Stacy's Newly Made Man

As the pervert chatted her up, undressing her come hither outfit with his eyes. Stacy Rowe went through the motions of being coy but curious, the very essence of a naiveté teenage girl looking for an older man to 'make a woman of her'.

He was the latest in a string of that type of guy, she no longer kept count, that she had lured back to her place.

But not for the reasons he was thinking of.

As she began to reel him in, making him think that he was coaxing her instead of the other way around, the only thing on her mind was where to get more lye.

'After all the attic is starting to stink up again,' she chided to herself, 'And we can't have Mom or Dad snooping up there.'

While the guy led her to his car to take her back to her place, with assurances that her parents were out of town for the weekend (true in this case), she did wonder if this would be the last one or not.

As the guy's car sped through the quiet streets of sunny London, Stacy glanced out the window at the colorful foliage on the trees, autumn had come and she was supposed to be starting school soon.

'Not if things work out as planned.' she reminded herself, the thought of finally being free, of just living on wind with her man on a life of real adventure. The photograph of what he'd look like soon sent a shiver through her spine, and the fantasy of him on top of her made the goosebumps rise on her skin.

The guy driving smiled when he saw this, clearly thinking that he was the cause.

Stacy hid a sneer.

But they soon pulled up to the nice, almost antique looking three story house in a very nice suburb of London beckoning with the promise of what was to come.

Though what was going to come was very different than what the man with Stacy had in mind...


As the man groaned and croaked his last, the liquids and fluids draining from his body, Stacy stood nearby with total indifference. Her gaze was on the figure slumping down with the man as he died, his freshly formed lips grinning viciously as he took what he needed in order to be reborn anew.

"Frank..." Stacy groaned with hunger.

Frank looked up as he pulled his hand out of the now dead man's neck, the dried husk falling to the floor unceremoniously. "What Stac?" he asked, his voice husky and whole.

She responded by opening her purse and handing him her compact, Frank opened it and stared in the little mirror and saw his own face staring back at him.

His old, whole, and complete face.

"You're more beautiful than I imagined," Stacy said to him, her voice taut with barely restrained lust, even as Frank allowed himself to give into the euphoria of success that he had denied himself in fear of a jinx.

Frank let the compact slip from his fingers, both of them ignoring the makeup box breaking on the ground as he pulled her towards him, holding her with his old, bloodstained clothes.

"You saved me Stacy," Frank whispered to her, his dark eyes almost trying to consume hers.

Stacy's smile was radiant with his praise, and as Frank planted soft kisses on her cheek, relishing every restored sensation, she whispered to him.

"Let's go to my room, Mr. Cotton."

That just made him intensify the kissing, the body on the floor in Frank's old room forgotten.


Frank Cotton stood naked in front of the closet mirror in Stacy's room, it had once been the bedroom of his brother when they were children and the house had belonged to their parents.

As Frank took in the reflection of his body, whole and restored, he briefly wondered what became of Larry and that nice little wife of his. 'It doesn't matter,' Frank reminded himself internally, 'If she hasn't cleaned him out by now, I'd be surprised.'

Besides, she had been a terrible fuck.

He then glanced at the slumbering figure in the bed in the pretty pink paradise that was common to girls her age. Frank allowed himself a smile, if her father hadn't been transferred to the London for a year, or if she hadn't helped him then he'd have been stuck a shambling wretch of a thing. A fate almost as bad as what he had experienced before that.

He had already decided to sell that puzzle box to some other idiot seeking a nirvana of pleasure at any cost. Just because he had been that idiot and had let out the things that dwelt beyond the schism between worlds didn't mean that he had any sympathy for a fellow traveler.

'But first I've gotta help her dispose of the bodies,'
Frank thought to himself even as he walked back towards the bed, 'The hard part will be getting them away from civilization to burn them.' He then reached the bed and pulled back the sheet, exposing the girl's nude, slick body for his viewing pleasure. 'They're so dry that they'll burn quick, easy to scatter the dust.'

He then watched her brown eyes flutter open, focus upon him, and licked his lips as she smiled bashfully at him.

"Morning Stac."

"Morning?!"

"Kidding," Frank assured her, pointing out the window, "It's not even sunset yet."

"Don't do that," she chided him, curling up a bit, "It scared me."

Frank smiled apologetically while getting onto the mattress with her, "Sorry cupcake, just a joke."

Stacy considered this with faux-seriousness before kissing him softly and saying, "I forgive you."

Frank then pulled her into a much deeper kiss, pulling away to whispered, "And I'd forgive you anything." And then pulled her back in for another round of passion.

It felt good to have his flesh and skin back, not merely her father's skin like he had originally planned but his own, original skin.

As he indulged in his most favorite of hedonistic acts, Frank knew that he could get quite a bit of money from selling the Box to the right person.

After all he had lied, cheated, and stolen a small fortune to buy it in the first place. The next sucker would no doubtingly do the same things, easy to exploit for quick cash.

While manipulating the girl's body with the skill of a maestro violinist, Frank hoped that he wouldn't grow bored of her. Unlike so many other women that he had used over the years, this one had truly saved him when she could have just left him to literally rot back to Hell.

However she had been extremely easy to seduce, even as a reanimated corpse Frank still had his voice and had told her his sad little story, leaving out certain details, making her see him as a victim. Which as he quickly surmised she had been as well, like most girl's her age, little Stacy Rowe had no self-esteem and as a fresh expiate to Britain from the States, she had no one to talk to.

'No one except me.' Frank had realized to his vast relief before going to work on her. Making her see him as the ultimate confidante, her one true friend, and one who needed her help.

In less than a week she was bringing him men, men to break, to feed on, so he could grow strong again.

Now it was finished.

He was himself once more.

And as he found release inside of her, Frank decided to keep his promise and bring her with him.

'Maybe she can keep me from getting too bored,' Frank hoped, even while going through the motions of post-coital bliss with her, 'Otherwise I might fall into another trap and fall prey to things best left unexplored.'

Frank Cotton had discovered that there were some paths that shouldn't be walked, some keys best left unturned, some doors best left closed.

No matter what promises were made, or how curious he got.

There were things that not even someone like him was built to handle, but he wasn't sure how much his appetites had been sated or simply burned away in that place.

He hadn't had his body back long enough to gauge that yet.

FIN

AN: As you can guess this was a crossover of Daria and Hellraiser, in which Stacy's family moved to London for business reasons and bought the Cotton's house from Larry Cotton. As a result it was Stacy who encountered a partly-restored Frank Cotton instead of Julia.