Loving Lecter Archive Index Header


Recent Acquisitions

All Stories by Theme

All Stories by Author

All Stories by Title - A - F

All Stories by Title - G - L

All Stories by Title - M - S

All Stories by Title - T - Z


Appetizers - Short Works

Challenge Section

Crossover Stories

Works in Verse


Other Lecterfic Sites

Fanfic on the Web


Author's Resources

Submission Guide


Browse Main Index



Don't Dream It, Be It

copyright 2001, by Diana Lecter

Disclaimer:    These characters were created by Thomas Harris.  They are used herein without permission, but in the spirit of admiration and respect.  No infringement of copyright is intended, and no profit, of any kind, is made by the creator, maintainer or contributors to this site.

Send Feedback to Author



Dr. Frank-N-Furter = Dr. Hannibal Lecter

Janet = Clarice

Brad = Nobel Pilcher

Dr. Scott = Jack Crawford

Eddie = Paul Krendler

Riff Raff = Mason Verger

Magenta = Margot Verger



The room was tinted with a light pink color, and it almost hurt Clarice’s back to look at the lining of her exquisite canopy bed. She wondered what was going on down the hall, not liking the idea of being taken away from Pilcher, especially in a strange place like this. After the dancing and madness in the laboratory, she doesn’t like the idea of being alone.

In the distance, a wolf creature howled, and made her shiver.

Then, suddenly, there was a swift knocking on the door. Clarice gasped and sat up, her heart founding furiously. “Who is it?” she asked breathlessly. “Who’s there?”

The door opened and someone stepped in. “It’s only me, Clarice.”

Ah, she knew that voice. It was her wonderful Pilcher. Clarice lifted the vale that cascaded over the bed and said eagerly. “Oh, Pilch, my darling, come in.”

And come in he did. Apparently in the mood for a little action, Pilcher started to cover her with kisses, his warm, moving lips traveling over her bare neck before they started downward. Clarice arched back and moaned, “Yes, my darling! But what if-”

Unhappy with the interruption, Pilcher looked up and said. “It’s all right, Clarice, everything is going to be all right.” He then proceeded, picking up exactly where he left off.

“Oh I hope so,” she purred, running her hands through his hair. It didn’t take long for the wig to fall off, and a startled Clarice jumped up to see the face of Hannibal Lecter.

“Ah!” she screamed. “Oh it’s you!”

Hannibal laughed richly. “I’m afraid so, Clarice. But isn’t it nice?” His head dived downward once more, this time aiming for her lips. Clarice squealed and struggled to beat him off her.

“Oh you beast! You monster! What have you done with Pilcher?!”

Hannibal gave her an innocent, boyish smile as he said in a voice that suggested anything other than virtue. “Oh, well, nothing. Why, do you think I should?”

Clarice beat furiously on the mattress. “You tricked me! I wouldn’t have…I’ve never…never…” She began to sob softly.

Hannibal wasn’t so convinced. Easing his way over her once again, something that didn’t take much; he began to plant his lips on her neck once again, again making his way downward, speaking between kisses. “Yes, yes I know, but it isn't all bad, is it? I think you really found it quite pleasurable.”

Indeed, she was finding it most pleasurable, having difficulty in keeping from squirming beneath him. “Oh stop! I mean help! Pilch! Oh Pilch!” She sat up abruptly, determined to end this once and for all. There was no way she would allow this person she hardly knew take her so deeply, especially as inexperienced as she was.

This was dreadfully frustrating, though Hannibal sensed he was getting to her, slowly but surely. “Shh. Pilcher’s probably asleep by now. Do you want him to see you, like THIS?!” With a terrific yank backed with tantalizing strength, Hannibal grasped each of her legs and drew her to her back, poised so that he was between her, arched on his arms, looking down at her.

However, Clarice managed to sit up once more, getting restless but doing her best to avoid giving in, something becoming more and more difficult by the minute. “Like this, like how? It’s your fault, you’re to blame.” With a dramatic sob, she turned away. “I was saving myself.”

Hannibal grinned at the idea of wrecking purification, and leaned forward, aiming for her lips again. “Well, I’m sure you’re not spent yet.”

Her hand met his chest, a touch that clearly was not supposed to shove him away. Clarice was not up for this fight, especially when Hannibal appeared much more adequate than Pilcher. As her eyes met his, she had a small smile as she said. “Promise you won’t tell Pilch?”

The innocent smile returned, and though she knew better than to trust it completely, she found herself reclining easily as he said, “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

They both laughed as Hannibal came down again, Clarice kicking her legs once, which he seemed to enjoy. She continued to giggle until his mouth closed over hers.

After they were finished, Hannibal had to run off to tend to an errand in the kitchen, and Clarice was left in a consumption of guilt. She lay in bed for a few minutes before feeling compelled to jump up and raced down the hall toward Pilcher’s room. She was perplexed and afraid when she found it vacant, and more so when she couldn’t seem to locate Hannibal.

“What’s happening here?” she demanded the silence, receiving nothing in reply. “Where’s Pilch? Where’s anybody?”

Making her way up to the elevator, Clarice was hit with a sudden wave of guilt. How could she have betrayed her fiancé like that? So ashamedly, and she made no real attempt to stop Hannibal from taking what he wanted. Consumed with culpability, Clarice began crying softly. “Oh Pilch! How could I have done this to you?” The elevator began rising slowly. As it stopped, she threw the doors open and continued down her path of self-pity. “If only we hadn’t made this journey! If only the car hadn’t broken down.”

Clarice didn’t take the time to register that she had somehow made her way into the kitchen, though she wiggled her way onto the counter. “If only we were among friends…or sane persons.”

“But you are,” came a slow reply, and Clarice gasped as she turned around, seeing Hannibal standing before her in a chef’s hat.

“That’s easy for you to say,” Clarice grumbled. “You’re running the show. Honestly, what do you want from us?”

Hannibal’s eyes twinkled. “Honestly, my dear, I should think that quite obvious. After all, you weren’t saying that a few minutes ago.”

“I wasn’t myself a few minutes ago.”

“I think you were,” Hannibal replied teasingly. “Please, Clarice, this is growing tedious and dull. I can assure you that Pilcher is not as pleasing. And I’m sure you don’t want to think that you…settled in life.”

Clarice didn’t want to think of how much sense his words made. After all, Pilcher did little to excite her. In the end, though, her decision was easy to make, and she decided to make it in song.

“I was feeling done in,” she sang, “couldn’t win. I’d only ever kissed before.”

From elsewhere in the kitchen, where Paul Krendler was about to be killed and cooked up, Mason and Margot Verger looked to each other, witnessing these disturbing acts. “You mean she…?” Margot asked.

“Uh huh,” replied Mason.

“I thought there’s no use getting, into heavy petting,” Clarice continued. “It only leads to trouble and seat wetting. Now all I want to know is how to goooo. I’ve tasted blood and I want more.”

“More more more,” Mason and Margot sang.

“I’ll put up no resistance, I want to stay the distance. I’ve got an itch to scratch. I need assistance.” She threw her arms around Hannibal’s neck and began singing loudly. “Toucha toucha toucha touch me.” Which he did, not being one to disappoint such a request. “I wanna be dirty! Thrill me chill me fulfill me, creature of the night!”

“Then if anything grows…” she continued a minute later after an exasperated gasp. “While you pose, I’ll oil you up and drop you down.”

“Down, down, down, down,” Margot and Mason echoed.

“And that’s just one small fraction, of the main attraction. You need a friendly hand.” Clarice took both his hands and brought them to either side of her chest. “And I need action! Toucha toucha toucha touch me. I wanna be dirty! Thrill me chill me fulfill me, creature of the night!” They fell back on the counter and began making out like wild.

“Toucha toucha toucha touch me!” Margot sang mockingly.

I just might, thought Mason, but instead he retaliated with, “I wanna be dirty.”

“Thrill me chill me fulfill me,” she continued.

“Creature of the night,” Mason concluded.

“Ohh!” Clarice moaned, very pleased. “Toucha toucha toucha touch me! I wanna be dirty! Thrill me chill me fulfill me, creature of the night!” With a conclusive moan, she fell into him.

It was sometime later before they were disturbed. Mason came in with some bad news.

“Master…master…we have a visitor.” He walked over to them…despite the situation at hand, and held up a monitor.

The person on the screen before them was none other than the Guru, Jack Crawford.

Clarice’s eyes widened. “Hey, it’s Jacky!”

Mason looked at her strangely. “You know this earthling…this…person?”

“I most certainly do. He happens to be an old friend of mine.”

Hannibal was not pleased with this. “I see. So this simply wasn’t a chance meeting. You came here with a purpose.”

“I told you, the car broke down. I was telling the truth.”

“I know what you told me, Clarice. But this Jack Crawford…his name is not unknown to me.”

“He was once my instructor.”

“And he works for your government, doesn’t he, Clarice? Under the branch you call Behavioral Science! Isn’t that right, Clarice?”

“He might be.”

“He might be?” Hannibal echoed, obviously not very happy.

“I thought he retired,” came the meek reply.

“The intruder is entering the building…master,” interrupted Mason.

Margot smirked. “He’ll probably be in…in the Zen room.”

Everyone gasped. “No! Not the Zen room!”

Still very unhappy about their surprise visitor, Hannibal glared at Clarice and said, “Shall we acquire of him…in person?”

Before she could muster a reply, Margot chimed a gong and shouted: “Master, dinner is prepared!”

With slow precision, Hannibal’s mood altered greatly and he grinned. “Excellent. And under the circumstances, formal dress is to be optional.”

As he and Clarice scampered off, Margot and Mason began to chant: “Toga! Toga! Toga!”


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Narrator: Food has always played a vital role in Life's rituals. The breaking of the bread, the last meal of the condemned man, and now, this meal. However informal it might appear, you can be sure that there was to be very little.. bon ami.

Margot and Mason entered the extravagant dining room, wheeling a cart with a large tray adorning it. To the side, there was a bottle of Chianti and several wine glasses. Pilcher had been awakened for dinner, and now they were all awkwardly sitting at the table, Hannibal at one end and Crawford at the other.

Crawford hadn’t seen Clarice until now, and was batting away his surprise. “Clarice, what are you doing here?”

“Don’t play games with me, Jack,” Hannibal answered in a less than friendly tone. “You know perfectly well what Clarice Starling is doing here. It was part of your plan, was it not, that she and her.. companion should check the layout for you? Well, unfortunately for you all, the plans are to be changed. I have been adaptable, Jack. I know Clarice is.” At that, he winked at her and caused her face to flush.

“You promised you wouldn’t tell,” Clarice grumbled, but in a tone that suggested she was far from upset.

Crawford seemed confused for a minute but went on unaffected. “I can assure you that Clarice’s presence here comes as a complete surprise to me. I came here to find Paul Krendler.”

Hannibal’s eyes narrowed. “What do you know of Paul Krendler, Jack?”

At that, Crawford smiled smugly. “I happen to know a great deal about a lot of things. You see, Paul happens to be, my employee.”

Margot and Mason began wheeled their cart up to Hannibal and handed him a meat cutter. Everyone paused in what they were doing as they lifted the tray to reveal a nice tenderloin-ish slab of meat. They watched as Hannibal methodically sliced an individual piece for everyone as Mason went around and clumsily poured the Chianti. Afterwards, he and Margot likewise went around and served the main course. After the task at hand was complete, Hannibal held up his glass and said, “A toast.” At that, Margot threw a piece of toast across the room, which somehow went ignored.

Everyone routinely held up their glasses and waited. In the corner, Mason coughed the completion to the toast, “To cannibalism.”

Hannibal ignored him as well. “To absent friends.”

“To absent friends,” everyone echoed as they sipped their drinks.

“Shall we?” Hannibal asked as he sat, and everyone began eating the slabs of meat before them.

Everything was silent for a few minutes until Crawford felt obligated to bring the topic of his purpose here up again. “We came here to discuss Paul.”

“Paul?” Clarice echoed in a state of surprise as though she hadn’t heard him the first time, to which she was silenced by Hannibal aiming the electric meat cutter at her threateningly. That shut her up for a minute as they all continued eating.

“Yes, what a rather tender subject,” Hannibal said conversationally a minute later. “Another slice, anyone?”

Everyone stopped and looked at Hannibal blankly, then again to their piece of meat perched on their forks, momentarily delayed on its routine trip to the mouth. Slowly, everyone placed down their utensils and shuddered.

“I knew he was in with a bad crowd, but it was worse than I imagined,” Crawford muttered. “Cannibals.”

Clarice and Pilcher gasped. “Mr. Crawford!”

“From the day he was born,” Crawford began singing to music that appeared from nowhere.

“Not the night but the day,” Mason echoed to Margot, who giggled. “He was trouble,” Crawford continued, to which Margot echoed, “Not Monopoly but Trouble.”

“He was the thorn…” Crawford went on, trying to ignore them.

“Not the rose but the thorn,” they sang together.

“…In his mother’s side.” “Not her back but her side,” they echoed endlessly.

“She tried in vain,” Crawford continued.

“Not an artery but a vein…”

“But he never caused her nothing but shame.” Crawford looked to Margot and Mason whom had no comment this time and was momentarily satisfied. “He left home the day she died. From the day she was gone…all he wanted…was rock’n’roll porn and a motor bike.”

At that line, Clarice burst out laughing.

“Shooting up junk,” Crawford continued.

“He was a low down cheap little punk!” Clarice jumped in before falling over in giggles.

Crawford saw no fault in that statement and went on. “Taking everyone for the ride! When Pauly said he didn’t like his teddy you knew he was a no good kid. But when he threatened your life with a switchblade knife…”

“What a guy,” Hannibal jumped in.

“Makes you cry,” Clarice sang.

“And I did,” Crawford concluded.

“But he must have been drawn,” Crawford continued, “Into something. Making him warn me in a note which reads…”

Everyone except Hannibal jumped up from the table and crowded around Crawford to read it. “What’s it say? What’s it say?”

The note read: “I’m out of my head. Oh hurry, for I could be dead. They mustn’t carry out their evil deeds. AHH!!”

“When Pauly said he didn’t like his teddy you knew he was a no good kid. But when he threatened your life with a switchblade knife…”

“What a guy,” Hannibal jumped in.

“Makes you cry,” Clarice sang.

“And I did,” Crawford concluded.

The chorus carried out once more before the music dwindled into nothing. Hannibal stood then, grinning mysteriously as he drew back the tablecloth to reveal the remains of Paul Krendler, cut noticeably for meat. Everyone gasped, except Clarice, who screamed and ran around the table until she found herself in Pilcher’s arms.

Hannibal gasped, suddenly infuriated. “Clarice! How could you?!” He angrily tore Clarice away from Pilcher and most appropriately set a punch to his jaw that knocked him back to last Thursday. Pilcher, screaming like an infant, bolted out of the room, closely pursued by Hannibal.

Pilcher let out another scream as more music drifted down the hallway. Mason and Margot were left alone in the dining room, laughing hysterically as Clarice and Crawford bounded after them.

“I’ll tell you once, I won’t tell you twice,” Hannibal was singing, “you better wise up, or pay the price. Your apple pie don’t taste too nice. You better wise up, or pay the price.”

Pilcher tried to unsuccessfully hit him but missed and continued running.

“I’ve laid the seed, it should be all you need. You’re as sensual as a pencil wound up like an E or first string,” it was obvious he was making a reference to Clarice now, whom ignored the look Crawford gave her. “When we made it, didja hear a bell ring?”

From somewhere, a bell rang.

“You have a block? Well take my advice. You better wise up, or pay the price. The transducer, will seduce yah…” With that, Hannibal pulled down a lever on the wall and Pilcher, Clarice, and Crawford all froze in place.

“My feet! I can’t move me feet!” Clarice gasped.

“It’s as if we’re glued to the spot!” Pilcher added.

“You are!” Hannibal hissed. “So quake with fear, you tiny fools!”

“Oh! We’re trapped!” Clarice said dramatically.

“It’s something you’ll get used to,” Hannibal sang. “A mental mind fuck can be nice!” At that, Hannibal trailed behind Clarice and smiled smugly at Pilcher. “You better wise up, or pay the price. You better wise up, build your thighs up.” With that, he ran his hands down her thighs, which she tried to bait away without much conviction, as though she had to. “You better wise up…”

“And then she cried out…” Pilcher muttered.

Clarice took a big breath and screamed: “More! More! More!”

Everyone stopped and looked at her blankly. Pilcher and Crawford were infuriated and Pilcher again attempted a punch at Hannibal, who, in his pleased state, had meandered over in that direction.

Pilcher looked back to Clarice and went all puppy-eyed. “Clarice…how could you?”

“Well…umm…it was quite easy. He…just…well…” Clarice tried to find the words, but was taken aback by Crawford’s hurt look.

“Yes, I think that settles things,” Hannibal said, all song and dance out of his system now. He turned appropriately to Crawford. “I’m sorry about your…”

“Dinner?” Crawford said bitterly.

“Employee.”

“Same thing.”

Hannibal chuckled. He looked to Pilcher, then back to Crawford and said, “You should leave now while it is still possible. You see, we are about to beam the entire house to the city of Buenos Aires, on the continent of South America.”

Crawford and Pilcher stood there dumfounded for a minute.

“Go…” Hannibal said. “Now!”

And go they did, hurrying outside before any more madness could overtake them. As the house blasted away, they were both knocked to the ground as a slow, dramatic piano solo penetrated the air.

A sad Pilcher began singing: “I’ve done a lot, God knows I’ve tried. To find the truth…I’ve even lied. But all I know is down inside I’m…bleeding…”

Perhaps a bit angrier rather than dramatic, Crawford added to the end: “And cannibals, come to feast, to taste the flesh, not yet deceased. And all I know is still the beast is feeding…”

Hannibal and Clarice stood at the window of the house, now elevated to a terrific view below. Margot and Mason stood behind them, ready to add more comments.

“And crawling on the planets face,” said Hannibal.

“What did you have for breakfast?” Margot muttered to Mason, and they both giggled outrageously.

Ignoring them, he continued. “Some insects, called the human race.”

Mason turned back to Margot and mumbled, “Where’s his sense of humor?”

“Lost in time…” Hannibal continued, still ignoring them.

“What’s your favorite TV Show?” Margot asked.

“And lost in space,” Hannibal said, giving them a ‘don’t-fuck-with-me-that’s-Clarice’s-job’ look. “And meaning.”

Everyone echoed as one last note: “Meaning…”

Anyways, they all went to Buenos Aires and lived happily ever after, until Mason tried to take over and was thwarted and eaten by Hannibal, who framed Margot for the entire thing.


FIN

copyright 2001, by Diana Lecter

Send Feedback to Author

 

Site Copyright © 2001 by Loving Lecter - The Fan Fiction Site.

This fan fiction site exists to honor characters created by Thomas Harris.
No infringement of rights is intended and no profit, of any kind, is made.