Suffer Hard: An Extreme Horror Novella

by Sam West

  Silently she made her way to the top of the stairs. She could see the bottom part of the front door at the end of the narrow hallway, beckoning her. Taunting her.

  She thanked the Gods that the stairs were carpeted, however threadbare as it helped muffle her footsteps. Her legs trembled and her heart beat wildly as she moved swiftly and silently down the stairs.

  I can do this, I can do this…

  Oh God, she was so close now. She stood quivering at the foot of the stairs, staring desperately at the door, her naked chest rapidly rising and falling. Just three more doors to navigate. The door to her right stood ajar, the other two were closed.

  It was through the opened door that she could hear voices. Her heart lurched painfully when she heard her boyfriend;

  “Get off me, you disgusting bitch!”

  He sounded terrified and the high pitched quality to his voice made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. And was that Tim she could hear softly sobbing, almost drowned out by Craig’s screams of protest?

  It didn’t even occur to her to help. Going in that room would be tantamount to signing her own death certificate.

  She would get help once she was free of this nightmare…

  All she had to do was get past that door unseen. The handle of the penknife felt slippery in her sweaty hand as she steeled herself for what she was about to do.

  She sped past the door, Craig’s cries of disgust ringing in her ears.

  I’ve made it!

  She turned the handle of the door and the twinkling night sky soothed her soul like a balm. She hurtled herself out into the night air, sobbing in relief.

  Her foot didn’t even so much as cross the threshold. She screamed when massive arms circled her middle, lifting her clean off the ground and pulling her back into the house.

  CHAPTER SEVEN.

  Craig was not having a good time. As soon Old Jake had left to pay Beth a visit, Margaret had taken it upon herself to attempt to impregnate herself.

  “Come on boy,” she purred in his ear, gusts of sour breath assaulting his nostrils. “Make your shaft nice and stiff for Momma.”

  “Get off me,” he moaned, his eyes squeezed tightly shut in disgust.

  But she didn’t. She had straddled his lap, and her breasts were completely free of the flowery, summer dress. She rubbed them against his face and chest. Milk seeped out of the huge, scabby brown nipples. And to Craig’s horror, the milk was mixed with blood, turning it pink.

  Bish sat there openly rubbing his crotch, watching them.

  “Come on,” she said in exasperation, squirming on his lap. “Why ain’t you hard?”

  Jesus Christ, this can’t be happening.

  She had lifted up her dress so it was bunched up around her waist. She wasn’t wearing knickers. Her vagina wasn’t so much wet as soaked through, and felt sticky on his bare thighs. Afterbirth still leaked out of her, lumpy, hot and in abundance. There was so much of it, it ran down his shins and wetted his ankles.

  “Oh Jesus Christ, no,” he complained, sickened to his core.

  “You are really beginning to piss me off,” she complained, holding his cock with one hand and rubbing it against the gaping hole of the wreck of her vagina. “Just fucking get hard and fuck me.”

  There was more chance of hell freezing over. He kept his eyes closed when she kissed him, the slimy tongue worming past his tightly clenched lips.

  She moaned in frustration and broke off the disgusting kiss.

  “Open your eyes, boy.”

  He didn’t.

  “Shall I cut his eyelids off for yers?” Bish helpfully suggested. “I can use this ‘ere table knife.”

  Craig opened his eyes, and Margaret stared down at him. She looked as though she was about to cry.

  “I want your babies, boy. I love my family, I do, but we can’t have no more babies. Not normal babies anyways. And we need a normal baby or two to carry on the family line otherwise we’re gonna die out. I’m real fertile, I know I can make a good baby with some genetics that ain’t my own.”

  “Ay, she’s fertile alright, been pregnant every year since she first got her period,” Bish added. “Real fertile and real horny.”

  Craig sobbed. He truly wasn’t taking well to his new job of sperm donor. He didn’t want to cry. Crying meant he breathed too deeply, and that meant breathing in the stink of her. The stench radiating out from her gaping pussy was indescribable. Meaty, rotten and corrupt.

  A scream rang out from the hallway, making all three of them jump.

  “What the hell was that?” Bish said, getting shakily to his old feet.

  The door burst open and Michael came in, carrying the screaming girl over his shoulder.

  “Beth!” Craig gasped, instantly recognising her shapely backside.

  Relief at seeing her flooded through him. Thank God she was still alive. Thank God.

  “How the fuck did she get out?” Margaret asked, dismounting Craig and putting her dress straight. “What did you do to my brother?” she screamed at the terrified girl.

  Beth didn’t answer. Craig watched as she helplessly kicked and clawed at the immovable ox of a man.

  Margaret lurched for the door, stumbling slightly as she went. Her footsteps could be heard pounding the stairs, followed by a shrill little shriek.

  “You fucking bitch!” drifted down the stairs.

  “What did you to Jake?” Bish said in a low voice. “Answer me, bitch. Oh, fuck this. Michael, put her in her chair.”

  Michael dumped her in the chair at the opposite end of the table to Craig.

  Beth looked manic. Her long blonde hair hung in stringy tails obscuring her face and her body was sheened in sweat.

  “Beth,” Craig called softly over to her. “Look at me. You have to calm down.”

  Their eyes locked over the knocked out, paralysed body of Tim.

  “Is he dead?” she asked of Tim.

  “Out cold,” he replied, neglecting to tell her that he was paralysed.

  “Craig,” she sobbed. “Fucking hell, your arm.”

  “It’s OK.”

  “It’s not OK.”

  “I love you, Beth,” he said, as the huge bald man tied her to the chair with a length of rope that Bish had briefly popped out the room for.

  “Where’s Jessie?”

  Craig just shook his head, and the tears rolled down his cheeks.

  Margaret reappeared. She went straight up to Bish who enveloped her in a hug.

  “He’s dead,” she sobbed. “The fucking whore slit his throat.”

  “Michael,” Bish said sternly. “Go upstairs and fetch Old Jake.”

  Margaret buried her face in Bish’s pullover and cried some more as the ever silent Michael left the room.

  “I loved him so much,” she wailed.

  “I know,” Bish cooed. “We all did. We’ll make the best roast dinner out of him we’ve ever had. We’ll do him proud Margaret.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you two, sweetheart,” he replied.

  The grotesque couple kissed. As before, it was a kiss that a brother and a sister had no business sharing. Margaret moaned through her tears and squirmed slightly against him in obvious enjoyment.

  “And don’t worry if that useless son of a bitch can’t get it up, we still have the whore to impregnate. If he doesn’t perform then we’ll feed him to the children.”

  Craig stared across the table at Beth. He could see the whites all the way around her eyes.

  That’s when Beth decided to start screaming. She opened her mouth and all the horror she was living through fell out of it. The sound hurt his ears, but he welcomed it too. So he joined in.

  “Shut those cunts up,” Margaret said, covering her ears with her hands. “Have they no respect? I’ve just lost my brother.”

  Bish came up to him and screamed in his face.

  “If you don’t shut the fuck up I will gouge out your eye,” he said, brandishing the pronged teeth o
f the fork so close to his eye he couldn’t focus on it.

  When the metal scraped against the inner corner of his eyeball, he came to his senses.

  He noticed Beth had gone silent too. When he fell quiet except for his ragged breathing and Bish had stepped to one side, he saw that Margaret was throttling Beth.

  Her face was darkening with every passing second, her eyes bulging in her head.

  “Stop it!” Craig cried.

  “Stop it Margaret,” Bish said gently, going over to lightly touch her on the arm. “We need her, remember?”

  “The whore murdered my brother.”

  Bish remained by her side, and to Craig’s utter relief her hands fell from her neck. Beth spluttered and coughed, her head lolling on her neck.

  “Whas goin’ on?” Tim slurred.

  Craig figured the screaming must’ve brought him to.

  “Hey Tim,” he said sadly. “Good to see you back, buddy.”

  He just groaned, his eyelids flickering.

  “Come on sweetheart,” Bish said, wrapping his arm around the shoulders of his sister. “Let’s sit down, Michael will be in with dinner soon.”

  The quietly sobbing Margaret let herself be led over to the end of the bench next to Craig. When she sat down she glared at him, sniffing slightly. Craig shivered. There was nothing but madness in those accusing little eyes.

  Michael was back, clutching a huge, steaming ceramic bowl to his chest. A savoury, and not altogether unpleasant smell wafted through the room. It smelled like pork casserole.

  Craig felt dizzy. If he didn’t know it was Jessie and his own fucking arm in that broth, he would think it smelled great.

  Suddenly he was having difficulty catching his breath. There was a buzzing in his ears and everything felt and looked fuzzy. As if in a dream he watched Michael place the bowl in the centre of the table next to Tim’s head. Bish was saying something but he couldn’t hear what, the ringing in his ears was too great. Michael made a few more trips, fetching a bottle of wine and glasses, and various table condiments.

  His gaze was transfixed by the watery broth. A shiny, thin, oily film had formed on the top. Lumps of meat and carrot could be glimpsed bobbing just beneath the surface.

  Michael dished up, ladling the stew into bowls which he placed before Craig and Beth. Margaret leaned in closer to him.

  “You kids get to eat first,” she said, picking up the spoon.

  Michael had taken his place by Beth and was doing the same. Bish watched on, a dreamy half smile on his lips.

  Margaret spooned out the brown water and it loomed near his face.

  “Open wide, there’s a good boy. Eat your yummy broth.”

  Needless to say, he didn’t. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear the stinging sweat that was dripping off his forehead into his eyes. His mouth remained firmly shut.

  “Oh, for pity’s sake, would you just eat your damn dinner already?”

  “Eat it boy, make you good and strong, that will,” Bish added from his seat on the opposite bench. “Eat it or I’ll knock yer teeth out and pour it down yer neck.”

  Craig didn’t doubt him. But at the same time, he just couldn’t.

  From the sounds of things, Berth was having the same problem. She made horrible, strangled, gagging sounds that wrenched at Craig’s heart.

  The spoon pressed against his lips, cold, hard and unyielding. It pushed harder and harder, shoving past his lips and clanking against his clenched teeth. He knew he didn’t have a choice. He knew that if he didn’t unclench his teeth she was going to smash right through them. Or Bish would knock them out his head.

  He opened up and the spoon drove home. He gagged when the spoon emptied its load in his mouth. Margaret pressed a hand over his mouth, forcing him to swallow.

  “There’s a good boy,” she cooed. “I told you it would be yummy.”

  Craig’s stomach clenched around the unwelcome intrusion. The taste reminded him of the pork casseroles his mum used to make when he was a kid.

  I’ve just eaten my own fucking arm…

  When he glanced over at Beth he saw her face was sodden with tears. She too, had partaken of dinner.

  Time and time again the savoury liquid with the occasional meaty lump was spooned into his mouth. And time and time again he swallowed. The only way to get through the hell of what he was being forced to do was not to think about it.

  He trembled all over with each swallow. The very worst thing of all was that it tasted good. It tasted so good he was not even close to puking up. That fact alone sent his mind into a tailspin.

  At last, his ordeal was over. That part of it anyway.

  Bish and Margaret took their places either side of him and tucked into the stew. Michael remained sitting at the other end of the table next to Beth.

  Craig and Beth were silent, and Tim groaned and muttered softly to himself. If he was awake or asleep, Craig couldn’t tell. Perhaps both states were the same to him now.

  Their three captors slurped their dinner in silence for a few minutes.

  “Delicious, Michael,” Margaret said.

  “Indeed,” Bish said.

  Michael grunted.

  “Are you going to try again with him?” Bish asked, flicking his head in Craig’s direction.

  Margaret put down her spoon.

  “I’ll give him another go. If he won’t there’s no point keeping him.”

  Craig’s stressed heart beat even faster. If he couldn’t get it up, then he was a goner.

  When they had finished, Michael got up to clear the table and took it all away.

  “I feel so much better with something inside my tummy,” Margaret said, patting her pudding gut. “Human flesh always makes me so horny. Doesn’t it you, sweetheart?” she asked Craig.

  He just stared at her in disbelief as Beth quietly sobbed.

  Here we go again, Craig thought in disgust when the old bitch straddled his lap. Once again those monstrous breasts flopped over the top of her dress and her gaping vagina rubbed wetly on his thigh.

  Craig closed his eyes. He had to somehow summon a hard on. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and thought of naked women. No one specific. Specific invariably meant Jessie. And he certainly did not want to picture his beautiful Jessie decapitated and torn limb from limb. Neither did he want to dwell on Beth’s naked body right now. That would just be sick.

  His cock swelled a little when he thought of naked girls. He was a young man with a keen eye for the female form, it wasn’t difficult to regurgitate in his mind any number of images. It worked. Sort of. That was until the old hag’s lips latched onto his like a slimy leech him and it was impossible to pretend that she was anyone other than who she was.

  The semi-hard on that she vigorously kneaded in the palm of her hand withered to nothing.

  He gulped down air when she freed his mouth. It was hopeless. He just couldn’t.

  “Maybe you’d like a little sucky sucky,” she said, dismounting him and kneeling at his feet.

  Her toothless mouth latched onto his flaccid penis, and sucked. HiIt felt like his cock was about to be sucked clean off his body. The tight, wet hole of her mouth pulled him down her gullet and he shuddered in revulsion.

  Margaret dismounted and covered up her ravaged body.

  “Enough of this fooling around,” she said. “We have the girl for childbearing, this useless sack of shit is never going to be able to perform. I’ve made enough children anyway, it’s time for me to stop.”

  Michael came back into the room.

  “Shall we fetch the children?” Bish asked her.

  Margaret nodded. “Michael? Would you fetch the children please? Let’s end this.”

  Wordlessly he turned back round.

  Shit! This isn’t good.

  “What are you going to do?” Beth wailed.

  Margaret smiled “Throw the boys to the wolves.”

  “What she say?” Tim said in a moment of lucidity.

  Craig strained his ears
to listen. No one spoke. It was like the air was charged. Like something big was about to happen. Margaret and Bish sat there silently. Expectantly. He could hear Michael in the hallway and he visibly flinched when the scraping sound of an old fashioned key turning in a lock echoed faintly down the hall.

  Then the voices came. Quiet at first, then growing louder.

  “The children,” Margaret said softly. “They will be hungry. They sleep in the basement during the day, sunlight makes them sick. That’s why we black out the windows.”

  The sound of voices was louder now. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. The voices sounded…wrong. Gurgling sounds, like a death rattle. Throaty giggling. Panting. Phlegmy growls.

  The first of them entered the room. Craig’s eyes bulged. The child was naked and hairless, including her head. She (or at least Craig assumed it was a ‘she’ from the lack of genitals hanging down) couldn’t have been more than ten years old. She was deathly pale, albino pale. Thin blue veins showed beneath her transparent skin.

  But it was her fingers that drew his attention. They were webbed, far too long and slightly curled under. Her fingernails were long and razor sharp. That and her eyes. The whites of her eyes were bloodshot.

  The rest filtered tentatively in, filling up the room. Craig counted eight of them. All had pure white skin and were naked. They were largely silent, save for the occasional throaty growl. They all shared those bloodshot eyes and curled, sharp fingernails. The age range appeared to go from newborn to fully grown adult. An older looking girl held a baby in a blanket to her chest. Wordlessly she handed it to Margaret, who instantly whipped out a saggy breast for the infant to suckle.

  “Hello darlings,” Margaret said to the terrifying group. “Please, eat. But not the girl. She’s staying with us for a while.”

  Craig stared at them all in horror. Some of them older children stood rooted to the spot, sniffing the air like wild dogs. The girl that had been holding the baby approached him. Her figure was full, and if it weren’t for the translucent skin, bald head and red eyes, she would have been beautiful.

  She sniffed his neck, making funny little growling noises deep in her throat. She sniffed her way to his arm stump.