Archive for May, 2020

#Horror #Bizarro

Posted: May 3, 2020 in Uncategorized

Midlife Crisis

Jeff Prebis

Olson opened his eyes and squinted at sunlight. His head throbbed. He had an insatiable need to have a cigarette. Where the fuck was he? He squinted at the room and failed to recognize anything. He drank too much last night. He vaguely remembered meeting a woman. A respectable one with a job in real estate, a decent career, and kids, he assumed. He was getting too old for this shit. He really needed to settle down. The alcohol was taking a toll on his soul.

He noticed that blotches of burned candle wax were on his bare chest. The sheets and bedspread covered his lower extremities. He needed a cigarette, his clothes were missing, and he looked around frantically. There was no sign of them. There was a note on the nightstand next to a red candle that burned halfway to extinction. He picked up the note and read it. It was from his paramour.

It read: I’ll be back at lunchtime. I took your clothes and put a band on your ankle so I can track you in my home. Don’t steal anything. You can have breakfast. No smoking in the house. My sons are home and they have a babysitter. She has been instructed to shock you if you leave the house. Don’t test the potency of the anklet. It’s quite electric. Quite shocking. I liked fucking you. Hope to have a quickie at lunch. Kisses.

‘           He sat there dumbfounded, he was in a prisoner in a stranger’s home, and he really needed a cigarette. The bedroom door opened. He winced at the prospect of meeting children or the babysitter. He was forty. He really was getting too old for this shit. He needed to settle down, he had a wife once, and that didn’t work out. Many people don’t even have one chance at love, and here he was, forty, and hoping to find someone to share his life with. The club was packed with women who had love, lost it, and thought more about their careers, the way he used to think before he kissed goodbye to his thirties, and reached the possible midpoint of his mortal existence.

He reached down and felt for the anklet. He didn’t believe that she would an electrical band on his ankles, but he found one, and he felt trepidation. He moved off the bed. He needed a cigarette desperately despite the mandate that he couldn’t smoke. It wasn’t as if his nameless paramour had cameras set up in the room.

He rose from the bed and stretched. He felt uncomfortable being naked in a strange bedroom. He felt as though he were watched. He looked around the room. The room had a Sliver vibe. He noticed pictures on the dresser with the vanity mirror. The pictures depicted other men in captivity. They had screams frozen on their faces and blood was present on their naked bodies. Olson’s trepidation increased. This wasn’t the first time his nameless paramour had done this.

He peeked out the bedroom window, noticed dirt-covered mounds in the lawn, and frowned. It looked like some digging had taken place, and something or possibly someones had been buried out there. He was in trouble. He had to get the anklet off, and get out of the house. He wasn’t young anymore, but dying was not palpable, no matter how bad his midlife crisis became. He wanted to live on, his positive attitude could be crushed, and he believed things had to get better for him.

The bedroom door opened and some strange-looking individuals entered. They had misshapen, incongruous faces with long beards. They were half the size of a short woman. They stopped at him in all his nude glory. They held bloody knives. One had a dead cat in his hands that had its throat slit. It was hard to tell how the individuals could see. The world had to be a distorted place to them. One had an eye on the top of his face and one at the bottom. His mouth was sideways and the bottom was full of teeth like the mouth of a shark. That particular character gnawed on the face of the cat, holding the knife at its side. The sheer violence of the action frightened Olson profoundly.

His mind left the present for a few seconds. He had a flash of the bedroom last night. He lay on the bed naked, waiting for the woman to return from the bathroom, he had an erection, and he smiled. She walked out of the bathroom in a black leather dominatrix outfit, carrying a whip, which she cracked threateningly at him. He was highly aroused, he had a thing for aggressive women, and she fit his type perfectly. In the morning, he probably would wish he had a nice girl.

She climbed on the bed, rose over him, standing on the bed, there was a slit in the black leather for her vaginal cleft. An evil look was on her face. He loved it. He loved the darkness in her brown eyes. She spread her legs and a torrent of urine hit his body. He loved it. It was the strangest thing he’d been a part of. She ordered him to lick between her legs, and he rose from the mattress to clean her labia with his tongue, he licked quickly, furtively, and she showed no reaction. She ordered him to lie back down, and he flattened his body on the bed. She bent down and forced her body over his cock. He entered her and didn’t know what to do, he waited for another order, and it came, fuck her hard. He obliged. Wanting her to spit on him, to completely defile him, no, to destroy him, to consume him with her pussy.

He rocked into her. She moved up and down on his cock like she was on a pogo stick, rising all the way, letting his cock slip out ephemerally, and then slamming her body down on it. He grunted with each thrust. This was the first time he’d had sex naturally, without the aid of Viagra, and he couldn’t believe how aroused he was. Even at forty, he was still a decent lover, and capable of satisfying a woman, making one sweat, scream.

He snapped back to the present. The deformed individuals were closer to him, he felt a knife slash his arm, drawing blood, and he screamed, completely unprepared for the attack. He was a defenseless, naked mid-aged man. He needed clothes, definitely a weapon. He opened a drawer, and discovered several leather whips, and withdrew one. He snapped it in front of the knife-wielding maniac, and the maniac hissed and back up. Olson cracked it again with more authority. All the individuals hissed.

A young woman entered the bedroom, she had a plate of cookies, and the individuals stopped their assault on Olson, and grabbed cookies. “Do you want one?” the young woman asked Olson.

“Sure,” he replied.

“She does this all the time,” the woman said. “Just keep entertaining her, if not…you probably won’t like the outcome. Your life depends on it.”

“I need to cover myself,” Olson said. “Where did she put my clothes?”

He opened a few more of the drawers and found only panties, leather ones with strings for the back. There weren’t any menswear. He didn’t care about this point. He didn’t want to be naked with the little maniacs. He put on a pair of the panties, black ones, and he could barely breathe. The underwear was too small and consequently too tight, choking his cock and balls. He looked down at himself. He couldn’t possibly look more ridiculous.

“You can walk around the house,” the woman said. “If you try to leave, though, you will be electrocuted to death. Keep that in mind.”

“I want a cigarette,” Olson stated. “Where did she put my pack?”

“You can vape if you want,” the woman said. “She vapes herself, but no actually smoking.”

He didn’t hate vaping. It just wasn’t enough nicotine. He wanted a real cigarette, one of his Pall Malls, and he would risk electrocution. He looked around again, for his clothes, his cigarettes.

“You look stressed,” the woman said. “They were baked with Xanax to calm the kids. They can be so psychotic. You almost have to worry about them more than their mother. Do you want to meet your daughter? My sister has a unique condition. She becomes pregnant every time she has sex.”

“Daughter?” Olson said. He felt weird. He never thought he would have a child, especially one born in a night, a few hours maybe, the whole story was not clear to him.

“Come with me. I’ll show her to you,” the woman said.

Olson walked past the children, who had sat down on the floor to chew their Xanax-laced cookies, even the kid with the dead cat sat, and Olson went by them unscathed. There were babies crawling in the hall. It seemed that the woman had a lot of sex. The babies mewled. A few vomited green liquid on the beige carpet which ate away at the fabric of the floor. The babies were deformed like the others. Their faces were twisted into maniacal forms. Eyes stared at everything but Olson. Olson followed the woman to a room with cries coming out of it. The woman entered the room and Olson hesitated in the doorway, peering in, afraid of what his daughter might look like.

“Come in, come in,” the woman said, “you can name her. She is so tiny. So special.”

Reluctantly, Olson entered the room, he discovered a tiny baby in a crib with deformed features. The deformity of the child upset Olson greatly. She was his, even as strange as these circumstances were, he felt some love for the child. He walked forward and looked at the serene child. She slept with a smile on her face.

“You can pick her up,” the woman said. “Like I said she is yours and you can name her. It’s better to name her now. She will grow fast and will hold resentment to you if she has no name.”

“How long has she been alive?” Olson asked. He picked the tiny girl up and she nibbled on his fingers with a grown child’s teeth.

“I think three hours,” the woman said. “Bring her to the kitchen. You should get something to eat. You will need your strength for when Tamesha returns home. She will want sex and won’t be disappointed.”

Olson grew nervous thinking about what could happen. Would there be another child? One was enough. He hadn’t planned on any.

“Who are you?” he asked the woman.

“I’m Tabitha, Tamesha’s sister,” she answered. “She is very unique. She had exposure to something when we were young. Something happened that made her different. She was abducted by aliens. She said they did something to her body when they had sex with her. The sex changed her physically.”

She walked out of the room, leaving Olson standing there with his child in his arms. The little girl bit his finger until it bled. He couldn’t think of a name for her, he was grossly unprepared for fatherhood, and didn’t know what to think. Did he have to pay alimony?

He drifted into the hallway. Children as tall as four feet leaned against the walls. They looked groggy as if they ate Xanax cookies, they were far from psychotic and rather serene. Olson walked past them in search of Tabitha. He reached the kitchen where a crowd of children were gathered. The small ones gnawed on two corpses on the floor. The corpses were men who had the genitals chewed off along with their faces. Their features were gone, bloody bone was all that was left. Taller children stood in anticipation. They had knives and forks. Olson worried that he was the next meal.

There was a sliding glass door. Vape smoke drifted through in clouds. He hated vaping, but the smell made him crave a cigarette even more. Tabitha set down the tray of cookies, and the children rose to collect Xanax cookies. Blood stained their faces from gnawing on flesh. They looked like rejects from a bad vampire movie. Freedom called his name. He inched closer to the open door. He hoped he could get past the children on the porch. Maybe his baby would help his escape.

The baby cried as she knew his intentions and didn’t want him to leave. She seemed comfortable in his arms. He reached the doorway. He could feel a breeze. Freedom smelled like cigarette smoke. The two tall children looked at him disdainfully. He felt a terrible pain. His cock and balls throbbed. He looked down and a child had a taser pressed to his scrotum. A worse pain ran from his anklet to his chest. His limbs throbbed as more electricity coursed through, he urinated in the tight black panties, and his cock felt as though it were cooking. His balls cooked in his scrotum. He turned slightly and saw a beautiful black woman dressed in all white. The contrast between her skin tone and the white material was mesmerizing. She frowned at him with a phone in her hand. The phone controlled the flow of electricity, she ran her finger across the screen, and the electricity cranked up, causing more piss to spit out of Olson’s urethra. He fell to his knees. One of the tall kids came in from the porch and kicked him in the back of the legs, knocking him down fully. Olson thought about the burial mounds in the backyard, he sat himself, he didn’t want to die, and the situation became increasingly hopeless. The baby fell out of his hands, but the kicker grabbed the baby out of the air and cradled her in his arms.

He had a flashback to last night. He approached the woman in the club, walking across the room. Numerous men were situated around her, making her laugh and buying her drinks. Boldly, he walked right into the circle and lit a cigarette. He tried to look smooth, to look cool. She liked what she saw. At the time, he felt special, in real time, he realized that it probably happened every night. That was why there were so many children. He bought her drinks, complimented her, told jokes, and gradually broke down her defenses until she invited him to come home with her. Now, he was where he was. Last night was a huge mistake.

She turned off the electricity. “Come and satisfy me,” Tamesha said. “Make love to me so I can go back to work happy.”

His teeth hurt. He couldn’t speak, only nod his head in agreement, and he struggled back onto his feet with urine dripping out of the tight black panties. The various children in this portion of the house stared at him. He felt so hot as if he had been trapped in his giant oven. The surface of his skin was lobster red. He followed Tamesha into the bedroom like a loyal dog afraid to be punished.

She pointed at the floor, indicating that he kneel down, and he obeyed. He kneeled down. She pulled up her black skirt and revealed that she wasn’t wearing any panties. The cleft between her legs moved like the mouth of a fish, as if it wanted to speak, and he stared up at it in awe. Her dark beauty was amazing. He struggled to have an erection because of the tight panties he wore. He slid them down surreptitiously, not sure if she approved or not. He felt better once his erection was free to sprout. His cock throbbed, full of blood, full of anticipation of her vaginal fluids bathing it in slickness.

She didn’t want him to penetrate. She wanted his tongue, ignoring his hungry cock. He stuck his tongue where it was directed and licked to the best of his ability. He remembered the first time he was with a woman in high school, he was just a boy and she was just a girl, stumbling through the act of sex like cyclops in the land of the blind. One more eye than the next person. He licked until he felt liquid between her legs. She had it all. The government paid women to have children. Abortion was outlawed. The corporations that ran the world always needed more consumers. They always needed more money. Wealth could only be increased. Wealth and power were drugs. Everything was a drug. Anything could be a problem if one didn’t practice moderation.

He licked until she had enough. She reached down and stroked his throbbing cock. The blood pressure in his cock was almost too painful, too strong, it felt as though his cock could explode and kill him. He couldn’t live without his cock, even though he used it less as a forty year than when he was a horny teenager or twenty-something. She quivered from the play of his cock on her flesh. Designs like tattoos formed on the surface of her skin. The designs were multi-colored snakes wound around each other. They ate their own tails. She bucked down on his cock harder, causing his cock to hurt from the amount of blood in it and the force with which she moved up and down. He groaned with pleasure and pain, the two were indivisible, and he felt like he didn’t want to be anywhere else in the world despite how strange these circumstances were. He wanted to be with her, to do anything for her, to lick her body, to taste her urine, to feel the interior of her body with his jutting cock. He knew the consequences of launching his semen inside her. He knew she would become pregnant again. He couldn’t help his body, he came boldly, and was left to face the consequences. Once he was washed up, she discarded him, released her hold on his cock, and flattened her skirt out, covering her body. Her abdomen moved, seemed to have something under the skin, and he feared another child in this crazy house. One child was enough. He wanted to just survive, to see the outside world again.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tabitha standing in the doorway, she had a sad look on her face, and she blinked at him. She seemed to pity him or she felt something different, something like attraction to him, and she was jealous that her sister had the opportunity to have him as a lover. Tamesha brushed past Tabitha on her way out of the room. Tabitha lingered in the doorway as Olson pulled up his panties. He faced her with a placid look on his face.

“You have to be starving,” Tabitha said. “I’ll get you something to eat.” She lingered in the door way, though, staring at Olson’s crotch. Olson had a thought. She wanted him also. They definitely were sisters, though, one was demented. Tabitha seemed to be a nice girl, innocent even, not nearly as sexually adventurous as her sister. She made a face, turned her nose a little, and looked at Olson.

You smell like urine,” she said. “Do you want to take a shower?”

“Yeah,” he said. “It might me wake up from this nightmare.”

The bathroom was connected to the bedroom. There wasn’t a door. He walked in and noticed that the window was open. Sadly, it was too small for him to slip through. He pulled the panties down and stepped out of them. He noticed that Tabitha was in the doorway, staring at his body, it felt weird, he was sober now, a little more self-conscious than when he was drunk, and he looked back at her sheepishly. She watched him have sex with her sister and now she wanted to watch him shower. There was a look in her eyes. He wondered if she were lonely, perhaps, she envied the promiscuousness of her sister, Tamesha was a bit more exotic, a bit more commanding, and Tabitha was more demure, more of a watcher than a participant.

“I’m scared,” Tabitha said. “The aliens are going to come back any day now and take Tamesha’s children. Tamesha talks about it constantly. She is part of an experiment to see how human and alien dna melds together to make children. Her children are the next step in evolution. Do you mind if I take a shower with you? I’m around children all day, not adults, especially not men, and I need adult contact.

He turned the water on. Water flowed out of the spout. He looked into her sad brown eyes. “Sure come in with me,” he said. On cue, she stripped her clothes off, a long white tee-shirt and black sweatpants, she didn’t wear underwear and his pubic area was a jungle of curly brown hairs. Her skin wasn’t as dark as Tamesha’s. Perhaps they shared a father but had a different mother, Olson thought, and stepped into the shower, underneath the streaming water. The water took seconds to heat up from the icy temperature it had when it first started spouting out.

Tabitha joined him under the water. He touched her face gently, and he leaned in to kiss her. He didn’t close his eyes, but she did, tightly, and their tongues tangoed. He felt her perky breasts with his palms, shivers passed through her body, she seemed to be shaking, and he tried to be gentle, not wanting to scare or harm her. She wasn’t his gateway to freedom. They were outnumbered by the psychotic children, and Olson thought surviving the crazed cannibals was the most important thing at the moment. Maybe not at the moment, he had a strong desire to make love to Tabitha. He spread her legs with his hand, took a second to feel her hot spot, to feel how warm and inviting she was inside. He pushed into her gently, making her bite her lip. He maneuvered her body, turning her around, and put his hands around her waist, bending her slightly without pulling his cock out, pushing in softly until she trembled. He noticed that two of the children stood in the doorway with their misshapen faces.

“We’re hungry,” they said in unison. “We’re ready to eat him.”

“You can’t have him!” Tabitha screamed.

The kids laughed. Their faces shifted on their skulls, became more misshapen, more dreadful to look at. More kids entered the picture. They flooded the bathroom, they grabbed Olson, and there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn’t get the hands off him. He needed a weapon to combat their numbers. Their hands were greasy with blood. They pulsated before his eyes, grew taller, their faces changed in concurrence with their growing skulls. Soon they would be fully grown, taller than Olson, and he feared the future.

They passed him like a hot potato until he was in the kitchen. Her daughter had been killed, her head was severed and her body had been excavated. Organs were strewn on the kitchen counter. The eyes had been plucked from the baby’s eye sockets. Blood was around each orbit. Olson swallowed hard, unsure of his next move, he was surrounded, and feared that this was the end.

There was a gunshot. He glanced in the direction of the loud bang. Tabitha had on a blue silk robe decorated with yellow dragons. In her hand was a large gun, a 44 Magnum, and smoke came out of the barrel. She shot one of the children. The kid hit the ground, and clutched at a gaping hole in his chest. His blood stained the light blue carpet. The children crawled, walked, slithered toward her, dropping Olson on the ground. Before Tabitha could fire another shot, a strange golden light filled the house. It shone from above the house, through the house, and blinded Olson ephemerally. He squinted, trying to determine what it was. One by one, the children rose under the beam, lifting into the air, and through the ceiling.

Olson walked through the golden glow. It had no effect on him. He rifled through the cabinets and drawers in the kitchen until he found a knife, and he bent over to cut the anklet off. He was able to successfully saw through it while the children were beamed through the ceiling. He noticed Tamesha, she walked behind Tabitha, and golden tendrils emerged from her arms, swirling through the air. Olson ran for the back door.

He stumbled out into regular daylight, he ran between the mounds to the back fence, a woman was watering her flowers, and Olson’s nakedness caused her to shriek. He blushed. With no choice, he jumped the fence into her yard, she hurriedly made a phone call, and before he was out of her yard, a siren could be heard on the street. Naked and covered in bloody handprints, he put up his hands when a cop exited the squad car with a gun pointed at him. Homeowners came out of their homes to view the scene. They walked to the road. Another cop arrived in an SUV with a barking German shepherd in the back. The hair on the back of the German shepherd stood up. Olson babbled about what he’d been through and the cop didn’t respond well. Handcuffs were thrown on Olson’s wrists. Clearly, his story was not believed.

Rather than jail, Olson was taken to a psychiatric hospital and provided a luxurious room with a shower and a closet. He didn’t know when he would be released. Olson sat around mostly, watching tv or playing cards. Someday he hoped to write about this chapter of his life. Maybe he would, maybe not.





#Horror #Bizarro

Posted: May 3, 2020 in Uncategorized