Vicissitudes (of Time): The Canonical Decomposition of the Gallow's Nymph

First Part

With the advent of advanced temporal imaging technology, our team has been granted the opportunity to delve deeper into the curious details surrounding the final treatment of Madame Du Crète's severed head and her much-used bust after her decapitation.

This report will systematically examine each of the five primary accounts regarding Madame Du Crète's final indignities, assessing their credibility and comprehensively elucidate the fate of her mortal remains.

Version 1: Unclaimed and Discarded

The first narrative states that Madame Du Crète's severed head was left unclaimed by her husband following her public decapitation, and was subsequently discarded and buried in an unmarked grave in the so-called "Sinner's Field" on the outskirts of Paris. 

This area was known to serve as the final resting place for the urban poor, the mentally infirm, and even the discarded remains of slaughtered animals. The assertion that Madame Du Crète's head was left unclaimed by her husband is corroborated by all historical records and verified through temporal imaging, unclaimed by any family member or mourner. However it is incorrect that it was simply thrown into a haphazard mud ditch alongside the dregs of Parisian society.

Version 1 also went on to state that her gravediggers, often consisted of only the lowest ranks of society and untoucheables - availed themselves of Madame Du Crète's remains, engaging in unspeakable acts of defilement before consigning her to the mud ditch they were entrusted with.

Version 2: Exhumed and Desecrated

The second version we have examined paints a far more lurid picture of Madame Du Crète's posthumous fate. According to this account, her body was not simply discarded into an unmarked grave, but rather interred in a simple casket - only to be swiftly exhumed by a cabal of her former paramours from the upper echelons of Parisian society. 

These men, a diverse group of influential individuals. variously described as rakish young noblemen and aged, depraved clerics, are said to have descended upon Madame Du Crète's grave in a conspiratorial fashion, eagerly despoiling her remains in a orgiastic frenzy. *Data indeed coroporated with a diverse array of 20+ male DNA samples found within and upon her body.

Version 3: Sold to a Pervert

The third version of events suggests a more mercenary twist to the fate of Madame Du Crète's remains. According to this account, Madame Du Crète's husband, Monsieur Robert Du Crète, took the opportunity to exact a final measure of revenge upon his unfaithful wife. In the wake of her execution, Monsieur Du Crète is said to have collected the entirety of Madame Du Crète's substantial banking assets and then swiftly departed Paris, leaving their four children in an orphanage. 

- not before securing a lucrative sale of his wife's severed head to a wealthy, perverse individual with a morbid fascination for such mementos. The fate of her body, in this version, is left uncertain, with the options being either a return to the unmarked grave of the first narrative or the potential acquisition by an anatomist.

Our investigation has revealed that this particular narrative was, in fact, penned and distributed by one Yechiel Levi, a former lover of Madame Du Crète who had been deeply resentful of her acceptance of the attentions of African men and their DNA.

Version 4: Pimped Corpse

The fourth narrative presents a rather farcical and clearly satirical depiction of the fate of Madame Du Crète's remains. In this version, a brazen pimp is said to have attempted to peddle her corpse to any and all interested parties, regardless of their social status or proclivities. Upon further investigation, it has been determined that this particular account was also penned and distributed by the aforementioned Yechiel Levi, whose pamphlets had tinged the way the public perceived her throughout her rigors.

Furthermore, (explored below) one ought not to discount the buried truth within such biting satire. As we shall see the role Yechiel Levi played in orchestrating both the separation of Madame's corpse from her husband, and the veneer of legality he would provide for all interested parties. Version 4 therefore should be examined less in data but in the ideation of Levi's anonymous confession. Societally, it also does serve to illustrate the extent to which Madame Du Crète's reputation had become the subject of lurid speculation and trendy scandal.

Version 5: Canine Desecration

Another scrawled comment which he saw upon another page read "Je veux toujours la  baiser avant qu'elle pourrisse." accompanied by a rather well drawn graffiti of a doting dog staring at her debasedness. 

The final account we have scrutinized alleges that Madame Du Crète's discarded and unburied corpse was eventually discovered by a pack of hounds in the Sinner's Field, who then proceeded to indulge their carnal appetites upon her shapely form. For the moment despite the profuse evidence of canine DNA found in her vaginal and anal orifices, we shall withhold fully substantiating this supposition.  

✾. Temporal Imaging Analysis and Verification

Through the use of our state-of-the-art temporal imaging technology, we have been able to yielded a surprisingly synchronistic result. Through the use of temporal imaging, we can confirm that this initial Version 1 is largely accurate. Madame Du Crète's head was indeed left to rot atop the public gibbet, unclaimed by her estranged husband. Only to be later removed and hastily interred in a nondescript plot within the Sinner's Field along with her unclaimed infamous body.

Furthermore, our analysis of the aftermath has revealed that her decapitated body was later recovered and buried in a simple casket, with no markers or identification, in the Sinner's Field – a Potter's Field reserved for the destitute, the mentally ill, and other social undesirables. The claim that the gravediggers amply defiled her remains prior to burial appears to be also true.

Our investigation has confirmed the veracity of this account. Temporal imaging has revealed that, approximately one day after her initial interment, Madame Du Crète's casket was indeed exhumed by a group of individuals, including several men described as being of noble or high-ranking status, as well as some of her former paramours.

These men, driven by an insatiable obsession with Madame Du Crète, subjected her remains to further indignities, using her head and body in a variety of sexual acts. Disturbingly, our analysis has shown that they failed to notice or acknowledge the previous "users" of her remains, unwittingly adding their own genetic material to the already desecrated corpse.

As for Version 3: this account can be partially validated through our investigation. While it is true that Monsieur Du Crète did indeed leave town shortly after his wife's execution, abandoning his children and forfeiting a Christian burial for Madame Du Crète, our research has revealed that Monsieur Du Crète did not directly sell the head to a single "perverse bidder," but rather, he inadvertently facilitated the transfer of the head to a group of powerful individuals who had a collective interest in acquiring it. This transaction was orchestrated by the head servant of one Yechiel Levi, the previous mentioned jilted former lover of Madame Du Crète who also worked as a clerk at the Hôtel de Ville. Levi was instrumental in arranging the legal framework and warchest of collective incentives that led to Monsieur Du Crète relinquishing his wife's remains to this cabal of influential men (their liberalities in the subsequent exhumation detailed in Version 2.)

Version 4 was indeed a work of satire, penned and distributed by the aforementioned Yechiel Levi, likely as a means of boasting about his role in the pimping of Madame Du Crète's remains under total anonymity. As for Version 5: This account does contain a kernel of truth – traces of canine DNA were indeed found inside Madame Du Crète's body – our investigation has revealed that this was not the result of hounds discovering her abandoned corpse. For such DNA were found during the later stages of her decomposition. 

These data are not altogether unexpected given the revelations uncovered in our previous forensic analysis: for Madame indeed had a proclivity for engaging in carnal activities with these noble's Great Danes, often in the presence of her human lovers. Through advanced DNA profiling techniques, the DNA samples recovered from her remains bear a striking exact match to those collected from her stomach from these individuals in previous (...unions?) , strongly indicating that the hounds were invited to partake in a final, nostalgic encounter with their former "mistress" after the human participants had exhausted their own depraved desires.

Part 2: Cranial Decomposition and Larval Infestation

Having established the veracity of the various accounts surrounding the initial treatment and disposal of Madame Du Crète's remains, we now turn our attention to the detailed process of her physical deterioration. Utilizing the power of our temporal imaging technology, we have been able to capture the progression of her decomposition with unprecedented clarity, affording us an unparalleled view into the macabre details of this process.

[Sensitive Content!] 

We have carefully considered the optimal timeframe from which to gather the most illuminating and definitive data. Specifically, we have identified the 21st day after Madame Du Crète's interment as the ideal temporal imaging snapshot. 

It is important to note that the separation of Madame Du Crète's head from her body actually spared her iconic countenance from the ravages of the internal decomposition that would have befallen her intact form. While her headless torso succumbed to the bloating and purging associated with the breakdown of her internal organs, her beloved visage was able to maintain its alluring qualities for a time, even as it was subjected to the attentions of her necrophilic admirers.

By this time, the initial round of violations perpetrated by the gravediggers and the subsequent exhumation and further desecration by her former paramours had run their course. Prior to this stage, the remains would have been subject to a flurry of illicit activities and surreptitious interference, with various individuals seeking to satiate their urgent fascinations. However, by the late third week, the window of opportunity for such deviant attentions would have rapidly closed, as the ravages of time and the onset of advanced decomposition rendered Madame Du Crète's corpse increasingly inhospitable to the attentions of her ardent necrophilic admirers. This cutoff point ensures that no additional DNA samples from future necrophilic encounters will be introduced, allowing us to capture the full extent of the previous insemination with clarity and precision.

However, this temporary respite from the active signs of decomposition was short-lived, as the presence of blowfly infestations quickly began to assert their toll. Within mere hours of Madame Du Crète's head being affixed to the public display, our scans have revealed the arrival of the first wave of blow fly larvae, which wasted no time in depositing their eggs deep within the recesses of her nasal passages. As these initial hatchlings began to burrow into the soft tissues of her brain, we witnessed a veritable explosion of generations, with each new cycle of larvae continuing the inexorable process of liquefying and devouring her once-captivating countenance from the inside out.

By the time we reached the critical third-week juncture, the extent of the damage inflicted upon Madame Du Crète's cranium was severe. Her eyeballs had been completely disconnected from their sockets, their nerve connections to the brain having been consumed by the ravenous larvae. The brain itself had been reduced to a pungent, fly-ridden paste, while one of her eyes had withered into a grape-like sac deep within the socket.

Remarkably, during the period in which her head was being passed among the depraved coterie of former paramours and gravedigger necrophiles, this internal decomposition remained largely unseen, as the outward appearance of Madame Du Crète's face retained its alluring quality. It was only as the larvae began to seep out through her nostrils, leaving a trail of young flies in their wake, that the ardor of her "suitors" began to wane.

The definitive cutoff point. Though longer than most might imagine.

Part 3: Abdominal Decomposition and Bowel Betrayal

Turning our attention to the fate of Madame Du Crète's truncated torso, we find that the process of decomposition followed a markedly different trajectory. Despite the fact that Madame Du Crète had partaken in only a modest repast of porridge on the day of her execution, her bowels had nonetheless swollen with the accumulated detritus of her final meal, a discomfort she had endeavored to spare her executioner by consciously restricting her intake.

While her severed neck prevented the rapid onset of bloating and internal liquefaction, the seed-filled cavities of her womanhood and anus became the primary sites of larval infestation and colony formation. The resulting explosion of fecal matter, coated with the DNA of her depraved violators, was eventually captured by our temporal scans, its radius and dried consistency detailed.

Our detailed temporal scans have revealed a remarkable level of forensic detail, with over 20 distinct DNA samples recovered from the various orifices and bodily fluids. Interestingly, a significant portion of these samples can be directly traced back to the canine participants in the earlier desecration of Madame Du Crète's remains, further corroborating the accounts of her intimate relationship with her former lovers' hunting hounds. It is worth noting that the configuration of Madame Du Crète's severed neck, with its jagged bone shards and spinal fragments, seems to have made posthumous oral gratification a less than optimal pursuit for her necrophilic admirers. 

However, the resilience of Madame Du Crète's anus, which had faithfully held firm even in the face of the repeated attentions of her necrophilic "suitors," would ultimately prove no match for the relentless forces of decomposition. After approximately one week of interment, the pressure within her bloated intestines reached a breaking point, unleashing a violent blast of partially digested porridge that sprayed across the interior of her coffin. While the initial supposition had been that this explosive expulsion had occurred immediately following her decapitation, our advanced temporal imaging has revealed a far more nuanced reality. In truth, Madame Du Crète's anus had maintained its integrity for an impressive duration.

Significantly, despite the discomfort Madame Du Crète must have endured from a bloated bowel on the day of her execution, the faithful retention of her anus proved to be a remarkable feat of physiological resilience. Even after being subjected to numerous rounds of penetration by her "suitors," her bowels remained intact, holding fast until finally succumbing to the relentless pressures of decomposition approximately one week into her internment.

THE EPILOGUE'S EPILOGUE

"Very Nice Rookie." The Chief nodded as she flipped through the final few pages. 

"The rest should match up what the system already have on her." The Rookie gently added. "Matching with her final exhumation in 1729, around the time the Sinner's Field was liquidated for additional urban expansion."

He was her favorite. Her eldest. Her first. Jacques, Mamah's "little man." Because his eyes reminded her of her gentle father's. When she was poor before she was rich, all was saved for his chance in the academy.

"Yes, yes. ...by her son, no less." The Chief heedlessly finished his sentence. Her spectacles still speed reading his notes and cross referencing the timescrolling datasets.

"Didn't know after so many years. After being thrown out of the academy because of his mother's arrest, and grown up in an orphanage he run away from. That he cared to drag her out again." She looked pensive as if remembering something, "Even after being called all those things, after her harlotry was exposed to all."

"It's amazing really, in a sense." The Chief continued. "He totally could have chosen to hate her."

"Yes." The Rookie faintly acknowledged it. A mirthless musing.

Instead he made himself a man. Under the guise of an apprentice became the accountant of a cutlery, then become a jeweler to own other jewelers. By then, the year of the comet in 1729, he was mostly relying on Italians who owned several shops along the river fronts. And he had enough to weather through bad stock choices. And to lay claim to his mother's bones before the field's liquidation. 

And as reported: He washed her bones then covered her in gold. Stored in his religious studies in a room in black. He would of course never be as rich as her or his father in wealth, having lost most of his operations to the Italians, his wife and 1 daughter to the plague. But he remarried and his surviving daughter put him in good graces again through her lord husband. Eventually he outlived his mother to an age she never would reach and bought a surname and a title named "Candie"~ for Candia: the capital of Crete (Du Crète). Naturally he didn't choose the name for his father. 

"You know there were fuck tons of pamphlets insinuating she was really freaky with,~" the Chief's wet dark eyes lit up, as if they were privy to the juiciest of secrets, "~you know."

"I mean I was relieved when that's a line she'd never cross." She chuckled conspiratorially.

The Rookie did not respond as her fingers began the final pages. Instead he kept his head low.

"...What's this?" The Chief's quizzical voice raised up. The expected quizzical question.

"Huh....." 

"...What's this?" The Chief's question hanged in the air like a noose.

"A Electroencephalogram?" The Chief question was unanswered.

A final diagram: apparently a time scrolled snapshot of the moment of Hélène Marie Du Crète's moment of death consisting of her X rayed skeletal frame before the moment of blade impact and a focused 360 snapshot of her brain which was recorded to have died 9 seconds after cranial separation. Then a final rather notation banner bearing the Electroencephalogram converted Inner Speech: "Please My Lord, Please be Real. Please Watch over them."

"Why are you showing me her final thoughts, Rookie?"

"Am I supposed to look at her with fresh eyes after I've seen her through almost every stage of her life~ multiple times?" "Or see her as 'human' and suddenly have a 'morality' moment?" She laughed, truly tickled laughter born out of pure amusement. "So she was praying that God was real, hoping he was real, then begging IF he was real, to watch over her 4 children." She squinted her eyes mirthfully as if he were a fresh born mouse and she a housecat. "So would any other mother" "So would any person with person thoughts." "Yeah I bet their last thoughts would mostly be Oh God, Oh fuck, I am dying, please don't let me die, and if I die let there be a God that wants me around." "So what Rookie? We are paid for our sociopathy, paid to do a good job. Not paid for~, for whatever this is."

"For a bit of context" the Rookie demurred finally. 

"Context?"

"Her path to hell began..." he fought over his words, "because her Lord husband's eyes were straying not just to her 2 maids. But to his little ones. Their little ones." "...And she'd rather walking through shame and fire, so they'd be as far away as possible from him." He continued grimly, "Despite her late dysentery, despite every perversion that would translate into coins for them to rise above the muck. She tried to end him because she knew after he returned to their lives he'd always wander to those little ones." 

The Rookie had became still, and there was an all too subtle tremor wracking him that Chief find not subtle enough. "I showed you her last thoughts because I thought someone should hear them. Someone with ears and brain should hear it." He was actually tearing. "It was a prayer." 

"A prayer somewhere, someone would listen." 

The Chief looked almost serious for a moment, then snapped to her previous mirth. 

"Have a look at CCam 15."

A deeply incredulous eyebrow rose from the Rookie. 

"W- What?" 

"Just do it." The Chief shot back encouragingly, "it will save me tons of time."

At the streaming window of CCam 15 the Rookie's eyes widened to its full orbits. 

"Wha- " 

"Yeah." 

"How- " The Chief chuckled. How usually always arrive after what.

"That's her." The Chief beamed mischievously as she watched his face drop completely at the screen, at the supple vague shape in biolab 15's orange amnionic sac began to stir and move its long exquisite limbs. It looked like a fly trapped in amber, or fruit slice in a juice pouch but more graceful, with curious movements. Then after several dozen seconds of articulation and twists, the sac opens to a silky interior, as if the inside of silk beddings and from within the shape, emerged a nude that is as familiar as the once- fully decomposed Hélène Marie Du Crète~ "Gallow's Nymph" at her prime. 

"-Our patron kept her around." The Chief explained, already preempting more what and hows.

Then she clicked on a controller and the screen switched to another screen: it's Madame Du Crète hugging with her four ones who are much older from appearance and reaching the age of majority for a holiday occasion. Monsieur Du Crète was nowhere to be found. 

"This version is technically the happy ending," Chief gestured. Then she paused, trying to think of the words, "The patron do like to have some of these when he feel like he wanted to feel fuzzy feelings or experience that." "In this version, after Madame Du Crète ran away from him with her 4 ~ Monsieur Du Crète died somewhere off screen on one of his fraudulent ventures. In time she rose to become the Mistress to the King for a time, then he married her off to one of his old bachelor lords who was happy to simply have a pretty widow and to raise her well raised young ones."

She watched as the Rookie's face followed every tracking shot on the monitor as it followed around that new happy family, and at Madame Du Crète, now older but not still without her legendary charms proudly beam over her mighty brood over Christmas gifts giving. 

She watched as his expression lit up, at his happiness being affected by their happiness as if watching a show to his great satisfaction, as if he's already rooting for that day of their lives, and many day after. And then her expression became one of profound annoyance. Instead of words, she clicked the controller button again.

This time the Rookie's face entirely drained of color. On screen was a perversion that could only be described as being akin to a William Blake's vision of hell and aberration. From this camera window, it showed Madame Du Crète's gory severed head, face spattered with her own fountained gore and blasts of stringy cum. Her dead eyes were rolled far back in their sockets. It was held up by the high piled up ornately coiffure hair, except this time the hand gripping her hair was that of a woman's...Du Crète's, another Du Crète's. She was aiding the cock that was stuffing itself into the head head's mouth, and this second Du Crète' was guiding the head back and forth as the member slid from her blood red mouth out of her truncated fleshy neck. Then, to Rookie's further alarm, a 3rd Du Crète's face and bust circled in, but with an animalistic lust and fascination at the violator, as she began to lick up the spattered cum that streaked across the dead head's face. "Bad girl" she giggled lustily at the dead head and licked up the cum gathered upon those unblinking rolled- back eyes. She turned back, and blew a kiss at her headsman in the distance of the shot, who also had the face of Du Crète. 

"I'm going to cum so hard when you cut mine off" 

The headsman blew back her kiss. 

"I hope so too! When my turn comes." 

"What- " The Rookie babbled 

"What is this?" The Chief finished for him, her look as mirthless and annoyed as before without change. 

"That's the patron." pointing at the flabby dead fish colored cock that's pistoning into the dead mouth of what had looked like Madame Du Crète.

The Chief sighed. 

"How easily are you satisfied with an answer you wanted to see." She shook her head, this time more weary than he had seen her in 3 years.

Then finally her words came.

"Has it ever occurred to you that there was never a Madame Du Crète?" She sighed, "Until we thought to make one?" 

By now her eyes were so far dead they were practically predatory 

"-And placed some poor fucking 20th century actress's unwitting clone back in the timestream to BE one?" 

"Who did you think wrote all of her life's scripts? To hobble her life into Madame Du Crète so she will die precisely as a Gallow's Nymph? Who did you think made her specifically 50% sympathetic so readers would never truly swear off her for repeat usage and 50% egregious perverse so it's always a novelty? Yeah the patron mandated it, but I was very, very good all by myself." 

"So thank you VERY much for appreciating the final thought and the final mental state I induced her in but from now on~ Know what this job really is about!" She flipped the button to her controller again, switching back to the head fucking orgy before. By now a 2nd Du Crète's head had joined the first and the patron was making both heads french kiss in a way that made both Rookie and the Chief feel outrageous, then cum were swapped between the 2 heads mouth as if they were teapots. Now the previous headswoman Du Crète has put her own neck on the block, and another Du Crète had taken up the headswoman's blade, evidently ready to behead the former executioner so a 3rd head may join the merry orgy. 

~

The Rookie did not have further skepticism to this job after that night.

He walked back to his quarters with a Madame Du Crète.

She was very lovely.