#Horror #Bizarro

Posted: July 15, 2020 in Uncategorized

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. 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 bracelet 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 bracelet. 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 bracelet. He didn’t believe that she would an electrical bracelet 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 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 bears. 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 his 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 complete defile him, no, to destroy him, 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 knife, drawing blood, and he screamed, completely unprepared for the attack. He was a defense-less, naked mid-aged man. He needed clothes, definitely a weapon. He opened a drawer, and discovered several leather whips, and he 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, chocking 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, and 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 agains 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 his 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 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 like 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,” Tameesha 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 read.

 

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