A Mixed Bag of Blood (12 page)
Read A Mixed Bag of Blood Online
Authors: David Bernstein
His feet tickled and he glanced down to see them getting splashed with urine as a dripping was occurring at the same time he was peeing. He couldn’t stop the flow and let it do what it was going to do, the pressure engulfing his tip in a bee-sting like pain. Grabbing the slippery growth, he pushed it farther to the side, pain radiating up the member. The obstructed spray became a steady stream as the urine flowed unimpeded. Relief had never felt so satisfying.
When he was done, he released the mass and felt a final drip splash onto his toes. Maybe if he popped the thing again, and cleaned it with alcohol, it wouldn’t come back. He squeezed the growth until a stream of clear fluid leaked from where the crusty whitehead was attached to the flesh.
Brian picked at the crusty cap, using his fingernail to pry it up. He fought through the pain and pulled the entire thing off. Stuck to his finger, the underside of the scab sticky, he flicked it away, aiming for the waste basket, but missing.
Looking at where the scab used to be, he saw yellow fluid inside, like the yolk of an uncooked egg. Placing his fingers around the mass, he was about to squeeze the pus out when he saw the gooey substance move as if something were inside.
Frozen in disbelief, eyes blinking, Brian couldn’t believe what he saw. It had to be the fluid settling, for there was nothing living in the growth. Stretching his flaccid penis closer to his face, he eyed the olive-like bubble. Pinching the sack, the fluid inside rose. He could easily, but painfully, have the thing emptied in moments with one huge squeeze of his fingers and be left with just a large flap of hollow skin. But would the thing come back, bigger? Not if he cleaned it with the alcohol, or maybe even glass cleaner—really go for the kill.
Maybe he should have left it alone and saw a doctor, but with the scab off, the fluid would just leak out and soak his clothing. Ready to empty the sucker, Brian saw the ooze swirl. Letting his penis rest in his hand, staring in awe, the growth exploded, covering his face with warm, runny goo.
Brian jerked his head back, wiping his face with the back of his hand. Feeling movement at the tip of his dick, he looked down and saw something coming from the deflated mass.
The creature had a snake-like body with arms and legs, and claws at least a half inch long. It had a wide mouth and opened it, revealing rows of tiny pointed teeth. Brian screamed. There was a monster, a fucking alien in his penis. He screamed and went to grab the creature, wanting it out of him, but the thing jumped to the floor before he had a chance.
With pus and blood covering his penis and dripping onto the floor, he lifted his bare foot and tried stomping on the creature, but missed as the agile critter slid behind the commode.
He needed a weapon and the closest, deadliest thing he could find was a plunger. Snatching up the tool, he peered around the toilet, ready to strike, but the creature was gone. A slimy trail led to a small hole in the back of the cabinet that the sink rested on.
Okay, he thought, the thing was probably hiding in there.
Putting down the plunger, he gathered up some toilet paper and cleaned himself off, then wrapped his member like a mummy and stuffed it into his boxers. He would tend to it more thoroughly later, having a more pressing matter to deal with now.
Brian sprinted to the kitchen, grabbed the largest steak knife he owned—the blade at least ten inches long—and returned to the bathroom. Crouching down, knife out, he opened the cabinet’s right door. Then the left. Sweat dripped from his forehead into his left eye, causing a minute amount of irritation, but he blinked through it.
He scanned the area, looking around and between the various cleaning supplies, but couldn’t see to the back. He would have to move some of the containers out of the way. He’d been meaning to clean out the place for some time, wishing to hell he had done so. The back of the cabinet was pitch dark. He wasn’t about to stick his hand in there for fear he’d lose a digit or two, remembering the creature’s pointy teeth.
Closing the cabinet doors, he bolted to the kitchen and retrieved a flashlight from the junk drawer and was back in the bathroom in less than thirty seconds. He checked the floor tiles for signs that the creature had slithered away, but found nothing to indicate it had fled.
Bending down, knife at the ready, he opened the doors and began removing the supplies near the front of the cabinet. Before long, he had a gathering of outdated cleaning supplies, brushes of various types, toilet paper, and unopened bars of soap. The cabinet had one disinfectant spray bottle remaining, easily wide enough to hide the monster’s body.
Keeping the light on it, Brian reached in with the knife and stabbed the blade around the bottle, hoping to stick whatever was hiding behind it. When nothing happened, he knocked the bottle on its side. Shining the light around, he noticed a gap between the sheetrock and the piping, the area glistening with slime. The alien thing had escaped into the wall, leaving some of its residue behind. That was another thing he had planned on doing when he first moved into the place—fill the damn gaps to keep out the cockroaches and rodents.
What was he supposed to do? Call the authorities? Animal control? Tell them an alien creature was living in his walls?
He stood up and closed the doors. There wasn’t much he could do. He couldn’t believe such a thing had come from him. Thinking about it, his stomach churned. Well, at least it was gone; out of his hands—and his penis.
Brian replaced the still-with-good-dates-on-them cleaners and carried the rest to the kitchen garbage where he threw them away.
He heard a knock at the door. “Just a second,” he told whoever it was and quickly washed his hands off in the sink. Going to the door, he looked through the peephole. He saw Jackie standing in the hallway dressed in her stewardess uniform. A piece of luggage rested behind her.
Brian hadn’t expected to see her again. He guessed she wanted to say goodbye. Maybe have a last go round before she left. He wasn’t showered and had morning breath. Screw it, he thought. With his dick in the condition it was, he wouldn’t be using it for awhile. If the woman wanted a romp, he’d simply have to tell her he wasn’t feeling good. Undoing the lock, he opened the door.
“Hello, Brian,” she said.
“Jackie, what are you doing here?”
“Can I come in?”
“Sure, sure.” He stepped aside, letting her pass, and closed the door behind her.
Facing the woman, Brian found his smile fading.
Jackie was staring at him, smiling, her teeth like miniature daggers. The whites of her eyes turned black, the irises disappearing. He staggered back, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Her teeth . . . they looked so familiar.
The woman shot a foot forward, kicking him in the abdomen. He sailed across the kitchen, unable to scream—the wind knocked from his lungs—and crashed into a wall. He felt the sheetrock give just before he plummeted to the linoleum floor.
Dazed and frightened, he pushed himself off the floor. Looking around, he didn’t see Jackie, or whatever she was. Had he imagined the whole thing? Was he cracking up? He closed his eyes for a moment, then heard a low growl from above. Opening his eyes, he looked up.
Jackie was clinging to the ceiling, staring down at him with her void-like eyes. Her tongue protruded from her mouth, dangling loosely and dripping with sludge. She let out a hiss as she fell on top of him and held him down. He struggled, but it was no use, the bitch was strong. She sunk her claws into his shoulders. He screamed, but it was short-lived as the thing threw up a vile green fluid into his maw. Brian gagged as his mouth flooded with a salty, sour taste, reminding him of his own jizz, having once tasted it out of curiosity.
His mouth burned. He tried turning his head to spit out the substance, but the bitch held a hand over his lips, forcing him to swallow it.
His insides were on fire. He’d never felt such agony. The Jackie-thing pushed itself away, letting him writhe on the floor. She—it—had poisoned him, like a spider injecting its prey with venom, turning the quarry into mush so that it could devour the kill later.
Brian convulsed. With the pain at its peak, his body went numb, his thoughts leaving him. Everything went black.
* * *
With the body prepared for the taking, she ripped off the boxers and saw that its baby had been born. Delighted, the Jackie-thing called out to its offspring, telling her child to come to Momma. From around the corner, came the creature, leaving its slimy trail behind as it slithered into its mother’s arms.
About the Author
David Bernstein is originally from a small town in Upstate New York called Salisbury Mills. He now resides in NYC and misses being surrounded by chainsaw-wielding maniacs and wild backwoods people that like to eat raw human flesh. He’s grown used to the city, though hiding bodies is much harder there. He is the author of Amongst the Dead, Damaged Souls, The Tree Man, Witch Island, Relic of Death, Apartment 7C and the forthcoming Episodes of Violence. David writes all kinds of horror, from hair-raising ghost stories to gore-filled slashers and apocalyptic tales of terror. He loves hearing from his readers.
You can reach him on Facebook, at
www.facebook.com/david.bernstein.3.
Visit him at his website:
davidbernsteinauthor.blogspot.com
email
[email protected]
, or on Twitter at @Bernsteinauthor.
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