Necro Files: Two Decades of Extreme Horror

Ernest stared at Nolan, a wry smile plastered on his face.

“You fucking psycho!” Nolan screamed.

Ernest stuffed the gag back in his mouth and clicked his tongue. “No use. He’s just gonna be an asshole. How predictable. Anyway, the interesting part’s coming up. I’ll do it myself but may need some help.”

He took a long thin metal tube—so thin it resembled a wire, but it was hollow, like the world’s most narrow beaker—from the utensil tray.

Moving to the end of the table, he took hold of Nolan’s penis, which failed to respond. “Grab it,” he said to Caleb.

“No way! Nipples were bad enough. I’m not touching his dick.”

“Look, dipshit, you’re pre-med. You think you’re never going to have to touch a dick? I didn’t ask you to suck it, just hold it. I told you, there’s nothing sexual about any of this.”

“You like bringing pre-med up a lot,” Caleb said. “Seems more like an excuse for you to play with this guy’s dick.” Looking away, he grabbed Nolan’s penis. It lay unresponsive in his hand.

“I need you both to hold him as still as you can. Ian, pin down his chest.”

Ernest grabbed Nolan’s penis and tried to push the metal rod into the urethra. Nolan screamed into his gag, his head thrown back, the veins in his neck straining beneath the skin. His body was coated in a fine layer of sweat, and the smell in the room was a mingling of metal, blood, and musk.

“Shit,” Ernest said, “hold him!” The rod kept slipping. Fitting it into the narrow urethra was more difficult than he had anticipated. “Get him hard,” he snapped at Caleb.

“You fuckin’ kidding me?” he yelled.

Finally, it slid inside his urethra. Ernest dropped Nolan’s penis and stood back, panting. Turning to the camera, he said, “Goddamn. Okay. All tubes are in place.”

Ian moved to the edge of the table. There was a small amount of blood on Nolan’s crotch. It terrified Ian … yet somehow it was exhilarating.

“Ready to begin,” Ernest said, grinning. He looked at Caleb and said, “Pick an orifice, any orifice.”

Caleb ran his hands through his hair and shook his head. “You’re seriously disturbed, man.”

He tossed Caleb a pair of heavy-duty work gloves. “We’ll start with the ass. That tube gets hot, so make sure you wear those. Hold the rod tight. Make sure it stays up his ass.”

Caleb nodded.

“It cools pretty fast,” Ernest said. “I considered putting him in water, but that would have been a real pain in the ass. Can you imagine if we’d had to start dragging bottles of water down here? That sink is useless.” Ernest dipped the metal spoon into the simmering molten metal and stirred.

“We should be able to get enough into the tube if we work fast, before he starts flopping around too much. Otherwise it’s just going to spill all over his legs.” He filled the ladle and held it up, steam rising, the smell of the metal stronger now. “We don’t want to get this on us. It’s more than two hundred degrees, so be careful. And work fast. Got it?”

Caleb nodded, getting a better grip on the thick tube protruding from Nolan’s ass. He affixed a large funnel to the end of the tubing. Ian stood off to the side, watching them with a transfixed expression of revulsion and horror.

“When I’m done, pull the tube out fast. Then cover up his asshole with the duct tape. Got it?” Ernest poured the contents of the ladle into the tube. Seconds later the liquid reached its intended destination and Nolan went berserk, flailing against the ropes, his agonized screams muffled against his gag. Moments later, he was still.

“He dead already?” Caleb blurted, pulling the metal rod out of Nolan’s ass, covering it with bandages and tape to keep the liquid from leaking out.

Using the stethoscope from the instrument tray, Ernest listened for a heartbeat. He shook his head. “No, not dead. Strong heartbeat.”

Ian dropped against the wall and buried his face in his hands. “Oh my god,” he croaked. “Oh my god.”

“Get a grip,” Ernest said. “We’re not through.” He removed the gag from Nolan’s mouth, and a trace of spit and vomit trailed away with the cloth.

“Now what?” Ian asked, choking back tears, trying not to cry.

Ernest picked up the smelling salts. “We continue with the experiment. Should we remove the blindfold now?” He didn’t wait for an answer.

“But …” Ian scratched his head and stepped forward. “But then he could identify us.”

The other two exchanged glances before turning back to Ian.

“What did you think was going to happen here?” Ernest asked. “He’s got a metal block up his ass. Did you think he was going to just walk away?”

Ian swallowed and shrugged.

“I told you earlier that this wasn’t going to end well.”

“Yeah, Ernest, but—”

“And you promised! You said you wanted to be part of this, that you would always be one of us. You swore along with Caleb and me, fucking told us we were your brothers!”

“I didn’t know you meant murder!”