tagErotic HorrorRead The F***ing Manual

Read The F***ing Manual

bybobsamade©

AUTHOR'S NOTE - This one was meant for Halloween, though it may be a bit late by the time it's published. It's NOT nice though, don't be expecting a light-hearted monster romp. Oh well. One word of warning though - you may find the lack of attention to historical detail more horrifying than the story itself.

******************

The blade of the digger gave a metallic thud as it finally hit a solid weight amongst the kilos of sand that surrounded it.

"Stop the engine!" Marks yelled.

The scoop lifted away from the earth and with a shudder the whir of machinery halted. The men gathered round the hole in the ground to see what had been unearthed.

Collins pulled at the sand in the spot where the digger had been operating. As rivers of the golden powder flowed past his hands, a golden chest began to emerge, with a handle peering out from its side.

With a tug, the chest came free of the surrounding sand, exposing it to the surrounding air. It gleamed in the hot sun, ancient symbols shining and seemingly coming to life as they glittered.

Collins whipped out a brown and battered folio, flicking through to the relevant page in an instant.

"Hmm... yes, the key's in place, the marking on the fourth ascension matches up...

"Gentlemen, we've found it!"

"What?! For real?" Marks' eyes lit up as he rushed over to see.

"Yes. The symbols are too specific – this has to be it."

Marks pressed his hand to the chest in awe. The chest was a millennia-old artefact – it was legend that in the days of the Roman Empire, Cleopatra had harboured a deep distrust of Caesar and his armies.

In secret, she had consulted with the high priests of the pyramids and devised a cursed weapon that would bring death to all who opposed its wielder.

But it was not log before the Romans learned of it, and stole it from under the nose of Cleopatra herself. Caesar had apparently deemed it too dangerous even to use himself, and buried it in the sands of Egypt as they fled Cairo.

It was hokum of course. But it was hokum that would make them rich. No one knew of it, except Marks himself, who had discovered it while heading up a research project in the city, when he had come across a lost scroll excavated from a nearby settlement.

He had instantly seen its worth, and after calling a favour from Collins, they soon realised the scroll even contained co-ordinates to its location. They instantly recognised its worth, conspired to keep it a secret and set off on their own private expedition.

The value of this thing meant they would never have to work another day in their life. After selling it on the black market, they would retire as made men.

'Time to make us rich,' Marks thought with glee as the chest was hauled back to their sand buggy.

***

Back at Marks' small apartment in Cairo, Collins was delicately using a gigantic pair of padded forceps to open the lid of the strange chest.

Marks sighed in boredom and checked the time on his watch.

Twenty past one. That couldn't be right – they'd only left the dig site at 6pm and it didn't take that long to get back.

"F'king thing," he muttered.

Collins glanced up at him from the desk.

"Well, if you must buy cheap knock-offs..."

"Hey, this is quality merchandise," Marks retorted. "Omar says so."

Collins chuckled.

"Mate, its by a brand called Polex."

"Hmph, there is that I guess," Marks conceded.

Collins finally popped the lid open, and as he did so, Marks felt a bead of sweat dribble down his neck. It was stifling in the room, which had no air conditioning, and now the lid was finally popped open, he could feel his temperature soar as his heart began beating faster.

Both men lost their train of thought when an angry ticking came from across the room.

Collins ran over to the source of it – a canvas bag lying on the floor – and pulled out a dusty yellow box with a handle grip and circular dial on the front.

"That thing can't have set a Geiger counter off..." murmured Collins.

Marks checked his 'Polex' again. This time the hands were flying round the face in rapid circles. 'Is that even possible for watch motors?' he wondered.

As Collins brought the counter over to the open box, the tempo of the frantic clicking from the box shot higher. By the time Collins had reached the chest, the needle was in a constant whirring state, making it impossible to determine where one click ended and another began.

"Impossible..." murmured Collins, a look of icy dread gripping his face.

"This... ancient treasure chest is... radioactive...?" asked Marks, baffled.

"Yeah, seems er... seems so..." Collins replied, seemingly rooted to the spot.

"Shouldn't we get out of here?" Marks asked, lost in the same absent fear that had overtaken Collins.

"No point. The reading's so high we've already sealed our fate. In fact, we shouldn't even still be standing..."

Somehow the news that the pair were supposed to be corpses brought relief to Marks. If they should have already died, maybe there was a reason they were still alive.

"Could it be some kind of undiscovered radiation? Like, a non-lethal kind?"

"Er, maybe... I'm getting out of here. I'm going to see if I can be decontaminated, then I'm coming back with a hazmat suit and finding out just what the hell this thing is.

"I suggest you do the same."

"...yeah, 'fcourse."

After Collins and his men had staggered out of the apartment, Marks walked closer to the box and peered in to get a better look at its contents.

As he craned his neck over the lid, he saw a golden idol inside. It was a statue of a young woman – a dancer perhaps? - and she was holding a pearl-like orb with both hands to the centre of her stomach.

The longer he looked at it, the more Marks realised what an idiot Collins had been. It might be giving some kind of radiation off, but it would hardly kill him. What kind of a weapon would kill anyone in its vicinity without a trigger? It would make putting the damn thing back in its box impossible.

No, the longer Mark thought about it, the more he realised dying from sharing the same room with this thing was simply impossible. Marks picked up the idol with gloved hands and peered at the strange crystalline pearl in its centre. It glimmered brightly, just the once, dazzling Marks in the process.

Looking round, he noticed neither Collins nor the rest of his team would be coming back any time soon, he snuck back to his room with the idol tucked under his arm.

As he showered and rid himself of the day's dust, Marks noticed he was getting quite a large hard-on.

Shit, must be more excited about making my fortune then I thought, he smirked to himself.

He dried off and tried to ignore it – he'd had a tiring day and they needed to meet their contacts early tomorrow morning to unload the goods and get their cash. Screw research.

Once in bed, Marks drifted into a deep and peaceful sleep very quickly, only to wake several hours later in darkness.

From his bedside table, the idol cast a warm, gold glow on the surroundings. Around him the air was heated, but not humid and lying on the mattress of his bed, Marks felt supremely comfortable.

His companions must have been okay with him looking after the relic for the night.

Damn right, he thought. I'm not going to let one of them do a runner.

From out of the field of his vision, he heard a soft tinkle. Was something outside his window?

Another soft tinkle, this time from inside his room.

"Wh-who's there?" he called out. He could have sworn he locked the door.

Someone stepped out of the shadows. It was a woman. A beautiful, bronzed woman dressed in an extremely light gold mesh cloak.

Her hips gently swayed as she stepped forward, and the fabric swayed sensuously as she did so. Through it, Marks could see the skin beneath, her broad, dusky nipples fronting plump breasts and even a neatly trimmed thatch of pubic hair.

Expensive golden jewellery adorned her wrist, and a glittering necklace drooped rather compellingly into her cleavage.

Realisation dawned. Is she a hooker? he wondered. Maybe Collins and the gang had seen sense and brought in some of Cairo's best to celebrate?

"Hello darlin', don't be shy," he leered.

The woman's face entered his field of vision. It was difficult to place an age as it possessed a kind of timeless beauty.

Thick black hair was neatly combed and fell to the woman's chest, while heavy eyeliner and eyeshadow gave her a very cultured and sophisticated look.

Well, cultured and sophisticated in Marks' book anyway. His hard-on from earlier was back and very much in force.

"Cat got your tongue?" he asked, the cultural pun very much intended.

Finally she spoke, with a voice as soft as a desert breeze.

"I've come for you..." she said, as she approached the bed.

Marks grinned as he placed a hand on her arm. It was oh so light, to the point where he wondered if he could lift her entire body by it. He didn't try.

The girl raised her eyebrow hopefully.

"I want you," she said, the look in her eyes making it seem more like an optimistic query. She was damn cute, Marks thought, and he was damn well going to do everything he could to help her.

"Come here then..." he murmured lecherously, as he pulled her in for a kiss. Her lips were moist and soft against his. They merely touched at first, but as it went on, she became more inquisitive and began probing his mouth with her tongue.

Something about this kiss felt so sweet, so tender, and Marks soon relaxed and lay back against the bed.

He felt a warmth brush against his cock, before wrapping round it, and realised she'd decided to give him a handie.

Amazing, he thought, as he broke off the kiss and nuzzled his neck, while her hand began a pumping motion.

Ohhh, that felt good. After two months of shunning civilisation he needed this.

"So, what's your name?" he enquired, trying to be coherent above the rising stimulation.

"Letalis," she answered. "I want to make you feel good."

Mission accomplished thought Marks as his hips began to squirm.

Hang on. Letalis? Didn't that mean...?

He never finished that thought as he bucked his hips and began the inevitable...

"Oh shit, sorry love, I'm going to... going to.... ugghhh-aggghhhh...."

He exploded into Letalis' hand, ropes of semen flying out and landing on her arm, and in the ample cleavage afforded by the skimpy cloak.

Letalis just smiled in response, and wiped it off with her spare hand which she then licked clean.

"Mmm, I like," she said.

"I want more."

Marks' cock was already waning after the explosive load. He never had been one for stamina, he thought bitterly.

"Sorry love, just give us five minutes, yeah?"

The golden glow in the room flared up once, before dying down again, making Marks blink.

"Mmm, yes, more..." Letalis beamed, as she moved down to his waist and licked her tongue against his flaccid shaft.

"Yeah... just a sec... ohhh..."

Whatever Letalis was doing seemed to be working, as his member slowly rose up and became engorged with blood once more. It filled with an aching sense of need, and soon he was ready to fool around again.

More than fool around. He wanted to be inside her.

"Mmm, yes... nice..." Letalis seemed positively delighted to have her plaything back.

She lowered her mouth over his sturdy prick and took the head between her lips. She sucked firmly on it, flicking her tongue over his urethra.

He grunted in response. The woman was a pro. She moved her tightly grasping lips further down, and began bobbing her head.

With every downward stroke, her tongue glided against his shaft. With every upstroke, the cavity tightened and it was pressed firmly against his cock, writhing against it as she did so.

He gasped at her technique and tried to hold himself off coming too soon. Just when thought he had it under control, a tingling sensation spread down her mouth, along his shaft.

It was like a million tiny particles rolling against his skin – each one perfectly smooth – leaving a vibrating trail of ecstasy.

As his cock twitched and the iron grip of orgasm began to seize his body, Marks did the only thing he could and grabbed the back of Letalis' head. He shoved her forcefully down his shaft and she simply went along with the motion, until her teeth tickled his balls.

He shot into her with the might of a freight train, fully expecting her head to fly back and cough semen everywhere.

Instead it simply stayed, attached to his crotch like a vice while Letalis eagerly gulped down jet after jet of the stuff.

Marks' eyes rolled involuntarily at the sensation. He'd never shot this much before – never mind after his first orgasm – and it felt fantastic.

He must have pulsed about 10 times now, and he started to grow worried. Another few gouts and he finally stopped, before he released Letalis' head and collapsed back spent.

Letalis raised her head from his crotch before sidling up to him, pressing herself against him as she lay at his side.

"Was that pleasing to you?" she asked.

Marks' had to get his breath back.

"Yes... very much so..." he managed.

She stroked his deflating member.

"Would you like more?"

He laughed feebly. Another time, perhaps.

Letalis continued.

"I want more."

"What? No. No, just a sec..."

The idol glowed that warm glow again and Marks felt a noticeable warmth creep into his limbs, which by now had become quite heavy. Maybe it was the warmth, more likely it was the physical exertion. Perhaps it was both.

Whatever it was, he was in no position to be fending off anyone right now.

But unbelievably, his dick was growing hard again. Even if it could have any more fight left in it, by now it should be getting tender. That much he knew.

Instead, it simply felt warm and ready in Letalis' soft, soft hands.

She rolled on top of Marks and spread her thighs round his waist. Then she leant up, sitting, knees bent on his waist.

With a single, untraceable flourish, she pulled off her flimsy cloak, and dropped it on top of Marks' chest, draped across his arms.

It felt smooth and sensuous on his bare skin and it caressed every inch of body it glided against. But despite being light as a feather, it was heavy as lead on his fatigued joints.

Even more impressive was where it had come from. It left behind the smoothest bronzed skin Marks had ever seen.

Those round globes looked like inviting pillows to him, and the rounded hips below channelled his gaze to an extremely inviting pussy.

His member twitched at the thought of entering and Letalis grinned as she noticed his anticipation.

Her heavy eyes blinked flirtatiously at him as she slowly sat down and took him inside her. With agonising slowness, her pussy lips traversed his shaft, until after an age they reached its base.

Inside, a velvety prison wrapped snugly round his cock, as pulses began travelling upwards. It was if she was coaxing an orgasm out before he'd even approached the edge.

Then she rocked her hips. Marks' eyes went wide as the motions brushed tender flesh past his engorged organ.

A flutter brushed up and down the length of his shaft and again that strange sensation rolled down his length. Microscopic baubles of something drifted around his member, and as Letalis' pussy contracted, they were massaged around his girth, until his member began to release once more.

A thick and steady stream began pumping into his partner, who sighed as gouts of ejaculate were continuously channelled inside her.

His member then slipped out of her and flopped, unceremoniously, on his stomach. It was bright red and a trickle of semen was flowing freely out of it.

Marks groaned. The feeling in her privates had been exquisite pleasure, but he was beginning to get quite tired now.

He'd never managed beyond twice in one night, but somehow the beauty queen atop him had managed to eke out a third session. And all in continual succession too. He hoped that would sate her, and that he would be allowed a brief nap.

An amber light flooded the room once more and Marks' entire body seemed to melt in a puddle on the bed. His entire body except for one area.

Impossibly, his cock began to stir to life once more. It couldn't have been flaccid more than two minutes since his last eruption, but already it had stirred to life once more.

It was the idol. It had to be. Every time he'd gone limp, the damn thing had glowed and brought it back to life. It was like it was determined not to let him leave the vision of beauty now riding him.

My God, he thought. What if that's what this 'weapon' is? Something that kills a man through sheer exhaustion?

Letalis smiled down at him from her position astride his waist.

"Do I please you?"

Marks tried to answer her, to tell her to get off him before it was too late and he came again. All that came out was a tired groan.

Letalis leant forward and pressed her chest to his. In a swift motion, she rolled over and Marks was now lying on her. She had done it as if he was nothing but a rag to her, such was the ease of motion.

He was now lying on her stomach, his head now level with the top of her chest, and his sturdy prick at the base of her sex.

Wait. How did that happen? She wasn't that tall when she came in, was she? Had she grown?

...Had he shrunk?

Her hands were at his buttocks, and they kneaded each cheek, before guiding them so he entered her once more.

He gasped as he enter the silken chamber. Inside the surroundings were so smooth it was impossible to tell if the flowing motion had been from something behind it, or if something had been rolling directly against his dick itself.

Again the motion started, this time massaging the granules tightly around his member. It was as if he had put his prick inside a vibrating chamber of sand, albeit one that did so in a way that eked out as heavy an ejaculation as was humanly possible.

Letalis then cupped the back of his head with her hand and guided it to her bosom. She wrapped her legs around his thighs, as if to reassure him he wouldn't be able to simply clamber away from her.

Her breast was a soft, fleshy pillow to Marks' head, one that he felt would be very easy to drift asleep on. It was scented with a rich perfume, and it was one that ironed out any unease in his mind, as he spewed more seed into her.

When the idol flashed again, he hadn't even gone soft. More and more pleasure was eked from his body, while he lay in contented bliss as Letalis stroked his back with one hand and brushed the side of his head with the other.

"I want only to please you," she reassured him with a loving smile on her face.

Marks smiled back as he ejaculated once more and felt the world slip away from him.

The very last thing he saw before blacking out was her eyes glow a fiery red and her fingernails elongate into talons...

***

"Marks! ...Marks!"

Collins burst into his apartment. He knew he was down to minutes... perhaps seconds before the madness claimed him too.

If he could at least save one person, he'd have beaten this thing.

It was the damn radiation, he knew it was doing something dangerous. Every team-member who'd been exposed to that thing when he broke open the box had experienced the same symptoms.

Priapism was the first sign. Oh sure, non-stop hard-ons sounded funny at high school and in this case, the condition began as more of a curiosity and source of rib-prodding than a genuine worry.

But then, the blisters spread. Ugly, pus-filled blisters erupted across the body, and seemed to gather on the men's... well, best not to think about it.

As the blisters spread, the team's mental faculties took a turn for the worse. It was just hours before paranoia and delusions overtook them, and grown men started hiding in the corners of rooms to escape the "bitch's claws". If anything, Collins had learnt that apparently "the bitch has claws".

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