Skeleton King (The Dirty Heroes Collection Book 9)

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Skeleton King (The Dirty Heroes Collection Book 9) Page 1

by Charity B.




  Skeleton King

  The Dirty Heroes Collection

  Charity B.

  Contents

  The Dirty Heroes Collection

  Author’s Note

  Preface

  1. Grave Robber

  2. Rag Doll

  3. Halloween Games

  4. Smile

  5. Experiments

  6. Spiderwebs

  7. Self-Pollution

  8. Surprise

  9. Replacing Sarah

  10. Bathtub

  11. Revelation

  12. Bats

  13. Trial

  14. Origins

  15. Meant To Be

  Epilogue

  Make Me Real - Sneak Peek

  Chapter 1

  Acknowledgments

  Also By Charity B.

  About the Author

  Copyright ©2020 by Charity B.

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without approval from the author. Doing so would break copyright and licensing laws.

  Editor: Kim BookJunkie

  Formatting: Raven Designs

  Cover Design: Jay Aheer, Simply Defined Art

  Once upon a time, a scorned Queen opened a box, unleashing horrible evil on the world's heroes.

  Instead of gallantry and chivalry, they now possessed much more perverse traits. They’ve fallen victim to their darkest and most deviant desires.

  This is one of their stories...

  Blurb

  In this town, I’m free from shame

  A place where everyone knows my name

  Glamorizing corpses to feed a need

  That’s why they call me Skeleton King

  They all worship me, but they don’t know the real me

  All they see is my painted face

  Truth is, I’m terrified, all the hope inside me died

  Death and cold will forever be my morbid fate

  Then she showed me something more

  Somehow stealing death’s allure

  Trigger Warning: This book contains many triggers and this warning should be taken seriously. The sexual and graphically depicted scenes in this novel are not for the squeamish and will be disturbing for some readers.

  Author’s Note

  I cannot express how excited I was when I found out I was going to have the opportunity to write a story inspired by some of my ALL-TIME favorite characters. This was a blast for me, and I hope you have as much fun reading this as I had writing it. While you don’t need to watch The Nightmare Before Christmas to enjoy this book, seeing the film first will make the experience that much better.

  Trigger Warning

  This book contains many triggers, and this warning should be taken seriously. The sexual and graphically depicted scenes in this novel are not for the squeamish and will be disturbing for some readers.

  Dedication

  This one goes out to Murphy Wallace and all of the other incredible authors involved in The Dirty Heroes Collection. This was such a dream come true to write. Skeleton King is inspired by one of my all-time favorite films, and it would likely not have ever been written if not for this collection. Thank you for including me in this amazing project.

  Preface

  “Oh, somewhere deep inside these bones, an emptiness began to grow.”

  Jack Skellington

  Grave Robber

  John Skelver

  October 31st, 1993 ~ Morning

  Cool fall wind blows against my perspiring skin, sending a chill up my spine. My face paint is most likely smeared from the heavy sweat dripping down my cheeks. As the early-morning fog floats around the tombstones, my shovel digs deeper into the earth.

  She lies beneath my feet, waiting for me. Her death was untimely, so said her obituary. A young woman full of life and a promising future, until some teenage kid decided he wasn’t too drunk to drive. She was killed instantly.

  It was definitely disappointing that her family chose a closed casket, presumably because there was significant damage to her face. The funeral was as beautiful as the photo they displayed of her, though. Wavy brown hair accentuated her chocolate eyes and mocha skin that looked delicious enough to eat.

  Her name was Natasha.

  I’m grateful, however, that they buried her so quickly after her death. There’s a very small window of time I have to work with before things get excessively messy.

  I sigh in relief when the steel of the shovel thuds against the hard oak of her coffin. “Thank God,” I murmur. Grunting, I lift myself out of the hole that I’ve spent the last six hours digging. As the orange sun begins to peek over the horizon, the sky lightens to a bluish gray, telling me my time is nearly up.

  Nothing, my albino bull terrier, stands at attention, his ears up and alert. He’ll let me know if anyone is coming.

  My crow bar clinks against the zipper of my bag before I jump back into the grave. Using it to pry open the box in which Sasha sleeps, I shudder at the casket creaking loud in the dead silence of the dawn. The moment I lift the heavy lid, my heart tumbles around in my chest.

  “Hi, Natasha.”

  She’s perfect. Still so fresh and new. I wonder who she was when she could still inhale oxygen? Was she outgoing or shy? Smart or dense? From the ornery smile in her photo and how she was spoken of during her eulogy, I’ve deduced that she was polite and classy in her everyday life, but those she was closest to knew she also had a wild side. She liked to have fun.

  “It’s time to go.”

  Groaning, I lift her high enough above my head to place her on the edge of her grave, my arms straining in protest when I pull myself from the pit in the earth.

  Nothing sniffs Natasha’s body as I kneel next to her. Her white dress is stark, sprawled across the dark dirt. I steal a moment to take her in, trailing my hand lightly over her body. The strands of her hair are soft beneath my fingers while the flesh of her cheeks has lost all suppleness. I can barely make myself wait until she’s in my bed to take her.

  It’s been awhile since I’ve had a woman. My work keeps me busy. I’ve created quite a name for myself in my little town of Hallows Grove.

  “God, you’re so beautiful.”

  Right on schedule, memories of my mother’s voice echo in my mind. I can’t even look at you! You repulse me. I wonder if I’ll ever be free of her disgrace.

  Grave picking for passion as opposed to business has its own set of risks. When it’s personal, the need is more about attraction. Attraction to who they could have been while still alive. That causes me to take certain risks that I would avoid if it were a paying job.

  When I first started doing this, I would attempt to close the graves once I retrieved the body, but not only was it much too time consuming, with the loose dirt, it was still obvious the plot had been tampered with, so now I just leave them open.

  Straightening the tarp, I drag her corpse to the center before wrapping her inside. Heaving her over my shoulder, I follow the lanterns I’ve arranged to light my way and safely secure her in the trunk of my black Buick Grand National.

  Once all my tools are returned to my duffle bag, I whistle at Nothing. “Come on, boy. Let’s go home.” He hops in the seat next to me, tail wagging as I reach across the car to crank down his window and turn on the radio. The end of a song fades out as the deejay comes on. Pulling onto the dirt road t
hat leads from the cemetery, I light a joint before rolling down my own window.

  Happy Halloween to all you early risers out there! I hate to start the day off with such a tragedy, but we just received some heartbreaking news here at NBXS. River Phoenix was pronounced dead at one fifty-one this morning. The twenty-three-year-old actor is said to have overdosed outside the Viper Room in Hollywood. We’ll have more on the story later. First, the new hit single from Salt-N-Pepa’s brand new album. Here’s Whatta Man!

  Nope. I turn off the radio to dig in my console for The Police cassette, careful to blow the pot smoke away from Nothing.

  The crazy dog hangs his head out the window the entire drive. The closer I get to the private community I call home, the harder my cock grows. I’ll sleep with Natasha once or twice before the work begins. It’s a time-consuming process to taxidermize humans, and once I start, I won’t be able to fuck her again until I’ve finished.

  A wall of trees hides our town from the eyes of Mundaners, those who don’t take up residence in Hallows Grove. There are two gated points of entry set at the north and south ends. The south entrance is located behind The Row, the only part of town outside the gates. It’s where all our government buildings such as the new town hall, the post office, police station and so on are located.

  Pulling up to the code box at the south entrance, I enter my password. The large, twisted gate opens, creaking as jack-o’-lanterns impaled by iron spikes sit along the top.

  Ghost-shaped lights are strung from the streetlamps with random, Styrofoam headstones dotting the side of the road. Skeletons—some plastic, some not—swing from the branches of the large tree growing in the middle of town. The transformation of Hallows Grove during this season feels like the only time that our town truly reflects what it holds on the inside.

  Ghoulish decorations overtake every home. Giant spiders crawl across roofs, ghosts swing from porches, and there are so many jack-o’-lanterns. Monster mannequins stand on front lawns with mechanical witches stirring their brews as I turn onto Nightshade Circle.

  Halloween is the one holiday we don’t take lightly. It’s been nearly twelve years since I’ve lived elsewhere, and I often forget how different things are here. My desires are seen as perversions in the Mundane World. I would be a pariah if I ever tried to survive out there.

  But here? I’m a king.

  After parking in my driveway, I walk to the back of the car with Nothing jumping out right behind me. As I unlock the trunk, a soft pew sounds at the exact moment a sharp sting snaps the nape of my neck. Hissing in pain, I press my hand against the throbbing in an attempt to relieve it.

  “What the fuck?!”

  Cackling laughter fills the air as preteen triplets, Bolt, Jolt, and Cask, run into my cemetery replicated yard wearing mischievous grins.

  “Gotcha!” Jolt laughs, skipping toward me with a BB gun in her hand.

  Bolt is right behind her, opening and closing his pocket knife. “Did ya?”

  “Get a new?” Cask asks, licking a lollipop as he walks over to my partially open trunk.

  Jolt bats her eyelashes as if she didn’t just shoot me. “Body, Skeleton King?”

  I roll my eyes, but my pride makes me smile. “She’s in the car. Do you want to see?”

  All three of them jump up in excitement, asking their question one piece at a time.

  “Is this one?”

  “Going to be?”

  “Your girlfriend?”

  Lifting the trunk fully open, I smile, moving the tarp to reveal her. “Yes, for as long as she lasts.”

  Cask slurps his candy as he reaches down to lift Natasha’s dress, and I smack his hand. “Don’t even fucking think about it.”

  “Can we?” Cask pouts while attempting to take away Bolt’s knife.

  Jolt gives me an evil grin, twirling her purple dress. “At least watch?”

  “You do her?” Bolt asks as he shoves his brother to the ground.

  I’ve gotten used to the way of life here. There isn’t anything too perverse, too macabre for Hallows Grove.

  “Absolutely not,” I declare as Bolt follows me up my front steps, stabbing his knife into the trim of the door while Jolt points her gun at the back of Cask’s head, imitating shooting sounds. “Shouldn’t you guys be home helping your Dad get ready for tonight’s games?” I turn to Bolt who is still assaulting my house. “Stop that, you little shit.”

  He sticks the blade in one more time with a defiant grin. “Dad wants us to make sure.”

  “You’ll be there early,” Jolt adds, climbing onto my porch.

  Cask pops his head between his siblings, still licking that stupid lollipop. “To take pictures.”

  I open my front door to step inside, quickly cracking it closed enough that they don’t take it as an invitation to follow me. They’re known around town as the ‘Sanity Eaters’ for a reason.

  “I know the drill. I’ll be there. Now, get out of here.”

  Slamming the door behind me, I grab the stretcher from the corner of my parlor. I have about ten hours until I need to be at Ogier Bognar’s house for the Halloween Games.

  As I push the cot outside, I hear the Bognar triplets yelling as they make their way across my neighbors’ front yards. My eyes land on Sarah Stein standing in the street, looking her beautifully awkward self as she shuffles toward Fink’s house.

  While I’ve always found living women attractive, they’re terrifying beings. They’ll cut you deeper than any blade ever could and laugh while you bleed. I’ve been tortured my entire life by the monstrous creatures. Sarah, though, she’s always been kind. I’ve never seen her be cruel or vicious. In some ways, that makes her more frightening, even if intriguing.

  Her bright red hair frames her face while I hold my hand up in greeting. Lifting her head, she smiles at me before picking up her pace. She must have gotten out again. Fink isn’t keen on giving her much freedom, even in town. I don’t agree with how he treats her, I never have, but I have my own vices, leaving me with no room for judgement.

  Reaching into my trunk, I caress Natasha’s face. If she could think or feel I wonder if she would be jealous of my thoughts traveling to another woman.

  “We’re home.”

  I slide my arms beneath her body, lifting her onto the gurney and wheeling her inside to the bathroom. She’ll be brought to my office tomorrow morning so I can begin my work on her, today, however, she’ll spend with me.

  Nothing’s nails tap on the hardwood floor in the hall as I take off Natasha’s dress. Damn, her tits are amazing. I won’t touch her right now, though. The anticipation always makes it better.

  I’m aware she can't feel the warmth of the water, yet I still make it a comfortable temperature before I soap off her skin. Lightly pulling on her eyelashes, I lift her eyelid to remove the spikey cap that’s keeping it closed. The warm brown color her irises once were are now dulled with a cloudy overlay. Regardless, I prefer them open. Her hair and makeup still look nice, so for the time being, I leave the rest of her head alone.

  “Do you want to hear a secret?” I ask, rinsing the suds from her blue tinted flesh, revealing the livor mortis. “I wish I could make you come alive so I don’t have to pretend to have intimacy anymore.”

  That’s something I would never admit aloud to anyone that could repeat it. My being with women whose souls have left this earth is not only a large part of who I am, but it’s also my only source of affection.

  Once the bath is drained, I lift her onto the cot, drying her off before wheeling the gurney to my room. Closing my door behind us, I gently lay her on my clean sheets. I don’t understand why I get nervous each time. She won’t be able to humiliate or deny me, and still, I wonder if she would have found me worthy while she was walking this earth.

  Every time you rape yourself, you blacken your soul.

  I rarely think of my mother’s persecution outside of sexual situations. It’s fucked up, and I have no idea how to stop it.

  As I ta
ke off my clothes, shame prickles along my nerves. I remind myself for the millionth time that this is a victimless crime. Natasha, who she was before death carried her away, will have no knowledge of me. Her family won’t either.

  Settling above her body, I kiss her sealed lips for a few moments before I wrap her fingers around my straining cock. In some ways, Natasha is like a toy. I move her and touch her however I want without worry of complaint. She has no needs, no desires, and that’s what makes her perfect. I press my lips to her neck, kissing my way down her chest to suck a nipple in between my lips.

  “Do you like that?”

  Leaning back on my knees, I lift each of her legs to spread them apart which reveals a trimmed patch of dark hair framing her grayish pussy. I softly hold her hip as I line myself up with her entrance. Her flesh is cold, and the moment I push into her corpse, it feels like dough molding around my erection.

  “God, you feel so fucking good.”

  Her limp body rocks beneath me on each thrust, her breasts wobbling up and down as her milky eyes stare at the ceiling. Lifting one of her legs, I hold it around my waist, allowing me to shove in deeper.

  My own son? How did I raise such perverse filth?

  It’s been awhile since I’ve had sex, so it doesn’t take long before the feeling of her encasing me has me pouring my warm come into her chilled pussy. I don’t know why my orgasms always force my thoughts toward my mother, yet every time, I can’t stop the memories from flooding through my mind.

 

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