The Haunted Room

Jen thought to herself, I've got to get home. She stopped and smiled to herself. Home. My home. She had never had a home of her own before. But it had been six months since she inherited her grandmother's old house. It was an old house that had fallen into disrepair. Her parents begged her to sell it. Her mom complained, why does a single girl need her own house? Her dad warned her the old place would be a money pit. But Jen was stubborn. She loved visiting her grandmother in this quirky old house. And owning it made her feel closer to her.

All summer she worked on the old house. Painting, stripping old wallpaper, installing new plumbing and appliances. Little by little, through her own hard work, Jen brought the house back to life. Room by room, she transformed the old rickety place into place that was all her own. The kitchen and bathrooms were a lot of work, but for Jen, the bedrooms felt like the hardest part to change. It was a small house with just three bedrooms. The smallest used to be her dad's room when he was a kid. That room she changed into a small office for the seemingly, endless parade of videoconferences that were now part of her workday. The other two rooms were the challenge. One, a little smaller of the two, was her grandmother's old bedroom. The other, larger room had always been a mystery. Even as a kid, her grandmother forbid her from entering that room. Grandma swore it was haunted. As any curious kid, Jen wanted to know more about this haunted room, but any mention would make her grandmother turn white and refused to talk. Over the years, the family would laugh behind Grandma's back about the haunted room. Whenever a box or folding chairs needed to be stored, they were thrown into the haunted room and the door closed quickly.

Now, Grandma was gone and the house was hers. Jen remembered the very first time she entered the haunted room. Part of her expected it to look like something scary, like something out of a horror movie. But, it was just a room, dirty and dusty, filled with boxes of junk, but then as she ventured further into the room, she saw another door. She opened it to find that this room had its own bathroom, complete with a huge clawfoot tub. She asked her dad about it. He told her that room was originally his parent's room. But then, after his father, Jen's grandfather, passed away, something happened there that his mom would never talk about. It happened one Halloween. She closed the room and swore that no one would ever sleep in there again. Over the years, even Jen's dad had forgotten that this room had its own bathroom. It was as if the room ceased to exist

Jen spent the last few months, emptying both rooms, painting them, and sanding and staining the creaky hardwood floors. Tile by tile she restored the hidden bathroom, painstakingly scrubbing and polishing the old tub until it sparkled like new. As fall came, she watched with excitement as the new furnace was installed and the heating system was fired up for the first time in years. Finally, after all the sweat and hard work, the old house was move-in ready, just in time for Jen's first Halloween in the neighborhood.

Fuck, I've got to get home. I do not want to miss it, Jen thought to herself. She raced off the commuter train, jumped into her car and raced home just in time. Jen burst with pride as trick or treaters visited and the neighbors welcomed her. They all watched the kids in their costumes playing in the street until the sun went down and Halloween was over.

Jen was still floating on Cloud Nine when she came inside. She smiled at the gentle hum of the furnace and the hiss of the old radiators as she turned on the heat. She walked upstairs and into her bedroom. Yes, the haunted room was now hers. Whatever ghosts were once hidden in walls were now trapped under pale gray latex paint and Laura Ashley accessories. She decided a long, warm bath would be the perfect ending to a perfect day in her new home. She turned on the bathtub faucets and began to fill the tub. As the water filled, Jen stripped out of her clothes.

Always the epitome of the "girl next door," Jen was gifted with a perfect body, not too tall or short, too fat or skinny. Her 34 C-cup breasts sat high on her frame capped with pink nipples and small areolae that pointed slightly upward. Her tummy was flat, adorned only with a tiny belly-button ring she got while still in high school. Her legs were long and lean, firm from years of her love for hiking, biking and outdoor activities. Between her legs sat a small, soft patch of brown pubic hair, trimmed neatly to expose the cleft of her tight vagina.

As the tub was nearly half full, Jen stepped over the side and sunk into the warm water. She smiled to herself. There was no one to bother her or bang on the door, demanding that she finish up. She lifted her legs from the water and draped them over the sides of the tub, angling her body so that the stream of water from the bath faucet hit perfectly right on her clitoris. It feels so good, she thought. As the water danced over her sensitive skin, Jen closed her eyes and spread her labia, allowing the full stream to reach her now-swollen clit. As she masturbated with the water, an uneasy feeling passed over her, as if she was being watched. Interrupting her play, Jen sat up in the tub and looked around. No one was there. Convinced her mind was playing some Halloween trick on her, a remnant of too many horror movies, Jen laughed to herself and slid back into the soapy water. She closed her eyes again and let the water continue her pleasure. She rocked back and forth against the stream, moaning softly and feeling her body begin to shake and tremble. She felt her toes curl until her whole body shook with the release of her orgasm. Spent and exhausted in the best way possible, Jen soaked in the tub as the feelings subsided until her fingers and toes were pruned and wrinkly.

Jen stepped out of the tub and dried herself with a thick, terry cloth towel. After rubbing herself down with her nightly routine of lotions, she pulled on a pair of soft, loose-fitting drawstring pants and put on an old college tank top. Jen made her rounds in the house, checking to make sure that all the doors were locked and the alarm was set. She climbed into bed, turned off the lights, and within minutes, Jen's mind drifted into slumber. As she slept, that uneasy feeling returned as if eyes were on her, peering through her in the darkness. Not wanting to wake, Jen struggled to push the feeling out of her mind, allowing her to descend slowly into a dream. Her body relaxed and her mind fell deeper into the dream state. But it was short-lived.

With a panic, Jen woke to the feeling of a cold, bony hand grabbing ahold of her ankles and pulling her by the leg to the edge of the bed. She tried to scream out, but there was no sound. Her eyes darted quickly around the darkened room. She could not see anything. Then from the darkness, she saw a pair of red eyes, something human but not quite, glaring at her. She shouted out in desperation, "who's there?"

No one responded. But Jen could feel as though whoever or whatever was there fed upon her fear, toying with her, relishing in her despair. She flailed her legs wildly, trying to kick herself loose from the bony grip. But it only tightened, pulling her closer to the edge of the bed. A chill ran through her body as she felt the cold, bony fingers moved up her legs and over her stomach. The hands dragged over her body, scratching her skin as they moved upward over her. She felt the fingers grip the neck of her tank top and begin to pull on it. She continued to struggle as the jagged nails tore through the fabric, the hands pulling the shredded clothing from her body, freeing her breasts. Her skin burned as the nails clawed at her, removing the shreds of her shirt. The odor of rotting flesh rose over her, filling her nose with the acrid scent of decay.

Jen continued to writhe and struggle, but was powerless. She could feel a hand gripping her breasts and lifting them in the darkness to an eager mouth. She felt lips, cold, cracked and dry, close over her nipples. She howled in pain as the lips tightened and razor-sharp teeth sunk into the soft skin of her breast. The pain, already immeasurable, grew as she felt the mouth begin to suck hard. She felt the sucking deep into her breasts as if hidden ducts and pathways in her flesh were being opened for the first time. Her skin hurt as breasts responded, swelling and becoming tender and full. As she struggled to comprehend what was happening, Jen could feel the mouth moving, suckling. She never felt anything like this before, but instantly knew what was happening. As if some undiscovered maternal instinct had been kicked alive, her breasts were shocked into producing milk and, now, her body was forced to nourish this unknown assailant. With each tug on her nipples, she could feel the mother's milk pulled forcibly from deep inside her breasts. She no longer had control of her body, the endorphins that release during breast-feeding soaked her brain, mixing her fear, disgust and anguish with an undeniable feeling of complete euphoria. Without warning, Jen could hear herself moaning with sexual pleasure as her breasts were drained.

As the stranger in the dark became satiated, Jen felt the suckling slow and then stop. She winced with pain as it withdrew its sharp teeth from her breasts, feeling the warmth of a trickle of her own milk from its mouth. Wide-eyed and panicked, she searched the darkness desperately, trying to make out a form in the darkness. But, there was nothing. Nothing, except for those evil red eyes. As she struggled to regain her breath, Jen could feel her consciousness slipping back into darkness.

Any relief was momentary and short-lived. Jen was snapped back into the moment as the cold hands gripped at the waist of her drawstring pants. The stranger was clawing and pulling at them, not understanding that the pants would not yield to its efforts because of the heavy cord inside the waistband that held them up. The stranger pulled harder and harder until Jen could feel herself being lifted from the bed. She grabbed a hold of the sheets, trying desperately to keep herself from being pulled up completely. Her fingers and hands ached as she fought to maintain her grip as she was being lifted higher and higher, until the drawstring snapped, dropping her back to the mattress.

Now, without resistance, the cold hands pulled her clothes from her body, scrapping her skin as the pants were pulled down her legs and dropped in a heap on the floor. Jen felt bony knees kicking against the insides of her thighs, prying her legs open. The October night air was cool and she felt a chill across her pussy. But then she felt it. At first, Jen could feel only the sensation of knowing that someone or something was close to her. But it was without the warmth of another body. The feeling was cold and clammy. Jen was repulsed by the feeling, but she knew she was powerless against it.

She felt the stranger move closer, the tip of its cock pressing against her lips. The cold hands gripped her legs, pulling them wider, as her assailant entered her. Her pussy was small and tight but no match for the cock that being pushed in, little by little. She wailed in agony as she felt her insides being stretched to accept its size. But, the stranger continued to push deeper and deeper, until she could feel the rounded head of its cock pressed hard against her cervix, causing her pussy to squeeze involuntarily.

The stranger began to move. Slowly at first, but then speeding up. Her insides could feel every vein and bump as it withdrew slowly, and then again as it thrusted in deeply. The movements were rough at first, but gradually became easier as her own juices flooded the walls of her pussy. The stench of the stranger was soon replaced as the air became thick with the smell of her own sex.

Jen tried desperately to resist, but it was too much. The size and hardness of the cock moving in and out forced her body to disconnect from her mind. As much as she suffered and hated what was happening, the nerves inside her vagina acted involuntarily as waves of pleasure began to pass over her. Her cries turned into moans. And as if driven by some otherworldly force, she could feel her own hips rising to meet each thrust. Harder and harder, the stranger fucked her. Jen continued to desperately search the darkness to understand who or what this was, but the intensity of the passion was becoming impossible to resist. She could feel her own eyes rolling back into her head. With each inward push, she could feel her belly bulge, signaled by the jingling sound of her belly-button ring.

The stranger's pace quickened. Faster and faster. It was nothing Jen had ever experienced before. The speed, strength and size of this cock were supernatural. It pumped inside her like a piston without slowing. Jen's moans grew louder and louder, more guttural, as if she was possessed by the demon herself. With each thrust, her vagina tightened around the massive size. Her legs began to shake and her body tensed without control. The wave of Jen's orgasm rose and crashed over her. She shook violently in spasms over and over. She could feel her pussy exploding, her hot juices expelled from deep inside like a fountain, drenching her. The stranger continued to pump its cock deep inside her, forcing her into aftershock after aftershock, until with a final thrust she could feel a thick coldness being pumped into her. Her inside felt cold as the icy goo filled her up. Then, in an instant, it was all gone. The stench. The cold bony fingers. The massive cock. The icy cum. All gone.

Jen shot up in bed and snapped on the light. She was all alone. The sheets had been pulled almost entirely from the bed, drenched in her own sticky fluids. Her skin was drenched with sweat. She grabbed for her tank top, but it was in place and intact. Her drawstring pants were up around her waist, but the material stuck to her legs, heavy with sweat and her own pussy juices.

Holy fuck, Jen thought. What a crazy nightmare!

Jen slid out of bed. Every muscle ached and it was hard for her to walk. She stumbled to the bathroom. Not wanting to turn on the lights, Jen let the light filter from her bedroom. She turned on the shower and peeled the soaked clothing from her body. She climbed into the steamy shower and began to wash. Each movement hurt and the shower sponge felt like sandpaper over her battered skin. She stood under the steam, allowing it to soothe her aching body. Thinking to herself, c'mon girl, get a grip. It was just a bad dream.

Jen stepped out of the shower and dried herself. With her hand, she wiped the steam from the mirror and gasped at what she saw. Her breasts were covered in deep scratches. And around each nipple the skin was bruised with deep teeth marks. She lifted her hand to touch them. Her breasts were so swollen and hurt when she touched them. She gently squeezed her nipples. They hurt so much but the slightest pressure caused droplets of white milk to ooze from inside. Jen looked down to see the scratches covering her belly and the scrapes and bruises inside her thighs where her legs had been forced open.

Before she could look up, Jen felt a cold chill pass through her. The mirror, which she had wiped clear, was hazy with steam once again. In horror, Jen stepped back as she read the words scrawled in the steam.

"See you next Halloween."