Young Writers Society

Jiggity · 2007-09-30T03:57:03Z

Light, blinding, surrounded him – he was falling. No, he was flying, ascending. Such joy drowned him, at the feel of the wind beneath his wings once more. He stretched, primordial cry on his lips, flexing – but there were chains, chinking, as they snapped him back. And he was falling, the wind screaming in despair as he lefts its embrace. Darkness fell. ** David Phillips woke up on a cold Thursday morning with a semi hard erection rolling against his leg. Thoughts, vague and wispy now, of naked ladies and steamy nights lingered in his mind; he groaned, wanting nothing more than to deal with this now. His alarm clock, flashing a rapid warning, dictated otherwise. He dressed quickly, giving his teeth a quick once over and his face a rough wash, flicking his hair into place as he did so. He sped through his small apartment, grabbing his things, rushing out the door as soon as possible. David shifted the uncomfortable bulk in his pants – unlike most mornings it had failed to dissipate – he hadn’t been getting much action lately, but had never really done so anyway. It hadn’t bothered him before; what he failed to get from others he provided for himself at night, or during long hot showers, except lately he found himself edgy, restless, filled with a nervous energy. He needed a fuck. He walked past Karen’s door. The bitch was going at it again, with that new Brazilian kid or was he Philipino? He couldn’t remember, she was always humping some guy or other, but lately she never seemed to stop. It always made him uncomfortable talking to her, the knowledge that he knew of her exploits didn’t seem to bother her in the slightest, and she never failed to poke fun at his gangly awkwardness. He thundered down the stairs, bag slung over one shoulder, thinking about the last time he’d spoken to her. He’d walked over to her apartment to ask for some coffee – he was out, and broke to boot. She opened the door dressed for work, in a smart casual suit that fit her perfectly. For some reason he was disappointed – he’d half expected her to answer the door in nothing but a towel, steam rising from her wet, blonde hair. She worked at the same building as he did, had recommended him for the job and she was all business at the moment. ‘What’s up?’ ‘Oh nothing, I was just hoping for some coffee,’ he said, trying not to sound too keen. ‘Yeah, sure, come in,’ she said, turning around. As she did so, he noticed a large red pustule on the back of her neck, all red and inflamed. Without thinking he reached out for it -- ‘Shit when did that happen?’ – His finger made contact and she jumped. ‘Fuck, Dave! You dick, that hurt.’ Her hand reached back and rubbed, she sighed, feeling the pain of it. ‘Got stung by a bee the other day,’ she said. ‘Or something like that.’ ‘You should get it looked at... I think it’s festering.’ By then they had reached the kitchen and with a look that spoke volumes, she passed a small plastic bundle of coffee to him before calmly shepherding him back out again. ‘Don’t you worry about me.’ He looked down at his finger now and saw a small reddish blotch on the tip; he rubbed at it, wondering if what she had was contagious. Surely a bee sting wasn’t... But then it mightn’t be a bee sting after all. The nasty whore probably had an STI and was too scared to check it out. He walked out of the apartment lobby and into the bustling streets, his shirt clinging slightly to him. It was already sweltering and his dick was still aching—this was not going to be a good day. Something fluttered across the sun for a moment, and he glanced up swiftly, seeing a bird with a bulky head. He blinked to get a second look but it was already gone, lost in the haze of city buildings distorted by heat and smoke. David checked the time, swearing as he realised he only had twenty minutes to get to work. He sprinted off for the subway, knowing as he did, that it was a futile effort – if the train wasn’t late (which would be bad enough) it’d be on time and he’d miss it altogether (which was worse) because that was the way of things: in the end, you just got screwed. Forty five minutes later, a sweaty, pissed off intern arrived late for work. On the plus side, his erection had gone away, leaving him feeling empty and unfulfilled. The way this day was going, he fully expected the worse, a lecture at the very least, possibly even a sacking. But the receptionist just waved him through, a distracted expression on her face, without so much as a disapproving glance or ominous ‘Mr Jenkins will see you now.’ He was met with the same indifference from his peers, noting that a few were even missing. He stopped by Jim’s desk, third row in from the door, among the warren of cubicles. Jim was a good guy, friendly without being overbearing, just an average bloke that made him feel comfortable. ‘What’s going on today, mate?’ he said, affecting a casual note. ‘Where is everyone?’ ‘Dunno,’ Jim said, calmly scrolling down the porn site page. ‘There’s a bug going round or some such.’ He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, adjusting his pants. Pictures of a Dominatrix punishing her slave boy were flashing on the screen, and seeing this, David felt himself stir. He was shocked at himself, he’d never been interested in such things before, and neither had Jim. Vaguely unsettled now, David walked away, feeling the slightest bit dizzy. Trying to throw off his unease, he settled down to work. An hour later he was no more settled than before, and little work was being done, so he got up and took a walk around, rubbing his sore finger idly. He heard as he did so that Karen had called in sick. That dirty cow, he thought, calling a sickie just to shag the daw away. The virulence of the thought surprised him, Karen had always been nice to him, was nice to everyone in fact—maybe he was just pissed that he was missing out. Just the other day, as he was heading down into the storage room, he’d caught two co-workers, Shaun and Robert – who he’d have sworn were the straightest blokes he knew on any given day –fucking madly against the wall. He hadn’t said anything, and they were too preoccupied to notice as he slipped away quietly. Looking around for them now, he noticed they were among the missing. Sweat slipped down the back of his neck, and the room seemed to swim before his eyes for a second, before steadying as he stumbled over to his desk. He sat down heavily, breathing harshly. It was so hot. A concerned face swum into view, but he couldn’t quite make out the words. David wondered vaguely, why the person was speaking so slowly, and deeply; it was all wrong he thought helplessy... Darkness fell. ** David woke up in the company infirmary, refreshed and settled. It wasn’t really an infirmary, just the office lounge with a sick bed in the corner. He stared up at the ceiling for a while, wondering at this new found serenity. It was as if something that had been swelling inside had burst, some pressure he hadn’t been aware of was gone. He glanced at his finger, onyl to find there was nothing there-- it must’ve been his imagination after all. There was a rap on the door, and Jim walked in. ‘How are you feeling mate?’ he said. ‘Yeah, good thanks,’ David said with a smile. He was genuinely touched, office politics sometimes dictated certain niceties, a general ‘hello, how are you’ – but this going out of his way was unnecessary. He soon found out the why of this unexpected visit, as Jim sat down. ‘I just had to find someone to tell,’ he said excitedly. He looked around carefully, before leaning in close. ‘I just shagged Marie!’ David sat up. ‘No fucking way! Little Miss Prudish Catholic? I don’t believe you.’ But the grin on Jim’s face said it all, and soon they were laughing and joking about it. He felt odd hearing this; a strange warmth suffused his chest, a kind of contented happiness. It was just another strange thing to add to a day of oddities. ‘I still can’t believe it myself,’ Jim said, wonder etched onto his face. ‘She was just all over me, it was so hot. Except for that nasty boil on her neck,’ he added. David froze. ‘A boil? You serious?’ ‘Yeah, I’ve still got the shit on my hand,’ he said, showing his palm and the red splotch there. ‘It won’t come off either.’ The import of those words seemed lost on him though, distracted as he was, he seemed to collect himself for a minute. ‘Boss said you could go home by the way, doesn’t want whatever it is you and the others have to spread any further, reckons it could be serious.’ ‘Yeah, sweet,’ he said distractedly. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, half the office was missing, people were fucking everywhere... It seemed his augur for the day had been wrong; it was turning out to be one of the best in recent weeks, if the strangest. He got up, feeling light on his feet, reminiscent of his stoner days. He collected his stuff, walking past the desks without really focusing on anyone, not even the ever so slightly flushed, usually pristine Marie. And then he was in the streets; a pebble in the rivers of humanity that streamed through the city streets, he flowed without struggle, bumping up against people, touching and rubbing – just once, just lightly, here and there, so ephemeral as to have never occurred but for the mark he left behind. Through it all this strange gladness, this giddy warmth engulfed him. He got on the train without any difficulty, somewhat subdued by the darkness of the atmosphere; the glum despair that cloaked this poorly lit area with its constant rattling and screaming locomotive action. Up against the wall a couple kissed and touched, seeing this rejuvenated him once more and he chuckled. Somewhere inside him, a small detached part realised that something was amiss, that this wasn’t normal behaviour but it was lost inside the warmth, the aching, pulsing warmth. ** Karen was making coffee in the kitchen. She was naked, her taut stomach and thighs gleamed in the dim light, and her breathing was ragged and harsh. This was probably the picture Dave expected when he rocked up at her door with his all too transparent puppy dog look. Except puppy dogs didn’t want to fuck you. She felt bad for him, she really did, having to listen to her wailing night in and night out – couldn’t be easy for him to get to bed. Knowing who he truly was, she did feel a wicked pleasure at the torturous agony she must be inflicting on him. It was more than just that though, lately, she just couldn’t stop, couldn’t get enough of it. It was as if something in her had kicked into overdrive and she just needed to fuck. Maybe this was a warning sign, she was getting older after all; but she was still sexy and the youthful Brazilian – or was he Philippine? – in her bed was proof of that. Smiling, coffee forgotten now, she stalked back into the bedroom ready to punish and please once more. ** David was running up the stairs. Even from the lower floor he could hear Karen screaming, in pain and not pleasure. Something was happening. And yet, there was something inside him that was not surprised, that wanted and was eager for this. His hands were shaking with fear and anticipation as he fished out his emergency key and unlocked her door. Nothing appeared amiss inside, it was the usual crappy apartment – small kitchen space, dining table and lounge room before a tiny hallway at the far end of the room led to the master bedroom and bathroom. He knew the way, all the apartments were made to the same plan, he edged toward her room, the anguished cries heard with piercing clarity now: ‘Ah fuck! Ah, what’s-fucking-wrong-with-me—‘each word was punctuated by screeching bed springs. ‘God, please-stop-please-it hurts so much, oh god.’ The words trailed off into a meaningless wail. He felt a hot flush spread through his body then, and he was sickened but enlivened at the same time. He felt his tongue flick out and lick his lips, moistening in anticipation. He peeked through the slightly open door, mouth agape at what he saw. The young Brazilian boy was tied spread eagled to the bed, duck tape muffling his screams as Karen rode him; sweat literally pouring off her body. On the bed side table, an empty bottle of Viagra sat, beneath the fluro pink lamp. Tears were free falling down the boys face, mingling with snot as he sobbed. Fascinated, he looked closer, could see rivulets of blood flowing down Karen’s thighs; she was pounding the kid’s chest, drumming it with her fists, turning it into a mottled black and purple mess. He wondered idly how long they could keep this up for, which of the two would collapse or die first. Would it go that far? He smiled. He surely hoped so. The lust craze would only intensify, although where this knowledge came from he didn’t know – either they would continue at it like this, or very quickly it would turn into an ugly violence. Judging by the virulent red streaks stretching from the now massive swelling on the back of her neck, he was guessing the latter. David was no longer in control here, a mere passenger in his body as he watched Karen scream wildly. Even now she was gorgeous, if not more so in her rage, her passion and pain. She ripped the lamp out of its socket, slamming it down on the kids face. He was barely semi conscious now, had long since given up this battle. His mewls were getting weaker as she pounded his body, needing something, anything to fill the deep void that was eating at her. Blood splattered her hands as she mashed his face into an unrecognisable mess, sobbing and moaning. Her face twisted in a snarl; desperate for it to end, she picked up a long shard of the broken lamp and slammed it into his eye. His body jerked once, straining against the bonds, before falling limp. She fell off him, crying and sobbing, her desperate eyes lighting up when they fell upon David. She crawled over to him, on hands and knees, hiccupping sobs wracking her body. He felt a curious disgust at this bloody, messed up sex kitten. Gods, but she was good to still look appealing at this point. ‘David, p-please, oh gods David, help me...’ this desperate whine, so nasal and childlike made him sick to his stomach. She grasped his legs fervently, tried to bring lush red lips to his zipper. ‘David you don’t understand... don’t know... I need help; you have to understand...who I am...’ ‘Ah, Aphrodite, how low you have fallen,’ his lips moved, suave voice oozed. He smiled at her shock. She was panting, mouth open, still consumed by need, a need that had ripped through her body for the last day and night. Gradually, understanding dawned in her eyes. ‘E-Eros? Eros! It’s me, its Aphrodite, please Eros help...’ she trailed off at his cold glance. ‘You stupid bitch, haven’t you figured it out? All these years of tormenting poor Dave here, do you know how much he wanted you? He was such a soft cock, but I’m glad he was, because I’m here now.’ He pushed her head away from him. ‘How does it feel, this need, consuming you from inside out, constantly needing to be sated but never assuaged? How does it feel to finally be on the other side of the fence?’ His glare was all ice. ‘I know you knew about me bitch, and you did nothing to help me.’ She was backing away from him now, horror in her eyes. He followed her, taking his time to explain his revenge. ‘I’m not going to hurt you anymore, I’ve done my part. But you will be arrested, the police are no doubt on their way, and you will live out the rest of your days in agony. They’ll fuck you, I have no doubt, each will have his turn down at the station and you won’t be able to say no, won’t be able to think or feel, except for that all consuming need. Don’t look so shocked, it won’t end there, I’m sure the ladies in prison will love you too.’ He smiled. ‘You’re a whore Aphrodite, always have been.’ ‘You’re insane! You twisted little fucker, don’t think the others will let you get away with this!’ ‘Others? What could they possibly do to me incarnated as we are; in this era, even we have little power and you chose to squander yours.’ He spat on her, and walked away. Of course, he didn’t mention that her affliction would spread to each victim, that men too would fuck each other into submission, that relationships would be destroyed and homes wrecked, all because of this. He only had one thought as he entered his own apartment: this is going to be fun . So much damage done, and all from one now broken woman; he left her trembling there, awaiting the sirens, too numb with shock to move or think. When they found her, she was curled up in a foetal ball, mumbling over and over. ‘Ares will come for me, Ares will come.’

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Jiggity

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Sun Oct 21, 2007 2:18 am

Jiggity says... · Sun Oct 21, 2007 2:18 am

I love you 'dettie.

I understand that t can be too explicit for some, its not my normal type of writing as you know - apart from it hopefully being disturbing in some manner - but I felt, for the anthology its being submitted to, that it needed to be so. Hopefully I was right and get accepted.

By the by, in Australia its spelt 'foetal', I understand the American spelling is different. 'Reading' was meant to be 'ready'.

Thanks so much!!
Tis mucho appreciated.

Mah name is jiggleh. And I like to jiggle.

"Indecision and terror, thy name is novel." - Chiko

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