Gestalt Ch. 00.3: X Marks the Spot

"Fuck yeah, hun, cum hard on that spewing cock!" Chancy urged me on, her fingers smearing the frothy goo already squishing out of our union. She kissed me deep and hard. "Fuck that was so hot!" she whispered warmly in my ear as she held me tight. "You know I can't ever let go of you now don't you, Suga? Ginger, will you marry me?"

"Of course I will, angel; there's nothing I want more."

***

When we finally roused ourselves around midday, I remembered something that I had wanted not to forget. "Where's the receipt?"

"The what?"

"The receipt for the pizza; I had it tucked in the harness..."

"Then it's probably over there on the floor." She gestured to the side of the bed where my rig had been dropped, then she plopped her head in Buddy's lap and started suckling his cockhead again.

Movement was easier now, tho still kinda floaty; I chalked it up to my recycled mushroom trip. I found the folded slip of paper and re-examined the printing in red ink at the top and bottom. It was all as I remembered it from the night before, not just a figment of my chemically altered mind (well, admittedly i was still a bit altered, so i wasn't completely sure, but i was certainly convinced); yes, this was still decidedly mysterious.

I located my laptop and loaded up Google Earth, entering the lat/long coordinates in what I recognized as the eastern US timezone. The results were further unsettling.

Dunwich, the creepy little town outside of Arkham where my father had grown up. I zoomed in to the pin, my gut tightening, as the aerial view tightened down to an all too familiar sprawling farm house where I'd visited my rather odd grandparents a couple times with my father, before he had mysteriously disappeared just as I was entering the trials of puberty. This rabbit-hole seemed only to go deeper with every turn it took; curiouser to the nth.

"Chancy, baby, when you're finished, I think our trip is about to take a rather weird detour."

"...hunh, hunh, hunh..."

***

I'm still not sure why we ended up riding along with Buddy (who had to report in for another night of pizza delivery following his unexpected and as yet unreported delay) in his white VW Rabbit rather than driving ourselves, other than the hours of amusement his cock provided us as he cruised the highways to our destination. Perhaps it felt comforting to let someone else be in control of the situation, allowing me some plausible deniability concerning the precipice I was willingly allowing myself and my beloved to be lured toward. Chancy had of course applied some leverage, and as I really didn't feel competent to pilot a motor vehicle in my current state, I caved easily to her wheedling.

Several snowballs down the road, Buddy followed the guidance of the annoying female-robot voice piping out of my smartphone, exiting the interstate onto the decrepit county road that led to Dunwich and the strangely twisted fate that awaited us there. Winding thru a byzantine maze of byways and backroads, I eventually registered the skeleton of the massively sprawling magnolia (the one where i'd buried my dead pet budgie in the summer after third grade when i was nine) in the dry, seedy front yard of my grandparents' house. As we crept up along the curb, roughly paralleling the skewed, greyed picket fence, we pulled up to a "FOR SALE" sign and my skin went all goosey.

The property seemed totally derelict, fitting right in with the rest of the neighborhood, which had always seemed to me to have a post-zombie-apocalypse sort of feel to it; admittedly my grandparents had never kept up appearances, and the local 'Jonses' didn't really apply much pressure. But there had been some signs of life, of a place lived in; now it emanated the air of a crypt, destitute even of the livingness of decay, as if every possible particle of life had been drained out of it leaving only this desiccated, empty husk to serve as a relic, so thoroughly corrupted it was no longer corruptible.

"Arrived at destination," the mistress of navigation intoned equally lifelessly.

Chancy pulled her head out of Buddy's lap. "Are we there yet?" she giggled.

'Gauntlet,' warned my inner warrior, 'haunted fucking gauntlet.' I could feel the seething anxiety of my deceased ancestors bristling at the conundrum laid out plainly before me. "In a penny, in a pound," Daddy had always said, and my track record showed that I was inevitably sure to pursue a thorough pounding. I suppose recognizing one's mistakes even while in the midst of committing to them is a part of the normal human learning process.

I opened the door and unfolded myself into a semblance of pedestrian sensibility, drawn as sure as iron filings to the gap-toothed gateway, slipping carefully past the remnants of rotted boards hanging from a single rusted hinge.

"Hey Suga, wait up!" Chancy called, extricating herself gracefully from our chariot before hitching her panties up from around her knees.

I barely registered her as she scurried after me, a growing force in my gut compelling me forward, around the south side of the house to the west-facing cellar-doors. I remembered this being a forbidden area, Grampa's secret workshop, where he experimented with bizarre electrical contraptions that he claimed would pull free energy (and sometimes stranger things) out of the ethers until he mysteriously disappeared shortly after submitting a stack of patent applications on his creations.

I remembered Daddy's stress, the tense, hushed arguments I'd half-overheard and understood less of when my parents thought I was sleeping. Not long after, he suddenly disappeared as well, and mother had moved us south to stay near her parents in Texas, refusing to discuss what had caused the tumult in our previously stable and happy family life. Now perhaps I would finally find some answers.

I grasped the lower corner of the warped and rusted inclined metal door on the right and wrenched it open, the hinges groaning eerily in protest. I grasped the left hand door for a similar treatment and as I flung it upward a sharp edge gouged my right palm, a hot, bright, crimson spray splashing across the steps descending into the ineffable darkness before me. "Motherfucker!" I hissed, clamping down on the wound with my left hand.

"What's wrong, Suga?" Chancy squawked as she rounded the corner and rushed to my side.

"Fucking door cut me," I grunted.

"Let me see!" she commanded.

I pulled my right thumb away from applying the direct pressure that staunched the gash and it resumed gushing like a fucking stigmata.

"Shitballs!" Chancy squealed, turning away to retch up a cocktail of Buddy-jizz and gas-station coffee onto the bare dirt. I quickly assessed the wound, relatively minor in relation to the pain and shock value, and reapplied direct pressure, slowing the mini-cataract spilling onto the entrance of the underground vault. I glanced down and noticed that the blood had dripped in the shape of an arrow on the top step, pointing the way into the inky bowels of the eerie edifice.

"Here, Suga, lets bandage you up." Chancy held out her black cotton/lycra miniskirt, now standing in her hot pink thong and grey fur lined black denim jacket in the middle of a strange yard in an equally strange town, utterly shameless in the face of my need (ok, so she's a stripper, i guess removing clothing becomes a bit routine and nonchalant, but the gesture really made my heart ache for her with a whole new level of appreciation).

I surrendered to her ministrations, letting her wrap the slinky tube of material tightly around my hand then reapplying pressure, my unwavering gaze focused in the murky depths of the basement.

"Hun, let's go get you to a doctor before we do any more exploring." Chancy tugged on my arm as Buddy's sedan suddenly swerved wildly away from the curb and throttled down the empty lane trailing twin plumes of dust billowing in its wake.

"Buddy, you fucking dick!!" Chancy screeched at the top of her lungs. "He's got my fucking purse with my fucking phone in it! Motherfucker!"

"It's alright babe, it's not that bad..."

"Oh come on, Ginger, you know what kind of photographic evidence I've got on there!"

"Oh yeah, sorry...I meant my hand...I mean, I've been thru worse..."

"Yeah, 'merely a flesh wound' I'm sure!" she spat back at me in her best cockney accent and started laughing hysterically "and this must be the fucking rabbit-hole of doom!"

"Yeah, something like that," I muttered.

"You got your phone, Suga?"

I swiveled my ass toward her, displaying the device lodged in my back pocket.

"K, I'm gonna call us a cab..." she extricated the phone with minimal groping of my bottom, "then we're gonna get you to the...motherfucker!!" she barked at the screen in outrage.

"What is it?"

She turned the screen to me and I witnessed the end of the 'power down' display as the device entered an electricity deprivation coma.

"Well ain't that take the fucking cake?!? What the fuck do we do now, Ginger?!?"

"Sometimes the only way out is thru," I replied as I began to creep down the steps into the darkness. One thing I've learned in life is the importance of facing my deepest fears, trusting my abilities and my companions, and moving forward; it's not always comfortable, it's not always easy, but it's something I'm working on.

***