Spooktober—October 2021 #1 (Supernatural Horror)
#1 of Spooktober 2021
It's time for some creepy, yet erotic, stuff. This little ditty, called "Alex," was actually written a while ago, but I figured now was a great time to show you one of the spooky consequences of masturbation--and it ain't hairy palms. >:)
At the end of the darkened hall, right next to the banister that overlooked the ground floor living room, the ancient grandfather clock struck twelve. Its innards, a chaotic, dancing maelstrom of cogs, wheels, springs and one huge pendulum, had all conspired, for the past decade or so, to dutifully announce each passing hour. In his room, with his legs covered by moonlit sheets, Alex was at the height of sexual climax. The clock's mechanical guts strained, pirouetted, and bobbed to herald in the new day; at that precise moment, in the most stunning parallelism between man and machine, muscles, tendons, ligaments, and blood vessels joined forces to spill forth canine seed with great relish. Alex moaned to the empty house, not a living soul in his abode to blush at the sounds, both involuntary and willed, of carnal pleasure. With each of the twelve chimes, and with perfect synchronization, Alex squirted a healthy string of dog cum all over his linen.
Like a free-diver emerging from the deep, Alex opened his eyes and breathed greedily, his cock still twitching in post-orgasmic excitement against his paw pads. The moonlit square between his legs was splattered with a dozen or so wet, worm-shaped blotches. Under the sheets, his toes were still gnarled like the talons of a bird of prey swooping in for a tasty, furry morsel. "Hmmm, that's weird," he thought, narrowing his eyes at the VCR past his stretching paws--usually there would only be one red light next to the digital clock, but now there were three of them.
The two extra lights disappeared. Alex's blood ran cold, and his ears perked. He blinked a handful of times to see if he was seeing things as, under the covers, his cock withered to the size of a large almond. "Wait. What the fuck?" The lights came back with a blinding intensity. Alex tossed his cum-soaked sheets aside to investigate, and just as he was about to put his cold foot on the floor, a voice that boomed from out of the dark made him jump a mile.
"Don't you know it's the witching hour?" it asked, its voice reedy and thin like a witch.
"Jesus fuck!" Alex clambered back with his hands and feet till his head hit the wall with an unceremonious thud, his butt dragging against the mattress. "Who the fuck are you?!" he asked, post-orgasmic haze giving way to uncomprehending dread as an inexplicable, putrid smell of rotten eggs laid claim to the bedroom.
The thing took shape: it had glowing red eyes and a frowning face riddled with scars, much like a tribal mask that was forgotten and left to rot somewhere deep in a forest in the company of a million maggots. "You cum at exactly twelve o'clock and shoot your load exactly twelve times. That means you call me," it said as it floated towards him. "That's how it's always been ... But nobody's ever done it!"
"Goddammit! Get the fuck away from me!" Alex's claws dug into the mattress as it approached, the thing's face distorting into a cruel sneer under the moonlight. Alex's legs pumped uselessly against the bed. His dick flopped left and right, and remnants of cum and pre peppered his thighs.
"I'm finally free!" it screeched as it hurled itself at breakneck speed towards the unfortunate canine's open, howling maw.