Dr Frank N Furter Novels & Stories

She grabbed at his lab coat, shaking the old man "Where's the antidote? Where is it?" He forcefully freed his lab coat from her hands, his face devoid of emotion. "There was never an antidote. Beth, let's get out of here and I'll explain. I'll explain everything." Mike Sommers had broken free completely. Savagely he tore off the hospital garment he wore and let out a fierce, ear-piercing howl. He was completely unrecognizable as the effects of the drugs had set in. His eyes were yellow and glowing, slitted vertically like a cat's, his body completely covered in fur. His hands were now claws that ended in four-inch dagger-like claws appropriate for tearing the flesh off bones. His lips were j

“Do Black Knights always seek to flatter others? I confess I have had little contact with your people, human. We have scarcely met, and yet you deem me noble.” “I meant only to show respect.” The Dwarf chuckled. “Aye. And I sought to make a jest of it. Clearly that intent went awry.” He glanced up at Randey as they walked. “I am called Furgus, Knight. If you choose to name me noble, I shall not object.”

He saw Drake as the younger sibling he never had and he had grown to like the rogue very much. Skyler closed his eyes and inhaled deep breaths to soothe his anger before opening them and staring at the empty space. Meanwhile, Xander had just woken up from his short nap, his yellow eyes staring around his room like the place was foreign. After being weakened by the spell that the witch casted on him, Bardulf woke up as a rapacious ravenous wolf and he craves nothing other than fresh blood. Getting up from the bed, he made his way to the door and opened it, walking out of the room and quickly walking away from the corridor and he headed towards the passage that was less crowded by park members

Broot lit the cigar with a snap of his fingers. Auger came to the door and Broot threw the newspaper at his face and stood up, "Find out who's this Kranky and bring the two bozos over to me for questioning." Auger bowed his head, screeched "Victory to Broot", and disappeared. "Mordant wouldn't like it! Not one bit!" He mumbled. He was almost four feet tall, giant by dwarf standards and muscular, with a body that looked sculpted out of stone. Kritter drummed his fingers on the desk as he watched Broot pacing up and down the room, puffing at the little cigar emanating a green smoke that smelled like burnt rubber.

Rain hammered down on the old thatched roof like it was trying to beat its way inside. Inside the small stone cottage on the edge of the Whispering Woods, an old woman sat by the fire with her grandson curled up beside her on a worn rug. The boy, no more than eight, clutched a blanket around his shoulders, eyes wide as he listened. Lightning flashed outside, lighting up the single window for a split second. “Tell me about the old bond again, Nana,” the boy whispered. “The one between the wolf and the blood drinker.”

Frankie (winking): “Only the classy ones.” The temperature drops twenty degrees. Black-glass cracks spiderweb across the far wall. A Severed Circle Revenant steps through, eight feet tall, seven slashes glowing like molten hate. Frankie’s cigar drops ash that never hits the ground. Frankie (voice suddenly ice): “They weren’t supposed to wake up for another century. Looks like playtime’s over.” Every ghost racks the slide on weapons that shouldn’t exist anymore. Frankie (to me): “Listen close, Morau kid.

They emerge from a hole in the ground, a dark and menacing opening that seems to be the very gate to the underworld. The Drider, an equally terrifying entity, accompanies them. Its appearance is a grotesque blend of spider and humanoid, with a body covered in dark hair and long, sharp legs that creak with every movement. Its eyes, a bloody red, reflect pure malice and an insatiable thirst for power. Together, Drider and the Skinning of the mind are the embodiment of horror, a sight that could chill the bravest of souls to the bone.

How? "Miss Quinn?" I startled, an unfamiliar dwarf approached me. “I'm Dr. Underfoot. Mr. Fitzwilliam called me when he couldn't wake you up." I stared at them both, uncomprehending, wanting to quell my panic. Looking around the room, I tried to make sense of everything. I was dry. On the floor of the bar. Which has not been destroyed. My eyes finally settled on the doctor, who was a meter tall with a cap, short dark hair, ruddy skin, and an impressively thick beard. I didn't know what was going on, but since the monster couldn't digest me, I'll listen to them. Moving away from the men, I tried to assess the situation.

Things were becoming increasingly awkward and so Rafe's father suggested that Raymond turn on the radio. On the radio, the presenter talked about love and family and that made things even weirder. Raymond quickly changed the station into a station that played beautiful music. He sang along as the music played and soon his father was singing along. Dagger sang along too and so did Ivy. The car was no bubbly and fun until the next song came up. The next song that came up was a tune by Malcolm Hin, a popular werewolf who back then when Rafe's father and his brother, Dagger were young cubs. Dagger was the first to notice the song and he stopped sing immediately.

The enigma of Draxler deepened, shrouding the battlefield in an air of uncertainty. Breaking the momentary silence, Alpha Draxler's voice resonated, cutting through the perplexity like a blade. "Speechless, eh? Well, you should be," he sneered, his gaze penetrating the confusion etched on my face. "What you're seeing is just a fragment of Fernanda's power, which I acquired from drinking a little of her blood." His words hung in the air, a chilling acknowledgment of the depths to which he had gone to attain such a peculiar form. The revelation echoed with the unsettling implications of Fernanda's mysterious abilities. My gaze narrowed as I absorbed the weight of his admission, the gravity of