SickER Bastards: A Novel of Extreme Horror, Sex and Gore

by Matt Shaw

  “Where have you been?” mum asked. “Really? Where have you been? I’ve been worried about you.”

  I turned to dad, “Were you worried about me?”

  He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. If he felt anything - it would be disappointment that I reappeared back on the scene again.

  I asked him again, “Were you ever worried about me?”

  “I want you out of my house,” he said.

  “Answer the question!” I shouted. “Were you ever worried about me?!”

  “No!” he shouted back. “No, I wasn’t!”

  Mum burst into tears as she realised her family was beyond repair. No coming back from this.

  Dad continued, “I wasn’t worried about you in the slightest.”

  “Well you should have been!”

  I raised the gun up to his head and pulled the trigger. It clicked. Nothing else. No bullets, no bang, nothing. Empty? Fuck. Still - didn’t stop both him and mum from visibly jumping as they both feared the worst. Fine - he should have feared the worst… The gun was aimed at him but what was mum worried about? I was trying to set her free. I was trying to rid her of the one thing in her life truly holding her back from being the great person she could have been.

  Dad started laughing, “Very good. You got me. Now get the fuck out of my house and don’t you dare darken my doorstep again. You hear me?”

  I dropped the gun and smiled.

  “Okay,” I said.

  He stood up and walked towards the living room door, as though leading me back through to the front door.

  “Before I go,” I said, “I’m hungry… Do you mind if I at least get something for the road?” I looked at mum because I knew she wouldn’t be able to say no to me. She had never been able to say no to me. She nodded and I smiled. She was always there for me. No matter what I did.

  I walked towards the doorway to the hall. Dad was standing there. I stopped in front of him. He looked at me, confused why I wasn’t grabbing something from the kitchen so I could be on my merry way.

  “Just grab a packet of crisps - hell, include a chocolate biscuit with that if you want - and leave. Enough is enough. We don’t want you around here anymore.”

  I grabbed him by his ears and pulled him towards me. Everything happened so fast he didn’t fight back as I sunk my teeth into him. He screamed as I ripped a piece of nose and lip from his face. Mum screamed too as I sunk my teeth into dad again; this time tearing out his throat - adam’s apple and all. He started to choke and gargle but I wasn’t done with him. I bit him again and again, each time tearing more flesh from bone. Each little piece, I swallowed as the meat cured me of my hunger. Mum was screaming for me to get off him but still I ignored her.

  I let go of him and he dropped onto his knees with his hands at his throat, trying to stem the flow of blood (not happening). He wasn’t suffering enough, though. I needed him to suffer more. I put one hand behind his head, to steady him, and pushed two fingers and my thumb into his eye-socket; two fingers above and the thumb below, allowing me to get a good grip of his eyeball. I ripped it from his head and popped it straight into my mouth. I bit down hard and felt it squish between my teeth; lovely juices filling my mouth as I wondered whether he was able to see any of this still. They say a heart can continue beating once it has been removed from a chest cavity… Well… Can an eye see for a while longer if that too has been removed. Can it see itself getting swallowed into the digestive system. Dad didn’t scream. He was too far gone; still gargling on his own blood, choking as he deserved to. I let go of him and he dropped to the floor. His gargles becoming less frequent. I turned to mum and immediately felt a rush of guilt…

  “Sorry, did you want some?” I asked.

  I walked over to her and she flinched away. I froze. What? She thought I was going to hurt her? Of course I wasn’t going to hurt her. Why would she think such a thing? I love her. She’s always been there for me and now I’ll always be there for her.

  “I need you,” I told her.

  I sat down next to her and turned my body to face her. I put my hands on her hands (which were on her lap) and tried my best to reassure her that everything was going to be okay.

  “I need you to help me, just as I’ll help you. You know, so we can both move forward from this. The government people - the ones who put me in that fucking test… They might come for me so I can’t go home. I created a distraction to help me get away and hopefully they’ll forget about me but… I need you to help hide me. And - although I don’t know how - I need you to help me move on and forget about all the bad things I’ve done…”

  Mum didn’t say anything nor did she look very good. Her face was pale. She was shaking. Was she going into shock? She can’t be. I’ve set her free. She should be happy. She should be as happy as I am for getting home to her.

  “Are you okay?” I asked. “I realise this is a lot to take in.” I pointed over to dad, “Did you want something to eat? A bit of energy to help you cope and think straight?” She still didn’t reply to me; just sat there shaking. I felt myself getting angry at her. No. Not angry. I was getting frustrated. “Mum! Talk to me! I’ve gone through hell to get back to you!” I lifted my hand out of frustration. I wasn’t going to do anything - it was more of an involuntary movement.

  “Don’t hurt me!” mum flinched away from me.

  “What?” I was shocked by her outburst. “I’m not doing to hurt you!” I reached across to her and pulled her close to me, putting my arms around her. “I’m not going to hurt you… I love you!”

  She was still crying, “I love you too…” she said.

  I pulled away from her, “You do? Even after everything I’ve told you?”

  She nodded. Was she just saying this because she thought I wanted to hear it? No. She couldn’t have been. She does love me. It’s obvious she loves me; all that she has done for me over the years. Of course she loves me. I leaned forward to her and kissed her. I paused. I pulled away slightly and stared into her eyes. She does love me.

  “What?” she asked.

  She wiped a tear from cheek. Still looked fearful. We can turn this around though. I used to do this with my girlfriend, before she left me. We’d have a little argument and then we’d make up… I leaned forward and kissed mum again, sliding my tongue into her mouth. I felt her body tense in my grip. It’s fine. She’ll relax into it. I know she will. Just like Mother and Sister did, she’ll enjoy it. I held her close as I continued to explore the inside of her mouth with my tongue; caressing her own tongue as I did so. I moved my hand down to her breast and gave it a gentle squeeze. I do love her. I’ve always loved her, just as she has always loved me. My hand moved from breast down, between her legs. She flinched at my touch but it’s okay. It’s still okay. She’ll settle into it once I warm her up. She’ll enjoy it. I’ll make sure she does. I need her to. I want to taste her cum when I lick at her pussy. I need to taste it…

  I’ve always wanted to taste it.

  And - what - it took the experiment to make me realise this?

  What am I doing? Of course it didn’t take the experiment to make me realise it. It’s just changed the way I think. I pulled away from mum. She breathed out heavily (relief?) and stood up she started to walk towards the door only to stop close to dad’s body. Hard to judge what was going through her mind. Was she going to have a taste?

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  She hesitated, “I - er - I… I was going to get a drink.”

  No. I don’t agree with that - the experiment changing me. I’ve always wanted this. Mum has always wanted this. Looking at our situation now, the way she helped me as I grew up - it’s obvious now. It’s crystal fucking clear. I jumped up from the sofa and hurried over to mum. I put my hands on her shoulder (she flinched) and span her around so that she was facing me. Hands moved to arse as I pressed my erection against her before sliding my tongue back into her mouth. She feels tense again. She’ll relax. We just need to get comfortable. Probabl
y move things away from The Snack. I’m used to this but she isn’t. I shouldn’t expect her to settle into fucking in front of dead folk as easily as I can now.

  “Follow me,” I took her hand and pulled her from the room. I lead her up the stairs towards the room she once stared with the Fillet Steak.

  “I thought you were hungry?” mum said. “Why don’t you go and have a wash and I’ll prepare you a nice sandwich. How does that sound? Or a fry-up? I have bacon…” she sounded nervous. Why does she so nervous? She knows she wants this as much as I do.

  I pulled her into the room and pushed her back on the bed, telling her to relax. She froze when she saw the knife tucked between belt and trouser.

  “I’ll tell you, that has got me out of some sticky situations,” I joked. I pulled it from where it rested and threw it to the floor. “Now, where were we?”

  I climbed on top of mum and continued to kiss her passionately. She squirmed underneath me - clearly getting into things.

  EPILOGUE

  True Love and Rotting Dead F*cks

  All day I had fucked mum. To my surprise, she liked it rough. To my surprise, she was a screamer - really getting into it as I continually hit her sweet spot with moves taught to me by Mother and Sister. Because I was self-conscious about her having at least one orgasm I ensured I edged myself to begin with so I could continually pound her whilst reaching down and stroking her clitoris. I’d get myself right to the point of orgasm and stop for a second or two. I’d carry on and get to the point of happiness and - again - I’d stop. Only when I knew for sure that she’d cum… Only then did I really let myself go, and on more than one occasion (by choice). I didn’t want to stop fucking her, even after my first ejaculation. The sweet tingling, the twitching cock as I fired stream after stream of hot, sticky spunk into her warm, inviting cunt. As soon as I’d shot my load, I ensured I carried on despite the sensitivity. Once you get past the first couple of minutes… Everything becomes numb and you can soon get back into the swing of pumping away - with little discomfort - until you fire off another load.

  I rolled from her body between the second and third orgasm. I wanted to reach the third - the one I wanted to fire down her throat - but couldn’t quite get there. So hungry, so tired… hardly surprising after everything I’d been through and the lack of sleep I’d had. I jumped up and walked through to the bathroom, before coming back with a towel. I threw it to mum who was curled into a little ball and still shaking. Lucky cow still in the throes of an orgasm. I must have hit the spot just right. She’ll be bragging about that to her friends over coffee within a week, or two. I laughed at the thought.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  She didn’t say anything. Clearly tired her out.

  “Can I get you anything? A drink? Piece of fillet steak?”

  Again, she didn’t say anything. I shrugged it off and put it down to how tired she must be. She’s getting on a bit now. Clearly I’d taken it out of her a bit. Probably isn’t used to marathon sessions like that. Not with dad anyway. I sat on the edge of the bed and reached over to the television control sitting on the bedside cabinet. A press of the red button and the television - in the corner of the room - flickered into life. The News.

  “Funny - I don’t think I missed the television at all when I was out in the woods,” I said.

  Mum didn’t say anything. I turned my head to see if she had heard me. She was crying.

  “Don’t worry. I’m home now. I’m safe.”

  Sweet of her to worry about me so. I honestly think we’re about to embark on a really special relationship together. Considering everything I’ve gone through, everything that has happened - it really is quite exciting. I patted her on the bum and told her to rest up so we can carry on where we left off… I want to hit that third orgasm. I turned my attention back to the television. Helicopter footage played on the screen - over some woods. A series of cabins. I knew exactly what it was. Where it was. The compound. Some of the cabins were on fire. I turned the television up and a reporter spoke of explosions and rioting down below. What the hell happened? Was this part of the distraction I caused? Had things got truly out of hand? I continued to watch the report. On screen you could clearly see people heading into the woods. I couldn’t help but laugh - proud that I caused this - before wondering whether these people were infected or whether they were soldiers running from a situation they couldn’t control. Whatever the scenario, I don’t care. Fuck them. They got what they deserved. Mum moved on the bed behind me.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  Probably using the towel to clean herself up a bit. Could have answered me though. I turned towards her and was shocked to see she had my knife in her shaking hand. Tears streaming down her face, blade pointed right at me.

  I asked again, “You okay?”

  T H E E N D