Necro Files: Two Decades of Extreme Horror

This was insane. He’d seen a porno with a hot babe, and then gotten sucked off a couple times by some nut who freaked about being seen. Why couldn’t he let it go? He’d never been this horny in his life. What would Loni think? She wouldn’t care much about the movie or the little fantasies, and getting an anonymous bj wasn’t exactly cheating—she ought to be happy someone took care of it for her, he thought. No, she wouldn’t be too angry about that stuff. But if she saw him here sweating with lust over another woman—actually two, one of which he’d never in the strictest sense seen—that, she wouldn’t relish. In an attempt to snap himself sober, he fastened onto an image he’d seen in a documentary. Soldiers dead on the battle field, arms and legs streaked with red, entrails leaking out from between clenched hands, heads lying 10 feet from the crater where the rest of the body was mangled …

The erection in his hands didn’t even flag. And then his conscious mind lost control and the soldier with his guts hanging out suddenly stood up and pushed the bleeding mess back inside with one hand while unbuttoning his pants with his other. They fell to the ground and Tony saw the golden triangle of the blonde goddess below the ruptured belly. The soldier rubbed his face and her ice-blue eyes and pink lips were suddenly speaking to him.

“Come to me Tony, cum in me.”

Tony rolled over and began to cry.

* * *

When 9 a.m. rolled around Tony was in his chair at the office, but Tony was not in. Black circles ringed his eyes and his right hand lay useless and twitching at his desk. His left hand was in his lap.

“Report coming along OK, Tony?” Bob asked from across the hall. He hadn’t seen Tony move since he’d stumbled in a half hour before.

“Uh-huh,” came the answer. But the man still didn’t budge.

When afternoon arrived and Tony didn’t seem any more aware, Bob sent him downstairs to the corporate doctor. There was a wet spot on the man’s pants which left Bob praying silently that his key employee was not sicker even than he looked.

* * *

“Well Tony, your blood pressure is low today,” Dr. Regsic chirped at him. “Let’s get up on the scale.” The meter flashed 156 lbs and she looked down at her chart.

“You’ve lost almost 20 pounds over the past couple months, Tony. Have you been on a diet?”

He shook his head no.

“Exercising?”

No.

She shook her head.

“Get up here on the table and unbutton your shirt.”

He did as she asked.

“How did you get those?” she frowned and bent towards him for a closer look. He hadn’t noticed this morning, but there were 10 red trawls down his chest, starting with a weak red glow at his shoulders and turning dark purple as they narrowed to converge in a single thick corridor at his bellybutton.

He was silent for a minute, and then offered: “My wife gets, um, excited.”

“Drop your pants, Tony.”

She didn’t sound like she’d take an argument, so he stood and undid his belt. His pants slid down immediately, revealing first, that he’d somehow forgotten underwear this morning, and second that the purple bruise led downwards from his belly to the tangle of hair beneath.

The doctor gasped at the sight. Tony thought she was impressed with his size—he was, of course, still erect. But her eyes did not look lustful, rather, they were disgusted. He focused on the object of her stare and saw that it too was red and purple—and swollen to twice its normal size.

“Look, Tony. I don’t want to tell you what to do in your bed, but if your wife is responsible for this—I’d consider divorce. I don’t even want to know how this happened, but you’d better rule out sex for the next week or two. I’m going to give you an antibiotic just in case you’ve got that infected.”

She walked over to the white cabinets across the room and pulled out a tube.

Instead of a dumpy fortyish woman in an overly long lab coat, Tony saw the bronze muscular buttocks of the goddess crossing the room, the dark lure of the crack between her legs led his hand to his lap. Her stride was lolling, casual. Her hips swayed suggestively, the ripples in her back and across her waist invited his tongue. She looked across her shoulder at him, flipping a mane of bleached hair over her shoulder. Her eyes touched his with electricity and she winked.

“Come to me, Tony.”

She turned around to show him all.

“Cum in me, Tony.”

* * *

“God, what is wrong with you?”

Dr. Regsic stood in front of him, her jaw hanging open.

“I’m not going to say anything about this Tony, but I am going to recommend a counselor.”

She reached over and pulled a paper towel from a roll on the wall.

“Here. Clean yourself up and go home. I’ll leave a prescription of antibiotic for that—you better hope it doesn’t scar—and some ointment as well. Come back tomorrow, I want to see how you’re doing.”

* * *

She was there again at 9, just like before.