The Binding

The Binding

By Shane LaGrange

Prompt: Set your story at a convention for a hobby most people have never heard of.

Ding.

The quiet beep from David Henning’s phone told him, certain events around his area. Namely comic conventions. Twenty years old and he still read them. His highlight of the month was UPS bringing a parcel of superheroes, one-shots, and specialty comics. Much better than going to the local comic store.

His phone rang to the tune of Tubular Bells. A video call was coming in.

His lock screen was a picture of his girlfriend-Tamera Martin, nineteen, and of mixed heritage. He admired her exotic complexion and dark eyes before entering his four-digit password.

A Sharing of Friends invites you to our special comic convention.

The time is this Saturday at 11: am

A surprise awaits!

Odd he noticed. No weblink to click. Why was it delivered so soon, and tomorrow morning? Usually receives these advancements s couple of months ahead of time. Gives him time to plan. This was way off in the left field.

“What is up?” He asked of his friend, Clayton. Sandy brown hair swept over his face. Brown eyes leering at him, and David knew why: sis sister. Clayton had it bad for her ever since junior high, when she turned from an ugly duckling into a Swan. What a Swan he thought.

“”bout time you answered.”

“I just got a text on my phone. A special comic’s convention tomorrow.”

“That is impossible. No one throws an event like that in a few days much less one. Look it up.”

He opened up Google, he typed in the name. The phone thought for a moment; then delivered the answer. On the other end, things were getting noisy.

“Camille, what are you doing1 Mom!”

“I am a Zopie,” the unseen voice said. “I need to munch on your leg.”

His mother was yelling that they had a trip to prepare for; he needed to start packing

Itinerary posted at the door day of the convention.

He scrolled down further: Free event caught his eye.

“This said it is free!”

“Bullspiut,” Clayton replied. “Must be Thomas and his gang of Rat Roaches. I am sure they would like to get a whole of you after what Little Debby did to him.”

“Would you stop calling her that? She is my sister and Thomas is not that bright. He couldn’t send a text if it was step by step on YouTube.”

“If you are looking for a ride from me, I guess you heard Mom. A family bonding adventure waits. Complete was all the boredom I can stand and NO phone.

“I am telling mom you said that!” The Zopie stated.

“Don’t you have packing to do? Go! Unless I whack you with a crucifix. . . .you gonna bring? No, someone had to take you. Let me think, who has a car you can borrow?”

David thought for a moment, as Clayton’s mother continued to nag. He could bring Tamera along if he promised her something special afterward. She really was not into the whole horror/science fiction genre. She tolerated it. This might send her over the edge. He could not have that. Not for a moment. 

“I M ON THE PHONE!” Clayton roared.

I can call my sister I guess.”

Davis heard more voices on the other end; his father was getting in on the action.

“Little Debs? Too bad I can’t get out of, our trip,” he pantomimed his mother. “Just what we need to become a family again.”

“She’s my sister,” David said again.

“Half-sister bro’ you know what I say, as long as they aren’t blood-related.”

“That isn’t right,” David said as pounding noises came from his friend’s door.

“Open up son, you know my rules.”

“Gotta go. If I go all Manson you know what to do.”

“Get the cell next to you so you won’t be violated.”

The call ended with Clayton walking across the room to open the door before exiting the call. David saw an image: a picture on the wall as he walked by on purpose.

“It was a poster-size blown up from a photograph of his sister in a sizzling two-piece bikini from the beach last summer.

“Slime!” David said as the call ended. “No being cellmates for that!”

He punched up the number for his sister.

***

Saturday. Nine am

Unseen he rolled his eyes at their conversation prior to picking him up and driving off. The Rapper/R&B from down under, Iggy Azalea was either singing something or speaking a foreign language. The title Heavy Crown was all he understood. He was sure this was his punishment for even bringing the subject up.

“You really should buy yourself a car. You certainly have enough saved up or ask mom.”

“Step-mother you mean.”

“Whatever. You should have talked to her instead of calling me. I am sure she would like to know you.”

“She would like to know when I am moving out.”

“Then move out.”

“Why? It is my home. I shouldn’t have to leave my home,” he bitterly replied. “Anyway, she and dad are gone for the weekend.”

 Silence greeted her, the rest of the way, as they exited the freeway; arriving with three minutes to spare, as they arrived at the sprawling multiplex convention center. The parking lot devoid of cars and trucks delighted her to no end. A fact she kept driving as David got out of the car.

“Deserted,” she finished. “What do you think of that? Must be a prank from your pev friends He was constantly in my face all when I was at the beach.”

David glanced down at his sister’s shapely thighs and calves. The black skirt and stiletto heels was compounding the issue of what Clayton said to him.

“You look at my tots and there is going to be trouble.” She reached for the ignition to start the car back up again.

“Just a minute,” David said hushing her up. He got out of the car and quickly surveyed the area. He saw two more individuals: a guy and another woman walk toward the direction of the entrance.

“Two more just showed up,” he announced turning toward her. “We are here. Might as well check it out. It is free after all”

“Fine,” she retorted getting out of the convertible. “At least something is worth it out of all this. My day is already shot to hell.”

She got out of the car; straightening her top. Her breast strained at the material.

He wanted to say, we have a washing machine. . .but he held his tongue. She would pull it out and wrapped it around a body part he needed.

The sun was bright, and she flipped open her Foster Grants as they walked somewhat side by side toward the glass doors.

“Lighten up a bit,” David said. “You look like you are telling everyone to F.O.”

“Don’t get on my bad side. It is a long way back to your house; you may or may not get a ride back. Besides, I don‘t want to call attention to myself.”

 The rest of the minute and a half hike was in silence. She parked way in the back. Yet, another form of displeasure. She was good at mental punishment. No doubt, she missed her calling as a dominatrix.

They entered the building and to his disappointment, the hall was empty. No vendors, no banners, no Cosplayer or overweight basement dwellers. Just two other women. 

To the left, a table with soda and chips and dips for them to enjoy. In front, a podium with a curtain draped across the backside, hiding what was there.

“Real high-class stuff,” Debby snorted. “What is next? A magic act?”

One of the other guests, a tall man with graying beard and hair spotted the young woman.

“Deborah?” He said. 

David caught the inflection in his tone. Surprised, shock or scared. Knowing his sister, he banked on the third one.”

“Professor Shielding,” she purred going over to the buffet table. : How are you?”

Miss Henning, “he managed to say, trying not to look at her tight skirt or the ample cleavage showing out of her top. “I see you are well. “

“Well enough. Sorry to hear about the death of your wife. “

David turned back at his sister’s stinging words.

“I thought we put that behind us after the grade I gave you,” he whispered. 

“You did I did not,” Deborah hissed back. “Not unless you want certain photos to start copping up, you better take me out tonight.”

David gave a silent moan and returned his attention to the others. Sandy Beechman was twenty-five. Petite and compact with an hourglass body. An avid horror fan and Podcaster of wrestlers. She took out her phone; showed him her hobby of collecting Funko Pops. Cheryl Bliss was thirty. Long blond hair and also fit. A lesbian and exotic sex writer. Her hobby was Twitter and Mixed Martial Arts

“What about you?” Sandy asked David.

“Comic,” he replied.

“A man of few words,” Cheryl teased as David’s face turned red. “Those are the kind I like the best.”

Deborah came back to the small group dragging the professor behind her.

“We all good?” Deborah asked. “It looks like dudsville here.”

Cheryl took a look at David’s sister admiring everything she had to offer; was about to make a suggestion when the lights went black.

A few minutes later, Champagne bubbles though not the real kind, but simulated through a strobe light.

“What the fuck?” Deborah asked as floor lights lit up the stage, and a woman came out from behind the curtain.

“I had hoped for more,” she began. “Perhaps next time.

The woman had platinum blond hair that cascaded around her shoulders and fell to the middle of her back. 

“I am Angela Grey.”

“You are in trouble that what young lady,” 

“Professor Shielding,” she said. “You hide your filthy act behind a screen of academia standards. While in truth you are nothing more then a pervert.”

“I don’t know who you profess to be but I had enough,” He turned to the direction of the doors; only to find out they were gone. He waved furiously at the bubbles that swirled faster.

“Turn off these foolish lights!”

“Where are the doors?” Sandy asked.

Cheryl wobbled a bit and tried to fall on Deborah for support. “I-I-is there so-o-o-mething wrong with the room?” she stuttered.

 Deborah shoved her off as David caught her.

“Sandy Beechman,” Talented speaker and electronic expert, but you would rather use that body to hoodwink gullible men; asking much and giving little.”

Sandy felt sick as well; as the bubbles swung faster colliding with each other and splitting off into small bubbles. David and Cheryl collapsed onto the floor as vertigo claimed them. Now, loud music pumped into the room. Heavy metallic guitar riffs assaulted their ears making their equilibrium even more worst as the bubbles became insane; bouncing around them like moths.

“What did we do to you?” Cheryl screamed as she puked coffee and some other half-digested particle onto the floor.

“You and the new girl--nothing. I never had a threesome with two women. I might enjoy it.”

“Not on my life!” Deborah said as she felt herself pulling away. It was an indescribable feeling and it pained her. “Help me!” She cried as both Shielding and David caught her arms, the music was deafening; the two men found it hard to keep a grip on her. Suddenly, with a screech, she was gone.

With everyone on the floor writhing around, she stepped off the stage. She walked slowly around them.

:W-w-why,” David crocked.

“Isn’t it obvious sweetie? I am insane. I found out my talent quite by accident when a young man broke into my house and tried to rape me.” He and others are in this,” she said patting her compact disk player. Hooked on her belt.

Strangely enough, they could actually hear over the thunderous solos.

“Changing times called for updates. The others are stored safely until I can find a way to transfer them.” Now . . .it’s time to go/”

They felt their spirits rise; saw their bodies lying on the floor; they tried to resist hoping someone would hear and call the police. 

 One by one, they became part of the grooves of the CD. Never to see home, family, or friends again. She, however, left Cheryl to stay. The spirit hovering above her not quite sure what to do.

 Angela curtseyed;  Cheryl bowed, and together they began to say to sway and hold each other close to music only Angela could hear.