by Sam West
“Mmm, yummy,” she said.
“Jesus Christ,” Colin gasped, standing up.
“No, Dad, don’t…”
But his warning was too little, too late because Chloe had shot his dad square in the face. The burnt smell of gunpowder hung heavy in the confined space and despite the silencer, the blast was a loud thud that made his ears pop.
Loud enough for someone outside to hear? came the strangely detached thought.
He didn’t know.
His dad’s brains exploded out of the back of his head, hitting the white-painted wall behind him. Colin flopped to the ground and Janet screamed. Greg could only stare in disbelief at his father’s brain matter rolling down the wall, not even coming close to registering what had just happened.
“I strongly suggest you make your mother shut the fuck up before she eats a bullet too.”
Chloe’s order dragged him back into the moment, and he shuffled over to his mother. She was screaming hysterically, her hands cradling her fear-stricken face. Roughly he grabbed her and pulled her slight body to his broad chest, muffling her screams.
“You have to be quiet, Mum, you have to be quiet,” he said in a singsong voice as he rocked her in his arms.
When he glanced up at Chloe she was lapping at her cunt with ferocious determination, her eyes half-mast in bliss. He recognised that face; she was close to coming. Sure enough, she let out a dainty little gasp and her legs twitched as she finished off the job.
“Fuck, that was good,” she sighed. “You never were much good at it, Greg, darling, I always had to satisfy myself.”
Greg continued to rock his mother and wondered how his ordinary little life had turned into the darkest nightmare possible. He watched in disbelieving horror as she straightened up and leered down at him.
Then she stretched her arms high above her head, her perfect, big breasts lifting upwards. She arched her back in a dramatically curved ‘c’ shape and didn’t stop there. She bent all the way back, inserting her head between the tops of her thighs.
Greg blinked. The shape she made defied comprehension. The splayed, red and glistening gash of her vagina rested on the top of her head, like a novelty hat. She locked her arms around her knees and rested her chin on her hands. She still held the gun.
She smiled at him. “Peek-a-boo, I see you. Let’s play kiss-chase. I’m it.”
Oh sweet Mary, mother of Jesus, this fucking can’t be happening.
But it was. Despite the unnatural position she held herself in, she gracefully extended one long, shapely leg and stepped down onto the dining-room chair that his dad had just vacated.
Now she was on the floor, less than two metres away from where he sat with his sobbing mother. She barely looked human.
A mutant spider-human hybrid sent straight from hell…
“Gnash, gnash! Here I come, ready or not.”
Gnash gnash? What the fuck is that?
She scuttled towards him, and he let out a scream and scrambled to his feet, coming close to falling down again because his legs were shaking so violently.
Gotta get to a phone, came the jangled thought as he lurched towards the door. Fleetingly, he thought of his mobile outside in the car. The irony was not lost on him – it was exactly the same place her ex-fiancé had left his.
Or not, if her entire diary was a total fucking lie…
This was hardly the time to dwell on such things and he threw himself through the door and out into the hallway. The landline phone was on the sideboard next to the front-door and he lurched towards it with Chloe hot on his tail.
Fuck the phone, he thought, pushing down on the door-handle. Going outside seemed like a bloody good idea right about now. His car and freedom beckoned…
The door-handle, however, didn’t budge.
“Looking for something, sugar-plum?”
The stark realisation hit him that the door-key was missing.
The fucking bitch must have swiped it when she went to use the bathroom.
He turned round to face the woman that he had once loved so dearly; the woman with the vagina resting on her head.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked the monstrous bitch facing him at the end of the hallway.
She laughed and the sound of Susan’s good-natured laugh slammed into his brain.
Christ Almighty, what a mistake to make. If only I had met Susan first…
“Shut up and get yourself back in the dining-room.”
She waved the gun at him, flicking it towards the dining-room door. The thought of brushing past that thing made him feel sick to the core, but knowing that her mobile was in her bag and that the front door-key had to be somewhere spurred him on. He kept his back to the wall as he passed her, the urge to burst into tears or to throw up all-consuming.
“Oh, Greg? Before we go back in, how about a fuck?” She stood just behind him, close enough to reach out and touch. “Fuck me in this position and I won’t kill your mummy. What’s the matter, I thought you liked it doggy-style?”
He could only stare at her, open-mouthed.
At last, Greg found his voice. “Fuck you.”
“Yes please, come here, big boy.”
“I said fuck you.” He lunged for her, grabbing for the gun and simultaneously aiming a punch at her face.
She was too fast for him and she retracted her head from between her legs at lightning speed, unfurling her beautiful body and snatching her hands away. It was like trying to grab a bird mid-flight, such was the speed with which she moved.
“Well, that was really fucking stupid,” she said when she was fully upright.
He knew she was right – he had let anger cloud his judgement. A wave of hatred for her so strong washed over him as she pointed the gun at him. He edged backwards towards the dining-room door, not for a second taking his eyes off the gun.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Back in the dining-room, his mum was still on the floor, sobbing hard. Greg went to her, refusing to look over at his dad.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, beginning to well up himself. “I’m so, so sorry.”
He crouched down next to her and pulled her against his broad chest, stroking her hair like a baby.
“This is all very touching, and everything, but we have things to do, now,” Chloe said.
“You’ll never get away with this.”
“I think you’ll find I will, Greg darling, because it’s you that’s flipped, you see.”
Greg did not see in any way, shape, or form. It was just all too fucking much.
“Just stop, please, just fucking stop.”
“My God, Greg, sometimes you such a simpleton, how am I supposed to stop now? I brought you a little present…” Keeping the gun trained on them, she went over to her bag which was still draped over the back of her chair. She peered inside, and smiled. “It’s beginning to smell, I’m amazed you didn’t catch wafts of it when you were driving.” She pulled out a supermarket carrier bag, holding it aloft like a trophy. Then, without warning, she lobbed it at him. “Catch.”
Greg roughly pushed his mother away, just managing to catch it in time before it hit her in the head.
It was heavy and solid and his insides shrivelled. On some level, even before he looked inside, he knew what it was from the ridges and contours he could feel through the plastic.
Bracing himself, he unknotted the plastic handles and peeped inside…
He screamed and the bag slipped through his fingers, tumbling to his feet. It landed in such a way that the top of the opened bag was facing him and he had an uninterrupted view of Susan’s face. The jagged neck stump suggested that her head had been forcibly hacked off, and her face was a bloody mess. Her mouth was twisted open in a silent scream, her lips puffy and lacerated.
It was her eyes however, that were the worst; they just looked wrong, like they had suffered severe trauma in life. They were half-closed, the lids swollen around the sunken sockets and they were covered in congealed blood.
/>
The room swam in and out of focus and he almost tumbled backwards as his brain threatened immediate shut-down due to excessive overload.
“Don’t be such a wuss, Greg. She was a stupid, fucking, fat-arsed whore and she deserved to die. Needless to say, I haven’t been to the police today – I’ve been too busy torturing this fat slut.”
Her words reverberated in his head, bringing him too. “How could you?”
“I’m going to get very angry in a minute, and you don’t want to see me angry. I mean, I’ve just killed your fucking dad and you go all distraught on me because I killed some tart that had a crush on you? Did you fucking love her?”
“What? No!”
“Liar!” Her face was red and spittle flew from her lips. “I saw you, remember? I saw you groping her far arse. I saw your fucking hard-on.”
Greg closed his eyes, listening to the sound of his own ragged breathing and his mum’s sobbing. In that moment, he didn’t even have the strength to comfort his mother.
“Open your eyes Greg, I’m fucking speaking to you. So this is what happened. Last night you snatched Susan from her home and today you killed her.”
“But that’s insane, I have alibis, for Christ’s sake, I was at a party.”
“I thought you said it wasn’t a party?”
“Oh, fuck off.”
She carried on like she hadn’t heard him. “So on your way home from the party, you snatched Susan from her home and took her to my place as you have a spare set of keys. You dumped her there, and came home to me.”
“You’ll never get away with it…”
“Oh, change the fucking record. I will and I have. And by the way, those threatening messages I received? They came from your computer, from fake facebook accounts that you set up.”
“No one will ever believe you.”
“Are you sure about that? Because you’ve gone completely nuts, haven’t you, Greg? Kidnapping Susan and spending most of today torturing her. You sawed off her head, and you brought it here with us tonight, so you could fuck it in front of me and your mum. But you raped me first, of course, I mean you fucking lacerated my anus and then you fucked Susan’s neck hole…”
Fuck Susan’s neck hole? Surely he hadn’t heard right.
“But the neighbours would have seen you going into your house today, not me.”
He knew he was clutching at straws but he had to say something. Anything to make her reconsider.
“No one gives a shit on that street and wouldn’t have noticed. Besides, I walked there and went in through the backdoor.”
“But your fingerprints will be everywhere,” he spluttered.
She shrugged. “In your insanity, you thought it would be a good idea to set fire to my house with Susan’s body in it. You bought a detonation device off the internet and it is timed to go off at half seven.” She glanced over at the wall-mounted clock. It was just gone quarter past seven. “But enough talking, let’s get on with it. Stand up. Now!” she barked when he didn’t move.
Shakily, Greg got to his feet. She approached him and with one hand she unbuckled his jeans’ belt and with the other she pressed the gun to his head. She reached inside his boxers and curled her long, elegant fingers around his shaft.
“What the fuck are you doing,” he asked through gritted teeth.
“I’m gonna make you nice and hard.”
He gasped when she yanked down his jeans to his knees, taking his underpants with them. The gun lifted from his head and he felt the cold muzzle nudging between his legs just behind his balls and he flinched when the gun found the tight ring of his sphincter muscle.
His blood pumped ice-cold through his veins and sweat trickled into his eyes.
He had to keep her talking. “But why would I buy a fucking bomb off the internet? That would be completely incriminating myself, no one is that stupid.”
“I don’t know, because you’re a fucking nutter? I sure do pick ‘em, don’t I? Poor me.”
Why am I letting her do this to me? She’s going to kill me anyway...
But he knew that his only chance was to play along with her, within reason. His opportunity would come along soon, and when it did, this would be fucking over.
Suddenly, the hand massaging his flaccid cock, and the gun threatening to take his arse-virginity disappeared.
“One more thing,” she said, going over to her bag once more and pulling out a pair of handcuffs. She gestured towards the nearest dining-room chair with the faintest flick of her head.
Well, that’s just fucking marvellous.
“Sit down and put your arms behind the back of the chair.” He hesitated for a moment, knowing it was suicide to do as she asked. “If you don’t, then Mummy will eat some lead. Eat some lead. That sounds so cool, I’ve always wanted to say that.”
Seeing as he didn’t have much of a choice, Greg did it. Chloe proceeded to handcuff his hands behind the chair-back, securing both his wrists to the vertical wooden slats.
Then she sat on his lap and pulled his face against her breasts.
“Why did you cheat on me, Greg? You are such a stupid cunt.”
Greg was inclined to agree with her. He was a stupid cunt for a lot of things and least of all for cheating on her.
Now Chloe was on a mission to get him hard. She squirmed on his lap, positioning a nipple so that it grazed his mouth. Gently, she played with his cock, guiding it over the slick entrance of her pussy. Despite his predicament, he felt stirrings down there.
Aww, nooo…
“That’s my boy,” she purred, sliding down his body until she was kneeling before him. She slid his jeans and underpants down his shins so that they pooled around his ankles.
She parted his knees and wedged her torso between his thighs, casually pressing the gun into his gut. When she lowered her head to suck on his cock, he felt tears well in his eyes.
I can’t believe I’m getting hard…
But he was. Arousal churned in his lower stomach, making his cock swell almost halfway to full hardness.
“What did you to the Jones family?” he gasped, desperate for her to remove her head from his cock.
His cock popped wetly out of her mouth, and he felt a surge of relief. She didn’t move though, and stayed there where she was, crouched between his legs.
“I slaughtered the lot of them. Scott was a bad egg too, just like you. Did you enjoy reading my diary? Because it was all bullshit. I left it there in the bedroom because I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist reading it. I can’t believe you fell for it.”
“Yeah, well, I did think the ending was crap.”
A look of pure hate passed over her face and he felt a rush of perverse pleasure. His comment had hit her where it hurt, in her writing.
“I guess I’ll just have to write a better one next time, about tonight. About how my fiancé turned out to be a maniac who slaughtered his parents in front of me before raping the head of the lover he had decapitated.”
Greg burst out laughing, not because he found any of this particularly funny, but because he hoped it would unnerve her.
She scowled at him. “What the fuck are you laughing at?”
“You. You really think you’re some hotshot writer, don’t you? You’re just some talentless, self-published wannabee. Not even I bought into your shitty little diary and I was in love with you. It completely lacked plausibility. You’re crazy to think you’re capable of pulling this off.”
“Do you want me to bash your mum’s brain in with this gun?”
Greg resisted the urge to spit in her face, but his laughter died on his lips. He tried a different tact.
“Was anything you told me true? Is Chloe Fox even your real name?”
She looked at him thoughtfully, her head cocked to one side as if she was debating whether to talk. Almost imperceptibly, she shrugged.
“Yeah, that’s my real name. That stuff about my parents though? That was all crap I made up. I haven’t had an easy childhood,
Gregory, I was a doorstep baby. No one loved me, I was in and out of foster homes and I was abused by those that were supposed to care for me. Before I made a living as a writer, I got into some pretty dark shit, like prostitution and making underground porn movies. Still, it’s given my writing an edge, I’m pleased to say. I’m curious, did you ever google me to look for the pictures I was telling you about?”
“Yes,” he replied, not seeing any point in lying.
“Well, you wouldn’t have found anything because I worked under the name Lucinda Laye. Shame you’ll never get to see it.”
“Have you ever killed anyone, you know, apart from the Jones family?”
“What is this? You’re not trying to buy yourself some time, are you? As it happens, no. Well, apart from the odd client, but that doesn’t count.”
Greg could only stare at her dumbfounded, at the stranger kneeling before him. “Who are you?” was all he could think to say.
“You need to shut the fuck up now. You’ve had your chances, Gregory Larson. You’re just the two-timing cunt that couldn’t even be arsed to escort his fiancée down to the police-station to report her crazed stalker because he had a hangover.”
The stalker you made up, he thought in despair. “You’re crazy.”
“Do you want me to bite off your cock?”
He shrivelled up inside. “No.”
“I didn’t think so. Now, you are going to rape me up the arse. I have taken it up the arse many times before, but I can’t say I ever enjoyed it and I’ve definitely tightened up again because it’s been a while. This is going to hurt me a lot. And you do want to hurt me, don’t you Greg?”
Oh yes, he really did. A lot.
“I thought so.”
Her eyes gleamed as she lowered her head once more, sucking with purpose on his cock. He thought about what she wanted him to do, about hurting her, and his cock throbbed into full glory.
What’s wrong with me, whispered a distant part of his mind. His dad was lying dead in the room with him, the head of the woman he could have loved was at his feet, and his mum was lying on the floor sobbing her heart out, mentally broken.
