A mad scientist returns, with new plans for seduction, conquest, and revenge. A sequel to Dr. Timonel and the Trans-Etheric Robo-Subordinator.
guest story by Zyzzyva
tags: mind control, nsfw, silver age
Doctor Sara Timonel, mad cybernetician and, more recently, femme fatale robo-vampire, grandly entered the room.
She was on the arm of the prince something or other of some moon or subcontinent of Kjazar or whatnot. She didn’t really care. What was important was that he had an invite to the grand ball at the Kjazari royal palace, and that meant he could get one for her too, if she could just convince him. And that part had been easy. He was single, she was an incredibly gorgeous cyborg, and once she’d gotten him alone for some incredible sex, she’d had some incredible sex and them bitten him. A mad biochemist, like that upstart fool Dr. Garonne, would probably come up with some chemical that would turn him into her devoted slave; she’d injected him with nanorobots, which were much cleverer and much more appropriately ingenious for someone of Dr. Timonel’s intellectual calibre. Also, they’d release him back to angry consciousness in about six more hours when their power supply ran out, but details.
In the meantime, he was her mindless techno-vampiric thrall, and she was in the palace now. From here, the heist was straightforward. She would slip away and bite and enthrall a further six people, two guests (at least one female-presenting), one guard, and three staff (of which two must be less than 175cm tall). Guest α would pick a fight with a robotic guest at the party. Guest β would eat six strawberry danishes. Thirty-seven seconds later, Guard γ would “accidentally” trip and fall down the service stairs in the south wing and discharge their blaster into the ceiling above them. Staffer δ, meanwhile, would find a closet and hide silently in it. Staffer ε would smash the most expensive plate in the kitchen area, wait one minute twenty seconds, then serve drinks. Finally, staffer ζ would wait for the other five to complete their tasks, then surreptitiously pass Dr. Timonel a blank, empty envelope. From there, of course, even a child could retrieve the Star of Guei-min undetected.
Simplicity itself.
But first, she had to find some lovely victims to ensnare. Prince whoever, unneeded now, wandered off to eat hors d’oeuvres or make out with a butler or whatever the nanobots had learned that he would normally do at a party. Dr. Timonel mingled, searching out people who met her requirements and were also, just, smoking hot. She had spent many hours watching the freighter’s stock of old horror movies as she rebuilt herself after the debacle on Cefalu, and had learned that vampires were awesome, which was why her new body was one, not least because they always got to bite the absolute best-looking people.
Ahhhh. There we go. A woman in a lovely strapless red dress, rather like Dr. Timonel’s, in fact (although of course Dr. Timonel wore hers better). A hint of muscle on her arms—she probably looked even better with the dress off. And, most importantly, she was scanning the room with a particular look in her eyes. Dr. Timonel was the sexiest woman here: of course when she caught her eye the woman smiled and tilted her head towards a doorway out of the main hall.
“I love your dress,” said the woman, a little teasingly, when they reached each other through the crowd.
“I love yours,” said Dr. Timonel. They did look like a nice pair together.
“Kentzin, Duchess of Perenoyw,” said the woman.
“Countess Carmilla d’Ingridpitt,” said Dr. Timonel. Her cover identity was flawless and impregnable.
Duchess whatever-her-name-was had clearly been here before, because she led Dr. Timonel immediately to an out-of-the-way salon of some sort, all dark wood panels and plush red velvet. Between this, her dress, her nails, and her vividly coloured hair, the duchess apparently really liked red. Well, Dr. Timonel was a cyborg vampire now: she liked red, too.
The duchess shoved Dr. Timonel roughly but playfully onto a couch, and then wriggled a little bit as she stood in front of her. Her whole dress slipped off in one fluid motion, revealing a naked body every bit as excellent as Dr. Timonel had expected. She purred appreciatively.
“Thank you,” said the duchess, and pounced. She grabbed Dr. Timonel’s cyborg psuedohair in one hand and raked her soft exterior sheathing with the other. Dr. Timonel moaned in unfeigned pleasure, and the duchess silenced her with her mouth. They kissed for a moment, Dr. Timonel’s delicate, precise machinery hands stroking her naked back, before the duchess leaned back, already flushed and panting. “You’re good,” she said.
“The best,” agreed Dr. Timonel, leaning forward to suck on the duchess’ collarbone. Her fingers stroked her nipples, vibrating and tingling with gentle, teasing sparks in a way no organic fingertips could match. Dr. Timonel inched across her shoulder to the soft flesh of her neck, exposed and delicately vulnerable as her pulse throbbed with arousal just below the skin. Dr. Timonel lifted her head for a moment, allowed her nano-injector fangs to extend to their full ready length, and then sank them deep into the duchess’ throat.
The duchess screamed in sudden bliss and came violently. Dr. Timonel was not having quite such a mind-blankingly good time, but taking control of another person was always a thrill for a mad scientist like her and it wasn’t like the biting a beautiful naked woman part wasn’t pretty sex-adjacent. After the duchess’ orgiastic thrashing finally ebbed, Dr. Timonel withdrew, and let her fangs slip back into her mouth. Vampire was absolutely the right idea, she thought. The newly minted guest α got stiffly off of her, pulled on her dress, and marched back to the party to await further instruction.
Dr. Timonel lounged happily in the salon for a moment, then followed. She still had five to go before she could set her plan in motion. Out in the hall, she saw a liveried robot carrying a salver of something. They’ll do fine, she thought, and walked towards them.
“May I help you, ma’am?” buzzed the robot as she approached. They had a cluster of gleaming sensors on their head, and their body was an mixture of polished copper plating and artistically exposed internals. Dr. Timonel, already all keyed up from the encounter with whatever-her-name-had-been, found it unbearably erotic. She wanted to jam her cabling inside their abdomen and fuck until they scorched the parquet. Yes. They would do nicely indeed.
“Is that plate going anywhere urgently?” she asked, smiling. “I have a more personal job for a nice, good-looking robot, if you’re interested.” She gestured lazily, her humanoid fingers and hand disentangling into wires and sockets and ports all the way up to the wrist. It was tremendously forward of her, but she had heard of the sorts of things that went on at this kind of decadent aristocratic party and in any case she was certainly the most beautiful cyborg woman that this poor robot had ever seen.
The robot waiter looked at her for a moment, dead still except for one of its thoracic panels sliding, possibly involuntarily, ever so slightly aside. She could see bare circuitry laid out like lacey lingerie beneath. The robot caught up with their horny body’s instincts and said “of course, ma’am,” and laid the salver down, and stepped forward.
The livery carapace slid aside, revealing the robot beneath, and they were as handsome as she’d glimpsed, circuits and cables and gearing dancing across them. She drew her twisting, unwinding right limb back and then thrust it hard into the robot, a dozen contacts at once, foreplay forgotten in her urge to fuck this gorgeous bot. The robot’s voice moaned in unison with hers. Pleasure of a different but no less sexual kind as the previous encounter flashed through her system. The robot’s head and limbs were dead still, and their midsection squirmed with joy.
She was enjoying this but had no time to finish. She slid her head to the side of the robot’s, licked the blank side of their head, and then drew back, her nano-injector fangs sliding silently back out.
Take that, Dr. Garonne, she thought as she prepared to strike, your idiot biochemicals wouldn’t work on robots too, but my ingenious nanobots can enthrall any intelligent being –
“Oh, come on, C583, in the middle of the hall? The guests can wait on their canapés but I have to get past you, you know…”
The complaining voice struck something deep in Dr. Timonel. She could absolutely enthrall a second servant kind enough to serve themself up on a platter like the forgotten appetizers beside them, but the voice. Dr. Timonel, instead of biting the robot and turning them to their vampiric familiar, looked up.
Her.
It was the woman from Cefalu.
She was dressed in the royal palace uniform and carrying a tray and some empty glasses, but it was her beyond a doubt. Dr. Timonel’s vision blanked with rage for a moment and she ripped free from the robot in a shower of sparks and a squeal of confused discomfort. “Yooouuuuu,” she snarled.
“Ma’am, I’m just the help,” said the woman, backing away, but reaching for something under her tabard as she did so.
“You’re not, you’re here to thwart me! Again!”
“Not me, I’m just a perfectly ordinary servant with no ulterior motives at all—” said the woman, still backing, and then Dr. Timonel rushed her and slammed her through the doors to the main hall. Everyone turned to watch as the two of them smashed through a table of some expensive delicacy and slammed onto the floor.
“I will have my revenge!” shouted Dr. Timonel, all thoughts of subtlety or indeed of stealing the Star of Guei-min burned away by the fires of righteous fury.
“Oh! God! Please! What’s happening!? Somebody help me!” shouted the woman, in a much more panicked tone than a moment before. Around her, the guests took in the situation. One hesitantly put a hand on a dueling sword and stepped forward.
“Not now,” snarled Dr. Timonel. A pair of huge jet-black wings unfurled from her back, and with one vast stroke she carried herself and the woman through the skylight and out of the palace. (She hadn’t actually had the time before the date of the heist to make the wings functional; she was flying using an antigravity belt of the sort any young child could buy at the corner store. But she was a sexy robo-vampire: big bat wings were a necessity.)
The woman stopped screaming the moment they smashed through the skylight and gave Dr. Timonel a quizzical look. “No, but seriously, who are you?”
Dr. Timonel took a moment off from plotting the myriad tortures she would inflict on this worm to consider the situation. Her reconstructed vampiric body, after the whole Cefalu thing, was every bit as beautiful as her previous, of course, but she hadn’t been particularly tied down to an identifiable look when designing it anew. The woman probably straightforward legitimately hadn’t recognized her. Well, that was an opportunity for dramatic revelation if ever she’d heard one.
“I am Dr. Sara Timonel, mad cybernetician,” she declared triumphantly. “And I would be rightfully ruling the entire Cefalu system at this moment if it weren’t for your impudent meddling!”
“Ah, c’mon, really?” said the woman, with much less horrified despair than Dr. Timonel had been hoping for. “Some random villain I thwart once happens to be visiting the palace the same day I decide to—you’re here to steal the Star of Guei-min too, aren’t you.”
“My plans are not for the likes of you to comprehend!” shouted Dr. Timonel, who had all but forgotten the Star of Guei-min existed since setting eyes on the woman. They had reached the peak of the palace’s highest dome and Dr. Timonel put her down, none too gently, and then folded her wings and stepped one sharp stiletto heel on the woman’s chest.
“Well, your plans are kinda sunk now”, said the woman. “They have absolutely made you. My cover’s still good, if your use for it is compatible with me returning it to its rightful owners in the Seij peoples we could team up-“
“My use is to pump it full of a billion gigajoules of neutron laser and then jam it into your throbbing fleshsack of a chest!” yelled Dr. Timonel. “And then use it to power a giant conquery war mech, I guess.”
“Right,” said the woman. She pulled some kind of energy knife out from under her tabard and set ineffectually trying to saw through Dr. Timonel’s leg.
“Pathetic,” said Dr. Timonel, and kicked the knife down the side of the dome. “I’m going to make you my toy before I kill you.” Her fangs slid out again and she crouched down over the woman’s body. “Of course that’s not really the right phrasing. It should be ‘I’m going to kill you, and then make you my toy’, because, you know, vampire. But I’m not actually undead, I just have some really ingenious nanorobots in here—”
“You there! Back away!” Three palace guards on hoverbikes were surrounding the dome.
“No!” shouted Dr. Timonel, enraged. “I was so close!”
“I offered to team up,” said the woman, in an infuriatingly even tone. “OH GOD! PLEASE! HELP! COME QUICK!”
Dr. Timonel snarled again and fired a quick spray of laser-fire from her shoulder defense array at two of the bikes. Then she grabbed the woman and threw her bodily at the third. The guards probably didn’t notice—but Dr. Timonel assuredly did—that she rolled to brace in midair, even as she kept up her damsel-in-distress wailing. Dr. Timonel leapt into the air again, her huge wings beating as she raced to find a hiding place.
⁂ ⁂ ⁂
Doctor Timonel, mad cybernetician and, more recently, fugitive from every guard, peace officer, and soldier in the entire Kjazar system, frenetically dug through the collection of semiautomated cleaners, light vehicles, and refrigerators that she’d scrounged up to disguise herself. They’d be looking for any cyborg like her, and they’d surely have better ways of detecting her than simply appearance.
Of course, she was a genius, and she was fully able to replace as much of her cyborg body as necessary to throw her pursuers off the scent while she escaped the planet. And she was willing to too. Vampire! What had she been thinking? No, next time it was going to be straight to the giant mecha right off, stomping on anyone who opposed her. And the first one to go would be that accursed woman, who had foiled her plans twice now.
“Oh yes,” Dr. Timonel muttered, welding a treaded motive driver to where her legs had been with one blazing fingertip. “I’ll show you what revenge is…”
Author’s Note: Dr. Timonel is a blast to write. Partly because comic supervillainy is fun, and partly because whenever I think of something silly, like the coffeemakers last time or the correct order-of-operations for vampiric enslavement this time, I can just have her vocalize it immediately.
Still riffing, albeit less directly, on Cassiopeia Quinn, of course. Plus Ocean’s Eleven, and The Pink Panther, and a bunch of other heist movies, in this particular case. Dr. Garonne the mad biochemist is of course a Helen Narbon[ne] reference.