Skeleton King (The Dirty Heroes Collection Book 9)

by Charity B.

  It’s as if he’s suddenly allowed himself freedom when he begins pounding up into me so hard, I cry out.

  Stopping abruptly, he lies immobile. “Fuck, I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”

  He’s much more than his sinister reputation. His kindness is so pleasantly unexpected that I kiss him and shake my head. “I’ll tell you if it hurts, I promise.” Kissing down his neck, I grind my hips to feel him that deep again. I love the sensation of my breasts against his smooth chest. “Fuck me as hard as you want, John.”

  A squeal jumps from my mouth when he flips me onto my back so quickly it takes a moment to focus on him hovering above me. Muscles ripple in his large shoulders while he moves himself in and out of my body. He gently presses his lips over every inch of my flesh, making me realize he’s kissing my scars. All of them. Shocking waves shoot through my blood vessels as I clench around him, and I’m suddenly self-conscious about coming. I’m going to make a mess.

  “Fucking fuck,” he groans out. I squeeze his ass and widen my legs, pushing him deeper. “Should I pull out? I’m gonna come soon.”

  I shake my head, moaning out my answer. “No, I want you to do it inside me.”

  Though he wavers, tilting his head with a hesitant frown, he doesn’t stop. As he continues to bring me closer, the barrier holding back my release thins with pressure, tightening my skin. I’m what Fink calls a ‘squirter.’ It’s going to happen any second, and now, I wish I would have prepared him.

  “John, I—” I’m too late when my flesh cracks apart. I whimper, thrusting as I feel myself gushing onto him, splattering against my stomach and legs.

  I keep my eyes closed because I’m too embarrassed to look at his reaction until he shoves into me harder and faster.

  “Oh, fuck, Sarah!”

  I lift my eyelids, finding his stunning face overtaken by pleasure. His body trembles when his warm seed spreads inside me. Even knowing I will never have a child, it’s kind of fun to fantasize about having his. As he stills, his eyes meet mine, and for a split second, they look so kind. I think he’s going to kiss me, when instead, he removes himself and pushes off the bed.

  He tugs on his jeans, and when he looks at me again, his words are so sharp, they slice my heart right down the middle.

  “You need to leave.”

  Self-Pollution

  John Skelver

  November 15th ~ Evening

  I’ve seen some horrifying things over the years, but the look on her face sinks my stomach to the floor. She doesn’t understand, I know that, yet my chest still feels as if it’s being ripped apart from the pain I’m causing her. Although it may not be today or next week, eventually, she’ll realize who I truly am. Inevitably, she’ll turn me away someday. She’ll be sickened by me. Ashamed she ever let me touch her. While losing this, what we had tonight, is already darkening my thoughts and bringing out my anger, the result would be significantly more horrendous if I lost her later.

  I had a taste, and it’s going to drive me mad.

  I am Skeleton King. Gravedigger, taxidermist, and necrophiliac. The industry of decay is my kingdom, cemeteries my solace. I’m a nightmare merchant that thrives in the darkness. I belong in the cold, not with her light and warmth. Her beauty would only deteriorate in my presence.

  “W—what?” She yanks her dress down over her head, covering her beautiful body in shame. I’m already shrouding her in my degeneration.

  “I said to get the fuck out. Don’t come back.” I pull on my shirt and turn away from her. I can’t bear to watch her tears fall.

  I hear her shuffling off the bed, her boots knocking against the floor as she crosses the room. Her red hair covers her face when she hurries past me and down the stairs without looking back.

  Rage at the fact that I had to do that boils up in my throat. It’s as though my veins are turning black. “Fuck!” I grab a book sitting on a side table, throwing it across the room with a growl, breaking a few knickknacks in the process.

  I remind myself that I made the right decision. The torment would have sent me spiraling if I ever had to hear her say she didn’t want me. Looking out the large window, I watch her running back to Fink’s. Returning to more suffering at his hand. That’s who we are as residents of Hallows Grove. Giving in to our deepest and darkest desires regardless of the effect on others.

  My desperation to heat corpses is suddenly the only thing that matters. I will feel the warmth again without risking the humiliation of rejection.

  I need a new body.

  Nothing jumps up to follow me as I pass him, storming down to the basement. Carrying Natasha over to the steel table, I’m overwhelmed by the urgency to get rid of her. I grab a scalpel, cutting it crudely down her chest before peeling off the pieces of flesh. Once I remove the glass eyes, I place them in Barbicide and finish separating her skin from the mold. She’s been my companion for weeks, yet now she’s nothing more than a pile of old meat that I toss into a cardboard box. After throwing her clothes into the sanitization bucket to be washed, I drop the box of remains by the front door then go upstairs to shower.

  Nothing watches me while I smoke a joint and paint the skull over my face. I don’t even have to tell him to follow me when I’m finished. He’s on my heels, ready for a ride in the car as I pick up the box containing what’s left of Natasha.

  The convenience of a town like Hallows Grove is that I have everything I could ever need at my disposal. Right now, it’s the local mortician.

  I drive the two streets over, telling Nothing to stay in my car before I carry the box to the back entrance and ring the bell. I always feel bad that I don’t know the mortician’s real name; everyone calls him Mammoth. The nickname is clearly a nod to his size because he’s enormous. He’s not the brightest crayon in the box, but he’s always been nice to me. Although, I do feel bad for the animals he brings here, which is why I always make Nothing stay in the car.

  He swings open the door, consuming the entire entryway in his overalls and yellow latex gloves.

  “H—hello, John. M—more for the f—furnace?”

  His stuttered voice is a deep baritone. I nod, letting him take the box, my eyes going to the large scar stretched across the left side of his bald head. From what I hear, he was stabbed with a butcher knife by his father when he was younger.

  “Thanks, Mammoth. How are you enjoying the bunny? Is he still looking good?”

  I taxidermized a rabbit he calls ‘Easter’ a few weeks ago. Regardless of the fact that the poor thing was in terribly rough shape when he gave it to me, I was pretty proud of it when I finished.

  He nods and waves, which I’m assuming means it’s the end of our conversation since this is how it seems to go every time. When he closes the door, I return to my car, heading to the library.

  There’s this new thing called ‘internet’ that serves as an ocean of information. I have an electronic mail address, I just haven’t broken down and gotten a computer yet.

  As I walk inside the library, I find Eunice organizing returned books beneath the staircase. He gives me a goofy grin before turning his wheelchair to face me.

  “Skeleton King!” The poor kid lost both legs a few years ago fucking around on the train tracks right outside of town. “Are you here for the computers?”

  He already knows the answer, seeing as he starts leading me to the three machines lined up in the far corner. “Yeah, can I have an hour block?”

  “Take as long as you want.” As he logs me in, I look down at his greasy hair to see a spider crawling between the strands. I debate telling him when he says, “There you go, all set. Let me know if you need anything.”

  Scooting in the chair, I’m left to my devices. Nothing lies at my feet while I search all the obituaries I can find within a fifty-mile radius. I finally come across a young woman that was buried yesterday, about sixty miles from here, who died from an infection in her heart. From what I can tell, her family doesn’t have any religious burial restrictions. The cemetery
is much too far away for me to be finished by dawn, so I’ll have to wait until tomorrow night.

  Well damn it. That makes the time I spent putting on my skeleton face completely pointless.

  Even thinking about going back home brings about flashes of Sarah’s mouth on my skin, her body around mine, only confirming that I need this body as quickly as possible.

  Although I am truly grateful to her for what she gave me, the memories she left behind will haunt me until the day I’m put into the ground.

  November 16th ~ Night

  Since I hadn’t had the time to scope out the cemetery’s security, it was a twist of fate to find it small and unmonitored. Even if someone happened to see me, my face paint would eliminate any chance of identification.

  Her name is Wendy. She’s been embalmed, so I won’t be able to taxidermize her, but right now, that’s the least of my worries. With her bathed and naked in front of me, I’m not even slightly aroused. She lies across the steel table under heat lamps, wrapped in an electric blanket.

  Even as I wait for her to warm up, there is no eagerness. I won’t feel her hands caressing my skin or her mouth on my body. She won’t voice her arousal or drench my cock with her come.

  A quick lift of her top lip reveals that her mouth has been shut via needle injector. Using wire cutters, I snip the metal pieces from the pins in her gums. When her jaw falls open, I undo my pants and hold her head in place. Careful not to scrape my dick on her teeth, I push until I reach her throat.

  It only takes a few pumps to know her mouth isn’t going to help. She can’t lick, suck, or moan around me. Frustrated, I give up, using a knife to give her Sarah’s smile.

  Once again, thinking of her makes the sick bubble in my gut as I picture what’s currently happening to her just because she came to see me.

  I’m not the least bit in the mood, but it’s now or never. Wendy’s skin is already beginning to wrinkle, and I doubt I’ll be able to do this twice. Closing my eyes, I allow my memories to carry me back to when Sarah was still here.

  I’ve wanted you for years, John. Not Skeleton King, not who everyone thinks you are. You.

  I’ll never forget how soft she was, the way her hands felt on my back and stomach. My erection grows in my palm as I remember her red hair draping over her face while she pleasured me in a way I have never experienced.

  Fuck me as hard as you want, John.

  God, she was so willing it was invigorating. To be wanted like that is something I’ve always desired, and it was more fulfilling than I could have ever dreamed.

  My fist pumps over my cock as I line the tip with Wendy’s hole. Disappointment overtakes me when I realize the heat has only impacted her body on the outside. Inside she’s still hard and cold.

  Fuck. This isn’t working. I pull out of her and resume stroking myself. I’m not that fond of masturbation. I can practically hear my mother’s voice and see the shame on her face, making this feel dirty.

  Whoa. This is what girls look like naked? My pajama pants lift up, and I’m getting that weird feeling again. The last time I touched it, it felt so good, it was just really scary. I thought I was dying when wet, sticky stuff shot out of my body. Not because it hurt, but because of the exact opposite. Nothing else I’d ever felt before came close to comparing to that.

  Turning the page, I reach down, shuddering when my hand makes contact. The woman in the photo has a black, plastic penis inside of the hole between her legs. She looks like she really likes it too. The faster I move my hand the better it feels. Odd noises leave my lips, and when I don’t think I can take anymore, it happens again. Even though my heart is beating so fast my chest hurts, I softly laugh at how incredible it is.

  Dropping the magazine, I move to get cleaned up when my bedroom door flies open. She removed my lock for this exact reason. My face and body instantly burn up in shame and horror at the way she’s looking at me.

  “What vile things are you doing to yourself?!” she shrieks.

  Her eyes flash to the open magazine before settling on the mess I’ve made, dripping down my leg. Repugnance and fury overtake her features as she lurches for the offensive material.

  Attempting to cover myself, I apologize desperately. “Mom, I’m sorry, okay? I—”

  Grabbing the back of my neck, she forces me, naked and dirty, into the hall.

  “You will not self-rape in this house! This is why I never wanted a son. Most men in this world are immoral, disgusting, perverted animals. Just like you are, and just like your father was!”

  I hate it when she compares me to him. The only thing I can think about when she mentions him is the last thing I ever saw him do.

  While she rarely beats me, when she does it takes me days to recover. I have a feeling this is going to be one of those times. The moment I realize she’s leading me to the back door, I shake my head. It’s literally freezing out there.

  “Please, Mom—”

  “Get outside, and don’t make me say it again.”

  With a shaky breath, I step onto the back porch where the frigid air blows across my bare skin. My teeth chatter as she steps out behind me. Considering I’m nude, I’m thankful that our fence hides me from the neighbors. She bends down to turn on the hose as my heart pounds wildly in anticipation. Even as I pray that she’s only trying to scare me, I know Mother’s never been much for bluffing.

  The moment the water touches my freezing skin, the sensation is scorching hot. It’s so cold that it feels like it burns, making me scream from the agony of it. She sprays me enough to clean me off, and the second she drops the hose, I gasp and fall to my knees. Every muscle in my body screams in anguish.

  Turning around, she opens the door to go inside. “I will not have a sexual deviant for a son.” She gestures between my shaky legs. “With any luck, your sin snake will freeze right off. Twelve minutes, John.”

  She can’t leave me out here. She’s done some messed up things, but surely she’s not that unhinged?

  All hope drops to the snow when I watch her walk inside and hear the lock of the door.

  Excruciating seconds pass, magnifying my fear that I’m actually going to die, naked in my backyard, before the twelve minutes are up.

  Damn it. I hate that my mother can still worm her way into my thoughts. Especially with my dick in my hand. I’m already getting soft again. This obviously isn’t going to happen right now. Sighing, I zip up my pants before I turn off the lamps and take the heating blanket off of Wendy.

  Maybe if I taxidermize a body that looks like Sarah? I could buy a wig, get a patchwork dress, and try to mimic her scars with stitching. It’s too late to get another cadaver tonight, though, and I’m exhausted.

  After a shower, I climb into bed where Nothing is already snoring. I close my eyes, falling asleep to thoughts of the only girl who’s ever touched me.

  Surprise

  Sarah Stein

  November 15th ~ Evening

  The tears refuse to stop as I make my way back home. The idea of having to deal with Fink right now makes me sick. I just want to cry alone. Walking through downtown, I stop to sit next to the stone fence by the Old Town Hall. There’s a patch of purple flowers, and I pick the petals off one by one. What did I do wrong? I know it was scary for him, but I tried to assure him as best I could.

  I didn’t think tonight could ever happen, so really, I should be thankful for the fact that John made my dreams come true at all. He completely changed, though, and so suddenly. Fink’s hurt me plenty of times, but it’s never been this…deep. I feel so silly for believing that maybe we could… I don’t know…be something. I’m honestly not sure what I expected.

  I’ve been out for much too long. My punishment is going to be bad enough as it is. With a sigh, I drop the flowers in my hand, dusting the grass from my skirt when I stand up to go home.

  Ogier Bognar’s ominous black truck sits in front of my house when I arrive. I cross my fingers, hoping that he’s keeping Fink too busy to notice my return
.

  Gently opening the door, I slink inside before tiptoeing across the entryway to my room.

  “Welcome back, Sarah.” Fink’s voice coils its way down my spine as I slowly turn around.

  He’s standing upstairs next to Mr. Bognar, both men looking down over the mezzanine. Ingvar pouts at the base of the stairs, chewing on a dog biscuit. There’s definitely something off.

  I swallow because my mouth has suddenly gone dry. “Hi, Dad.” I use the term I haven’t called him in a long time, hoping it will soften him like it did in the past. “Hello, Mr. Bognar.”

  “Enough, Sarah!” Fink snaps. “You’ve never seen me as the father I’ve tried so hard to be. It’s taken me ten years, but I finally realized that you won’t ever be the person I want you to become. Tonight was the final straw in the scarecrow. The time has arrived for me to cut my losses and start over.”

  I shake my head. What does that mean? I have no idea where this is going, I just know it won’t be pleasant.

  Mr. Bognar makes his way down to meet me. “I’ve been waiting for this for a while. The triplets need a mother, and I would be honored if you would be my wife.”

  My heart turns to ice in my chest before sinking to my stomach. Ogier Bognar is a vicious man. I’ve heard what he does to the women he brings into his home. Being with him for one night is sure to be more terrifying than a lifetime with Fink. I don’t think he’s actually asking me, but on the off chance, I say, “That’s a very kind offer, Mr. Bognar, I’m just not interested.”

  The smile on his face widens. “Are you going to get in the truck willingly, or should we start our fun now?”

  While on a normal day, I would fight with everything I have to stop this, right now, I’m simply too tired. I try one last jab at Fink’s emotions to maybe change his mind.