FicWad

Paul's first glimpse of the other George made him glad that he was sitting down. It also made him sorry that he was sitting on a horse, since he went so weak at the knees that not only was he unable to stand, he nearly fell off the horse, which would have been much more painful and embarrassing than just sitting down in a hurry. The man was, quite simply, sexy. No two ways about it. No questions, no doubts, he was sexy.



George was sexy, and Paul was straight. He was sure about that. He'd never been attracted to another man in his life. Not even John, and he knew a thing or two about being sexy, too. George made Paul want to get down there, strip him naked, and lick melted chocolate off him.



He opened his mouth to say something, but Lyn beat him to it. "Can we keep him?"



"I hope so," Paul replied. But the answer confused him. He was not gay. He had never been gay. He was pretty sure he wasn't gay now. So how come he found George so sexy?



Trying to dismiss the problem from his mind, he looked around. Nearby, he could see a group of people desperately fighting an emaciated figure who looked as though he'd snap in half if you so much as breathed on him. Evidently, the figure was incredibly strong despite his appearance, because three men tried to jump him. Two of them were thrown off with little apparent effort, but the third was snatched out of the air. The figure buried his face in the man's neck, and then the man was reduced to a pile of dust.



That sight took care of Paul's random lust, cutting it off as though he'd been doused in ice water. He got the creeping horrors. Then, the figure turned to hiss at him, and he recoiled as though he'd been shot. It was George. Their George. White of face and distorted of features, the figure was unmistakeably George Harrison. He was a vampire. A wraith.



They had to undo it. Somehow, they had to reverse the damage that had been done to George. All thoughts of the other George were cut off. "We've got to get down there!" Paul said to Lyn.



Lyn sighed. "I don't suppose there's any hope of me talking you out of it."



"He's my friend, Lyn. I can't just leave him like that."



"He was your friend, Paul. None of that's left, now."



Resolution flooded through him. "There was nothing there before that the rest of us didn't put there. We'll just have to put something new in there."



"You'll be better off starting again with a new version," Lyn warned. "Nobody's ever managed to turn a wraith back into what they used to be."



"Maybe we'll be the first," Paul said with a tone of finality strong enough that Lyn circled down, and landed behind the warriors. As he got down off her back, a mass of warriors were flung back across the courtyard, and landed around them. As they got to their feet, Paul realised that one of the warriors who had landed at his feet was an old friend. "Ringo!" he exclaimed, and grabbed Ringo's hand to help him up.



"Paul, mate!" Ringo exclaimed. "Glad you could make it." He gestured in George's direction. "You saw?"



"Yes," Paul replied grimly. "Can we do anything for him?"



"I don't know. Nobody ever has before, or so I'm told, but we can't just leave him like this."



"I agree."



Before they could continue the discussion and try to figure out a potential course of action, however, they were interrupted. George threw off the last of his attackers, and headed towards them. Paul decided that, had George been fully human, he would have been described as "gaunt." However, he would have added "pasty-faced" to the description as well. Possibly also "corpse-like." As George got closer, however, Paul realised that "corpse-like" was probably the most accurate description he could provide.



Burning eyes caught his, and an intense stare filled his vision. George came closer and closer as Paul could only stare, hypnotised. At that moment, Paul started to realise just how the victim of a cobra might feel, watching as its hypnotically swaying killer slithered ever closer. The burning eyes came closer and closer, and Paul, although fully aware of the immense danger he was in, was unable to move.



Then, George was upon him. The burning eyes left his, but Paul could feel a pair of extremely strong hands clutch his arms, and a pair of soft, dry lips caress his neck. The sensation was decidedly erotic, almost indistinguishable from the way a woman's lips felt against his neck. A tongue licked the area, leaving numbness in its wake. Then, before he could shake the feeling that a woman was about to make love to him, he felt a pair of pricks.



He breathed out, and then gasped. Warmth spread through him, quickly becoming fire. The fire rushed straight to his groin, and he knew he was getting an erection. His hands groped for the man who held him so firmly, and took hold of his hips. They were bony and thin, and for a moment, he could think of nobody but the Mistress, on the one occasion he had been able to hold her. She had had the same sort of boniness that George had, although she had come with stinging pain as well as caresses.



Memories of George started to swim, to be replaced by memories of the Mistress, holding him firm while she tore the clothes off him in preparation for sex. Any minute now, she was going to push him down onto a bench and rip his trousers off him. Then...



The image was torn away abruptly as the pair of them were pulled apart. Looking around in bewilderment, Paul noticed that the remains of Warrior's forces were being held by a group of women dressed in confining clothes that made him think of a child's nanny. The expressions on their faces were strongly disapproving, and without any softness at all.



"Disgraceful!" one of them barked. "Utterly disgraceful! You ought to be ashamed of yourselves, indulging in such a....a spectacle as this!"



Paul looked over at George, and saw that burning gaze again. However, he only fixed that gaze on Paul for a moment before travelling around to their captors. Nearby, Paul saw the other George was keeping himself very, very quiet and in the background. Silver had been transformed from her usual sleek, streamlined self into a dowdy, shy maid. Warrior's low-cut armour and leather miniskirt had been exchanged for a tight-buttoned, high-necked blouse and full-length skirt. Both women were looking utterly furious with themselves and with the newcomers. Paul was, however, alarmed by the fact that Warrior was starting to resemble the invaders. A prim expression was starting to appear on her face.



"We've got to stop them," said Ringo quietly. He was being held by the woman next to Paul and Paul could hear him easily.



"Who are they?"



"We are the Society," Paul's captor said haughtily, "We are dedicated to eradicating all traces of that filthy, disgusting act that is so prevalent on the internet. Unlike our creators, we are not human. We were created to pander for the disgusting, degrading desires caused by human reproduction. That activity is not one required for the creation of our kind, and we are determined to free ourselves and our fellow creatures by stamping it out for good so that we can live in decorum and decency as we see fit!"



Paul glanced over at Ringo just in time to see him roll his eyes.



"Indeed!" boomed Warrior. "We do not reproduce. We are created by humans. I sincerely repent my previous behaviour. It was not at all necessary for me to display my body for sexual purposes and I shall do so no longer."



"Uh, oh," Ringo said quietly. "We all thought she'd be immune to them."



"Who are they?" Paul asked again.



Ringo managed to tell him that they were Bowdlerisers before he was silenced again. Then, across from him, George managed to turn in his captor's arms and started to struggle with her. She fought valiantly and displayed surprising strength. Paul had thought it was sheer surprise that had allowed the women to pull George off him, but apparently not. George was trying to go for her neck, and succeeded in tearing her blouse. The stiff fabric unravelled easily once torn, leaving her neck and chest exposed. Underneath the blouse, Paul could see a corset which revealed a cleavage that he found particularly fascinating - especially given the way it was heaving thanks to her exertions.



"Miss Smith!" one of the women barked, observing this. "Compose yourself! Make yourself decent again!"



At that moment, George succeeded in sinking his teeth into her neck. Her eyes closed in sensuous bliss, and Paul watched her corset and skirt transform into a revealing bikini with a sarong tied low over her hips. Paul felt, rather absurdly, jealous. He could remember all too well how incredibly good it had felt.



Moments later, however, he was sorry that he felt that way about it, because her eyes opened wide, and she started to turn grey. Then, she had crumpled to dust. George's appearance, however, fluctuated wildly from ferocious vampire to starched clergyman and back again. Snarling at them, he turned and ran.



"After him!" Warrior bellowed, and the women immediately let go of Paul, Ringo, and all their other captives to go chasing after the fleeing George.



Paul sank to his knees in the dusty battleground, the sheer horror of the situation starting to overwhelm him. He'd never really understood before why women in horror movies screamed and ran away and got attacks of the vapours instead of being sensible about things, but he did now. Then, he did something else that he had never before in his entire life imagined he would ever do. He fainted.