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

Bill lay on his back on the bed, unable to move due to the paralytic effects of Susan’s venom. He looked like he was dead, the only thing that betrayed this effect were his eyes, which still tracked Susan’s movements, and the soft gurgles that emerged intermittently from his throat. Susan absently stroked one of her new legs, enjoying the smooth feel of the appendage under her hand, as she stared vacantly at his flaccid crotch. The fight had excited her.

She wanted to mate.

Unable to close his drying eyes, Bill looked at the ceiling through a layer of filmy tears as the monster that used to be his wife, employed the tricks she had learned during years of marriage to make his body betray him. He watched in helpless horror while, with patience and practice, she managed to get him erect, a triumphant squeal escaping her misshapen mouth as she mounted him. Rocking her way to release, she coaxed his body into a reluctant climax; a pathetic bubbling sound in his throat was Bill’s only acknowledgement of his finish though he longed to cry out.

Her own orgasm followed swiftly, her body pounding his furiously with mindless abandon. Never before had she experienced such sexual pleasure. It washed over her in waves, causing her to cry out her joy, the sound terrifying and alien. Overcome by her own excitement, Susan began to chew furiously.

Moments later, as her sexual high ebbed and Susan regained what little of her senses that remained; she realized that Bill was dead.

She had eaten most of his face.

The wreck that remained no longer resembled her husband at all. With her head tilted curiously to one side, she studied the bloody mess of him. She knew on some level that she should be horrified by what she had done, but she remained calm and emotionless. She poked an inquisitive finger into the empty socket that used to be his eye. It felt warm and squishy in there. She liked the feeling. She liked the coppery taste in her mouth as well.

Soon her big house would be full again. The sounds of her children scuttling about would ring joyfully throughout the place. Susan glanced at the body that had been Bill one more time. Maybe she would eat the rest later. Right now, she had work to do. She had finally found her purpose. After all, the egg sac wouldn’t build itself.

As she worked, Susan thought about her daughters. She hadn’t seen either girl in a while so she decided to call them both and invite them to come home for a weekend soon. She would schedule it for after the eggs hatched. She hoped the girls would be as excited to meet their new siblings as the babies would be to meet them.

“So, what’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done on screen?” Chantal sipped her coffee, her bright eyes regarding Liza over the mug.

“I let ten guys cum on my face, one after another. Now that was a mess. Oh yeah, and I fucked a Great Dane once.” Liza spoke in a loud voice, oblivious to the reactions of the other patrons in the diner. The guy behind the counter shook his head and returned to taking an order, accustomed to the two ex-porn stars and their outrageous conversations. It was after bar rush, when all the college kids fresh from the party and the less desirables mixed together in the diner.

Chantal raised her eyebrows and nodded in appreciation. She’d been getting the wrong kind of attention her whole life, and didn’t give a shit what anyone in a diner thought.

Liza signaled for another cup of coffee. Winking at the waiter as he poured it, she waited until he walked away, chuckling at his look of disapproval.

“What about you?” Liza asked.

Taking another sip, Chantal held the cup with both hands and took a moment to ponder before answering.

“Once I had to shake up a beer bottle and shoot it up another girl’s ass, then drink it as it poured back out.”

“How was that for you?”

“Tasted like shit.” Silence for a second, then both women cracked up, their laughter harsh and throaty from too many years of cigarettes and cheap booze. A young couple stood abruptly to leave, twin looks of horror on their faces. The girls returned their stares until the pair was gone, then laughed until thick mascara streaked down their cheeks.

The two had been friends for over twenty years, ever since co-starring together in several adult videos in the early eighties. Liza’s short-lived career in the adult entertainment industry had fallen prey to an unfortunate drug habit. Chantal had an overzealous boyfriend with hard fists who beat her burgeoning career into the ground, leaving a twisted mess of scar tissue as a constant reminder. They had both been reduced to prostitution.

Chantal smiled at a young man who stared at her from across the diner, laughing as he quickly averted his eyes from the ruined right side of her face. She leaned across the table, looking both ways to ensure no one was within earshot. Liza looked back at her from across the scarred tabletop, her half-lidded eyes bloodshot and glassy.

“Have you ever heard of angel lust?” Chantal whispered, clearly suspicious of being overheard.

“I’ve heard of angel dust. ” Liza practically screamed it across the restaurant, causing Chantal to wince and shush her friend.

“Come on, let’s go somewhere else.” Reaching into her battered purse, Chantal pulled out some change for the coffee and dropped it on the table, then stood to leave.

“Where we going?” Liza asked.

“Somewhere with less ears. Let’s go to my apartment. I want to show you something.”

Chantal’s apartment was actually a room at one of the cheaper motels in town, the kind that rented them by the hour or the week. Liza lived somewhere similar, but a few blocks over. Since the diner was midway between their subsequent turfs, they usually met there for coffee in the early morning hours when they weren’t having much luck. Tonight was one such night.

Chantal pressed the key into the lock. A yellow plastic disk embossed with the number 12 bounced against the knob. Pushing open the door, she flipped on a switch, bathing the musty room in muted light. Baby-shit yellow shag carpet, mismatched furniture, and tacky wall-hangings completed the mood. Most surfaces in the room were covered with empty food containers, booze bottles, and condom wrappers. The bed was unmade, its tangled sheets dingy and gray. An unpleasant odor of stale sweat, sex, and booze lingered, but Liza didn’t notice it. Her place smelled the same.

“Got any weed?” Liza asked hopefully.

“You know I don’t do that shit, Liza. Why you gotta keep asking? There’s some vodka in the top drawer.”

Liza rummaged through the dresser drawer in search of booze, while Chantal reached under the bed, pulling out a suitcase and retrieving a laptop computer. Pushing a pile of trash off the table top, she set it down and plugged it in. Having found the vodka, Liza wandered over, upended a chair so the garbage fell off and sat it next to Chantal.

“Since when do you have a computer?”

“I’ve got a regular. He gave it to me.” Chantal squinted at the screen as it booted up.

“He pay for the net, too?”

“Nah-I just hacked someone’s wireless; one of my johns showed me how.”

“So, who’s the regular?” Liza tried to keep the jealousy out of her voice.

“Just some guy. Has money. He’s into freaky shit and can’t get anyone else to do it for him.” Chantal negotiated her way through a forum, intent on the screen as she searched for what she was looking for.

“Is he blind?” Liza laughed, but Chantal didn’t.

“Yes.” If Chantal was offended by Liza’s remark, she gave no indication “Here it is! Look at this.”

“You know I’m not great with reading; just tell me what it’s about.” Liza sat in her chair and swigged directly from the bottle, trying hard to focus on her friend.