17 February 1980
Date of Sentencing: 28 September 2016
Date of Execution: T.B.D.
Subject was caught, and charged, on multiple occasions with sexually harassing professors and students at Vereor Nox Academy, all of the female gender. Several [of the victims] have stated it was, “against their wishes”. The attending Death Marsh from the African branch confronted him on these matters, and stated that he, “did no such thing”.
Upon being approached by the Death Marsh for the fourth time, under orders from the head of the jurisdiction to bring him home, he assaulted and mutilated an attending professor, as well as harmed the charged Death Marsh.
Due to diplomatic formalities, subject has been sentenced to the Black Halls, his fate postponed until word has arrived from the foreign branch.
20 April 1998
Date of Sentencing: 14 February 2015
Date of Execution: Undetermined
Subject murdered another student on the grounds of Vereor Nox Academy the morning of the fourteenth of February. When questioned, her reasoning was due to suspicion, “that ho trying to steal my man”. The attending teacher was maimed, as well, and the lover in question fled. Due to the nature of the incident, isolation until graduation is the wisest course of action.
If subject were to kill again while in the Black Halls, Immediate Termination.
19 March 1999
Date of Sentencing: 09 November 2015
Date of Execution: Undetermined
Subject conspired with another student on the grounds of Vereor Nox Academy to commit an act of terrorism against the White House and the president of the United States. Her co-conspirator fled before local officials were able to entrap them. Upon questioning, the subject knew very little of the plan, leading the investigators to believe her cohort was the mastermind.
Keeping her alive is the only way to preserve a chance to stop the true threat. If she attempts to escape, terminate.
09 September 1999
Date of Sentencing: Unknown
Date of Execution: N/A
Subject is the only living minotaur. Too dangerous to be in society. Subject has been quarantined until the time comes when he is assessed and deemed no longer a threat.
NOTE: All female employees must wear proper attire at all times around the subject. All female employees must carry a forty-volt (40-volt) stun gun, Eighty ounce (80 oz.) mace canister, and a minimum of 30-caliber bullet gun. Extremely dangerous: wound if necessary.
25 December 1991
Date of Sentencing: 03 May 2014
Date of Execution: 12 December 2017
Subject was charged for fourteen (14) acts of murder, rape, assault with a deadly weapon, including poison, and general widespread terror. The most grievous of charges, however, was that she exposed herself to the commonwealth, which may have lead to painting a negative picture that will take an indeterminate amount of time to mend, hindering potential integration of himan with human society.
Subject to be terminated with great prejudice lest the attending professor can prove otherwise before the appointed time.
14 February 1944
Date of Sentencing: 14 February 2014
Date of Execution: N/A
Subject charged with murder of a commoner that had rented a room in the motel on the outskirts of Paradise, West Virginia. During investigation, the Death Marshes found evidence she had been plotting the murder against the individual for, at minimum, three years. Subject used her natural talents to commit the murder.
Upon reaching the crime scene, the active Death Marsh found subject at the steps of the Academy, pleasuring herself.
Due to the nature of the crime, isolation is the best course of action. If subject attempts to escape, terminate.
Aliases: Jack the Ripper, Spring-heeled Jack, From Hell
Turned: 12 August 1894
Date of Sentencing: 04 April 2015
Date of Execution: T.B.D.
Subject was apprehended at Vice Versa on the fourth of April 2015. Due to the timeline he was not able to be executed, and, because of good behavior, he is on a probation standard. If he can prove he can change his ways, he will be allowed to be in isolation for the rest of his days. If he cannot, terminate.
Date of Sentencing: 01 January 2012
Date of Execution: N/A
Subject is to be considered a threat. If you are to handle anything sharp, take extreme caution. If need be, make sure she isn’t in the area. Termination of employee if they fail to comply.
Date of Sentencing: 05 June 2014
Date of Execution: N/A
Subject has been found guilty of, and charged for, at minimum, two-hundred forty-seven (247) counts of solicited sex over her four years at Vereor Nox Academy and the location it presides, drawing eyes from society as a whole. Due to her nature, she was isolated, so as not to bring too much unwanted attention, or too many unwanted eyes, to the school and himan populace.
Date of Sentencing: 14 February 1977
Date of Execution: N/A
Subject volunteered for isolation on the fourteenth of February of 1977. Though he refuses to leave, he is more than allowed.
NOTE: Female employees are to keep a minimum of ten feet away at all times unless given special permission from the attending dean. Employees are to take extreme caution around anything sharp, and, if necessary, make sure he is not in the same room. If any employee fails to adhere to these orders they are to be terminated.
30 October 1994
Date of Sentencing: 14 February 2012
Date of Execution: N/A
Subject was rescued and placed in the Black Halls for his own safety on the fourteenth of February of 2012 after being found sexually harassed, assaulted, tortured, and abused in a proiment sorority buildings of West Virginia University. Upon extraction, there was conflict from and an altercation with the attending females, leading to the subject being hospitalized.
He was in intensive care for three days, whereupon he was moved to the Black Halls and given a choice of rooms. Subject chose the furthest room from anyone. He has been receiving counseling; the date upon this document shows forty-seven counselors have been fired due to sexual harassment.
NOTE: Do not sexually reciprocate with Norman Manson. Any employee that does is terminated with extreme prejudice.
Aliases: [Self-proclaimed] Eros, Aphrodite, Beauty Incarnate, Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing
Turnover Rate: average two-and-a-half years
Date of Sentencing: 19 February 1992
Date of Execution: T.B.D.
Subject was caught in Alabama on the nineteenth of February 1992, ending a himanhunt that spanned forty-seven (47) years. She has been found guilty of, at minimum, eighty-seven (87) murders. Three of her victims were found on her body at the time of her arrest.
Subject to be considered extremely dangerous. Lethal force permitted.
Samantha sat at her desk in the black halls, reading, rereading, rereading her rereadings of the rereadings. It wasn’t a lot superficially, but the more she took in the more she came to realize she was way in over her head. She would have to be teaching criminals, murderers- rapists! She would be alone in a classroom with, from what the pictures shown, big, burly men that could easily have their way with her.
It really was a question of who got fucked over more: her, or the woman on her laptop. It was a newer model, one that made her phone look prehistoric. It had a thirty-six-inch screen, in crisp high definition, making the hentai playing upon it immaculate. How the screen glowed with that busty woman, moaning as if her life depended on it as her lower lips were skewered by that lance of flesh. Every line that was drawn for those magnanimous breasts, for their pert and detailed cherry areolas, for the wrinkles in the old bastard’s balls and the veins throbbing along the penetrating part could be seen, all running at a sinfully smooth one-hundred twenty frames per second. Technology sure was amazing.
The old man bit the woman’s breast, making her yelp-turned-whine. His wrinkly face took up most of the shot, speaking in moon runes that could only be discerned to have some dark connotation. The light darkened on his scrunched visage, casting a nasty hue over the pictures attached to the packets, each beginning with those small overviews. Samantha ignored the screen, for the moment, and returned to Junmei. She gazed into those topaz eyes, seeming to glitter through the polaroid, locking his sour mood forevermore. His hood was retracted, its silvery folds glistening in the shot, shifting as the hentai changed point of view, returning to the old man’s hog thrusting into the woman’s pen. It sped up, the moaning reaching its height before turned into a long wail as he exploded inside and out of her. The old man’s orbs throbbed, almost flatenning as with each convulsion, its payoff gushing river after river into those soft, pixelated lips, which only made Samantha laugh.
“It should have been dust. Ah, fu... why do I watch this shit aga-” She began, but winced, hiding her moan by biting her lip. Her legs twitched and rose the desk a touch while her chair creaked. It was already soaked twice before, given another coat. Shame, too; it was a nice chair. It wasn’t anywhere near as nice as Lilith’s (most likely by choice), but it had a wide back, lined with soft, marbled fabric. It was dyed a deep blue, with a once matching cushion, more than likely bleached a few shades when all was said and done.
She pulled her hand up just to ponder if she should let it go back down, answered as another man had slipped in between on the scene, thrusting into that “school girl”. Spunk drooled out of the pixelated hole, even as the new fellow thrust in, but the camera wasn’t kept there long, panning to the girl’s face at last, showing off her ‘soulless’ yellow eyes, her short, pink, pixie hair, already blotted with its own sheen of the white slurry.
The first crotchety fart had made his way around to those begging lips, but Samantha chose to close the window. She sighed, a heavy thing, as it was anymore since she arrived to this backwater dung heap, and leaned back in the chair, staring at the steel ceiling. It was so pristine, so pure, so clean, as was all the steel walls. There wasn’t a single line to be seen, seamless in its entirety, as if it was built then the world around it rose. A splendor; as were most of her mother’s works.
And now she was trapped in it –at least one of them. For at least a year... She snorted, and thumped the chair back down, checking the folders one last time. She checked the desk, as well, but was only left with a cocked brow, realizing one of the more important details.
“Odd,” she muttered, looking them over again... but... no matter how much she did, her math was proper. And it didn’t add up. “Thought there were supposed to be thirteen students, but there are only twelve here. Is there another later?”
She yawned, and stretched her arms-
Crying out as the chair fell over. At last.
She yelped, moaned, then growled and rolled over. Her dark, rather plump rump would have been seen by any who would dare enter her room at that time. It would have given them an ample eyeful of something else, as well, even more as she crawled her way to the bathroom in the back. The floor of the metal box was given a layer of fine blue carpeting, whispering, caressing her hands and knees. She used the bed, a full-sized covered in black sheets and casings, before its door to stand, and pressed the small, square button beside it. She waited for the metal to hiss aside, to seem to melt into the left wall, then stumbled inside. Its lights flickered on, but shown so bright through the small holes dotting through the quaint space. The seafoam green tile shined, mocking her the entire way to the porcelain throne, where she plopped. And mulled. She hummed, resting her head in between her hands, looking at the wall across.
“So who is going to be the thirteenth,” she grumbled. Turned to a groan. She smacked the wall beside, giving off a hollow clang. “Fucking bullshit... She’s forcing me through the wringer. Setting me up to fail... Why take it out on me? It was m...”
She bit her tongue, and spent the rest of the time in silence, returning to the computer. The entire time, though, she felt a soft pressure on the back of her head. Maybe that fall did more than she expected, but it was more annoying now. She didn’t have a choice but to pay closer attention to the soft whining that plagued that place, but she still didn’t really have the slightest clue of what to do... Maybe she could buy a bit of time.
No class this week. Will be doing
Personal evaluations until the
End of the week. Schedule is
Listed Below. Can’t wait to
Meet you all! <3<3<3
Today: Junmei, Jack S., Ayn
Wednesday: Marcy, Buffy, Ginger
Thursday: Bella, Jack B., Norman
Friday: Peter, Monica, Lisa
Samantha taped the sign on the classroom door, humming softly. It was a bit taller than her torso, pushed as high as she could, and even then it only made it three-fourths up the door. The bottom rested at her elbow’s level, and was only given a single strip of tape. She wiped her hands, pocketing the roll in her black jacket, replacing it with her cell.
An hour ahead of schedule. She puffed out her chest, barely making a dent in her cream top this day, feeling incredibly accomplished for not only setting up an entire schedule her first day but also allotting time precisely for everyone. Let’s see Lilith take that from-
Her cell buzzed, finding a text from the Devil, Herself.
I forgot to mention. Students are only allowed to leave their rooms during class. Five minutes before the start of it, the entire hall will open. Sorry if this caused any issues.
Samantha looked down at the phone. Then at the sign. Then at her phone again- then at the sign. her eye twitched, her breath shook –harder than her hands as she, calmly, returned a message.
They are already prisoners. Why limit their freedom that much? Can they get out? Do you have that little faith in your security?
It’s not a matter of security but safety. Some students are better with minimum exposure to others. If you wish, they can be allowed to roam. What may come will be your responsibility.
Samantha paused, and lowered her phone, taking a deep breath. Before she went through with her actual want. The laptop was nice, but she doubted she could convince Lilith that her phone suddenly exploded. She rested her head on the cool steel wall, looking down. Her legs were covered in bright white stockings, blinding her in the soft light that morning. She pushed away, her heels, those sapphire pumps clacking away up the hall, pacing it.
What would be the best answer? Would she allow them to run willy-nilly, to be a potential threat... to bring her down? But keeping them constantly locked up –but maybe they had creature comforts like her. Perhaps it wasn’t so bad- being locked up against your will is never good for your health. Being allowed to stretch, at any time, is a freedom many take for granted... well, maybe not all the time.
She stopped, and sent a message.
A curfew. They aren’t allowed out after... 10 AM? Until an hour before class –even on weekends and days off.
Samantha waited for a response, loathing that high pitched whine that continued to drone. It seemed to lance right into her mind, piercing it over and over like that woman last “night”, but at least there was a true end to that. Even as she slept, that whine never left, sneaking into her dreams, where she had replaced the busty beauty and was being rammed by the new lad. Her legs trembled a touch, squeezing together, remembering how his hard member “thrust” inside her virginal lips –which were better by default. After all, not only were they not censored, but were a nice, dark choco-
Her phone buzzed.
It has been arranged. The doors should be opening-
The hallway shrieked with an electronic squall. It washed over her, froze the blood in her veins, locking her in place until it slowly faded away. One by one, solid booms raced up the hall, the doors giving small huffs as they were broken of their seal.
Thank you for the heads-up, Samantha sent, stumbling over her words in both terror and fury. Mostly fury. She pocketed her phone, and heaved an exasperated sigh... feeling very small as eyes appeared from the doors, gleaming. And, with them, came a new feeling:
Those eyes did not want her there, and only when she retreated up the stairs and to her room did she hear the doors fully open. Heavy feet, spindly steps, and feathers could all be heard emerging from the dark rooms. She had kept her own door open, only a crack, but she dared not look out it, in case they felt her stare as she had felt theirs. So, simply waited as they walked under the stairs, one by one, waiting for the others.
One scoffed, and a soft smack was heard.
“Why are you first, Junmei?” A girl said. Her voice was way too high and spirited for someone down here, accompanied by a moan that fit more in a brothel. “Why do I have to wait until the end of the week to meet our yummy teacher?”
“I’ll trade you,” another said, a deeper, velvety voiced woman. It had a bit of an Orlean slur to it, heavily accented by thick lips. An accent Samantha knew all too well. “That cunt looks like nothing but trouble. A Coffey.”
“Come on, guys. She didn’t seem that bad,” another, a boy, stated, chuckling. “In fact, she looked as lost as us.”
“Which should terrify you. This is the person that is supposed to be teaching us? Look at her note, filled with needless prattle. If this is any indication of her mental capacity, I think we’ll be the ones babysitting.”
“Trust me. When I came down here, the emoji movement was in full swing,” a lighter voiced woman said. “We should be thankful there’s not a poop one on there somewhere. Besides, this looks like she has some idea of what she’s doing.”
“And why do you say that?”
“The way it is structured, she is going up the hall. She is starting with those closest to the doors and working her way to the classroom. Most likely to gauge how long it should take each person to get to class.”
“Oh! Then she doesn’t trust us.”
“Or she wants to make sure to allow enough time.”
“Regardless, you can have my room today, Monica.”
“Really? Yay!” The first girl’s voice returned, rippling with such excitement.
“We really shouldn’t try to sabotage her. Not on the first day, at least,” another voice spoke up, this one a lot more lax, almost seeming to be carried out of her rather than spoke. “Ayn, just put up with it. You may not like her, but you can at least give a chance.”
“This note was her chance, and I am already left wanting.” She exclaimed- and gasped, spluttering. “N-N-Norman! What are y-”
“Come on, Ayny,” the boy interjected, chuckling as the woman kept sputtering, ending with a growl.
“Fine, but don’t do that again.”
“But you love it when I hug you.”
“S... shut up.”
She huffed, her final word on the matter, and her feet could be heard padding back to her room. It ended with a thunderous slam, signaling another door to open. The halls thudded with hooves, booming against Samantha through the door before fading underneath. A deep voice rolled as it mulled over the sign, and heaved a weary sigh.
“Great. I got to deal with her today?” The voice said, and cleared his throat. The next time he spoke, the voice seemed to slam into Samantha, slung her way through the landing and door. “I’ll simply be in my room, naked, jacking off my massive wang. I hope she has the courtesy to knock beforehand.”
“Minos,” the floaty woman grumbled, lost under the first girl’s, Monica’s, whining.
“Oh, so you’ll pleasure yourself, but not let me do it?!”
“He’s not going to be actually doing that-”
“But why? Think about it! It can lead to love, lots and lots of it. Maybe even long time.”
“On second thought, you’re right!” The one known as Minos said. “I’ll just be sitting in the dark. Don’t want to risk it.”
He chortled as he walked away, and so did the rest, leaving Samantha to wonder who, exactly, was this Minos. Was he the thirteenth student? But he said he was being seen today; who would have that kind of nickname?
She checked her notes while she waited for everyone to settle back into their rooms. It took some time, but it gave her enough to look through and make a guess on who was referred to as Minos.
Who else would be but the man from the Mediterranean.
She rolled her eyes.
“Of course it would be the minotaur,” she grumbled, but found her cheeks growing warm, recalling what he said. Maybe he was simply saying it to get her flustered, but a Minotaur must have a large one, right? They were half bull. Would it be a bull’s, though, or a human’s? Would it have mattered to her, walking in to see him stroking it. It would be slow, slow enough that she could see that huge member throb in between each, glistening with pre in the dim light from the hall, rolling down from the tip.
She licked her lips, panting as she “watched” him, enthralled by the not only the turgid member but balls under. Each would be as large as her fist, squeezing in, forcing another dollop onto the head. All the while, his soft, amber eyes would glow behind it, burning with want. For her. Need for her, demanding her to approach. He could see a smug smile on his face as she would, giving the tip a small l-
She gasped, and pulled her hand from between her legs.
“Dammit, Sam,” she grumbled. “Show some fucking professionalism. You are on the cock- clock! Clock!”
She shook her head, and rose to her feet... holding onto the desk until her legs settled. Junmei was first, and Samantha simply prayed his English was above “moderate”, as was stated in the dossier. Though some of that fear was alleviated hearing him speak earlier, it was still so thick with an Arabic accent which was how he knew it was him. Course, that was profiling; Monica didn’t have an accent, after all. At least, not one she could hear –but that could have been the difference between an immigrant from decades before and a foreign exchange student, too.
Regardless, his door was at the beginning of the hall. The airy woman assumed correct, though... it... it was best that they only thought that rather than asked. Really, it was an accident; she had opened a roulette wheel on her laptop, put their names in, and went with the results. Thanks to gambling, she was shown to be somewhat competent; a good start, all things considered.
The door’s shield was slid away, allowing Samantha to look in... and see coils upon coils of bright silver scale wrapped around a suspended bed. One end twitched, its tip shimmering in the light coming from the TV, while the other ended with a tanned chest and arms, mauling a pillow as flecks of dark brown hair glowed with the buzzing screen. She cleared her throat... and... and...
And continued to pace the hall, mumbling, shuddering a little.
I knew he was going to be big, but not that big! she whimpered, fighting back her screams, but one slipped free feeling a hand on her shoulder. She wheeled... and looked down. It was only a touch, just below her chin, but it was needed to see a very soft face. Lilac eyes beamed up at her, nestled between bright, red, flowing locks of hair. Their hand slipped down to hers, shaking it. Their smile was infectious, catching on her face, smiling back at them. They were still in their pajamas, little more than puce silk, hugging against their waist, giving them a very curvy form... and, even with all that, she wasn’t certain if it was a boy or girl. Or who it even was. This must have been the thirteenth, right?
“Morning,” they said, their voice soft, lilting, the boy from earlier. “You must be our professor.”
“W-why yes, I am. Y-y-you must be... um...”
“Don’t worry. It’s your first day. I’m Norman.”
She blinked. “You’re Norman?”
He looks nothing like his photo. She shook her head, waving her hands. “N-nothing! I simply expected someone more... macho?”
“What? Me? Nah.” He flicked his hair, catching the light behind, and giggled. Actually giggled. “So I saw the door. If you don’t mind, can we just get mine over with? I have a new therapist coming around that time.”
“Sounds good to me. I love a student who can really take charge.”
… He laughed, shaking his head as he lead her to his room. And had her sit on his bed. At least, tried to. There didn’t seem to be anything nefarious behind it, but his dossier painted a very different picture than the sweet, innocent boy before her. The photos from the hospital, alone, showed a man easily thrice her height and twice as wide, made of chiseled muscle. Yet this... boy was trying to say he was Norman?
Oh, but she wouldn’t sit on the bed, as she said. Though she came close, she was lost to curiosity and wonder as she looked around, even more confused. The room was filled with... color. Bright, warm colors, mixing together, spanning down to an easel, to a bookshelf loaded with art. Once again clashing with the dossier she had been given on him. She... eased the chair away from the easel, the paintbrushes shuddering so, and he handed her a bit of cloth, keeping her rump from getting wet by the paint on it.
“Thanks,” she said.
He waved it off, and sat on his bed in her stead. He clasped his hands together, smiling sadly.
“So, what do you want to know?” He said. “How a bunch of sorority girls ganged up on me? How they caused so much bodily harm, or why I didn’t fight back? Or how my appearance has changed?”
“I... I wasn’t thinking t-”
He shook his head, looking into her eyes, his glowing a bit.
“You don’t need to lie. I can see it all anyways.”
He sighed, and leaned back, his smile growing softer as he did.
“I may be a lust demon, but... I’m... well, different.” He chuckled. “I guess you’ll hear that a lot from demons, but it’s true. I... do not like lust. I... I hate it. Thoroughly. I prefer matters of the heart. Love, true love over the chemicals of lust and sex... but I’m bound to fulfill any lustful wish... even against my will.” He rubbed his stomach, biting his lip. “One of the girls... Her name was... was... Tina. Her name was Tina. She was my friend at the time. She... she thought I was simply gay. Not wrong, but only when around guys who want it. Her... she had the inkling to... test me. ‘To fuck the gay out of me’. The rest of her sorority jumped on it, all wanting that same wish, and I had to watch as my friend, whom I thought was my friend anyways, held me down, letting them... letting t...”
Samantha touched his arm, and he recoiled... laughing, wiping his face.
“Sorry. Therapist told me it would have been a good idea to open to my teacher, so I... kinda rushed into it.”
“It’s all right.” She did not know why she bothered to lie to him, her thoughts clear for him to see that she was, understandably, freaked out, but he settled a bit all the same. She cleared her throat, and motioned to the art around. “Did your therapist say to pick up painting, or are you simply this flamboyant?”
“Flamboyant? Oh! I get it! You mean do I give off this much color.” He chuckled, and picked up and twirled a paintbrush. “Nah. I always loved art, music. I once had a dream to play the cello... but...” He held up his other hand, and tried to have it relax. It had other plans, the bones crackling, wrapping, contorting around themselves and over each other, trembling the entire time. “Someone desired that I could never use them for anything but them... I’m fortunate that painting is more in the wrist and arm than hands... It was nice meeting you. I’m so sorry I rushed this all on you.”
He said this as she was standing, giving her pause. His lilac eyes seemed to well with tears, grimacing as she saw them, as such... pitiable thoughts went through her mind. She patted his shoulders, her gut twisting a little as he shuddered under, and tried her damnedest to keep her mind positive. Even if he saw through it, it was better than nothing. The effort would be enough... wouldn’t it?
“That’s enough,” she said, softly, and patted the top of his head. “Thank you, Norman.”
He shook his head again, and stood, following her to the door. He bowed, and closed it, leaving her to trudge back down the hall, more than ready to deal with her own fear after that –come to think of it, did he actually answer a single question?