Wriggle Like a Fucking Eel

"Take a deep breath, Stella. Breathe… whenever you're ready, you may begin."

Zeke Don watched as his student masterfully performed, her fingers gliding and the bow striking the strings with intensity. Years of practice had paid off, and he felt that she had finally grown into the young, confident player he imagined she would be. It was astonishing: the way her posture was perfected, how she struck the strings without a single moment of self-doubt, how deftly she handled sudden transitions in tempo. It was as if she was a lifelong master. At the end of the piece, his most prized student looked up at him.

"How did I do?" She seemed hesitant, shaking a bit and catching her breath.

"You did absolutely wonderful. You handled that like a champion." Zeke smiled and patted her head, as Stella quickly regained confidence and beamed back up at him.

"Thank you so much! Do you think I'm ready to perform for next week, Mr. Don?" Stella asked, her eyes wide. The door opened as a woman looked in, smiling at the two and waving. They both waved back.

"You're more than ready. I'd keep practicing. Next week is our last lesson before the competition. Be sure to meet me at your school the next day so I can wish you good luck, okay?" Stella nodded as she started to pack up to leave. The woman walked over to them, situating herself near her daughter and waiting.

"Same amount as usual?" she asked.

"Yup, though just for you Mary, I'll let you pay half at $45." Zeke confidently quipped, a sly smile growing on his face. A few seconds of silence hung between them before Mary handed him $90. His smile dropped for a bit as he took the money and stuffed it in his pockets. "Are you still alright with getting dinner tonight? It's not often I'm able to have a free night with y—" The look she gave him made his smile drop. Mary moved much closer to Zeke, dropping her voice down to a whisper.

"Not here, Zeke. We've had this talk before."

"At least one last date tonight? It would be nice to go out on amicable terms, right?" A bit more silence before Mary backed up a bit and sighed.

"Sure. Harry & Mason's?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"But this is it." she exclaimed sternly before heading by the door where Stella had headed. She waved to Zeke, smiling.

"See you next week, Mr. Don!" Stella yelled as Zeke smiled and waved back.

"See you next week," Zeke replied as he immediately started to cut off all emotional ties.

The lights flashed on when D-7294 entered the testing area, and he covered his eyes to shield them from most of the brightness. It was a sensation he could never get used to in testing, and it was easily the worst part of any day. The intercom switched on, with that horrendous buzzing noise adding to the displeasure.

"Test #14, subject D-7294. Date is September 23rd, 2013. Researcher Tyler Jensen and Doctor Tyrone Hardy observing. D-7294, please have a seat in the chair directly in front of the mannequin, SCP-847, and converse with it. You may also lightly interact with it. Do not damage the item. Testing shall last no longer than 20 minutes. Testing begins now." The intercom switched off, and D-7294 took a good look at the object in the room.

The mannequin… it looked decrepit, worn-down, horrendous. It had hair on it, clothes, all its body parts, but even just sitting in the chair on the other side of the room, he could tell how pitiful it looked. He hadn't felt this disgusted looking at something resembling a woman in a long time. 20 minutes to interact with an ugly mannequin like this would feel like an eternity. So he sat down in the chair and started to observe.

It shuddered.

7294 looked taken aback, raising an eyebrow in surprise. "Oh?" It wasn't the most shocking or grotesque display he saw since being a D-Class, but it was repulsive in its own right. As he watched, it made small sudden adjustments to its position and suggestive moaning noises. It looked like a puppet, being pulled on its strings.

He could only watch in fascination as it kept doing this, as if it was inviting him, wanting him to play. He looked her over; the length of her body, the unmoving (as far as he could tell) lips, the parts of the body so obviously meant for him to observe. Ten minutes passed like this and the intercom buzzed.

"D-7294, if you refuse to participate in testing —"

"I'm watching." he interrupted sharply.

"Carry on then."

It was then that the mannequin stood up, gasping and leaning in his direction, and he felt his heart soar.

Harry & Mason's was bustling with activity that summer night, as waiters and waitresses scrambled to serve the tourists eating there, and bartenders went to satiate the rush of patrons grabbing a drink. Mary was staring down at her plate, eating, as Zeke looked at her face, attempting to study her and break the ice between them. Aside from placing their order, they had not spoken once since being sat.

"So, Mary…" She didn't respond. Though her eyes looked up for a second to glance at him, she made no effort to give further attention. "Look, I know you don't want to keep dating me, but don't I at least deserve some more time to teach your daughter? Stella is a very lovely student, and with more practice under her belt, she could do more than win boring school competitions."

"How old is she, Zeke?"

"Huh? Well…" His response hung in the air.

"Thirteen. You've been teaching her for four years and you don't even remember how old she is."

"Well, age isn't important when you're training to become a world-class musician." Mary looked even less amused.

"For fuck's sake, you don't think anything else of her! I've never been anything to you either except for some object of worth." Though she kept her voice down while arguing, her mannerisms started to draw attention to the two of them. For the first time in years, he felt slightly put off. After a minute of silence, Mary spoke up again. "We're moving after her competition, and I'm making sure you don't ever come near us again."

More silence passed and Zeke poked at his food, looking up every once in a while to see if anyone was still paying attention to the both of them. Each second passed by seemed a month's worth. A waiter came by and collected Mary's plate as she finished up her meal.

"I'll see you next week then?" Mary didn't respond as she grabbed her purse and walked outside back to her car. Zeke sighed as he started to eat his food.

The way the mannequin headed over to where 7294 was sitting was erratic, its movements making little sense for what it tried to do. Dragging its plastic legs, shambling over to him, it almost set even him on edge. Repulsion rose up in him, but as it got near him, he wondered…

He stood up, leaning over it, trying to see if he could intimidate it. It stopped and froze.

"You're adorable, aren't you," he muttered, grabbing its arm and moving it around. It made more suggestive noises, while 7294 played with it. "You know what I want. You know what you want. What you were made for." He let go and walked around behind it, grabbing various body parts to move around and pose.

"Can you really do anything else besides whimper and moan? Is even that too much for you to do?" He ran a hand across its eyes, shuddering at how real they felt. "Real eyes… porcelain skin… Your hands feel like cheaper than everywhere else. You couldn't ever attract a male like this could you, you dumb animal." It continued making sounds, this time sounding vaguely fearful.

7294 let go and walked back to its front, feeling its hands and fingers. "Beg for me." It continued making the same sounds. "Make some actual, unique sounds this time." Nothing had changed. "You can't even serve the one purpose you were made for, can you. Do you feel anything?" No response except for the same sounds. "What will change?" He broke off a finger.

Nothing.

"Useless." He could immediately, faintly hear the sounds of guards rushing towards the testing chamber as he let go and backed away, the mannequin erratically jerking towards his position. The intercom buzzed.

"D-7294, you were instructed not to damage the item. Testing is over." The guards opened the door and started to forcefully drag him out. He didn't resist, continuing to stare at the mannequin until the doors closed. He sighed, feeling slight disappointment mixed with a rush of thrill.

Fifty meters away from the area, heading towards an interview room, he could hear screaming and the sound of something breaking. He grinned and felt warmth in his head.

SUSPECT’S NAME RELEASED IN TALLAHASSEE DOUBLE MURDER by Jesse Sorin, 05/01/2013, 10:36 P.M. Tallahassee police have announced that Zeke Don was the suspect arrested at 7 PM last Saturday for the killing of Mary Mitchell, 34, and Stella Mitchell, 13. Police were called to investigate a disturbance at a Tallahassee residence, where they found Don, 37, covered in blood as he dug holes outside. Responding officers found Mary and Stella Mitchell’s bodies in the living room. Officials found parts of five to eight more partly-decomposed bodies in the basement, kitchen, and bedroom of Don’s home. The additional victims have not yet been identified. While preliminary investigation had suggested that the Mitchells were killed by gunshot wounds, an autopsy found that both died of blunt trauma several hours after being shot, as well as having been mutilated for an extended time after death. Don is being held without bail, accused of at least seven first-degree murders. Prosecutors say he will not be charged until the number of victims can be determined. Officials added that investigation is continuing and more details will be released in the coming weeks. Related Articles: Locals remember the Mitchells: "Their charity will never be forgotten."

Protests surrounding the death penalty[…]

7294 laid in his bed that night, absentmindedly thinking of the encounter earlier with the mannequin. It was the first real sense of enjoyment he had gotten in months, although from how the researchers had talked to him, he had a distinct feeling he wouldn't be returning to see it again. It was fun playing with it while he could at least. The memory of his fun was burned into his mind to enjoy for nights forwards.

He rolled, looking up at the ceiling, sighing. He stuck out his thumb and index fingers to resemble a tweezer and started plucking at nothing, humming about Mary's little lamb, her fleece as white as snow.