C. LaSart: Ad Nauseam: 13 Tales of Extreme Horror

Susan clapped a hand across the wound. “Nothing. It’s just a spider bite, that’s all.” She turned so he couldn’t see. “It doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

“Well, you need to go to a doctor tomorrow. It looks awful!”

Susan knew Bill was right; but, she wouldn’t be going to see any doctor. For reasons she couldn’t explain, she felt oddly defensive of her spider bite. She should’ve been more disturbed by the fact that the crater had doubled in size, now big enough to admit the tip of her pinky finger, its edges grey and withered. But the flesh around it had turned a mottled black and green that she found strangely beautiful.

“All right,” she said at last, humoring him. “I’ll call first thing in the morning.”

The next day Susan ate a fly.

One moment, it was just flying around, and the next it was crunching between her teeth, bitter guts bursting on her tongue. She hadn’t even realized her own intentions when she plucked it out of the air and popped it into her mouth. She waited in horror for the nausea to come, but it never did. Instead, to her amazement, her stomach growled and her appetite returned with a vengeance.

What at odd development, she thought, though she felt no real alarm. Indeed, her nerves seemed more steady with every hour that ticked by. So what if she had enjoyed eating the fly. Many cultures ate insects as a staple of their diet. She had read about African villages where kids carried around enormous roasted grasshoppers on sticks, licking and crunching them like lollipops. She spent much of the remainder of that afternoon hunting and consuming bugs with the same vigor that she had cleaned the house the day before.

She searched every corner of the house for insects, looking in all of the dark places that they liked to hide, even eating the dusty remains of long-dead moths, littering the window-sills. The dead ones were tasteless, but fresh moths had a wonderful plumpness to them, their guts sweet and gritty in her mouth.

The next day, some of Susan’s teeth fell out. Just the top canines, but it was still a bit frightening at first. They came out bloodless, replaced by sharp, dark fangs curving out from her gums, which excited her for reasons she still didn’t understand. She found that if she concentrated really hard, she could make a clear fluid shoot out of them. When she bit her tongue, it went numb and functionless for over an hour.

Fascinating!

The changes came fast over the next few weeks, but Susan was able to hide them from Bill with ease. He was spending more time at work everyday, and though they still slept in the same bed, they no longer made love. This absence of intimacy allowed Susan to hide the changes to her body by sleeping in her housecoat. She grew more detached from her old life as the days passed. She found herself hurrying off the phone whenever one of her daughters would call. Only a few short weeks ago these same calls would have been the highlight of her day.

Susan knew she should be afraid of the changes, should be seeking help for the uncontrollable shift in her nature, but she had a hard time feeling anything but joy and excitement. The sheer exhilaration that she felt overshadowed the lesser feelings of anxiety and concern. A curious detachment, supplementing the joy, made it impossible for her to worry about such things.

She found she just couldn’t be bothered by the more mundane aspects of life. All Susan wanted to do was lay in the empty tub, naked, and stroke her changing abdomen, giddy with excitement when she first felt the hard ridges wriggling beneath the skin, waiting to emerge. The foreign parts hiding beneath the surface of her skin, felt sharp and restless, eager to complete the metamorphosis. Her skin was becoming transparent, allowing hints of black to show through as the appendages pressed against her flesh from the inside.

Her new legs emerged early one evening. The skin of her abdomen had stretched tight and shiny, before it split with a sound like cloth tearing. It was extremely painful, but Susan was brave, clenching her teeth as well as she could around the oversized fangs in her mouth. She barely made a sound as each pair of black, chitinous legs erupted from her sides. There was no blood, only shriveled flaps of white skin left hanging like streamers.

She was becoming complete. She knew the transformation was almost at an end. She felt it in some primitive part of her brain that had been dormant before.

Yes! So close!

The pieces of the puzzle were falling into place nicely, and she could almost see the complete picture. Almost knew what it was that she had to do. Susan pulled an armchair into a shadowy corner of the living room and waited patiently for her husband to return.

Bill staggered in the house, well after midnight, smelling strongly of liquor and sex; he hadn’t even bothered to shower this time. Hearing her heavy breathing, he turned towards the corner where she sat, unable to make out more than her shape in the gloom. She looked different, her figure not the soft matronly one that he had gotten used to over the last many years.

Bill felt apprehensive, but he dismissed it. It was just poor, sweet, dumpy Susan. Nothing to be scared of.

“Everything okay, Babe?” His speech was slurred and unsteady.

When she spoke, her voice was strange. A small amount of light from the kitchen pierced the darkness of the room, reflecting off glittery black eyes that seemed both too small and too bright to belong to his wife.

Fear turned knots in Bill’s stomach as he tried to push it down.

“Go to bed you cheating son of a bitch.”

The accusation startled Bill. He opened his mouth to deny it, and then slammed it shut when he thought about how alien her voice sounded. His usually humble wife had never spoken to him like that. He always suspected that she knew about his infidelity, but just ignored it. He was also certain that she would rather die than bring about that sort of embarrassment on their daughters and extended families. She had been behaving so oddly over the last few days. Tomorrow he would call someone. Clearly, Susan needed help. Though he wasn’t the sort of man that allowed his wife to order him around, Bill was afraid. Something was very wrong with Susan, and he wasn’t sure he was prepared to deal with it tonight. He quietly went to bed.

Susan waited until she was sure that Bill was asleep, then crept into their room and lay on the bed beside her husband. Her new legs were not yet fully grown, and she was still able to hide them beneath the robe, but her rage was a different matter entirely.

She lay there, listening to him snore loudly, her anger swelling with each noisy inhale and exhale. His snoring was always at its worst when he drank, and tonight was no exception. She allowed her rage to build until she could stand it no longer. For too many years she had lain beside this man, faithful when he was not, caring when he was indifferent, loving when he was undeserving. Tonight he would get his. She would give him everything he deserved.

With a speed she hadn’t known she possessed, Susan flung off her robe and jumped atop Bill.

She sank her teeth into the meaty part of his shoulder. Her new fangs pierced the skin effortlessly and plunged deep into the tissue. She felt an electric tingle run through her facial muscles as she produced thick venom in secret glands, preparing to inject it.

Her husband came awake with a wail and began to struggle, bucking beneath his wife in an effort to dislodge her mouth. The pain was excruciating. He was a strong man, but it was no use. Susan held fast, pinning him to the mattress with superior force. She was so much stronger now. How did she get so strong?

She held him as she focused all her concentration on her new teeth, willing herself to pump the venom in fast and deep. She continued to hold him, still injecting the poison, until he quieted and went still. Only when he could move no more, did she finally stop, sitting up to survey the damage.