She Has A Pretty Face Though (Part XIX)


The following is one of many installments for a story designed specifically for my blog.  While it does step out of my usual genre, there are some things still not suitable for a younger audience.  Violent/Graphic descriptions, strong language and sexual situations may be found through different sections.  Each entry will tell a small portion of the story during different times and may not directly follow the one prior to it.  

This story follows the direct interactions, as well as the deteriorating thoughts of a young man who is struggling not only with the relationships he has with those around him, but with the relationship he has with himself as well.

Finally, all work is strictly fiction and does not reflect the views of the author.  Any resemblance to actual person(s) is only a coincidence.

If this isn’t your cup of tea, then avoid these excerpts and hopefully I’ll see you around my other posts!


Scott tossed and turned restlessly in his sleep.  It had only been a couple of hours since Lucy had dropped him off, and no sooner than his head hit the pillow had he fallen into a deep sleep.  The last few days had taken their toll on his mind, body and soul and now he was paying for it.  Though he wouldn’t know it, anyone within earshot would be able to hear the despairing groans that were sneaking over his lips.

His sheets were damp with sweat and clung to his body, tangling him up further and further each time he flipped to his other side and tears leaked from the corners of his eyes.  It wasn’t from the pain that he cried, nor was it due his inability to sleep; not tonight.  No, tonight, he was being haunted by his unwelcome guest, the ‘other’ who spoke to him more and more frequently these days.

“That was so fucking awesome what you did to that dog, Scott, seriously!  I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“…uhhhnn…stop it,” he muttered halfheartedly.

For the moment, his pleas were answered.  He began to dream.

His body ached from a dozen different places.  It was a pain unlike anything he had ever felt.  It rose in waves, from his very core, pausing every so often as if someone were tugging at him.  He could also feel something warm wrapped around his waist.  It was a feeling that should have seemed familiar to him, but for some reason he couldn’t focus on it beyond what was currently happening.

His eyes slowly fluttered open, presenting a scene that only disoriented him, rather than giving him the answers he sought.  He knew immediately that he was lying on his back, but he couldn’t make out very many other details beyond this.  He was surrounded in near complete darkness.  There was a weak light source somewhere in the room, it may have been coming from a button on the face of a yet unseen piece of electronic equipment, but he couldn’t be sure.  

As he was searching for the source of the light, a light slurping sound from in front of him suddenly snapped his attention forward.  He narrowed his eyes, trying to make out what he was seeing, and, it looked as if there were someone sitting on top of him!  

The darkness was not complete, and as such he was able to make out the shapes of things closest to him.  Though he still suffered the pain originating in his core, it had receded to a dull sting since the last tugging sensation.  What he now felt was something he could only describe as a warm moistness around his waist.  He concentrated on this feeling.  Was he excited?  Was…was he finally experiencing something he had only thought about until this very moment?

His thoughts were interrupted by something that sounded curiously like an apple being bit into.  Another wave of pain, weaker, indescribable, washed over him with this new sound and was followed by the original, curious, slurping.

“Wha-” he mumbled softly.

“Shh,” came an equally soft, feminine response.

It was a voice he recognized but couldn’t place a name to.  His thoughts were a-jumble.  He couldn’t separate the feelings of pain that he was experiencing.  He couldn’t determine if it was pleasure that he should be experiencing.  His felt as if he were slipping away, and soon enough he was.  

He was losing himself.  It was a sensation that was as real as the touch between two people and it was something he had no control over.  Then, just as he was about to rise up from himself, that curious tugging feeling came once again from his core.  His consciousness slammed back into himself so forcefully that he raised several inches from where he lay.  He screamed.  It was as if someone had suddenly loosed a ball of boiling napalm in his stomach.

At the exact moment that his scream issued forth, so to did one from the female straddling him.  His was full of pain and fear.  Hers was mocking, and as his trailed weakly away with his breath, hers ended in laughter. 


“Yes!  Yes!  Yes,” she screamed orgasmically.

And then, a bright light began to strobe from somewhere behind his head.  It seemed as bright as the sun to him, burning his sensitive retinas, but this was only an inconvenience compared to the horror before him.

It was, indeed, Misty Vandiver that straddled his waist.  However, contrary to what he had thought he was experiencing, she only naked above hers.  His eyes instinctively darted to the object of his (and every other boy’s) fascination, her perfect ski-sloped breasts, but there would be no enjoyment in seeing them.  They were covered in blood.  Her entire upper body was smeared in blood, with the exception of the small portion of her face above her mouth, and she was holding a bloody rope in her hands.  Except…except that wasn’t right.  It was coming from him!  It WAS him!  As he watched, horrified, she leaned forward and took a huge bite from the end of his intestine and began chewing with gusto.

The strobe light continued to flash.  The room filled with his screams and after swallowing, she leaned forward with a smile and said;

“What’s the matter Scott?  Don’t you like being inside me?”

His eyes shot open and he opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out.  There was no sound other than the insane laughter of the other’s voice, cackling from the recesses of his mind.

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