Darkness drifted in Zeno's right eye, the cornea shimmered like the surface of a soap bubble, then red rays bathed the men, taking them to the scene of his new creation.

   A church spire and the buildings of a village were silhouetted against the rising yellow moon. Sounds of crickets, night birds, rustling leaves and creaking shutters came to their ears as the view zoomed to the edge of town. There they walked as invisible men, enjoying the summer breeze and the fragrance of clover. Reaching the top of a rise and a swaying willow, they stopped and looked down. A graveyard spread out below. One that looked elaborate for such a small town.

   Obelisks, angels and other monuments surrounded a tomb near the center and a field of smaller stones ran off to the south. The sweet odors of flowers touched their nostrils, followed by another less pleasant smell, that of rank earth. It came from a spot near the tomb where a monument had tumbled and a split ran through the ground.

   A creature began to rise. Cake-black earth spilled from its claws and the moonlight illumined its broad blue face. It pulled itself over the lip and stood, shaking off the dirt. Muscles bulged, ropes of tendon and torn flesh gleamed through the rips in its ragged clothes. Lifting a huge flat foot it kicked the gravestone in front of it, knocking it over - then it growled. Reddening eyes and bloodlust replaced the confusion on its face as it began to walk.

   Zeno looked to his guests; Annak appeared impressed, but Jenson had a cynical eye cocked and was twitching his thin mustache like the monster wasn't the only bad thing he smelled. Jenson leaned forward, studying the creature's fright-mask face as it passed through the stones. It was a bit blocky, not quite as well proportioned as Zeno had wanted. Unfortunately, the nose looked more like painted wood than flesh. The green slime hanging from the creature's chin and neck worked well.

   Another figure moved through the stones - a woman wearing a white summer dress. Zeno smiled at her beauty; he had made no mistake here. The moonlight glowed like cream on her platinum hair, pale skin and pouting ruby lips.

   Wind snatched at her hem carrying it up her pale thighs, then she scented the creature, saw it coming through the stones and screamed. She began to run but her high heels didn't do well against the lumpy ground and dew-slippery grass. Tumbling into a black stone, she rolled and moaned, trying to rise as the creature bounded effortlessly to her.

   The monster halted and the woman looked up at it, horrified. It was huffing so hard now that blood was spraying from its nose. Hungry as it looked, it didn't pounce immediately. Instead it roared again, looked to the sky angrily, then reached down and ripped the ragged cloth away from its thighs.

   Its genitals showed in the moonlight - a stiff blue penis . . . large, deformed and dripping slime. The creature seized the organ with a clawed a hand, looked back at the hysterical woman and closed in.

   . . . bruised, and her clothes torn off, the woman's pale flesh glowed sensually in the moonlight. The monster picked her up, threw her down and battered her some more. Stimulated by her screams he leapt on her and mounted her. Pinning her, he began to thrust hard with his slime-dripping organ, moaning grotesquely as she screamed.

   Her howls were so loud even half-deaf Annak had to cover his ears, then the time window faded in red rays and the lights came on. Zeno knew the shot was a flop; he was afraid to face Jenson, but he had little choice.

   Shock was sculpted into Jenson's face, almost like a second face lift. He didn't wait; he seized Zeno's shoulder. "It's offensive. It has to be retouched and edited."

   "But why?" Zeno said, lamely. "I gave you realism. It's a time-travel shot and the victim is a real person living in 1997."

   "Realism in the creation of the monster is what we want. Your starlet's screams almost destroyed my ears."

   "But that's realism. That's how a woman reacts when a monster rapes her."

   "You fool. You're composing for MonsterSkin Magazine. My readers won't buy that nonsense. The girl has to enjoy it and you know that. I want it edited; first she fights, then she enjoys it. I want her to have an orgasm so wild it will tear that monster and my subscribers apart. If you want, you can even try a new twist, like near the end she suddenly turns into a vampire tigress and drinks the monster's blood."

   "Isn't that a contradiction?" Annak said. "I mean, if a woman is to be submissive she shouldn't turn into a tigress."

   "Artists," Jenson said, shaking his head. "I keep forgetting that you two are new. My readers have really only one set of sexual beliefs. A shot where the victim struggles and dies in pain would only appeal to a small audience of serial killers, vicious rapists and creeps. The true gentleman doesn't want to hurt a girl. He wants to rape her and he wants her to love him for it. He lures her into the trap with his sexual magnetism. Magnetism he has gained by using the steroids and other products advertised in our magazine. Once he has the girl enchanted and has bought her an expensive dinner, he rapes her. She fights him of course, and then submits to enjoyment, orgasm and the truth of the fact that she wanted to be raped all along. Our monster shots are also a brand of psychological reinforcement. They're real, taking place in the past in time slots we have rented. The beast really represents the brute side of all men, and after seeing a real girl enjoying being raped by a monster our subscribers can shake off guilt feelings haunting them from the rapes they have committed themselves. Twist endings like the tigress are okay because the girl doesn't really become dominant. It is the stiff rod, the male lightning rod penetrating her body that empowers her with sexual strength."

   "Artists like Cat Mac are doing offbeat, non formula material that is quite popular," Zeno said.

   "I see," Jenson said. He finished packing his pipe and lit it. "Stop trying to imitate Cat Mac. He isn't a commercial artist working in the trade. Cat is a popular artist with his own wealthy clientele."

   Annak nodded and pulled his beard thoughtfully. "We know that. We just thought that perhaps the time had come to open your magazine to different formats."

   "No, it's not the time," Jenson said. He blew smoke in Annak's face. "We're not the market for that. Sales come first."

   "It's not a problem," Zeno said. "I wanted to reshoot the piece anyway. Right now I think I need a rest. Say, Cat Mac is presenting his new piece today. Let's shoot over on the beam. I'd really like to see what he's up to in the area of monster design."

   Fifteen people stood around the warp pad, all of them artists, except Jenson. They were also handsome to the Nth degree; living testimony to what genetic enhancement, plastic surgery and new-order steroids could do.

   Cat Mac alone lacked handsome looks. He was about as ugly as a third degree burn. Chinese men of the day were all impossibly handsome, and that made him even more unusual. Cat came from a slum in Montreal, where the new genetic selection wasn't practiced. He began his career at the bottom, as a starving artist, which was rare today. Artists fought for air time and interviews, but Cat made no appearances - he preferred to have an air of mystery and would not allow fame or publicity to kill it. Jenson and most people believed Cat's looks were created by plastic surgeons. To them Cat looked too much like an oriental bad guy from an ancient World War Two movie, and such looks could be no accident.

   Jenson had minor acting experience, as did the other guests, and they had all trained under the best gurus. Personal power and control came to them as naturally as sweat. In spite of it, Cat Mac looked to be in control. He was an artist with a power no pretty boy could have, and the sad part was that he knew he couldn't pass it on. Cat couldn't teach people who were all add-ons and acting how to be genuine. The problem in the first place was that they didn't try to be genuine - everything was illusion and appearances to them.

   Sunlight highlighted the deep creases in Cat's face as he began to speak. "Gentlemen, I do have the use of a pad, but it is not to travel to the distant past as you probably think." He held up a hand to fend off questions. "We are going to travel to the future."

   There were gasps. Jenson nearly choked as his face turned green with envy. "The future, you must tell me how to rent a similar slot for MonsterSkin Magazine."

   "You can't rent a slot. It has to be a gift. My client is a wealthy woman who lives in the future. She loves my work and has decided to have a shot of her own done."

   "Is there any way I can meet her?" Jenson said.

   "Why yes," Cat said. "She will be viewing the shot, but I do hope you're not going to offend her by making a crass sales pitch?"

   "No, certainly not," Jenson said, looking rather unhappy.

   "Very well," Cat said. "If you men will join me on the pad, we'll be off."

   Jenson and the artists blinked, the red rays of the time beam didn't seem to be fading, then they saw that it was the sun. In this future the atmosphere lacked body, even the light breeze felt thin. As their vision cleared they got a stomach-wrenching view of an arena below. If it was an arena . . . it was more like a bomb crater on the edge of a smashed city. Melted steel, totaled buildings, boulder-sized chunks of glass, overturned vehicles and rubbish filled the depression. No inhabitants walked among the broken walls, and obviously they had died so long ago even their skeletons were dust.

   Squinting, Jenson saw Cat Mac out on a part of the ledge so narrow it was scary. Nightmarishly high buildings towered in the skyline behind him as he waited for a woman approaching him on the walkway. She was blond, tanned, full-figured and even from a distance Jenson could see that her fashion-model looks made her perfect for a centerfold. He thought about offering her a contract, then it came back to him that she had gotten Cat this future time slot. This was no model, but a woman of great power. Without thinking, Jenson began to walk out on the narrow portion, then his fear of heights got him and his head spun. Annak caught him before he fell.

   "Damn," Jenson said. "Why did Cat pick a slot like this?"

   "He's an artist," Zeno said. "Can't you see the value of it? A city destroyed by a future war. A shot done here will be priceless."

   "I suppose so, but I'm more interested in getting a slot for a MonsterSkin shot than I am in watching one of Cat's eccentric pieces. I've got to talk to that woman."

   Jenson stepped out on the ledge again, but more carefully this time. He could see Cat waving and that encouraged him. Perhaps Cat had already mentioned his request for a slot. He began to walk, then a flash from below caused him to look down. Some sort of mechanical beast was moving down there, and the sight of it caused him to stumble. He nearly fell, then he caught himself and kept his eyes straight ahead, refusing to look down as he walked up to Cat and the woman.

   They were standing on a small pedestal, grinning from ear to ear, and the contrast was eerie - Cat's grin was absolutely hideous while the woman's was absolutely beautiful. "I'd like you to meet Lisa Debalo, the artist who commissioned this shot," Cat said.

   "I'm pleased, very pleased to meet you," Jenson said, his eyes automatically falling to her breasts.

   "I bet you are," Lisa said, her smile turning icy.

   "Let's get down to business," Cat said. He pushed a button on his shoulder and Jenson saw a small camera begin to whir. "A small legal matter," he said. "You are a guest and participant only and do not intend to claim any rights to this shot for MonsterSkin Magazine. Is that correct?"

   "I won't try to claim rights," Jenson said. "That would be crass of me."

   "Good," Cat said, shutting the camera off. "Prepare to act."

   "What are you talking about?" Jenson said. "I don't plan to act in this piece. I thought it was supposed to be one of your offbeat monster shots?"

   "It is," Cat said. "Tentatively titled Adam and Eve in the 25th Century."

   "That's right," Lisa said. "I have commissioned it, and you and your friends are to be the stars. It will be a rather long piece I suspect. A sort of lighthearted sexual romp for man and monster."

   "No way, this is a bad joke," Jenson said, backing away. "Stay back," he said as Lisa approached, then he turned, tried to run and fell.

   Jenson landed hard, and he groaned, certain he had fractured his right leg. Fortunately, the streets were dust. Otherwise the fall would've killed him. Getting to one knee, he heard his suit rip, then he looked up and saw the flash of camera lenses high above.

   He thought about yelling to the others for help, then he heard loud clanking and remembered the monster he'd seen from above. Looking to his left he saw it approaching. The creature was a huge thing - a freakish robot. Spiderlike, composed of metal arms, claws and feet. Three enormous breasts protruded below fiery red eyes and he could see several limbs with huge spinning dildos attached.

   Jenson couldn't run, he could only crawl on his injured leg. A whirling blue dildo bounced off his face and he screamed. Then he heard Cat yelling from above, "Do try to look like you're enjoying it, Jenson. It will make the editing so much easier."