Challenge Yourself Weekend – He should have never let her into the apartment…

Start with “He should have never let her into the apartment…”
See where your mind takes you……

A_Vampire__s_Rage

The Succubus Escort Agency by Richard Bell

“He should never have let her into the apartment” said the bloody disgruntled crime scene clean up guy.
“Put me right off my sloppy joe!”
The remains of Oskar Sukarian were pretty much everywhere.
His guts were in the bathtub and vocal chords in the toilet. His head was stuck on the lamp, scooped out brains and eyes so the light shone through his sockets, nose and screaming, toothless mouth. His teeth were placed in twos on each window sill. Fingers and toes in twos behind each door and tongue, brain matter and eyeballs were inside his pillow case.
The arms and legs plus stump hands and feet were placed on his lazy boy, feet up and arms down.
His torso was hung on the bedroom ceiling fan by shredded back skin and screwed into the fan blades by his thumb bones. And all his body hair and anus were in the kettle!
“What they can’t figure out is how he was dismembered? It wasn’t a bone saw or chainsaw… or cold sores…no? Not even a half-smile, eh Jack?”
Jack Streeter was a crime scene cleaner of twenty-two years and this job was the one that broke his black humour. It was like it was a stallion getting its saddle for the first time and throwing the rider into the path of a tornado.
“This has bad karma written all over it…not to mention the weird writing, in his blood, ALL over the apartment walls, ceiling and floor. Initial assessment is that he was taken apart by…giant lizard fangs. He was gnawed into pieces!”
Jack’s glib partner, Taff, dropped his steam pad and removed the pathogen mask much to Jack’s amazement.
“Hold on…where’s his bits and bobs?”
“Bits and bobs?”
“Yes! His cock and balls. She must have eaten them. They aren’t anywhere, inside or out of what’s left! They scoured this place on hands and knees and photographed every square inch and no sign of Mr Wiggly and his love blobs.”
Jack broke his stone face with a wide grin and began to chuckle.
“Love blobs? You mean his testicles, Taff?”
“There’s the Jack I know. You were starting to freak me out.”
“Honestly, Taff, this place makes my blood run cold. Something unnaturally evil came for Mr Sukarian and it took him apart, used his blood for graffiti, turned him into a jigsaw puzzle, ate his junk then left leaving bloody footprints up the wall to the window then down the side of the building…five storeys high!”
Both men sat on the floor and stared around them in amazement.
“How did she reach the ceiling to write that and what is a Yeh hej heht uif wah ruhid cohi vuhris?” quizzed Taff with a furrowed brow that made his large head look like a baked potato.
“She walked it same as the side of the building. She has dainty feet for a maniac, I’ll give her that. What does the Septic Super call this kind of scene again…er…oh yes…an HMH.”
“HMH?”
“Yes…horror movie homage. The imagination is lacking originality in most cases as it doffs its cap to a movie or book reference. But in this case we are down the rabbit hole and being smoked by the caterpillar. This is entirely new and altogether terrifying. This appears to be outside the laws of physics and, of course, reason! They’ve got linguistic professors scouring libraries the world over looking for this language which may something new, perhaps? My gut feeling is that he was after something a little different and he found it right here. He was jaded with the conventions of normal sex and wanted to peer behind the curtain and into the very back room that is unlit. The room that they enter with a torch and unwrap the material from plain paper and polythene. The beautiful manicured world he suffered was burned away as the first glimpse of the sickening images pinched the throat, slugged the gut and flicked on the strip light hum inside his head as nausea set in. Those gentle unsuspecting souls being loved by murder and dishonoured by the power of those who see a taboo as a right. The further up the ladder to god the more perverse and grotesque the tastes become until they are peering through the clouds into paradise with the devil on their shoulders. My guess is he found a monster along his trail of conquests and invited it to finish his schooling. Come on let’s get back to…wait…what’s that poking out from behind his crucifix?”
The two men stepped carefully over the bloody scrawl and police markers on the floor and made their way to the inverted cross on the wall. Behind the upside down outstretched arms of Christ, a small white corner was visible and Jack plucked it out with his spindly gnarled fingers.
“It’s a business card and it feels old, very old. There’s a name – Luma and a number.”
“Let’s call the number” whispered Taff playfully.
“Why not? We can hang up then turn this over to the suits. May be a good lead. Give me your company burner phone, Taff then there’s no trail.”
Jack dialled carefully then waited.
A faint ringing came from the back of the apartment. The two men walked towards the sound with trepidation until they reached the walk in wardrobe. The ringing was coming from inside a tuxedo and, pulling it from the hangar, they laid it on the bed. Inside the left pocked was an unsightly bulge and Jack swiftly put his mask and gloves on to deal with it. Reaching inside he pulled out a small black purse that had the unmistakable stink of necrosis oozing out of it. The ringing was louder now and the bag had a faint light flashing on and off with the ring tone. Jack emptied the contents onto the table and stepped back. It was Mr Sukarian’s genitalia and, inside the scrotum, was a phone waiting to be answered. He quickly pulled it out of the sickly black juices and wiped the screen clean.
It was Taff’s burner phone blazing away.
Jack reached down and ended the call as Taff sank to his knees gasping like a landed fish. Jack picked up the phone and scrolled through the details swiftly.
“The card says this phone’s number but it is Mr Sukarian’s phone. It is odd. Wait…I remember the tale… When a Succubus, a female demon feeds then that place becomes hers to…”
Taff coughed and spat out a fountain of blood that covered Jack’s legs forcing him to spring backwards into the dresser. Agonising screams were jutting out of a shuddering Taff as he raised his head to the ceiling and retched. Neck and backbones cracked from within and his mouth stretched wider and wider until a long white snake slithered out of his bulging throat and onto the floor. It wound up in front of Jack and from the centre of the gigantic coil, a pair of slender arms flew up and tickled the air above. Then a mass of black curls slunk upwards followed by an alabaster sleek body and thick black pubic hair. “Jaaaaaaaaccckkk!” It hissed as the snake moved away and, as it passed over the bloody words, soaked them up into its pale skin becoming more ruddy with every letter.
The naked woman crept over to a paralysed Jack leaned against the dresser and ran her fingers up his leg and across to his crotch.
“Let me feel your death cum, Jack.”
She unzipped his pants and slid his hard cock deep inside the black fleecy mound. Faster and harder, faster and harder as the rhythm built to a tumult and Jack howled with pleasure at his hard release. At that very moment, her head spun like an owl and long needle like teeth sunk into his throat, tearing it out as her claws began to strip flesh from bone. After an hour of slicing, gnawing, stripping, cracking and gutting, she stood over the mess and wiped her mouth clean. Her white serpent had cleared all evidence away and was bright scarlet as it coiled round her. Slowly and hypnotically, she slid down into the hideous protection of its seething scaly body, licking her lips with unabashed pleasure.
Her black hair, green eyes and scarlet lips were the last to be enveloped and, as she sunk out of sight, she hissed at the inverted cross,
“I’m a greedy mare, my beautiful unobtainable man.
I always have dessert after the main meal.”

vampire-in-fog

 

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

Protected by The Freewill Writers Asylum Vaults since 2015

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