Kink: An Extreme Horror Story

by Brothers, The Barns

I stared over at Ham, jealousy coursing through me. If she hadn't already directly ordered me not to finish him, then I would have. Fucker.

  I stared at him, and something about him began to change. His pathetic, raspy breathing became a little steadier. Nothing magic happened — it wasn't like his arms and legs suddenly grew back out of nowhere, but the colour of his skin seemed to improve slightly from the pale sickly yellowish white, to a slightly healthier pinkish colour. I stared at his shoulder where I had earlier taken a few experimental bites. I had kind of enjoyed the reaction of his body at the time: the little spasms, the weird keening sound that had come out from somewhere in his chest, unable to make a real noise of complaint. He didn’t taste of much though.

  As I watched, the rawness of the wound began to fade, it didn't disappear, he was still injured there, but the injury was healing fast.

  I shuffled back across the floor, a little away from him. As I did so his head swivelled toward me, and the hole that was his mouth, stretched itself into what might have once been a grin. A chill ran down my spine. Had he heard me? Could he still do that? He hadn't seemed capable of it before, but perhaps some sense of that had returned. Her blood had done something to him. It had turned him. He had become one of the ageless, like her. But she said she was getting rid of him. I didn't get it.

  "It's not fair, it's not fair," I said.

  A shrieking whistle came out of Ham's mouth hole. He was laughing at me. Him laughing at me. It was ridiculous. Preposterous. If she didn't come back soon I was going to kill him, I decided. No one laughs at me. Not anymore.

  "I'm going to kill you!" I said.

  A shrieking whistle, then another, as the body spasmed.

  I glared at him, seething. I wasn’t sure who I hated more: Ham, or Jake. At least Jake had the virtue of being dead.

  He was lucky then that I heard the door opening upstairs. I really would have dragged myself over to him and torn his stupid throat out with my teeth. Little fuck.

  She came down the stairs again and I drew in a sharp intake of breath.

  God, she was amazing. She was completely naked (presumably because it was going to get bloody and she didn't want to mess up her clothes), and her body looked even better than I remembered it being yesterday. She was perfectly formed in every way. An angel sent from Heaven above. There was a God.

  There was one significant change from yesterday though — she'd tied her hair up on top of the head, and it was now covered with a black swimming cap. I bit my lip in anticipation

  "I turned him, you know," she said to me.

  She was so beautiful. So, so beautiful.

  "I know," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

  "Don't worry though, it's only to make this bit more… fun."

  I smiled. I knew it. She walked over to him and cupped his ruined, but glowing pink, healthy looking face in her hands.

  "I told you I'd do it, I told you I'd make you one of us, didn't I?"

  The head nodded, and the hole in the head stretched itself open again in his corrupt version of a smile. I could sense the joy coming from Ham. Idiot. What an absolute fucking moron. He had somehow never realised that she was using him, feeding off of him for a year, no doubt teasing that she was going to turn him at any point, but then never actually doing it! Not until now — and it was too late! I let out a chuckle. She’d led him on and he’d taken the bait like the dumb animal he was.

  "After spoiling myself yesterday I really shouldn't do this, but oh well," she said as she lowered herself down toward him. He was propped up against the wall and she held him by the shoulders to stop him toppling.

  Sickened and turned on I watched as she slid him deep inside her. His head-hole opened up wide in what I could only presume was ecstasy.

  It’s not fair.

  The thing called Ham shuddered as it flexed its remaining muscles; strength now rippling through them. She pulled the thing back on top of her, and like some jackhammering meat puppet it fucked her silly while she held it in place.

  The Ham thing whistled and groaned sounds of ageless-infused ecstasy. I writhed inside. It should be me, it should be me. I tried to console myself that she would turn me soon, and unlike Ham I wouldn’t be just a stupid puppet.

  “Oh God! You’re so strong now, Ham,” she groaned into a hole on the side of its head.

  Furiously jealous I watched and stared at the sick, beautiful coupling taking place beside me. I could see both of their muscles writhing under their skins as they fucked like beasts.

  Unable to look away, but hating to watch, I stared as they pleasured themselves with each others bodies; not in a sensual way, but in sheer frantic fuck-making.

  I should have killed him.

  I should have killed him.

  I should have killed him.

  Then, miracle of miracles.

  She leaned in and placed her mouth over the wound I had inflicted in my earlier experimental tasting. Holding him tight against her, she bit into that shoulder, reopening the holes that had begun to heal, and began to slurp eagerly. The Ham thing screeched and wailed. She lifted her head back and grinned at me, her lips painted a beautiful red which began to drip down to her perfect sweat-covered breasts.

  “You were jealous, weren’t you?”

  I nodded, ashamedly.

  She grinned at me, and then slammed her head down into its other shoulder, producing a delightfully high pitched whistle as I heard the beautiful sound of teeth scraping on bone for the first time.

  “Eat him! Eat him!” I said.

  I began to jerk myself off as I watched her begin to devour him, while he still, frantically, thrust himself over and over again into her aching body.

  She lifted her head up for a moment, licking her lips, before slamming it into his chest. I watched with delight as she bit a huge chunk out of him, lifting her head back and yanking at a stubborn pectoral muscle that foolishly wanted to stay attached.

  The Ham thing was now filled with strength, but his ruined body had nothing to work with except his cock. No arms or legs to resist, no teeth with which to bite. All he could do to fight back was let out whistling airy wails and slam into her with his cock.

  And she loved it.

  Mouthfuls of ageless blood and power coursed through her, as she worked her way through the flesh of the newly-turned Ham thing. Drinking his now ageless blood caused looks of ecstasy to dance across her face the likes of which I’d never seen.

  Desperately, the thing thrust itself harder and harder into her, perhaps only the muscles around its hips working now.

  “Come for me, Ham, come for me one last time,” she said in a throaty growl.

  The sudden deepness of her voice rolled through me as I suddenly realized the depths of the power she possessed. The power that I too would soon possess.

  With a cacophony of guttural moans we all came together. As I finished, I watched in ecstasy as she forced her mouth against Ham’s neck, his spasms suddenly stopping and his last whistling wails fading, as it was replaced by the crazed slurping of my mistress biting and sucking at his neck, draining him of his new-ageless blood.

  Laying back, I watched the show, mesmerised. The consumption of the ageless blood seemed to have an even greater effect on her than that of Jake’s human fluids. She was ravenous, like a starved dog at a bowl of food.

  She looked up and stared at me, her mouth a wide open blood-filled cavern of teeth and terror. I shivered in anticipation.

  Soon me and her would both be like that.

  Together.

  Together forever.

  18 Cassie

  After yesterday I was going to be good, dammit. It happened every year. I’d maintain my perfect self-control, stretching out my cellar-meat for months on end, just taking a nibble or two here and there, resisting the urge to spoil myself.

  But then, when the cellar-meat was nearly finished and it was time to acquire some more… I’d lose it. This year it was partly the moron’s fault, telling
that Jake guy about our tryst. But I didn’t have to lose it quite like I did. I could have just butchered him and stored him away, sensibly, to give myself a little more to nibble on throughout the year.

  And Ham. I should have done the same with him. I mean, what had I bought the freezer for if I was just going to gorge myself? Sure there were still some good chunks of Ham and Jake left, but the way I had drained their blood, and the sheer mess I’d made tearing at their bodies with my teeth… it was depraved.

  It really was.

  I was turning into one of those people who left piles of laundry around the house or sinks full of dishes.

  Disgusted at my lack of self-control, I threw the drained body of the Ham-thing clear across the room, where it slapped bloodily into the wall and slid to the floor. I stormed out of the cellar and up the stairs.

  “Wait...” came a pathetic cry.

  I clenched my fists together, ignoring the plaintive cry of the whiner. I’d make him pay. It was his fault. Once he’d made his tape I was going to start by removing his whiny fucking vocal cords. And his yapping tongue. Then, after that, I’d punish the stupid fuck even worse than Ham. I was going to work to make him suffer. I was going to torture the everloving fuck out of him.

  Upstairs, I padded across my floor, wincing at the bloody footprints I left behind me. Idiot. I hurried into the shower to rinse off.

  After cleaning myself of the remains of the previous twelve month’s cellar-meat, I wiped the floor down with my towel. It was yet another one I was going to have to replace.

  I grabbed the tape recorder from the cupboard in the kitchen in which it lived, sitting next to a pile of a dozen tapes. Twelve years ago, I’d met a different reporter, though this one had wanted to interview me about what he perceived to be my unconventional sex life. I let him fuck me, of course, but before I’d taken my turn on him I’d played along and let him interview me.

  I restrained myself for a while before I got bored and revealed my true self to him. It was a week later, while he was contentedly sitting in my cellar, two eyes, one leg and two arms lighter than he had been when he arrived, that I’d had the idea about me interviewing my cellar-meat.

  It turned out to have been a fantastic idea. Although I can’t actually draw any physical strength from the recordings, I can quench a little of my psychic thirst for fresh minds and flesh. Listening to them tell their pathetic stories, about how they think they’re there for sex, and then I… play with them… and then, finally how they fall in love with me, completely under my spell... it’s cathartic. I listen to them when I go on my daily runs, or when I’m bored of an evening, fighting the urge to go out and feast.

  Usually I record their final moments too, but I didn’t bother with Ham because I’d accidently removed his tongue a couple of months earlier. Just listening to fuck-noises is no fun. You really need the pleading and panic to get off. That final realization that the woman they’ve fallen in love with is actually in the process of killing them. Great fun.

  Dammit. Should I remove the tongue and vocal chords of the new cellar-meat? If I did I wouldn’t be able to get his final glorious moments 363 days from now. But I would have to listen to him for the next year. Maybe I should get myself some earplugs instead.

  When I was reasonably satisfied with the state of the upstairs of my house, I threw on an old t-shirt and a thick pair of rubber gloves. Grabbing the recorder and a fresh tape, I headed back downstairs.

  19 Rich

  When she had come downstairs she had not, to my disappointment, been naked this time. I guessed playtime was over for now. She was wearing a baggy t-shirt and had her hair tied up in a pony-tail hanging over her left shoulder. She was wearing long, pink, rubber gloves that went up almost to her elbows. After tossing the remains of Ham into the freezer she explained to me about the tape recorder.

  “Got it?”

  “Yes! Yes, I understand! I’ll tell it all real good. And then, you’ll turn me, right?” I made my voice sound acquiescent but pleadingly desperate.

  “Yeah, right. I’ll turn you.”

  She rolled her eyes at me and, once she’d seen that I was clear about what to do, headed upstairs to clean and presumably go to work.

  I sat with the tape recorder resting upon my thighs as I figured out where I should begin. I wanted to get this right. She had told me that she wanted to hear everything, to hear my entire side of the story of what had happened over the last day or so. I wanted to do a good job, after all, this was the first day of the rest of my life, right?

  Licking my lips in anticipation, I went over everything in my mind. I needed to get this right. I knew I was living through the most important moments of my life, pivotal moments, and I wanted to get it down exactly as it happened.

  She had told me to record in as much detail as possible; the anticipation, the feelings, the fucking, the pain, the realization that I loved her… all of it. She’d even had the kindness to leave me with a large two liter bottle of water to help my throat from getting too dried out as I dictated the events as they’d happened.

  When I was finally ready, a thought struck me. I’d begin with when she first tricked me, the first little twist in all that had gone on between us.

  Ready, I pressed record.

  I kneeled above the pale, naked girl lying atop her white satin sheets. It was what artists called the golden hour, and the warm glow of the almost setting sun pouring through the tilted venetian blinds lit her perfect body with a radiant glow.

  She was slick with sweat, her skin marked with scratches and red impressions that would soon become bruises. I'd never done anything like this before. I'd slept with girls, sure.

  But not like this.

  Not. Like. This.

  I slowly shook my head.

  "That was amazing. Amazing. I can't believe you didn't say it."

  She was silent for a moment, the only sound being her shallow breaths in and out. The frantic breathing of earlier now beginning to calm down. Her voice was weak and muffled as she spoke down into the pillow.

  "Say what?"

  "You know,” I said, lightly running my fingers over a deep red mark on her back, “the safe word."

  After what I’d done to her it amazed me she hadn’t said it. She’d told me to give it to her rough, and I did, but even so...

  "I don’t know what you’re talking about." There was another shallow breath as my heart dropped down into my stomach. "Please, don't kill me. Please."

  She began to sob.

  Oh fuck. Oh fuck fuck fuck.

  What the hell was going on?

  What had I done?

  Earlier

  I had been sitting on one of the gym benches next to Jake, panting, when he suddenly punched me on the arm...

  …

  …

  …

  ...

  When I was finally ready, a thought struck me. I’d begin with when she first tricked me, the first little twist in all that had gone on between us. Ready, I pressed record.

  The En… oops.

  That’s not right.

  Still listening?

  Sorry, I made a mistake.

  There was one other little thing I forgot to mention...

  20 Cassie

  Due to spending too long on my makeup,I’d arrived at work one minute and forty-five seconds later than planned that morning. Furthermore, when I’d weighed myself, I was almost two pounds too light. I had to sort myself out, I realized.

  Sitting at the little card table in my kitchen guilt and self-recrimination wracked me as I forced myself to eat a much larger meal than that to which I was normally accustomed. It was the same every damn year. Why couldn’t I control myself?

  Once I got myself a new toy I just couldn’t hold myself back. And this year had been particularly bad — the addition of Jake had made me just lose it. Turning Ham into one of the ageless… that was beyond reproach. If I was ever found out by The Committee there would be hell to pay.

&nbs
p; No, I needed to get myself under control. The first thing I was going to do after dinner was go downstairs and fix the new cellar-meat. With the way I’d indulged myself in the bloody orgy of the last couple of days there was no actual need for me to keep the cellar-meat alive. I needed to let myself age a little again (though perhaps not quite to the level I’d been at) and so maintaining a living source was not required for the time being.

  With resolve I forced myself to finish my meal, then I would sort out the cellar once and for all. In fact, if I was going to go on a pseudo-fast, there was no need to use the disgusting cellar at all.

  I’d butcher everything up into neat packages — making sure to remove all the bones to save space — and then move the deep-freeze up here. I’d seal off the cellar with a sturdy lock, and move my existing kitchen fridge-freezer to cover the entrance.

  Out of sight, out of mind.

  I’d simply consume the bare minimum to survive, and take a break from sex, and the consumption of living flesh and blood. I’d join one of those sex-addicts-anonymous groups.

  I was going to be good dammit.

  After washing and drying my plates, and putting them away, immediately I stripped for one last time to go down into the cellar. I was going to butcher the cellar-meat quickly and cleanly, not taking any more time to play with my food, get everything sorted, and then that would be that.

  Pleased at having made such a sensible decision, I opened the door and headed downstairs.

  And then the cellar-meat ruined everything.

  21 Rich

  After she’d left me alone in that dank room with the tape recorder I’d had a thought. My mistress was probably tired after her exertions. What could I do to ease her burden?

  I paused the tape I’d been recording as my mind ran away with me.

  She’d promised to turn me. But wouldn’t making her open her wrist again so that I could drink of her nectar be another burden upon her? It would. Of course it would. I didn’t want to bother her.