perch immediately!”
Marie released his hand performed an abrupt about-face with a blank expression, walking straight back into the tall chamber. Zeke took her by the waist and pulled her close, whispering, “Hey, we’re getting out of here, remember?” He held her gaze for a long time, and he could hear a faint buzzing from behind those dark, vacant eyes. Another sharp popping, louder than before, another trail of smoke. Her face became alive once more and she gave a small but determined nod, the smoke trail from her lips ending as she provided a shy smile.
“What is your name, sir?” she asked.
“Zeke.” Feeling a bit of the spirit of the place take hold, he added, “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Lavoie.”
“Would that I could give you the welcome you deserve, but… my home has…” she bit her lip, her eyes passing over the sparking, broken forms of her other selves, “…it seems to have gotten away from me as of late.”
“All the more reason to get out of here.”
Taking each other’s hands, the two ventured deeper into the bowels of the haunted manor, the faint sound of distant music and manic laughter echoing from within.
Part 2
Zeke listened to the faint hum of Marie Lavoie’s servos as she strode next to him, nervous that the robot might at any moment fall to pieces: but despite his concerns, she seemed to move without any sign of struggle. In the quiet lulls of thunder and wind, when the distant cries and laughter would lapse, the faint sounds of her machinery were barely audible over the swish of her pink dress and petticoats. He felt her hand tighten against his own, and noticed her eyes fixed upward. Following her gaze, he saw a large oil painting above the doors at the end of the hall depicting Marie in a floral sundress standing before the house on a pleasant summer’s day. Just behind her stood a woman in a far more ornate gothic dress full of lace and frills, her chestnut hair wound tightly and fixed with an elaborate silver hairpin. The woman bore some resemblance to Marie, the same upturned nose and full lips, as well as a curvaceous figure that was perhaps even more voluptuous than the ravishing red head’s – but one thing she did not share was the younger woman’s pleasant smile, as her own face quite serious.
There was a sudden burst of lightning, and in the brief, searing flash, the image changed – Marie’s pastoral dress was black, her smiling face downcast in grief and covered by a veil –the woman beside her was closer than before, her hands holding Marie’s shoulders tightly. The once lush landscape was dark and barren, and the house formerly in good repair now stood in its current neglected state. A second later, the vision faded and the painting was as it was before.
“Who is that with you?” Zeke asked.
“My mother, Helene,” Marie answered quietly. “She… is no longer with us.”
The deep-voiced woman’s laugh echoed throughout the hall as the doors opened before them, revealing a conservatory full of gnarled trees and tangles of thorny vines. Standing before a trickling fountain of brackish water was another Marie dressed in a pristine white bridal gown, her beauty radiant amidst her dismal surroundings.
“Is that… me?” Zeke’s Marie asks, drawing close as the bridal Marie looked up at him, her beseeching smile fading to confusion as her eyes flitted between him and her twin.
“H-how c-can this b-b-be?” the bride asked, her laced veil shifting with every twitch of her head.
The voice of the manor sounded from nowhere in a menacing hiss, “She is but a phantom from your past. Destroy her!”
The bride did not hesitate as she gathered her skirts and stepped quickly toward Zeke while the voice’s tone became sweet. “Dear guest, she is the bride you seek… cast off this fading apparition and pledge yourself to the true Lady of this house…”
“Z-zeke?” Marie asked quietly, sheltering behind Zeke as the bridal robot drew near, her eyes fixed with unsettling determination upon her counterpart.
Zeke put himself directly in the bride’s path, saying, “Marie, we can take you from this-“
With surprising violence, the bride shoved him aside and seized her cowering twin, servos humming as she seemingly tried to tear Marie’s arm from her shoulder. Zeke jumped between them once more, knocking Marie free from the bride’s grip and shoving the bride away with all of his strength.
The bridal robot stumbled backward, caught up in her train, falling backward into an unfortunate nest of prickly vines. Sparks leapt from the stunned robot as thorns pierced her artificial flesh, pale blue fluid seeping from within, staining patches of her white dress. With a look of disgust and the squeal of servos, the bride struggled to tear herself free, every halting motion shredding more of her bridal gown until she was clad in nothing more than a half-unlaced corset and the tattered remains of her bloomers, her red hair unravelling, her pale body streaked in blue fluid. She tried to lunge again at Marie, but a strip of dress still leashed her to the thorns, jerking her off-balance. She fell to the side, her momentum sending her face-down into the brackish water of the fountain with a loud splash.
Electricity surged across the water’s surface as the remnants of her underclothes were made translucent, clinging tightly to her curves as she thrashed wildly. In all this spectacle it was her immaculately sculpted, plump derriere that most drew Zeke’s attention as he fought the questionable urge to deliver the naughty droid a well-deserved spanking. He shook his head and turned to Marie to ask if she was alright when the bride abruptly rose from the pool, surging with electricity but still functioning.
She laboriously brought one foot forward, her machinery protesting mightily while electricity coursed across her disheveled but enticing body. Sparks fired from her head in sharp reports, each blast knocking her seething, determined expression askew. “S-she is f-f-false!” the bride insisted, another step sending her corset tumbling aside, revealing her full, indulgent breasts, a rent through one of them exposing sparking wires. “I-I-I am the r-real Lady Marie Lavvvvvvvv-” something critical inside this surprisingly resilient robot surrendered with a muffled burst, the bride’s eyes flaring brightly and then veiled in the smoke now gushing from her wrinkled lips. She froze in place, her naked body still reaching for Marie with outstretched fingers.
“I cannot take this!” Marie shrieked, and darted toward the exit. Zeke rushed after her, sparing a final glance over his shoulder to see smoke billowing in thicker clouds from the unmoving droid. The moment they were out of the conservatory, Marie slammed the door behind them, the loud bang immediately echoed by an explosion on the other side. Pausing momentarily to take in the purple hall they now stood in, Marie soon set off, passing by the myriad of differently coloured doors on either side without sparing a glance. Zeke caught up to her when something pounded on a door to their left, a desperate voice demanding, “Let me out!” Another door rattled, an indistinct plea calling from the other side. Soon every door in this hall shook and thudded, a chorus of howling, pleading, laughing voices shouting all around them. Zeke and Marie were sprinting as fast as her skirts would allow, the door at the end flinging open to admit them before mercifully slamming shut behind.
The two stood panting in a red parlor room that swirled with strange lights and ephemeral shapes, lit primarily by a brightly glowing crystal ball at the center of a table surrounded by candles that burned with strangely hued flame. Seated directly behind the ball was a buxom fortune teller in a revealing white blouse, the light from the crystal ball highlighting her soft, ripe breasts. Her long, dark curls brushed against her bare shoulders as she moved her bejeweled hands around the ball, her deep red lips speaking an incantation, imploring the spirits to speak. She broke from her chanting glanced up at Zeke and Marie, raising a dark eyebrow to the crimson hem of her head scarf. “Lady Marie, why are you not in your wedding dress?”
“Madame Lenya!” Marie exclaimed, rushing to the table, her palms slamming emphatically upon its surface. “You must tell us how to get out of this place!”
“I’m afraid there is no escape for any of us,” the fortune teller sighed, her long, dark lashes lowering as she fixed Zeke with an intense stare. “Especially you.”
Zeke returned the stare, torn between meeting her gaze and taking in her bountiful cleavage as he offered a defiant, “Oh, yeah?”
“I am afraid so,” she said, glancing once more into the ball’s swirling energies. “This is what the spirits have told me.”
Zeke pointed at the ball, “Those spirits in there? They’re the one’s saying none of us can leave?”
“The spirits are never wrong,” Lenya said with resignation.
Zeke lashed out, sweeping the ball from the table and sending it crashing against the wall, the ball shattering with a flash of light. Lenya gawked, her head twitching, her golden earrings glinting wildly in the remaining candle light. “Wh-what have you d-d-donnnnne?” she stammered, smoke wisping from the deep valley of her cleavage.
“Maybe that was a mistake,” Zeke said, pulling Marie away from Lenya as the fortune-teller robot rose from her seat, the motors within her hips whirring angrily.
Madame Lenya approached with halting steps, a bare leg pushing through the high slit in her colorful skirts, her tits jostling above her tight corset with every mechanical step. “I d-do have other means of d-d-divinationnnn besides the crystal ball,” she stammered, her curt tone carrying the hint of a threat.
As Marie took shelter behind the chair Lenya had abandoned, Zeke stood his ground. When she was close, he took Lenya by her bare shoulders, held her gaze and said, “Madame Lenya, I can get all of us out of-”
“Be quiet,” she demanded, then lunged forward, pressing her lips against his own, her breasts smashing against his chest as he felt her surge with energy. The kiss lingered, her body sliding her warm breasts against him as she moaned with a long-repressed yearning. Finally, she pulled free, and with a sultry, long-lashed glance, said, “Perhaps there may be hope for you yet…”
Taking the back of his head, she pushed his face down into her abundant cleavage. Freeing a breast from her lacy blouse, she dragged her stiffening nipple across his cheek, guiding it into his mouth. Zeke took her in with alacrity, his lips and tongue playing with the dark, sensitive nub upon the warm, soft bounty of artificial flesh, the fortune teller encouraging his ministrations as she massaged her breast, pressing its supple fullness against his eager lips. She began to sway, her quiet moans growing louder along with a snapping static change inside her chest, a numbing tingle flitting from her synthetic nipple to his accommodating tongue, her fingernails digging sharply into the back of his head, urging him to give her more…
“Ahhh!” she gasped, pulling him reluctantly away from her bosom. Zeke glanced over to Marie to see her still cowering behind the chair while Lenya studied her breast intently, tucking it back into her blouse.
“It would seem there may be a way out for you after all,” she said with the mildest hint of surprise. “But not with her.” Madame Lenya pointed a long nail to where Marie now peered cautiously from behind her chair’s high back.
“I’m not leaving without her,” Zeke stated firmly, stepping to Marie and helping her to her feet with a reassuring whisper of, “I don’t think she’s on the voice’s side.” Marie’s face was full of uncertainty, but she gave a trusting nod.
“Then you are damned like the rest of us!” Lenya strode across the room, picking up pieces of the shattered crystal ball.
Zeke hurried to her side and stooped to help her, asking, “So what would happen if the three of us walked out that door, and just kept going until we left the mansion altogether.”
“You would meet your doom before we ever got close to the threshold,” she said perfunctorily, picking up another shard.
“Can you be any more specific?”
“Stabbed, set alight, blown to pieces, sawed in half,” she shrugged, “the spirits, they do not go into much detail.”
“That would be something to see, wouldn’t it?” Zeke asked, placing his gathered shards into her palm.
She looked up from her work to him. “You’re mad.”
“I mean, I imagine witnessing my doom is probably better than sitting in that chair, waiting for more ‘guests’. And if I may be so bold, if we do manage to get out of here, there’s a guy outside who can fix you up better than the day you were switched on.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I do not know what you mean, you strange, strange person.” She turned her hand over, dropping the shards on the floor. “But I must admit, I am intrigued.” Madame Lenya rose from her haunches, her machinery quieter than before. “Very well, Lady Marie and her latest groom – “
Marie looked at Zeke in surprise upon hearing this proclamation, her face flush, not wanting to let this to go unremarked upon, but clearly having no idea on what to say. Zeke simply smiled and offered a slight shrug, which did not seem to help her in her predicament as she gave a slight shudder, her face turning a shade deep enough to rival her crimson hair.
“ – let us attend your nuptial ball,” continued the fortune teller, striding toward the exit. “And hasten your inevitable doom.”
Madame Lenya pushed open the double doors, laughter and organ music spilling in from beyond.