Eldritch Enactment
Copyright© 2025 by Carlos Santiago
Chapter 42: The Human Cost of Ascension
Horror Sex Story: Chapter 42: The Human Cost of Ascension - After his father's passing in 1822, Silas Wolcott returns home to discover he has inherited a fortune beyond necessity. However, soon, he must uncover the secrets of his House and bloodline. From a seductive vampire to a university that wants knowledge, a tale of hubris, fear, and destruction unfolds.
Caution: This Horror Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Ma/Ma Coercion Consensual Hypnosis Mind Control Gay Heterosexual Fiction Historical Horror School Science Fiction Alternate History Paranormal non-anthro Vampires Anal Sex Cream Pie Squirting Voyeurism Geeks Halloween Royalty Transformation Violence
“ ... only human.”
— Agent Jones (as portrayed by Robert Taylor), in The Matrix. Written and directed by Lana Wachowski and Lilly Wachowski (credited at the time as The Wachowski Brothers). U.S. release: March 31, 1999. Produced by Joel Silver. Distributed by Warner Bros. Pictures. Copyright © 1999 Warner Bros. Entertainment Inc. All rights reserved.
The changes of the environment continued on gradually, but the alteration of a man must go on much more slowly to not be noticed.
At first, neither Silas nor Ashcombe considered them unusual.
Dr. Wilhelm Kaufman had always possessed a severe appearance. Long hours, relentless discipline, and an almost monastic devotion to medicine had produced a lean and austere figure long before Dreibruch’s recent successes.
However, as the autumn of 1826 deepened, many modifications were becoming impossible to notice. Children had been born to women on a death sentence. Silas had been more concerned with the dying mothers mother than his friend, but before too long, it was impossible not to see the metamorphosis.
His complexion changed first. The physician’s skin appeared unusually pale. They did not look sickly or bloodless white. Instead, there was a smoothness similar to that of a marble stone. His pores looked to either be gone or so empty that they did not look like they were there.
His eyes looked bloodshot but more and more red. Then, ocular orbs seemed more reflective with light lingering in where the pupils used to be.
The change was unsettling Silas.
Most concerning was the man’s apparent vitality. He no longer appeared to require rest, which for more would be a good thing. After all, he needed to be able to focus his medical research.
For all of his worries, It was not Silas who brought up the issues. Ashcombe addressed the matter instead.
The three men occupied the Dean’s office overlooking the university grounds. Rain tapped softly against the windows as it had in the late winter and early spring of the year.
Kaufman stood reviewing reports from the medical wing while Silas watched him in growing discomfort.
“What are your concerns, Ashcombe? The work and patients have shown a remarkable improvement.”
“Those improvements are not our only concerns,” Ashcombe said with a tone of unmistakable admiration.
Silas looked at him with confused, disturbed interest.
Kaufman glanced up.
“What other improvements are there?”
“There are your modifications, Doctor,” Ashcombe said slowly.
The physician frowned at the Dean.
“I am not following.”
“You look younger, more alien,” Ashcombe said, leaning back in his chair.
Silas was quick to add, “Have you been in contact with the Higher Beings without telling the Dean or myself?”
He regretted the observation, for the doctor looked at him directly. The physician’s eyes flashed with gratitude.
“I have,” Kaufman confessed. “My appearance must be a consequence of recent developments, perhaps.”
The answer felt carefully chosen even if it was an honest reply. Silas and Ashcombe both studied him, but for different reasons. Silas was concerned while Ashcombe appeared excited.
Humanity possessed flaws, yet Kaufman was becoming both handsome and alien. There were no more subtle asymmetries in his facial features. There were no irregularities to his appearance. Kaufman appeared to have lost any problematic defections of humanity.
Ashcombe appeared fascinated by the conversion.
“Then ... You are a living experiment.”
The physician smiled faintly.
“Aren’t we all studied in the end?”
The response earned a laugh from the Dean, but Silas did not join in the merriment. He saw that which the doctor and maybe even the Dean were becoming.
Both were selling their humanity for something more.
His attention remained fixed upon Kaufman. For a brief instant, the physician turned toward the window, and the gray overcast of the weather touched the doctor’s face.
In that fleeting second, Silas saw a shape hidden beneath the skin. There was a silver-white silhouette waiting behind human features similar to that of the being in the other Realm. The eyes were far more bulbous. His limbs were extending. He would no longer have a need of skin or clothing.
Quickly as the vision was made possible to see, it went away and the facsimile of a human reappeared to Silas’s sight.
Kaufman resumed reading his reports. Nothing appeared unusual or out of the ordinary, but Silas had seen what was beneath the surface.
Kaufman was killing the humanity within himself, whether he knew it or not. Silas wanted to speak up, but he could not. There would be no point anymore.
Silas Wolcott found himself unable to sleep that night. His insomnia was becoming an increasingly common affliction that he could not overcome.
The lamps of Dreibruch still burned beyond his window despite the lateness of the hour.
He usually shut his curtains, but they would do him little good. He could see the changes being made to the place and the people.
Once, such a sight might have filled him with pride, but with what he knew about the Higher Beings, there was nothing but unease.
He stood before the glass and watched the campus spread beneath the darkness.
How quickly and easily the degradation of being human had happened bothered him. Less than a handful of years earlier, Dreibruch had been little more than an ambitious dream shared between friends. This was a notable college to be sure, but it was more of a place to confirm what most knew. At the moment though, it was pushing the boundaries of the sciences in ways that they would never have without him.
No matter what they did, he was at fault. He knew that much about the circumstances. For this fact, he loathed all that they did because all of this was for humanity, yet was there any part of the species that would remain after they made all of their speculative revisions to their forms?
Scientific breakthroughs were arriving with alarming frequency. The money made it so they could almost be wasteful with spendings, but this also allowed for the expedited ability to create new surgical procedures and medicines while coming up with theories that had never been suspected.
Each discovery should have required decades of labor with care, but the advancement moved forward without a single sign of slowing down.
Silas knew of the invisible hand of the Eldritch beings pushing forward the advancements. Both the ones that they had made a deal with as well as the one beneath his home.
That said nothing of the Nameless Overlord called Yog-Sothoth. He did not know who this being was. He had not checked the text by that Arabic magician, Kitab al-Azif.
The compromises they had justified.
How many times had they told themselves it was necessary? No. Not them. Him. Silas had justified so many. They had mass-produced quick-firing rifles in the name of defense, medical advancement in the name of preservation, and deals with the Eldritch in the name of readiness.
How many times had Silas promised that the ends would justify the means?
Then his thoughts found Kaufman, and the new form he was taking.
He was healthier, to be sure, but he was becoming something else. Humanity was leaving him by the moment, and Silas suspected that Ashcombe’s fascination would not end at the academic level of the spectrum.
And somehow that frightened Silas more than any monstrous deformity could have.
This corruption that rewarded its victims with more power and success than ever could have been expected. This bounty was infinitely more dangerous than a circumstance that punished those involved because to fail would teach someone to adjust or rethink their stratagem. Triumph taught one that they were on the correct course rather than they needed to change.
He closed his eyes.
For the first time since arriving at Dreibruch, he knew that he should not be there. He could not get Ashcombe or Kaufman to stop, nor could he make an arrangement with the Eldritch beings. There had been much that the humans had learned, but he wondered whether or not there was a correct course to take anymore.
To stay meant failure, but to take the Crown and disappear would only lead to more problems.
This was not about abandoning the college, for they would persevere regardless if he was there or not.
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