‘Claws,’ An Erotic Horror Novel, Chapter Eight

Ten minutes before his therapy session with Callie, Dr. Visner was sitting at his desk thinking about her.

I remind her of her stepfather, he thought as he looked over his notes. He tricked her into thinking she enjoyed the sex with him. She looks at me with desire in her eyes, and I don’t think that’s just my countertransference making me want to think she wants me, though I must be careful with my countertransference. She is beautiful and desirable, that stripper, and because of the sexual abuse she suffered from her stepfather, her transference with me–though amorous on the surface–will have unconscious hostility to me, too.

Beyond the obvious ethical problems of me possibly being involved with her sexually, he continued in his meditations, there’s the danger of her turning violent on me. Her stepfather, Mort Brahms, it turns out was the man killed by that animal in the Hamilton news story…and there have been sightings of such a beast here in Toronto, after the killings of two men during sex with them. She must have delusions that she’s this beast. Does she own a pet of some exotic kind? Does she dress up in a furry costume, with fake claws? The police insist that the victims didn’t have knife wounds, but claw wounds. The men wouldn’t have fucked her when she was wearing such a costume, I think it’s safe to assume; few men would be turned on by that. She wouldn’t have changed into such a costume right after the kills, for she was at their homes, and why would she carry the costume around? I can’t seriously be expected to believe she transforms into a beast, as with her Hulk fixation, so what’s going on?

His receptionist spoke on the intercom: “Ms. Seaver is here for her appointment, Dr. Visner.”

“OK,” he said. “Send her in.”

Callie entered the room. His jaw dropped.

She was wearing a sleeveless, skin-tight, PVC red dress that went half-way down her upper legs and showed off a generous amount of cleavage. She also wore black fishnet stockings and matching high heels. She’d painted her face with thick black mascara, purple eye shadow, pink blush, and red lipstick.

“What do you think?” she asked with a grin. “Do you like it?” She turned around for him, then sat in a chair facing him. Without panties, she at first had her knees together, but over the next several minutes she would slowly, almost imperceptibly, open her legs. As her legs drifted open, that pheromone emanated from her.

He took a deep breath and resisted looking between her legs. “Why are you…dressed like that?” he asked. The pheromone buzz was already beginning to affect him; his eyes were half-closed, and his head swayed left to right.

“I’ll be stripping at The Gold Star tonight,” she said. “As soon as we finish here, I’ll be going over there, so I won’t have time to change. Besides, I wanted to look hot for you.”

He pushed himself to regain control. “Don’t I…remind you…of your hateful stepfather? He who…cruelly sodomized you, and drove your mother…to suicide?”

“You may look like Mort, but I can see you’re a much better man than he ever was.”

“I see.” With effort, he was writing notes. Don’t grill her on Mort’s death, he thought, blinking a lot. Discuss it only if she brings it up, and even then, be tactful. “But you…hardly know anything about me. How do you know…I’m any better than he was?”

“I know enough,” she and Kluh said together, as they were always communicating together now; indeed, Callie’s personality had become barely distinct from that of the demoness. Their souls were like circles in a Venn diagram that overlapped about ninety percent, with only thin edges of the one soul and the other not touching. Because of this psychic closeness with the mind-reading demoness, Callie’s ‘knowing enough’ about Visner was no exaggeration.

“You know…the idealized version…of a father/lover figure…that you’ve projected onto me,” the therapist nonetheless insisted. I feel high, he thought, still blinking.

“Is that so?” she asked, her legs wide open now, her agape eyes and pursed lips giving him no doubt that the exposure of her vulva was fully intentional. “Enlighten me.” The pheromone aroma grew more and more powerful.

“Y-yes, w-well…,” he began, stammering not so much from her exhibitionism, or the pheromones, as from her choice in clothes; for her outfit was an exact replica of that of a young Thai prostitute he’d enjoyed, many years ago, during the partying years of his youth in Southeast Asia, just before he began his master’s degree. “Because of your trauma, your personality has split into three…aspects, we’ll say.”

“You think I have three personalities?”

“No, I-I don’t think necessarily that–not yet, anyway. I’ll try to explain this…to you in a way…that w-won’t sound like…psychoanalytic jargon. I’ll use language you can understand. Y-you…”

“No need to dumb it down too much. I’m smarter than you think.”

“No, Callie, I don’t mean to condescend. Anyway, there’s you in your original ego-state, just wanting to connect with people, as we all do when we’re healthy. But, because of the divorce…of your parents, your father’s…distancing himself from you, then his death, your mother’s suicide, and your stepfather’s…rapes, that original you…has developed two other, subsidiary egos.”

“OK, I’m intrigued,” she said with a smirk, her legs still wide open. “What are these ‘subsidiary egos’?”

“Well, one of them is an angry, hateful, and even violent beast, so to speak.”

Her eyes widened. Her smirk grew wider.

“This ‘beast’ rejects people, because it’s been hurt…so many times by them, and it can only remember…pain and rejection itself. The other is…w-well…as you are now…full of lust and desire, e-eager for the fulfillment of pleasure.”

“Oh, you’re right about that,” she said, using her power to open her vagina into a big, black hole.

The pheromone smell was overpowering. Still, he held on to his composure, as shaky as he was getting. He just looked down at his notepad and wrote more notes, but his shaky hand made the words almost illegible.

“Don’t worry. I won’t let the beast get you.” She licked her lips at the visible erection in his pants.

“Do you want to talk about the beast?”

“I’d rather talk about the horny version of me.”

“I can see that.”

“Yeah…but you aren’t looking.”

“Do you feel insulted about that?”

“No. I know you want me. I can feel it. You’re just a little shy. Actually, your resistance makes you all the more attractive to me. Men who jump at every opportunity for sex are boring. You’ll come to me, though, in time.”

“I will, will I?” he asked with a smirk, looking directly into her eyes and trying his best not to look down.

“Oh, yes,” she said, still showing off that wide-open hole, and smiling from noticing his occasional, furtive looks. “As I said, the beast won’t kill you.”

“I’m not concerned…about a beast killing me.” His head was spinning from the sexy smell.

“You’ve been following the recent local news, haven’t you?”

“Of course I have. A hairy beast…killed two men…by slicing them up…with razor-sharp claws. Police claim…they’ve seen such an animal, a furry one…with a woman’s curves, running about…and jumping up high, in huge leaps, on the streets at night. Are you saying…that this beast is a part of you?”

“Oh, yes,” she said. “But you don’t believe that, do you?”

“I believe the beast…is a figment of your imagination.”

“But you do acknowledge that I killed those men, and Mort? You do acknowledge that the police really saw a hairy animal with a figure as curvy as mine?”

“I acknowledge…the possibility of your having…killed them. I acknowledge that people have seen…a beast out there; but I’m a psychotherapist, not a forensic scientist. I’ll leave it up to them…to decide if you killed those men, if there really is…a hairy animal out there, and if that animal…is connected with you…in any way other than…in your imagination.”

“OK.”

“You believe…you killed those men…as that beast, but I’m not yet convinced…that your guilt in those matters…is anything other than…a figment of your imagination. You’re clearly deeply disturbed…and traumatized; this trauma is making it difficult…for you to see things…as they are. I care about you, and I want to help you. You’re terribly fragmented, split up…into three parts.”

“Actually, the fragments are all coming together. You’ll be joining us, too, Doctor, in a very special way…in a way, in fact, that will go beyond how you came together with that girl prostitute in Bangkok many years back.”

He dropped his pen and notepad.

‘Claws,’ an Erotic Horror Novel, Chapter Seven

Detectives Surian and Thurston were sitting in her car on a street near the apartment building where the blue-haired stripper was with her boyfriend. They’d been waiting there for hours; it was about 2:30 in the morning.

“I told you nothing was going to come of this,” he said, sipping his coffee.

“What if she was the wrong girl?” Surian asked. “Another girl with her hair dyed blue?”

“I saw only one stripper in The Gold Star with blue hair,” Thurston said. “This must be her. I don’t see an animal anywhere, though.”

“Let’s just wait another hour or so, OK? We’ve already invested enough time in this.”

“She and that man who entered her apartment are probably just asleep after a fuck…as we should be.”

“Shut up, Andy. You’re not getting me that easily. Anyway, maybe–“

Her cellphone rang. She fumbled in her purse for it.

“Hello? Surian here.” Her eyes and mouth widened at the words heard from the other end. “OK, we’re on our way.” She hung up and started the car.

“Someone spotted the beast?” he asked.

“Yes, in a neighbourhood on the other side of town.” Her tires screeched on the road as she tore down it.

“I told you we were wasting our time here, Agnes.”

“Shut up.”

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

They were about halfway to the point where Surian’s caller told her where he saw the beast when he called her again.

“Hello?” she said into her cellphone.

“The beast has just been spotted on Yonge Street,” the caller said. “It’s running towards the intersection at Bloor.”

It’s near Yonge and Bloor?” she said. “We just drove past that intersection, didn’t we, Andy? I forget.”

“Yes, we did,” Thurston said. “Do a U-ie and go back.”

Her tires screeched on the road again as she swung the car around. On the way back to that intersection, though, she hadn’t driven past two buildings before hairy, clawed Callie landed on the roof of her car, denting it with her weight so far as to push a deep crater on it between the heads of Surian and Thurston.

“What the fuck?!” he yelled. He and Surian rocked in their seats as the car stopped.

They swung open their doors and got out with their pistols already in their hands. He spun around and looked up at Callie on the depressed car roof.

“My fucking car!” Surian shouted. “C’mon, Andy, shoot ‘er!”

But he just froze at the sight of the furry creature with her wild, yellow-toothed grin.

“Jesus Chri–,” he began, raising his gun at Callie.

She swatted him before he could pull the trigger. He lay on the road, knocked out. She’d bent down to hit him just in time to dodge a bullet Surian fired at her back.

Callie looked back at the detective with a smile. Kluh caused a fog to obscure Surian’s vision. She smelled a familiar, intoxicating smell, too. In her daze, she allowed Callie to jump on her.

Her gun fell out of her hand, then the fog cleared. She looked up at the grinning face of the hairy beast. Callie held her right hand over the cop’s face, the claws an inch or so above her nose. She moved her fingers in a slow dance, as if trying to decide whether to gouge out Surian’s eyes or slice off her nose. The detective could only wince and hope for mercy.

Callie moved her hand away and brought her face down to meet Surian’s. Their noses touched. Their eyes were locked on each other’s. That ‘sex pheromone’ smell was overwhelming.

Callie heard a grunt from Thurston as he’d come to and was getting up. She jumped off of Surian and flew high in the air and out of sight. Surian just lay there, trembling.

“Are you OK?” he asked, offering a hand to help her up.

“I don’t think I pissed my panties, if that’s what you mean.”

“I don’t smell that, but I do smell the smell of that stripper.”

“That’s right,” she said, now on her feet. “I told you we weren’t wasting our time.”

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

Kluh’s powers threw a fog over the air that ensured that all the other police lost Callie; but Surian and Thurston were given clear enough air to follow her well enough to find, by around 5:30 in the morning, more long, brown hairs. These were found on the dewy grass of a park across the road from Callie’s apartment building. More and more groupings of hairs made a path across the road.

Picking up some hairs on the sidewalk between the park and the road, Surian said, “Andy, take my car to 22 Division and show them these hairs. Tell Detective Hicks what happened two and a half hours ago, then come back to pick me up.”

“Nobody will believe what we saw,” Thurston said.

“I know. Do it anyway. We’ll prove it later.”

“You wanna go find her over there all alone, right?”

“Of course. Now, go on.”

“I don’t like the idea of you facing her all alone, Agnes.”

“A naked hottie hiding in an alley? I think my gun and I can handle her. Don’t be jealous; I won’t get horny.”

“How do you know she isn’t still in her monster state?”

“Well, she isn’t rampaging anymore, she only comes out at night, and we never start seeing hairs until her rampages are all over.”

“Well, OK,” he said, turning towards the dented car. “The split second you feel in danger, call me and I’ll race back here.”

“Thank you, honey. Now, get going.”

He got in the car and drove off, in all reluctance. She crept across the road, her eyes locked on that alley. Was a naked stripper lying behind the pile of wooden crates standing against the wall of the building on the left, opposite to Callie’s apartment? Surian took out her gun.

A man living on the ground floor of Callie’s apartment looked out his window and, indeed, saw naked Callie lying asleep, from his point of view, to the right of those crates. Unlike during those previous times, she now didn’t look dirty or sweaty; her hair wasn’t disheveled, either. She lay there as flawlessly photogenic as a Playboy model, all thanks to Kluh’s growing powers.

“Is this my lucky day, or what?” the man whispered.

He went out the side door to get a closer look.

Surian, absent-minded as she stood in the middle of the road, watched the scene with growing interest.

Callie woke up and saw him standing there, ogling her body. She and Kluh also sensed, through the vibrations between her body and the road, Surian’s presence. On her back, Callie spread her legs.

The man grinned at the sight of her immaculately hairless vulva.

“Well?” she said, impatient and almost annoyed with him.

“Well, what?” he asked in his lustful stupor.

“Are you gonna take me in your home and fuck me, or what?”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” he said, snapping out of it. He put out his hand to help her up. She took it and stood.

A car horn beeped Surian out of the way as Callie emerged from the crates. As Surian stumbled closer to the alley, Callie looked over to her. Instantly, those sex pheromones emanated from her, the smell entrancing both Surian and the man. He led Callie into his apartment.

The cop went over to the window, walking in a daze and trying to regain her self-control. The gun fell out of her hand. She looked through the window to see him and Callie in his kitchen. Callie lay on the floor on her back with her legs spread. He was so distracted by his lust that he never bothered to look at the window and see Surian. He unzipped his pants and entered her.

Surian just stood there, stupefied by the smell of the pheromones as she watched the sex. Her will melted away; she felt as if she were in the middle of a dream. She rubbed her hand against her crotch.

You want us, Detective, Callie and Kluh communicated psychically to her. But you can’t have us now. We’ll be together, in time. For now, though, goodbye.

Surian was made to turn around and walk back to the sidewalk, forgetting her gun and leaving it there in the alley. She stood on the sidewalk and stayed there in her daze for a half hour before Thurston returned in her car. She got in.

“Well?” he asked. “Was she there?”

“No,” she said in the oblivion of her daze, from which she was slowly coming out. “But I do think she lives in that apartment, or at least in the area.”

“Hicks doesn’t believe our story about the dent on your car. He asked if we were high when it happened.”

“That’s OK. We’ll prove it later. We’re getting close to her. I can feel it.”

“So, what do we do for now? Stake out that apartment?”

“We’ll go back to The Gold Star,” she said, “and see if we can find her. That aphrodisiac smell is definitely coming from her, though she’s tricky with how she uses it to manipulate people.”

“Yeah, she hypnotizes us with lust…though you’re still my favourite.”

“Shut up, Andy. I want to see if any research is out there, on Google or in the library, about the…phenomenon…we saw last night. Though I don’t know what to look up. No name for the beast, so far as I know.”

Don’t worry, Agnes, Kluh and Callie mused as they borrowed some of the man’s clothes, left his apartment in them, and went up the elevator to her apartment. You’ll find out all about the spirit world in due time. She used her powers to unlock her apartment door, went in, and waited for a neighbour of the dead photographer’s, under her mind control, to come to her apartment with her clothes and purse.

‘Claws,’ an Erotic Horror Novel, Chapter Six

[some sexual content]

A few nights after, Surian and Thurston were sitting at the tip rail in The Gold Star.

“We’ve been checking out all the girls here for several nights now, and we still haven’t found anyone who’ll lead us to the beast,” Thurston said. “I really think we’re wasting our time.”

“We haven’t seen all the girls yet,” Surian said. “Check out this new one coming onstage. We haven’t talked to her yet.”

On went Callie. “And now, let’s give a big hand to this sexy lady,” the DJ announced. “Here’s…Chloe.”

Chloe?” Surian said. “Wasn’t Sandra’s mom named Chloe?”

“Yeah, but so what?” he said. “What does that prove about the girl onstage?”

“I don’t know, but I feel these hunches are getting me closer to the beast. There’s something about this girl here. I’m getting a strange vibe from her. A smell, her perfume? It’s almost like a…sex pheromone, or something.”

“Wait, I’m getting that feeling too, Agnes. Not that I’d ever prefer her to you, of course.”

“Shut up and watch the show, Andy.”

They did. ‘Chloe’ had dark blue hair, thanks to Kluh’s manipulations of Callie’s looks. She was wearing a tight black leather outfit. She was moving around to ‘Fuck the Pain Away,’ by Peaches. Another man was eyeing her from the side of the tip rail opposite from where the two detectives were sitting. She was eyeing him back with equal interest, and not the phoney kind that strippers give when they see a chance to make money.

“He likes her,” Thurston said.

“And she likes him,” Surian said.

“I don’t know what it is,” he said, his head swimming. “Is it that ‘pheromone’? But I think…I’m beginning to like her. Sorry, cutie-pie…you’ll always be…my favourite, but she…is having…some kind of…effect on me.”

“I don’t believe it,” Surian sighed, her eyes as locked on ‘Chloe’ as his were, “But I’m…getting the same feeling. I’ve never had…lesbian cravings…like this since…grade twelve. I feel like…such a pervert…sitting here.”

“That’s why…they call it…pervert’s row.”

Why are you attracting those two cops to me? Callie asked Kluh in her mind.

Don’t worry, the demoness answered her. They won’t get us. We’re getting more and more powerful all the time. I have a use for those two, later on. For now, let’s lure that man on the other side into your bed. His life force will give us more power.

After her floorshow, Callie went over to the man who’d been eyeballing her. The detectives watched them chat for a minute, then the man went over to the VIP area while Callie went off to the washroom.

“OK,” Surian said. “Let’s just wait for Blue Hair to come out of there and join her admirer in the VIP area. We’ll wait and see if he leaves the bar with her, then we’ll follow them to…his place or hers.”

“Right,” Thurston said. “Then she’ll make the beast magically appear?”

“I don’t know, Andy, but we’ll just see if anything strange happens, like a hot-looking naked woman hanging out in an alley after the beast appears. We’ll see if there’s some kind of connection between the two.”

‘Chloe’ came out, but now with blonde hair and in a pink lace bra and thong, and wearing white high heels. She didn’t give off that pheromone smell that had turned the detectives on, either; so they didn’t recognize her, and they didn’t pay attention to her as she went into a VIP room to be with the man.

Instead, they saw a blue-haired woman come out afterwards, wearing a red dress and having that sexy smell. Assuming she was ‘Chloe,’ the detectives watched her go in the direction of the VIP area. That stripper went in with another man, one who looked like Callie’s man.

Callie, nude, was lap-dancing her man in the VIP Room. His hands were on her breasts. She leaned back, turned her head to face him, and looked in his eyes lewdly as she kept grinding.

“I’m a…photographer,” he grunted. “You’d make a…great model. Wanna make…some extra money?”

“Sure,” she sighed, enjoying the feeling of the bulge in his pants as much as Kluh was. “What do you have in mind?”

“I could do…a photo shoot…of you…in my studio…apartment,” he moaned. “What do you say?”

“OK,” she said breathily, smiling at him. “How about a little later on tonight?”

The detectives never noticed her leave with him, because they’d already left, following the blue-haired woman with her boyfriend to their apartment.

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

An hour later, Callie was in the photographer’s apartment, nude except for her high heels, and bent over with her legs spread. She was in front of a mirror, so he was included in the pictures he was taking of her, his camera hiding his face, while her face was seen upside-down between her legs, a timid expression on it as he clicked the camera.

Jesus, he thought. I so want that brown eye of hers. He clicked a few more photos.

He wants me, Callie thought. I can feel the psychic vibes rippling from him to me.

You don’t need to feel his vibes to know that, Callie, the demoness told her in her mind.

I know, Callie thought. I mean that I know exactly how he wants to have me. The way Mort did…from behind. I know what he’s looking at, what he wants to put it in.

Yeah, it feels hot, doesn’t it? Kluh asked her. Those predatory eyes of his, aiming at your ass. We can feel his lust adding to our own.

Exciting, yes, but also scary.

How is it scary? If he hurts you, let the beast kill him.

But those two cops are getting closer to us.

Don’t worry about the cops. I won’t let them get you.

But you are letting them get closer to me. You have some kind of plan–

But you’ll be all right. Don’t worry. Just let Mark here fuck you tonight, and with his energy, we’ll gain more power. Trust me. It’ll be fun.

Callie remained bent over, allowing Mark to see both her pink and brown places.

I’m scared, Callie mentally told Kluh. He wants to stick it in my–

Don’t be scared, Kluh reassured her. Let him enjoy it. You know you want to.

I do, but I don’t.

Let the ‘do’ part win. It’ll be better for both of us in the long run. The boundary between us is blurring more and more, Callie. Allow it to happen, then you’ll see things more my way, and you’ll see the good I’m doing for you.

I’m transforming my fear into pleasure?

Yes. You have to go through these feelings again to heal yourself. Then you’ll have as much fun as I have.

But it’s hard to stop the memories of Mort–

They will fade in time. We have to transform them by re-experiencing them, processing them, making them hurt less and less every time.

Yes, but what of the beast? I don’t want to kill anymore.

When the painful memories end, you won’t become enraged anymore, and the beast will stay dormant. Now, come on–let’s make this happen…

Kluh needed little influence to get Callie to open her buttocks wider to give Mark a better look. She wanted to face her fears, and thus end them.

“I think we’ve taken enough pictures,” Mark said after clicking a photo of her in this last moment of exhibitionism. He put the camera down and stood up. “C’mon, honey.” He took her by the arm and led her to his bedroom. “I’m on fire from you.”

His words made her hear Mort say, “Honey, you’ve set me on fire.” Those words had been said just before a sodomizing she’d gotten from her stepfather a few years back; he, too, had taken her by the arm and led her into his bedroom. When she saw Mark’s bed, she shuddered at how similar it looked to Mort’s bed from that night.

Ooh, Kluh moaned in Callie’s mind’s ear. I can’t wait.

I feel the hot tingles, too, Callie replied, but I’m shaking.

The fear adds to the thrill. Enjoy it. Give Mark what he wants. It’ll all work out in the end.

I’m still not so sure. “Mark,” Callie said as she got to the foot of the bed, “maybe we–“

“On the bed, on all fours,” he said with urgency, unzipping his pants.

“Oh, OK,” she said in a trembling voice. She kicked off her heels and got on.

Spread your legs for him, Kluh said. Let him see.

Callie did, her whole body shaking the whole time. She felt the demoness using her power to lubricate her anus; it sent a shiver through her body as she felt the vibrations of Mark’s heating lust. He knelt behind her on the bed and aimed for her ass.

As he entered her, Callie saw flashes before her eyes of Mort’s bedroom all around her. Though she was lubed, she relived Mort’s painful entry. Her body shook; she yelped.

Don’t let the beast out! she thought. Stay calm. Stop thinking about Mort. Try to enjoy this. Face your fears. Don’t get agitated. Don’t let the hair grow. Don’t let the claws grow!

Mark kept moving in and out. She shook all over, not just from his thrusts, but from the feeling of it being Mort behind her. Mark wasn’t hurting her, as aggressively as he was fucking her ass; but she was feeling Mort’s stabs in her mind.

She checked her arms: no growth of hair. Her fingernails: no claws.

Not a drop of sweat touched her skin, but she felt Mort’s sweat and spit dribbling on her back. Mark’s beer breath never came close to her face, but she smelled Mort’s smoker’s breath invading her nostrils.

Her arms–still hairless. Her fingers–no claws…so far.

Mark’s moans were soft and mild; Callie, however, heard Mort’s raspy grunts, mere millimetres from her right ear. The bedroom shifted back and forth from looking like Mark’s to looking like Mort’s. Waves of pleasure alternated with waves of terror.

On her arms, still no hair slithering out of the follicles. Still no claws…yet.

Sometimes it felt like Mark massaging her rectal wall, stimulating her vaginal wall, the deliciousness of it giving both Kluh and Callie tingles; sometimes Callie relived the cutting pains Mort used to give her. The pleasure and terror were undulating in respective crests and troughs that seemed to be synchronized with Callie’s alternating visions of Mark’s and Mort’s bedrooms. Sharing the pleasure Kluh felt, her mind’s merging with that of the demoness meant Callie couldn’t make up her mind whether she loved the anal or hated it.

Mark helped her make up her mind. He began spanking her right ass-cheek, giving it a sharp sting. Kluh loved it, making Callie squeal and giggle; but Callie remembered how Mort used to spank her during a sodomizing. After the fourth spank, her voice, mid-squeal, phased into a growl.

She looked back down at her arms and hands in a panic. Claws were growing from her fingertips. Hairs were wiggling out from the skin all over her arms.

Mark’s eyes widened at all the hair he saw growing on her back. “What the…fuck–?” he grunted, then pulled out and came on the sheets between her knees.

She looked back at him with a hairy face and a malicious grin baring yellow teeth.

“Jesus Christ!” he screamed.

All that brown hair on her curvy body, covering her breasts and belly…and those long, thick, pointy claws, two quintets of knives.

“Oh, my God! What the f–?” She interrupted his scream by slashing four of those claws across his throat, spraying dots of blood everywhere. He fell back off the foot of the bed, his limp dick still poking out of his open fly as he lay on his back coughing blood and shaking. She jumped on him. He looked up at her in disbelief.

She closed his eyes forever with a stabbing of all ten claws deep into his chest, reddening his whole torso. Then she looked to her left: a window.

She jumped off of him, in its direction. Then she jumped out, splashing glass everywhere. Once she hit the grassy ground in front of the apartment building, she heard a siren.

‘Claws,’ An Erotic Horror Novel, Chapter Five

Callie just lay there on the couch in Dr. Visner’s office, silent for several minutes.

“Well?” he asked. “Don’t you want to tell me something?”

“I feel stuck,” she said. “I have no idea what to talk about.”

“You’re afraid to tell me what’s really bothering you,” he said.

“Yeah,” she said with a nervous giggle.

She was wringing her hands, distracted by her thoughts about those two cops who’d been snooping around The Gold Star over the past week, trying to find the stripper Wayne had left with the night he was killed by the clawed beast. Kluh used her power to deflect the cops from questioning Callie, but she knew the demoness was bringing them closer to her. Kluh was saving a confrontation with the cops for another time…but when, and for what purpose?

“Well, let’s recap what you told me last week, then you can pick up from there,” the psychotherapist said, looking down at his notes. “Your parents divorced, your father–whom you deeply missed–showed no interest in your life, but died in a car accident about a year later. Your mom met a man named Mortimer Brahms, they got married, but he replaced his interest in her with one in you. Then he began sexually abusing you, gaslighting you into thinking you liked the sex.”

“Yes,” she said, choking back sobs.

“You missed your father, wishing Mort would fill in the gap your father had left, and Mort took advantage of your yearning for a father…”

“And he filled in gaps of a different kind,” she sobbed.

“Did you ever try to stop him in some way, apart from running away from home, as you told me last time?”

“Y-yeah,” she said, wincing from what she was about to say. “It started with fantasies of transforming, during one of his rapes, into a powerful beast, like the Hulk, then killing him. Then, a few years after my Mom’s marriage to Mort, she sank into a depression. It seemed to be because he liked me better than her. That made me want to have that Hulk-like power all the more, to get revenge on Mort for hurting her.”

“I see,” Visner said, jotting down what she said on his notepad.

“It was around then that I began overeating, too. I wanted to get fat, not just to stop him from raping and sodomizing me–you know, by making myself unattractive to him; but also so he’d stop preferring me to Mom, so he’d go back to her. It didn’t work, though. Now I was getting bullied at school for being fat, and the rapes continued.”

“And what about your mother’s depression?” Visner asked.

“It got worse. She killed herself by ODing on pills.”

“Oh, Callie. I’m so sorry.” He mirrored her sad eyes with his own.

She was sobbing louder now. “She gave me no protection before, because I wasn’t supposed to tell her what I was doing with Mort. He said telling her would make her jealous and increase her depression. Still, she should have figured out for herself what was going on–why didn’t she?”

“I’m sure he was keeping it from her, too. After all, he was keeping himself from getting into trouble by manipulating you into being quiet about the rapes, even making you think you wanted the sex.”

“Yes,” she sobbed. “And with Mom dead, I really had no one to protect me from him. I grew to have such a hatred for Mort, even though he was still tricking me into thinking I liked the sex. I didn’t think of it as rape at the time; I’d just thought he was throwing my mom over for me, breaking her heart and driving her to suicide.”

“But the rapes continued. What did you do to stop them?”

“I wanted so badly to communicate with my parents that I gained hope in believing in communicating with the spirit world. I tried it with a medium–you know, in a séance, but I got no connection with either of my parents.”

“So, what did you do?”

“I tried doing it myself. All alone. More intensely. I bought some books on the subject, and began deep, intense meditations, trying desperately to contact spirits. Finally, after a heavy two hours of concentration one Saturday afternoon when Mort wasn’t at home, I contacted my mom Chloe,…or so I thought.”

“If it wasn’t her ghost, who was it?” Visner asked.

“She called herself ‘Kluh.’ I thought I’d heard “Chloe,’ but it didn’t take me too long to realize this wasn’t my mom’s ghost.”

“When did this happen? I mean, the first contact with this spirit.”

“A few months ago. She promised me she’d come out during one of Mort’s rapes and kill him. He had to be lured into the sex in order for her to kill him. She insisted on that.”

“Who was this ‘Claw’?” Visner looked at her with squinted eyes.

“‘Kluh’,” Callie said. “She says she’s a Polynesian goddess, but I think she’s lying. I think she’s a demon.”

“Does she still contact you?” He was jotting everything down almost frantically to keep up.

“Yes, I feel her in me now, influencing me. Merging with my mind, even.”

“How do you spell her name, or, how do you think it’s spelled?”

“It feels like it’s spelled K-L-U-H.”

“Interesting,” he said, writing it out and thinking, ‘Hulk’ spelled backwards. “You said Kluh would come out and kill Mort. Did she?”

Callie shook at those last few words. Her eyes widened.

“Did she come out?”

“Y-yes, but–“

“Did she take over?”

“Yes,” Callie sighed. “My mind went totally blank after that.”

“Since you’ve left Mort, has he tried to find you?”

“No. He’s…”

“Dead?”

She hesitated.

“Do you think Kluh killed him?”

“N-no. Not directly.”

“But he is dead? Someone, or something, killed him?”

“Yes.”

The therapist remembered some news stories he’d read about a clawed, hairy beast rampaging through the streets of Toronto one night the previous week. I’ll bet she has delusions that she’s that beast, he thought. I forget the name of the man in Hamilton who was killed by an animal about a month ago. Callie’s from Hamilton. I’ll have to look up that story again. “Who, or what was the killer? Do you know?”

She hesitated again.

He seemed to feel someone telling him, Don’t push this any further. It’ll only agitate her. If she’s at all connected to these murders, it’s best she get treatment, not jail time. She’s probably just deluded that she’s the killer, as you suspect. Really: how could she be connected with some wild animal? You’re a man of science; are we supposed to believe she’s some kind of Dr. Jekyll and Ms. Hyde?

“I…I…” Tears ran down her cheeks.

“That’s OK, Callie,” he said. “You don’t have to answer. I can see that talking about this has been difficult for you. Our time’s almost up, anyway.”

She let out a huge sigh.

“Even if you did tell me, and it was something incriminating, you’d be protected by doctor-patient confidentiality,” he went on. “Physician-patient privilege, that kind of thing. Furthermore, I’ve come to care about you to the point of not wanting you, in your traumatized state, to be further harmed by having the police interfere with your situation.” Her transference was tingling big time during our first session, he thought. Now my countertransference is. Such pain in her. Such a beauty, too.

Good work, Doctor, Kluh whispered in his mind. After all, you ARE a psychotherapist, not a detective. Leave the investigation to the cops. She probably has dissociative identity disorder, or something. Focus on treating her symptoms. She is beautiful, isn’t she? Besides, maybe those men…deserved to die. Remember your youth, in Thailand, Doctor? You weren’t so innocent back in those days, either.

‘Claws,’ an Erotic Horror Novel, Chapter Four

Callie left Dr. Visner’s office in a whirlwind of emotions. The psychotherapist gave her continuing jolts of attraction and repulsion. It wasn’t so much his physical resemblance to Mort as it was the seeming similarity in their personalities.

Visner seems so kind and empathetic, just as my stepfather used to be, she thought. Is this just going to be another charm offensive, as it had been with Mort–whom I can barely still call my stepfather–he who charmed his way into bed with me? The disappearance of Daddy, my real daddy, from my life, after his and Mom’s divorce, had been a throbbing pain in my heart, which got worse when he died a year later in that car accident. Mort then came along and filled in the void…among other voids.

Callie could also feel Kluh’s lust for Visner, a lust that was being incorporated with Callie’s feelings, and confusing her. She and the demoness felt like spiritual Siamese twins, as it were, with the conjoining growing more and more absolute all the time. It was getting more and more difficult to know where Callie ended and Kluh began.

I want Dr. Visner, Callie thought and she walked down the sidewalk in the direction of The Gold Star, but will he betray me as Mort did?

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

Detectives Surian and Thurston were on the streets of downtown Toronto, questioning people who’d seen or heard anything connected with Wayne’s murder. They were following up questioning from the local police, looking for further links with the killing of Mort Brahms in Hamilton.

Sometimes, they spoke with people whom the Toronto police had already questioned. At other times, as they walked down the streets and talked about the case with those they were questioning in the neighbourhoods, other people oddly began presenting themselves to the pair, as if eavesdroppers to the conversation.

A homeless man told them he saw a “hairy humanoid” racing by the alley where he was sitting and drinking at about 2:00 in the morning. He said ‘she’ had a curvaceous female figure, “with big tits,” but all covered in dark hair. She let out a growl that startled him, then he saw her run by.

Other people spoke of “grunts and growls” several blocks down the road from the alley at about 2:05 to 2:10, suggesting the direction the beast was going in. At about 2:30, someone was looking out of her third floor window and thought she saw a hairy figure flying in an arc across the street in a huge jump, then landing on the sidewalk at a corner; it then turned left. The woman’s apartment was on a road intersecting with the previous road with the alley, suggesting that the beast was moving in a zig-zagging, diagonal direction.

Surian and Thurston went with that hunch, finding others who’d “heard a few growls” around 2:40 to 3:00, in areas of the neighbourhood still suggesting a diagonal direction. The last person to have heard growls or grunts was around 3:10, still in the same general direction.

“I can’t believe the luck we’re getting in finding people who know of the beast,” Thurston said.

The detectives continued following the direction of their hunch, and though there were no more sightings or any hearing of the beast, they started noticing long, brown hairs lying on sidewalks, some wrapped around trees–that is, after the wind blew them there–and some on lawns; and with more and more hairs found clumped together in tufts, until finally they reached the alley with the boxes and garbage bag piles where Callie had woken up nude.

“The end of the line, damn it,” Surian said, studying the largest of the cluster of hairs.

“Where could it–she, I guess–have gone?” Thurston asked.

“She?” a man behind them said, startling them.

“Who are you?” Surian asked.

“Oh, uh, I cook in a café just a block down the road,” the man said. “Sorry if I startled you. I don’t normally walk up to strangers and chat with ’em, but I couldn’t help noticing you asking where ‘she’ went. Just around 11:00 or so this morning, I saw a ‘she’ right here where you’re standing–dirty and smelly, but also naked and beautiful.”

“We’re looking for a hairy female animal,” Thurston said.

“But with a curvy body, sharp claws, and big tits,” Surian said. “Remember what the drunk said, Andy?”

“This naked woman was curvy, with big tits,” the man said. “I got lucky with her during my lunch break–oh, sorry, ma’am, for the locker-room talk.”

“That’s OK,” Surian said. “Actually, this is helpful.” She took out a photo of Sandra Brahms. “Did she look at all like this girl?” The photo was a full body shot of a chubby, seventeen-year-old brunette.

“Um, no, she didn’t look anything like that,” he said.

“Not even her face?” Thurston asked.

“No, not at all. Sorry.”

“I guess them both being here was a coincidence,” Surian said with a frown.

“The woman said she worked at a strip joint, The Gold Star,” the man said. “It’s just a few blocks from here.”

“Wait a minute,” Thurston said. “Wayne was last seen leaving The Gold Star with a stripper, a curvaceous one with big tits, according to a witness who spoke to one of the Toronto cops.”

“What colour was her hair, this woman you were with?” Surian asked.

“Blonde,” he said. “Dirty and messy when I found ‘er, but blonde.”

“The witness who saw Wayne leave with the stripper said she had bright red hair,” Thurston said.

“Sure, but I think we should go over to this ‘Gold Star’ peeler joint,” Surian said.

“What are we supposed to make of this?” Thurston asked. “Am I supposed to believe there’s a stripper werewolf, or something, killing men she fucks?”

Killing men?” the man asked with a shudder.

“No, of course not,” she said. “But both men died with their dicks hanging out their unzipped pants, the gossip around the Brahms family’s neighbourhood involved suspicions about Mort’s relationship with his daughter, who’s still nowhere to be found, and this here is the best lead we’ve got. What’s your name, sir?”

“Stan,” he said.

“Take us to The Gold Star, Stan,” she said with a smile. The three of them started off on their way there.

Thurston said to Surian, “As hot as the girls are in this strip joint, I promise I’ll always like you better, Agnes, my cutie.”

“Oh, shut up, Andy,” she said with a smirk.

I don’t know what possessed me to come out here to this alley again, Stan thought.

I do, Kluh thought, her spirit monitoring all the action.

‘Claws,’ an Erotic Horror Novel, Chapter Three

“Oh, no–I did it again,” Callie whispered as she stared at the dried blood on her hands.

She lay naked in an alleyway, behind a pile of garbage bags, crates, and boxes. It was late in the morning; she looked about furtively, trying to see if she could recognize the area.

She crept towards the end of the alley with one hand over her breasts and the other over her crotch. To her knowledge, she had the same sexy body she’d had in the swimming pool. Sexy, but smelling of sweat and garbage.

She noted a street sign on the corner: it was white with black bordering, like many seen in Toronto. In fact, the street itself looked familiar. She breathed a sigh of relief.

Well, Kluh? she asked. How do I get home?

Trust our instincts, the spirit told her. Do what we did last time. Sense if there’s a man walking by who’ll be suitable.

Callie backed up and hid behind some boxes. Then she closed her eyes and concentrated. She could feel the psychic energy connecting her with her surroundings, including all those passing by the alley. Kluh’s connection to her mind made it easy for her to master this meditating. Many men and women walked by: she focused her scanning on each person’s thoughts, wishes, and desires.

The women, as well as one gay man, would have been safe for her to present her nakedness to; but she sensed that they were all either too busy or apathetic to be willing to help her. The vast majority of the men would have been so voracious in their sexual appetites that she’d have risked another sexual assault, and therefore another transformation into the beast.

Then, one rather timid man was approaching. She sensed that he’d desire her, but be gentle enough with her to exchange a pleasant sexual favour for borrowed clothes, a shower, and a ride to her apartment. She chose him, flashing with a grin he mirrored.

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

As the beast had been racing and jumping about the night before, Kluh had used her powers to put Wayne’s landlady in a trance to go into his apartment and retrieve her purse and clothes, all before the cops arrived. The entranced woman arrived at Callie’s apartment just in time, around noon that day, when Callie also got there, so she could unlock her door and get in.

That afternoon, she lay on her bed thinking about her situation. That merging of her mind with Kluh’s was progressing. Now what scared Callie wasn’t being raped, nor was it even killing potential rapists: she now not only liked the sex, getting a thrill from the danger of being assaulted, but she was also beginning to like the killing.

“I need to find a shrink,” she said.

Good idea, Kluh told her, knowing exactly which one to direct Callie to.

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

Detective Agnes Surian had been sulking at her desk that morning until the newspaper was dropped on her lap.

“Prepare to brighten up, Agnes,” Detective Andrew Thurston said. “The dawn of a new day for the Mort Brahms case.”

“Oh?” She looked at the headline on page two of the Toronto Star: “Toronto Man Clawed to Death by Mysterious Hairy Beast.”

“Did that flash of insight put the fire back into your heart, cutie-pie?”

“Yes, it did, Andy,” she said with a smile. “Like a bolt of lightning. Looks like I’m heading off to T.O.”

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

Callie found arranging an appointment with Dr. Visner easy and prompt, for he had a free afternoon that very day…thanks to Kluh’s influence. She went up to the fifth floor of a building in downtown Toronto, then walked into the reception area.

“Ms. Seaver?” the receptionist asked.

“Yes,” Callie said. “Is Dr. Visner in?”

“Yes, he’s waiting for you. You can go right in.”

“Thank you,” Callie said, then went over to the door of his office. The sign on the window said Dr. Chris N. A. Visner, Psy.D. She put her hand on the doorknob and paused. He’ll never believe me when I tell him about you. He’ll think I’m crazy, which I probably really am. She turned the doorknob.

That’s OK, Kluh mentally replied. Getting all your pain off your chest will be good for you. That he’ll never believe in the clawed beast means we’ll be safe from the law.

She opened the door and saw Dr. Visner sitting at his desk.

Her eyes widened at the sight of the handsome middle-aged man. “Holy shit.”

“Is something wrong, Ms. Seaver?” the therapist asked.

“Oh, no…it’s just…you look a lot like my late stepfather.”

“Oh?” he said, gesturing to her to sit on the couch across from him. The transference is already in effect, he thought. I still don’t know what possessed me to cancel all my other appointments today.

Indeed, Visner was a lot like Mort, in many ways. His wavy, grey hair, the soothing sound of his voice, and his agreeable manner were all practical replicas of her stepfather; but especially there was Visner’s choice of clothes that day–a grey suit and vest, with a red dress shirt–the outfit looked eerily similar to one Mort often wore.

Good, Kluh thought. He dressed in the exact way I influenced him to this morning, all without Callie knowing. My power is growing, with every lover.

Callie sat on the couch, still feeling awkward and at a loss as to what to do. “What should I say?”

“Anything you like, Callie,” he said. “Is it OK if I call you by your first name?”

“Of course,” she said with a nervous giggle. “But I don’t know how to tell you…what’s bothering me. It’s going to sound so crazy.”

“Don’t worry about what I think,” he said, his Bob Ross-like voice sending ASMR-like tingles all through her. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s troubling you. Just say whatever’s on your mind, and don’t censor yourself. That’s crucial.”

“O…K…,” she began. “It all started, I guess, when my mom and dad got divorced, she got custody of me, then he basically showed no more interest in my life. I was about ten.” There was a lump in her throat. “Then, she met a man–Mortimer Brahms. He was so smooth with the charm, with me as well as with her. I actually liked him at the time he was dating her.” A tear ran down her cheek.

“Did she marry him?”

“Yes.” She fought to keep from sobbing. “And that’s when my real troubles began. He–” She paused, letting out a sob.

“Seduced you?”

She sobbed again. “Yes. He told me never to tell Mom, that it was me he was in love with.” She sobbed some more. “He…had me…for the first time…when I was…twelve.”

“Oh, my God,” Visner gasped, then handed her a Kleenex.

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

At the coroner’s in Toronto, Detective Surian was looking at the claw wounds on Wayne’s body.

“The wounds have the same contours, the same look to the slashes, the same cutting style, as on Mort Brahms’s body,” she said. “It must have been the same animal…if only I could identify what kind of animal.”

“I don’t know if this will help your investigation,” the coroner said. “But the cops found Wayne’s body, fully clothed, with his fly open and his penis hanging out. You don’t suppose he tried to commit bestiality with the animal, and that’s why it killed him?”

“If he did, it must have been one hell of a sexy animal,” she said, “because Brahms’s body was also found fully clothed, with his fly open, and his dick showing.”

‘Claws,’ an Erotic Horror Novel, Chapter Two

[some sexual content]

As Sandra, or Callie Seaver, as she was now calling herself, was lap-dancing a man in his forties in the VIP Room of The Gold Star, the strip joint she was working in, she contemplated her situation of the past few weeks. She was getting used to her new body, her new life as a stripper, and even her relationship with Kluh, who–it seemed–didn’t need to take control of her body so often.

As the man’s hands were sliding along her skin and caressing her breasts, she thought about how she no longer found it so distasteful being viewed as a sex object; the huge amount of money she was making each night gave her a feeling of power, over the men who lusted after her, that made her objectification seem a trifling disadvantage in comparison.

She rubbed her buttocks on the man’s pointy lap, noting how close the tip was to her anal cleft; but it didn’t frighten her as it had before. She’d already slept with a few clients during her first few days as a stripper, in order to have a place to spend the night until she’d find a suitable apartment; and in the process, the trauma she’d associated with sex was fading away, and she was even beginning to enjoy sex now.

She got up and turned around to face him, then brushed her large breasts against his face; as perfectly round as they were, they weren’t silicone, to his delight. She had the body of a goddess, and he was worshipping her. She could psychically sense his worship of her in his mind, just as Kluh could sense it, and Callie was beginning to like being worshipped, just as Kluh, that self-proclaimed goddess inhabiting Callie’s body, had always liked it.

She sat on his lap and felt his hands on her buttocks as she touched her nose against his. His fingers were creeping like a spider’s legs toward her anal cleft. Being touched in that secret area was bothering Callie less and less, since the memory of her stepfather sodomizing her was drifting further and further away from her. What’s more, Kluh as a goddess of lust and death liked being lusted after and touched lewdly, for the spirit considered the body she was inhabiting to be a temple to be adored at.

Now here arrived an important development: between Callie getting used to these recent big changes in her life, with Kluh inhabiting her body and influencing her decisions, and she and Kluh increasingly enjoying the same pleasures, what was emerging was a growing fusion of their wills, of their very identities. Callie and Kluh were slowly becoming one being.

With this fusion of wills, Callie could sense more and more what Kluh’s intentions were: a wish to have more power, which came as a result of merging contraries. She sensed Kluh’s intentions, and felt herself irresistibly more and more sympathetic to them, though some intentions were still mysterious to her…and still frightening.

Two weeks had gone by without any transformation into that clawed beast, though Callie could vaguely sense an urge in Kluh to let the beast out again, to provoke another transformation. That urge seemed to be set aside for the moment, so Callie didn’t fear having more blood on her hands for now.

Indeed, she was relieved to know, from having read in the newspaper that the detective investigating the case, an Agnes Surian, had all but given up on the case. All Surian had brought to light was that some clawed beast attacked Mort Brahms and jumped out his second-story bedroom window. How the animal got in the man’s house was a mystery.

Another mystery was what had become of Mort’s stepdaughter, Sandra. The shy, chubby eighteen-year-old seemed to have vanished. Callie liked the sound of that. No more Sandra, no more Mort. No more bad past. No tracing of the killing to Callie in Toronto.

The man had one set of fingers between her legs, and the other set between her buttocks. He was arousing Kluh’s lust, making sympathetic Callie feel it, too. It titillated both of them to have their secret places known. Callie was just glad Surian didn’t know anything about the secret identity of the beast.

The closest anyone could trace it to Callie was in a few people having sighted a hairy, anthropomorphic beast running and jumping high in the air through the streets of Hamilton, then heading towards an exit of the city. But where it had gone after that wasn’t at all known. No one had sighted it since.

So as long as no one provoked the monster by trying to rape her, Callie would be safe. All these men lusting after her nakedness, and being lap-danced by her, and fondling her in the VIP Room, seemed less and less of a danger to her; thus, she wouldn’t be a danger to them…if only such assurances could last.

She was licking the man’s ear, then he whispered in her ear, “I’d…love to draw you, Chloe.”

“You’re an artist, Wayne?” she asked, rubbing harder on his erection, and as delighted to hear herself addressed by her mother’s name (now also her stage name) as she was to be so worshipped.

“Yes,” he grunted from the feeling of those rubbing buttocks. “You have…the body…of a goddess.”

She was so surprised to know that a man’s lust didn’t terrify her anymore. Her curvy body no longer seemed to be a risk of rapes, but was now a source of pride. She’d made herself fat as a teen in the hopes that Mort would stop being sexually attracted to her; actually, he’d rape and sodomize her no less than before. But now, sex no longer meant powerlessness to Callie; making hundreds, thousands of dollars every night from sex-addicted customers meant sex was power for her, something Kluh had always understood.

I told you I’d be good for you…Chloe, Kluh told her mentally.

Yes, Callie answered in her mind. You may not be my mother Chloe, but thanks to your help, I am now Chloe, the sex goddess of The Gold Star.

WE are the sex goddess, Kluh corrected. We grow to be more and more one with every passing day, with every sexual contact. Remember what I told you before: the merging of contraries, male and female, sex and death, pleasure and pain, delight and terror, make me more powerful. And as I get powerful, you get powerful. For we are one.

Fuck this man, and we get stronger? Callie asked.

Yes, Callie. Even his attempted rape of us, if that happens, means we kill him with the claws. Sex merged with death makes us stronger, too.

Oh, I hope we won’t have to kill again.

That’s up to Wayne, isn’t it?

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

An hour later, they were in his studio apartment, her nude on his bed lying on her back, and him at the foot of the bed with a pencil in one hand, drawing her breasts on a sketchpad.

“Usually strippers look less attractive in the bright light,” Wayne said, his erection poking a visible bulge in his pants that made flattered Callie smirk. “Not you. You’re even more beautiful than I’d imagined possible.”

She giggled. “Thank you.”

“I thought you were blonde in The Gold Star,” he said, detailing her erect nipples. “I see you have bleached white hair.”

“Oh, I change my hair colour a lot, actually,” she said. Kluh made my hair blonde, white, light green, yellow, even pink, all tonight over several hours when I danced in the dimmed lights, didn’t you?

Yes, I did, Kluh answered in her mind. My constant changing of your appearance is how I make it difficult to trace where you are, in case we need to let out the beast again.

Callie shuddered at that thought, but her fear soon changed back to titillation. I can psychically feel Wayne’s lust, she thought. It’s so exciting!

It’s good to be worshipped, isn’t it? Kluh asked her.

Yes, Callie thought. Everyone in high school bullied me for being fat. Mort made me his sex slave; I won’t even call him my stepdad anymore. But now, men are my sex slaves, enthralled by me, they must please me!

That’s the spirit, Kluh told her. The union of his phallus with your yoni, or even your anus, will make us even more powerful, the merging of male and female, of penetrator and penetrated. United opposites make us strong.

Oh, let it not be anal again, she thought. Your lubricating me stops the hurt, but I still feel the fear, the trauma. The painful memories.

Don’t be afraid, Callie. I’m making you stronger and stronger with every lover, not weaker.

“OK,” Wayne sighed. “That sketch is finished. I’d like to do one now of you on all fours, with your ass pointed at me. Will that be OK?”

“Better than OK,” Kluh said. She got into position, with both her anus and vulva showing for him.

“OK,” he grunted, that bulge in his pants straining against his zipper as he began drawing. “No, don’t look at me, Chloe. Face the head of the bed.”

Callie’s heart was pounding. She couldn’t stand being so exposed, so vulnerable to this stranger, yet Kluh kept her body in this position. For the demoness was aroused by Callie’s fears combined with the energy of Wayne’s lust, which she welcomed. She would take his phallic energy and make it hers.

This man was far from being Kluh’s ideal to mate with Callie’s femininity, but he’d give her some power that night, anyway. As for the ideal male, he would arrive soon enough…quite soon, indeed, actually.

Kluh felt Wayne’s desire as he sketched her ass, his urge to penetrate her. The demoness felt his eyes staring at the holes he wanted to enter, just as she visualized entering him in another way. The penetrator would become the penetrated, a fusion of opposites, giving her more power.

Kluh knew he was planning to sneak up behind her, thinking her not seeing him coming meant she wouldn’t know what he was about to do. Callie sensed his desire to come at her from behind, too, and she was terrified–terrified of reliving Mort’s sodomizing of her, and terrified from knowing she’d kill again. But she couldn’t stop Kluh from letting this all happen.

Wayne’s pencil touched the paper softer and quieter with each stroke, sketching the wrinkles on her anus, where he was itching to enter.

Without making a sound, he put the pencil and pad to the side, got up from his chair, and crept over to her ass. He had no idea that both Kluh and Callie could sense his exact movements psychically, every second of them.

He put his hands on her buttocks and opened them, widening the orifices.

Callie yelped and looked back at him with agape eyes and her jaw dropped.

“Am I sexy?” Kluh had her sigh.

“Yes,” he sighed back.

“Am I beautiful?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me?” (Callie dreamed of an answer of no.)

“Yes.” He unzipped his pants and took it out. “Oh?” He noticed her anus was moistening with lubrication. “How convenient.”

“I’m gonna surprise you in more ways than one tonight, you stud,” Kluh moaned.

“I’m sure you will.” He was surprised to find himself lubricated, too. “What is this, black magic?”

You could call it that, Kluh thought.

He pushed inside, and as he moved back and forth, Callie was having vivid flashbacks of Mort: she could feel, once again, her stepfather’s sweat dripping on her bare back, his bad breath blowing on her right ear, the pain of his pushing and pulling, even though Wayne wasn’t hurting her at all.

Swelling with lust, the man reached around with both arms and grabbed her breasts, squeezing them hard and pinching her nipples. Mort had done that on one occasion, making Sandra scream in between sobs. This was too much for Callie. She shook, her head spinning.

When her eyes refocused, she saw hairs slithering out of the follicles on her arms. Her fingernails were stretching out into claws, each at least six or seven centimetres long.

The last image that flashed in her mind, before giving her consciousness away to the beast, was Bill Bixby’s irises turning white on TV. Before she had time to wonder if the same thing had happened to her eyes–it did, actually–she blacked out.

“What the hell?” Wayne grunted, pulling his dick out. “How’d you get so hairy?” Her hair was no longer the ‘bleach-white’ colour: it was brown, as it was all over her body. Now she was grunting, and her bestial head twisted back to look at him. “Jesus fucking Christ!”

Her claws slashed his face, one of them gouging his eyes and blinding him. The other claws sliced lines of red into his forehead, nose, and lips. He fell off the bed on his back, clutching his bloody face and whining on the floor.

The beast jumped on him. She dug her claws into his guts, tearing his intestines to pieces. His body shook on the floor as a river of blood flowed out both sides from his waist. He was coughing blood.

She stabbed her claws into his chest, and his body lay still.

There was a knock on the front door of the apartment. “I heard a scream,” a male neighbour said. “What’s going on in there?”

She ran at a nearby window and jumped out, splashing shards of glass in all directions.

‘Claws,’ an Erotic Horror Novel, Chapter One

[some sexual content]

Sandra Brahms woke up surrounded in bushes.

“What the–?” she whispered, then looked down at her body.

She was naked.

“Oh, my God!” she gasped, then put her hands over her breasts and crotch. “Hey, why don’t I have any pubic hair anymore?”

She got up and looked up at a cloudless, blue summer sky in the early afternoon. On the other side, opposite the bushes, was a tall chain-link wire fence separating her from a large backyard swimming pool. Since only dirt, mysterious spots of blood, and a few blades of grass were sticking to her skin and covering it, she figured she needed a swim to clean off; but would she get caught?

Don’t worry, a female voice said in her mind. I’ll protect you.

“Mama?’ she whispered, remembering the voice from the night before. “Is that you?”

Yes, the voice said. Your Mama Kluh. You summoned my spirit last night, remember?

You mean, my Mama Chloe? Sandra thought, sensing correctly that the spirit could detect her thoughts. Where am I? What happened to my step-dad?

You’re in Toronto, Kluh mentally told her. You’re safe from that bastard.

“Toronto?” Sandra said out loud, then cupped her mouth, hoping no one (especially no boys or men) heard her.

Yes, Kluh told her. I had to get you as far away from Hamilton as I could, and fast, after what we did to rescue you from him.

What did we do? Sandra mentally asked the spirit. I don’t remember.

Images flashed before her eyes, each one flashing in split seconds: Her stepdad, Mort Brahms, on top of her nude body in bed. A stabbing, phallic pain inside her. Long, sharp, bony claws grow from her fingers. Hair grows all over her body. She growls. Mort gasps at the sight.

“My God!” Sandra gasped, her eyes agape. “Did I–?”

Yes, the spirit answered. It will all make sense to you in time. For now, just get over this fence, go in the swimming pool, and clean yourself up. Don’t worry. I’ve taken care of everything. You’ll be fine.

“But, what if–?”

Impatient with Sandra’s doubts, Kluh took control of her body and made her climb over the fence with ease, then had her run to the swimming pool and jump in the deep end. She swam and swam, getting nice and clean.

As she continued swimming, more flashes of moments from the night before, in her house in Hamilton, went before her eyes: those claws, stabbing into Mort’s chest. His blood splashing everywhere. Him gasping and grunting, then coughing out blood. She shook her head at the images, then went down deeper in the water.

The owner of the house came into the backyard from the back door. He went closer to the swimming pool and saw a curvaceous young woman swimming underwater. He couldn’t make out a swimsuit on her: only the delicious peach colour of her skin. He smiled from ear to ear.

“The Missus will be at work all day,” he whispered to himself.

She poked her head out of the water, and saw him ogling her.

Before Sandra could gasp in fear, Kluh took over her body again. She swam over to the side of the pool and put her feet on the steps. No, no, Mama! she told Kluh in her thoughts, knowing what the spirit was thinking. He won’t like my fat, ugly, hairy body (Oh, wait! My pubic hair’s gone.). If he does like my body, though, will that clawed monster kill him if he tries to rape me?

With a lewd smirk on Sandra’s face, Kluh went up the steps to reveal her frontal nudity to the man. Sandra saw her nakedness in the reflection of the large back window of the house: no fat, no flab. Instead, she saw a flawless body, like that of a porn star. A totally unrecognizable image to awkward, eighteen-year-old Sandra.

That…isn’t me, Sandra thought. Mama, you transformed my body?

Yes, Kluh answered, now completely out of the pool and blithely allowing the man to enjoy seeing her large breasts and hairless crotch. Kluh had Sandra continue smirking at the lecher. “Hi,” she said to him.

“Hi,” he gasped, his smile never leaving his face.

Mama? You’re going to let that man have his way with me?

Don’t worry, Sandra. It’s all part of the plan.

What plan? What if he hurts me the way Step-Daddy used to?

He won’t. I have this all planned out. He’s useful to us.

What if you’re wrong, Mama?

I’m not. We in the spirit world have access to forms of knowledge you mortals never could. I took you here because we need him. He’ll help us set you up for a new life in Toronto. Trust me.

What if he forces me…what if he sticks it in my…?

Then I’ll kill him with the claws.

“What’s your name, honey?” the man asked.

“Callie Seaver,” Kluh had Sandra say, using her middle name and mother’s maiden name.

I don’t think this is my real mother, Sandra thought, even though she knows so many intimate details of my life. My tampering with the spirit world was a mistake. I should never have tried to summon my mother’s ghost to save me from the man she married after Daddy died. Oh, why did both my real parents have to die on me so early in life?

The man took Sandra by the hand and led her into his house.

She saw more flashes from the night before: her claws slicing and scratching deep cuts into Mort’s chest and guts. He falls to her right on the bed. She jumps off it, then jumps through the window, shattering glass everywhere. She lands on the ground outside, then leaves her neighbourhood by running and jumping in huge, high leaps.

Sandra shook and almost fell in the man’s living room.

“Hey, watch your step, honey,” he said, grabbing her left arm to stop her from falling.

“Oh, thank you,” Kluh had Sandra say. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him, her tongue deep in his mouth. He had his hands on her ass, squeezing the cheeks.

Between pecks on the lips, he asked, “Wanna…come upstairs?”

“Sure,” Kluh sighed, though Sandra, without any control over her body, wanted to shake her head.

“Lemme dry you off with a towel first,” he said. “Don’t want the Missus to see water dripping everywhere.” He got a big, fluffy towel from the upstairs bathroom and dried her off, then led her into the bedroom. She got on the bed on all fours, with her ass pushed out and her legs spread so everything was showing. “Damn, those have to be the two most perfect entrances ever.”

Sandra shuddered when she heard the man’s words, his unzipping of his fly, and getting on the bed on his knees behind her, making her even more nervous. Are you sure this is necessary, Mama?

Yes, Kluh told her in her thoughts. Don’t worry. This is how I’ll get him to do stuff for us. We do him a favour, he does us one.

Are you my mother’s ghost, or are you a devil?

I’m a Polynesian goddess of sex and death, Sandra. And I’m making your life a whole new, much better thing. Trust me. I know what I’m doing.

Sandra felt the man begin entering her vagina. A memory of her stepfather raping her several years back caused her to yelp, but she was surprised to feel lubricated–obviously Kluh’s doing. As the man slid in and out of her, Sandra remembered those many times throughout her teens when Mort had been in the same position with her. It hurt every time with Mort, but he’d managed to convince her that she ‘liked it,’ even when he, so to speak, used the back door.

The first memory of the night before flashed in front of her eyes again: Mort’s painful entry, her getting angry–like Bruce Banner turning into the Hulk–and her turning into that hairy beast with the claws.

Sandra didn’t want this man on her back, but she didn’t want to kill him, either. Strangely, as much as she didn’t want the sex, she was getting aroused. Kluh was making it pleasurable for her.

She hadn’t misheard the spirit’s name: it was Kluh, not Chloe, her mother’s name. This wasn’t her mother’s ghost–it couldn’t be. It was some devil possessing her. Summoning a spirit to save her from Mort was a dreadful mistake, Sandra was realizing more and more with every thrust from that man behind her. Kluh wasn’t helping Sandra. This “Polynesian goddess” had an agenda of her own. But how could Sandra get rid of her?

Kluh made Sandra orgasm, a pleasure that made her feel like a prostitute. The man, however, wasn’t finished with her.

He pulled out. Looking down at her ass, he grunted, “What a pretty brown eye.”

Oh, no! Sandra thought. He’s looking at my…he wants to…

Don’t worry, Kluh said. You’ll be fine.

She felt him begin to enter her the back way. But Kluh, my step-daddy used to do that! It really hurt. My trauma will make me go wild. I don’t wanna kill this man.

You won’t turn into the clawed beast, Kluh said. It won’t hurt.

Indeed, as the man went further inside, Sandra felt herself lubricated again, by Kluh’s mysterious abilities. It didn’t hurt at all…not physically. Still, it made her remember…

Another memory of the night before flashed before her eyes: Her running and jumping along the side of a highway leaving Hamilton. Her jumping on the top of a bus headed for Toronto. Her claws digging deep into the roof of the bus. Nobody on the bus noticing the impact of her body when it landed on the bus, for Kluh made the driver and passengers oblivious to it. Her hair flowing in the cool night breeze; the hair on her body keeping her warm.

This doesn’t hurt, Sandra thought as she felt the man still going in and out of her, but it’s really making me tense. I’m scared. Will I turn into that beast again, and claw him to death? He’s a creep, cheating on his wife and reminding me of my traumas, so I’d kind of like to kill him (as I’m kind of glad I killed Step-Daddy); but I don’t want any more blood on my hands.

“You’re…so…tight! Unh!” the man grunted.

Sandra felt his disgusting sweat dripping on her back, reminding her of Mort’s sweat; but Kluh was enjoying the anal. Sandra was terrified, but had no control over her body. Was Kluh secretly planning on killing this man at the end of the sex? She told Sandra everything would be OK, but the spirit had lied before about being her long-dead mother.

Another memory of the night before reappeared before her eyes: the phallic pain in her vagina; her hairy transformation; her claws, stabbing into Mort’s chest; his blood, her growling…

“Oh!” the man groaned, then pulled out and sprayed on the sheets. “Shit! I’m gonna…have to…clean that up. I’ll have to…tell the Missus…I’d been beating off.”

He zipped up his pants. It was over. Thank God, Sandra thought.

Kluh had Sandra look back at him. “I need to borrow…some of your wife’s clothes. Drive me downtown…and buy me some clothes…for myself. Then drive me…to the most popular…strip joint in Toronto. I’ll take it from there.”

“And if I don’t?” he asked.

“Your wife will know what we did.” Her eyes pierced into his with a killer look that showed she meant business.

“O-OK, on all counts.”

They left in his car, her in a blue dress of his wife’s, about thirty minutes later.

‘Creeps,’ an Erotic Horror Novel, Chapter Twenty-Four

[sexual content]

“Did you read the news in the paper today, Guy?” Thea asked him as she entered the kitchen with the newspaper.  

“What’s up?” he asked after gulping down some orange juice.  

“Ken Maynard and Ricardo Davis had to plead guilty on all the charges against them, including conspiracy to engage in human trafficking,” she said, then sat down across from him at the kitchen table. “Hey, don’t spill your cereal on the floor.” 

“I won’t,” he said, scowling at her never-ending nagging. “So, they’re in jail now?” 

“Yep. They’ve been sentenced.” 

“I still remember all the confessions from the staff, how they were smiling while high on the Creeps drugs. And how they were frowning when they had to confirm those confessions once the drugs had worn off, and once the staff knew that Van Gorder and Bill Shavick had heard the sex slaves confirming it all, and once the authorities saw the video that recorded all of Mark’s criminal intentions.” 

“Yeah, it’s so nice knowing the whole staff of Capitol is now behind bars, and investigations are being made of all the other Capitol branches, uncovering the same criminal scandal with the Creeps.”  

“I’m glad they all got theirs,” Guy said, then shoveled some cereal into his mouth. 

“Check this out,” she said, reading from the newspaper. “The so-called ‘Commodities,’ most of whom have nowhere else to go, were formerly either destitute or from impoverished countries, or from families that had betrayed them by selling them. So the government—which has also purged itself of the corrupt enablers of Capitol and put them in jail—has judged that the appropriate way to compensate the victims for their suffering is to renovate each Capitol building so thoroughly as to make the places unrecognizable for their former use, and make them new homes where the victims will be given free accommodation. Isn’t that amazing?” 

“Yeah,” he said. “And what of Petunia? I guess she’s living there.” 

“Presumably. You gonna go over there and apologize to her?” 

“Apologize?” 

“Yeah, for paying to rape her.” 

“Thea?! What the fuck? Didn’t you already say I was a hero for helping to save all those people? Haven’t I atoned for my bad karma?” 

“Guy, I’m very proud of you for what you helped me do.” 

“That’s funny: I thought you helped me do it.” 

“Yeah, well, anyway, I still think you should go talk to her about what you did in that VIP Room. Making her have sex with you under those circumstances is still rape.” 

He sighed, then left the table, having finished his breakfast. 

Around lunchtime, Guy went over to see Petunia, in her new room, which was all refurbished and given new furniture, including a bed, refrigerator, stove, TV, and sofa. She opened the door, and they stared at each other for a minute before speaking. 

She was in a T-shirt and jeans, as was he. 

“Long time no see,” he said. “How is everything?” 

“Much better, thanks to you and Thea,” Petunia said. “Come in.” 

They sat on the sofa. She looked over at him, but he, frowning, or trying to smile, just stared down at his twitching hands. 

“It really has been a while,” she said. “Too long, really, since you last saw me.” 

“Well,…I saw a little too much of you the last few times.” 

“I don’t mind.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “You know, this room was actually the VIP room we’d fucked in the first time.” 

“Really?” he asked with a guilty smile. 

“Yeah. I kinda like it, actually, except for it being a little small. I feel a little squished in here. Though squished in here is a lot better than squished in those tunnels we tried to escape through.” 

“Yeah, I read about that problem you all had in the paper.” 

“I’m glad I’ll never have to do that again.” 

“I…really feel awful about what I did here, Petunia…” 

“Oh, Guy. It’s OK.” 

“No, it’s not OK. I took advantage of you. I treated you like a whore.” He was gulping back sobs; his eyes were getting wet. “And I always knew…you were better than that.” 

“Mark LeSaffre made me into a whore. Of all the men who paid to have me, you were the one I was happy to satisfy.” 

“But I was no better than they were,” Guy sobbed. 

“Yes, you were. Of course you were. You saved me, Guy. You and Thea saved me, and you saved all the other sex slaves. When you first found me in Capitol, sure I was uncomfortable, under my fake smiling, the smiling those Creeps were making me do, but I was uneasy only because I was worried you thought my slutty smiles were real. But now I’m glad you saw me there, because if you hadn’t, no one would have saved us.” 

“Yeah, I guess. I just wish I hadn’t fucked you.” 

“I don’t mind that. You were better than all the other Johns who had me.” 

“How was I better? In having you, didn’t I rape you?” 

“Not in my opinion,” she said. 

“How so?” he asked. 

“Because of all the guys who had me, you were always the one I wanted to have sex with.” 

“Why me? What’s so appealing about me? I’m a loser.” 

“Guy, you’re a hero. You saved all of us. I’ve been so hot for you, ever since I realized you’d done that.” 

“Well, maybe now, but how was I hot before that happened?” 

“Remember when I was sharing that apartment with Thea, and you used to come over and visit, to talk to her about, well, whatever? I saw you smiling at me, then you’d look away, all shy, whenever I looked back and smiled at you. You were such a cutie…you still are. I was always waiting for you to ask me out. I kinda liked your shyness, though: it was a nice change from all the aggressive guys who always bothered me.” 

“Was I any less aggressive when I screwed you in Capitol?” 

“Yeah, you were just as aggressive then, but that wasn’t the real you, just as me, acting like a happy whore, wasn’t the real me. I was happy to have sex with you, but not to be a slut: because deep down, I like you. I’ve always liked you.” 

“Really? Pretty girls never like me. They like guys with, you know, cars and money and stuff.” 

“Not all girls. I used to be like that, but after my ex slapped me around enough times, I left him in Vancouver, and came all the way over here, to Mississauga, to get away from him, and from my family, who only ever wanted to make me into something they wanted, not the real me.” 

“Why didn’t you get another guy right away? You’re pretty enough.” 

“I was hoping you’d be that guy. You’re sweet enough.” Then she pouted and whined, “But you never asked me out.” She playfully slapped his arm. 

You could have asked me out.” 

“Yeah, I guess I’m a little too traditional for my own good.” 

“So, you liked having sex with me?” 

“How many times do I have to tell you? I guess I have to demonstrate.” She pulled off her shirt. 

“Wait. Uh…” He started getting off the sofa. 

“What’s the problem?” she, now in her pink bra, asked. “You’ve already seen all of me. How is it different now?” She unzipped her pants and pulled them down. 

“I’m sorry. I do wanna do it with you; it’s just that…” 

“What?” She was standing before him in only her bra and panties. 

“Remember when you said, when we fucked in Capitol, it wasn’t the real you, and it wasn’t the real me? That felt…safer.” 

“But underneath the false me, the true me still liked it.” 

She took off her bra. 

“Why did you like it? I mean, with the false me?” 

“Because,” she said, pulling down her panties and kicking them aside, “I knew that, deep down under your false self, the lecher who leered at my body and checked me out, as naked then as I am now, your real self was still there, that sweet, shy boy who used to visit Thea in our old place, who came to visit me as much as to visit her.” 

“Oh, no. I came to see you…much more than to see her. I actually prefer staying away from her. She kind of annoys me. She’s a nag. Seeing my sister, that was just excuses to see you.” 

“Then let’s fuck.” 

“I want to…but I’m scared.” 

“Of what?” 

“That you won’t like me—the real me, I mean, when you know all about the real me.” 

“We’re all scared of that, Guy. But we try to love each other anyway, don’t we? And the more of the real you that I know, the more I’ll love you.” She unzipped his pants. 

He tried to stop her from pulling them down. 

“Why don’t I get to see you? You got to see all of me, and I don’t get to see you? That hardly seems fair.” 

“Yeah, but I look ugly nude. You have a beautiful body.” 

“I don’t believe you’re ugly nude, Guy. And I don’t care if I see physical imperfections. I love you as you are.” 

He finally allowed her to undress him. Both nude, they got on the bed. He lay on top of her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He pushed his cock against her wet vaginal opening, gently coaxing his way in. She put her arms around him. 

As he slid inside her, she looked up into his eyes; but his eyes were still avoiding hers. She held his face in her hands as he pushed in further, aiming his face straight down at hers, to see her wide-open eyes and mouth. 

He got all the way in, getting a squeal from her. 

Still, as he moved in and out, he wouldn’t look in her eyes. 

“Why…won’t you…look at me?” she asked in panting words. “Oh!” 

“I’m…still ashamed,” he moaned. “I remember…our first time.” 

“I liked it…I like it now…I love you, Guy…You saved me.” 

“Yeah, I did…I saved you all…the past…is over. Ah!” 

“Yes…you’re my hero…I love you.” 

“I love you, too, Petunia. Oh!” 

“This is…the real you, Guy…Ah!” 

“And I’m…making love…to the real…Petunia. Oh!” 

“I’m…almost there! Ah!” She came. 

“Me, too…But without…a condom…” He came. “Oh!” 

“It’s OK,” she said. “The Creeps they gave me…ensured I’d…never get pregnant.” 

“Really?” he panted. 

“Yeah,” she sighed. “And I don’t…wanna have kids, ever. Now, your come in me…That’s a Creep…I’ll gladly take…inside my body.” 

************************** 

They got dressed and went outside. 

Holding hands, they walked on the sidewalk beside the building that had once been Capitol. Now the sign in front said Community. It was a sunny afternoon. 

“It’s so nice to be able to go outside again,” she said, taking in a deep breath of fresh spring air. 

“Yeah,” he said. “It must have been awful being cooped up in there.” 

“Hey!” a woman’s voice called out to them. They looked back at her as she ran up to them. It was Arunny. Sobbing, she threw her arms around Guy. “I just wanted to say…thank you…for saving all of us.” Her tears were soaking his shirt by his left shoulder. 

“Hey, anytime,” he said. Both he and Petunia exchanged hugs with Arunny. 

After letting go of him, she looked deep in his face with her soaking wet eyes. She kept looking at him with those grateful eyes for several more seconds, then turned around while still looking at him. 

“Thank you,” she said again, and ran off in the other direction. 

Now, a tear ran down Guy’s cheek, as well as one down Petunia’s, as they watched Arunny continue running away, back to the Community building.  

They turned around and resumed their walk.  

As they continued walking further and further away from the building, they came by a neighbourhood, and someone’s house, which had a garden in the front. She stopped at it. 

“Oh, yeah,” he said, standing behind her. “I remember that garden you used to take care of back when you were living with Thea.” 

“Yeah,” she said. “Those were happy days. I should try to set up a garden in back of the Community building sometime soon.” 

“And I can visit you there regularly, as I did in Thea’s old apartment.” 

“That’d be nice. It would bring back two pleasant memories.” 

“Two?” 

“Yeah. You seeing me in the old apartment, and you seeing all of me in the VIP room, which is now a much more important person’s room, with you as a visitor.” 

They kissed. 

She looked down at the garden soil. She started at the sight of a few worms crawling out of the dirt.  

It’s OK, it’s OK, she thought; they aren’t glowing.

THE END

‘Creeps,’ an Erotic Horror Novel, Chapter Twenty-Three

It was almost 2:00, and Thea was standing at the front door of Capitol. Two young men came to the door. Thea stopped them. 

“Sorry,” she said in her vocal fry. “We’re temporarily closed. Repairs.” 

“What the fuck!” one of them said. 

“Come back at five,” she said. “We re-open then.” 

“Fuckin’ bullshit!” the other man said as they stormed off. 

Thea’s cellphone rang. “Hello?” she said in her normal voice. 

“Is Mark back yet?” Guy asked. 

“No,” she said. “All the staff are in the staff room, though.” 

“Do you think Mark called Ricardo and found out the meeting is fake?” he asked. 

“I don’t know. It’s a chance we have to take. I’m locking the front doors and then coming over to you. Are the green Creeps set?” 

“Yes. Everything’s set. It’s all or nothing. Petunia and all the others are in the sleeping room, about to wake up from their nap.” 

“I’ll be with you in five minutes. Bye.” They hung up. 

Thea went over to the staff room, looking inside and noting all the staff were there.  

Where is Mark? she wondered; He should be here by now. Oh, God, please don’t let Mark suspect anything. That ‘policy changes’ excuse coming out of the blue was an awkward idea. 

He came with his men in the back door, as Thea expected him to. She could hear them approaching in the hall. 

“Cameron?” Mark called out. “Where are you?” 

“By the staff room, Mark,” she said. Shit, she thought; Forgot my man voice again. Then in her vocal fry: “I assume you got my text about the staff meeting.” He nodded with a smirk as he came nearer to her. “Good. Shall we go in?” 

“In a minute, Cameron,” he said with a smile suggesting he knew nothing. “Before we go in, let’s go in this room over here for a second.” Mark opened the door, and he and his men went in. 

“OK,” she rasped, making sure he didn’t see her lock the staff room door behind her. “But Ricardo and Ken will want to start right away. We’ll have to make this quick.” She went in the other room, trying not to shake. 

“Oh, let me worry about Ricardo and Ken,” Mark said, standing by the door. 

Mark closed it when she was right between his men in the room. “Boys, grab her.” 

They took Thea by the arms and held her struggling body on a chair. Mark tossed them a pair of handcuffs, which they put on her, the chain wrapped behind one of the thin poles making up the back of the chair. 

“Mark, what are you doing?” she shouted as she kept struggling, her first two words normal, her last three in vocal fry. 

“Enough with the fake man voice, Thea Cummings,” Mark said, grabbing her fake beard and ripping it off. 

“Oww!” she screamed. “You bastard! You won’t get away with this! The police are coming, with the Minister of…” 

“They’re all on my side, Thea,”  Mark said. “You and ‘Jack’, or Guy Cummings, your kid brother, really, were plotting to take over and expose our business to the very people we pay to stay on our side.” 

“Not all of them can be bought,” she said. “We know…” 

“Did you know we had tech implanted in you while you were screwing—or pretending to screw—Petunia, the girl you’re trying to rescue? We put it in Guy, too. When Petunia was with you, and when his Commodity was with him, they rubbed their fingers in your ears, and tiny Creeps slipped in, fixing tech to your ears, brains, and even eyes. We could then monitor and record everything you see and hear, including your conspiratorial conversations.” 

“You might have stopped me, but my brother has the app to put green Creeps in the staff. He’ll make them confess to the cop we know who’ll help us expose you.” 

His men were using rope they had on them to tie her ankles to the chair legs. 

Mark took out his cellphone and called Guy. 

“Guy Cummings,” he said. “We ripped the fake beard off your sister. You haven’t sent those green Creeps into my staff room yet, have you?” 

“Not yet, but I will if you hurt her,” Guy said. 

“Oh, you were going to do that anyway,” Mark said. “So I’m gonna make this even more difficult for you. If you send out those green Creeps, I’ll sic the yellow ones you helped me program on all the Commodities in the sleeping room.” 

“Go ahead,” Guy said. “I don’t care.” 

“They’ll kill Petunia LeBar, too.” 

Guy paused. 

“I don’t care. Do it. I’m drugging your staff to help me, and the cops are coming now, as we speak.” 

“And I’ll rape your sister. Here, I’ll let her talk to you, so you know my boys and I really have her.” Mark put the phone to her face. 

“Go through with it, Guy,” she said. “Send out the green Creeps. I’m…” Mark undid her pants and pulled them down. “I’ll be brave.” 

Mark chuckled at her pink panties, then began to unbutton her shirt.  

“Do it, Guy!” she shouted. “Don’t worry about me. Don’t let these bastards stop you.” 

Mark took the phone back from her. “Guy,” he said into it, “Three of us, me and my bodyguards, are gonna gang-rape your sister. In fact, to help us get nice and hard, we’re gonna use the orange Creeps on ourselves.” 

 Guy formed an enigmatic smile at that last sentence. 

“She’ll get one up her pussy, too, so she can get nice and wet, like a good little bitch,” Mark said, then slapped Thea hard. 

Ah! You fucking bastard!” she shouted. 

Guy thought, Oh, shit. The orange Creeps in her? Since when did he start using them on the pussy he fucks?  

“Go find him, you two,” Mark told his men, who went out of the room seconds after. “As for me, I’ll keep little Thea here entertained. Normally I like to fuck my bitches raw. It’s the Sadean sadist in me, to put a girl’s pussy in pain. But I’d like you to enjoy this fuck, so it’ll make you feel like a slut, and traumatize you better.” He chuckled. He had her shirt undone all the way down, then he pulled it wide open to see her pink bra. A tight strap went around her to flatten her chest. He removed it. “Gee, they’re rather small to need to be strapped down, Thea.” 

She spat on him. 

He wiped it off his face, then ogled her bra. “So pretty in pink.” 

“Fuck you!” 

“Well actually, it’s gonna be the other way around, but first—“ he dialed his phone—“one thing I have to do.”  

Dino answered his ringing phone as he and Leo approached the stairs. “Yeah, Boss?” 

“Dino, if you see any cops or government people at the front door, take them to Room Five, make them some coffee, and tell them to wait for me. If they aren’t our people, quietly lock them in the room, so they don’t know. If they find out they’re locked in later, the door will be too strong for them to break down.” 

“Will do, Boss,” Dino said, then hung up. He and Leo went downstairs and to the front doors, where Officer Van Gorder and Bill Shavick, the Minister of Justice, were banging on the door. “Thea must’ve locked the door. C’mon, Leo.” 

Dino opened the door. 

“You people are closed?” Bill asked. “I thought you opened at two. That’s what it says on the door.” 

“We have a bit of a situation at the moment,” Dino said. “Why don’t you come with us?” He led Bill and the policewoman into Room Five. “Have a seat. There’s coffee over there. Help yourself. We’ll be right back after we’ve fixed this problem. Just wait.” He and Leo walked out and closed the door. Dino turned his key in the lock with impressive silence, putting his finger to his mouth to ensure that Leo wouldn’t say anything. 

As they hurried off to find Guy, Leo asked, “Why’d you lock them in? They could get us all in trouble.” 

“They could get us in even bigger trouble if they find out what we’re gonna do with Guy and Thea,” Gino said. “I’ll bet ‘Jack’ is in the Regulating Room. Let’s look there first.” They went back up the stairs to the second floor. 

As they went down a hall, around the corner of which was the one leading to the Regulating Room, they heard footsteps. Dino gestured to Leo to stop and wait at the corner for whoever was about to come around. 

Guy had just clicked his phone to make the green Creeps swarm into the staff room. He put his phone in his pocket and went around the corner. 

Leo grabbed him, and Dino punched him hard in the face. Dino then punched him in the gut. Before Guy could shout for help, Leo cupped his hand around Guy’s mouth, and they dragged his struggling body over to the room with Mark and Thea. 

They could all hear the staff screaming and fidgeting as the green Creeps slithered up their faces, and into their ears and noses. Mark wanted to turn the Creeps off, but he needed Guy’s phone to do it, for Guy had changed the access code to control the green Creeps. As much as they wanted to go into the staff room and help the staff, Dino and Leo didn’t dare, for fear of getting green Creeps in themselves. 

Dino and Leo got Guy into the room, where Thea had her panties pulled down to her ankles, and her bra undone to expose her small breasts. They threw Guy against the wall and closed the door. 

“Bill Shavick and some female cop are locked in Room Five, Boss,” Dino said. 

“If they know they’re locked in, we’ll have some explaining to do,” Mark said. “Never mind, at least they’re not gonna hear what’s going on up here. It’s too late to turn off the green Creeps with Guy’s phone, but we can get our revenge on him, by hurting the people he loves.” 

Leo punched Guy as he tried to get up. 

“And this is how I’m going to hurt him,” Mark said, getting out his phone and clicking on his Creeps app. “Good. Guy didn’t change the access code to the yellow or orange Creeps, as he had the green ones. Dino, turn on the TV. I want Guy to watch Petunia and all the other Commodities die, all the ones he’d hoped to save.” Dino turned on the wall-mounted TV in the corner of the room. 

“You’re willing to kill off all your sources of profit?” Guy asked, wiping the blood off his mouth. 

“Thought I was bluffing, eh?” Mark said. “I can replace all of them like that.” Mark snapped his fingers, hardly bothering to look up at the TV. All the Commodities were screaming on the TV as a swarm of yellow Creeps crawled onto their bodies. They frantically tried to wipe them off their arms and legs, but so many more replaced the ones wiped off that self-defence was futile. “I have people all over the world recruiting new Commodities. Families in Africa, India, Cambodia, Latin America…poor families actually sell me their 18-year-old daughters, sometimes sons, too. I pay them well, they kiss their kids goodbye forever.” 

“Exploitative bastard,” Thea said.  

“We’re gonna exploit you in a minute,” Dino said.  

“I’m not so sure, Boss,” Leo said. “She’s awfully hairy. Almost no tits. Ugly body. Who’d wanna fuck that?” 

“Fuck you!” Guy said, fiddling with his phone behind his back while lying on the floor. “I bet your mother is uglier.” 

Leo kicked him in the gut. 

“That’s why we use orange Creeps, Leo,” Mark said. “They give us the help we need when the woman’s body doesn’t inspire a hard-on.” He clicked an app to summon three Creeps. 

“I’ll bet you’re just impotent,” Thea said. 

Mark slapped her. “Boys, untie her legs, un-handcuff her, and lay her on the floor.” 

As they were doing that, Mark looked up at the screen. 

“The screaming stopped,” he said. “They should be burning up inside by now. Wait…what the bloody hell? They’re fucking!” 

Guy grinned. 

On the TV screen, instead of several dozen naked sex slaves writhing and squirming in agony from incendiary tech burning up their internal organs, they were all paired up in a huge orgy. Guy could see Petunia sucking a man’s dick, while another man was fucking her doggie-style. Arunny was sucking Petunia’s left tit while a third man was fucking her doggie-style, too. Since most of the lovers were women, there was a lot of lesbian sex to be seen. 

“What’s the use of a revolution without common copulation?” Guy said, mocking Mark’s incorrect quote of the Marat/Sade. “You must have clicked the wrong icon on your phone for them, Mark. Clicked ‘orange’ instead of ‘yellow’.” He laughed, hoping Mark would believe him.  

Mark looked back at the TV screen. Did I click the wrong icon, in my anger and absent-mindedness? he wondered. I thought I saw yellow Creeps on the TV screen. The room they’re fucking in is dark, so it isn’t easy to see clearly. Were they yellow, or orange? I’m getting sloppy. 

“Well, I’ll just have to hurt you and Thea more directly,” Mark said. Three orange Creeps slithered under the door crack and into the room. Definitely orange, he thought as he saw them crawling nearer. I’ve gotta be more careful. He, Dino, and Leo pulled down their pants and underwear. “We were going to have orange Creeps for you and Thea, but now I think we’ll just fuck you two raw, as we normally like our bitches. Only orange Creeps for us three.” 

Guy breathed an enigmatic sigh of relief at that last sentence. 

The Creeps crawled up the rapists’ legs. Guy smiled. 

“You’re taking those up the ass?” Thea asked, sneering. 

“Why not?” Dino said in a shaky voice, smiling and shivering as the Creep went into his rectum. “We have…kinky…tastes.” 

“Yeah,” Leo moaned. “They feel…good…up the ass. Oh!” 

“Leo’s…bi…by the way,” Mark said, also shaking. “He…likes you, Guy. Ooh!” 

Leo grabbed Guy and got ready to fuck his ass. 

Guy struggled as Leo was undoing his pants, but Leo punched him in the gut. Guy’s pants and underwear were pulled down to his ankles. Leo knelt behind him. 

“We’re gonna…rape you both, then…kill you,” Mark said, shaking as he got on top of Thea, Dino holding her for him. “Then we’ll…kill that cop…and Shavick…in Room Five. Stop squirming!” 

“You can’t kill everyone,” Thea said as she tried to get free of Dino’s grip and get Mark off of her. “Someone will find out and stop you!” 

“I own…the cops…and government. I just…have to know…their price…Wait, this doesn’t feel right…I’m hot inside.” 

“Not the kind of hot you were expecting, eh, Mark?” Guy said, smiling and noting the discomfort in Leo’s face. “Or you, Leo?” 

“I-I’m burning, Boss,” Leo said. “Aah!” He fell on Guy. 

“Me, too,” Dino said. “What’s in these Creeps? Unh!” 

As Mark lay screaming and shaking on top of Thea, who was now more frantically trying to get him and Dino off of her, he was clicking icons on his phone. 

“Remember those yellow and orange Creeps that got mixed up, Mark?” Guy said, finally getting Leo off of him. “I never sent them back to the supplier. I thought you and your thugs here would want to rape a few Commodities today, so I set up those Creeps at the last minute today, so your cellphone app would summon them.” 

“I know,” Mark gasped. “I should’ve…figured it out…when I saw…all the Commodities…fucking on the TV. Ah!” 

“As I said, I was hoping you’d use them earlier,” Guy said. “Before the meeting. Your monthly lunchtime fuck, with a Commodity as raw as we’d have been here now.” 

“I just summoned…all the orange Creeps…to come here,” Mark grunted. “You won’t be ‘raw’…if you know…what I mean. Ah!” He fell to the side, shaking and groaning for a few more seconds before dying. Dino then dropped down dead, falling on top of Thea. She shoved him off.  

“Oh, fuck!” Guy shouted as he looked at the door and heard the familiar screeching. 

An army of orange Creeps was crawling under the door, and straight at Guy and Thea, who were only now pulling their pants up. Before they could do them up, Creeps were already on their thighs, crawling on their bare skin, racing for their anuses and Thea’s vagina. 

“Oh, God! Guy!” Thea screamed. “They’re in me! They move so fast! Aah!” They were crawling up to her face. 

Guy was shaking from two that were already wiggling up his rectum. He raced to get Mark’s phone. 

“Can you…shut them off?” she asked, shaking all over. 

“Yeah,” he said in a tremulous voice. “I even know…how to get…into Mark’s phone.” Guy tried desperately to control his shaking body, and especially his hand, to touch the right numbers on the screen of Mark’s phone to access the app. Guy traced a swastika along the numbers 3-2-5-8-7, then 1-4-5-6-9. 

“How…do you know?” she asked, flailing her arms and legs, keeping her mouth closed tight, while Creeps were nearing her ears and nostrils. 

“I watched him…behind his back,” Guy said, accessing Orange Creeps, then Disable

All the Creeps lost their orange glow, just like Christmas lights being switched off; and they stopped moving, like insects on a farmer’s field sprayed with insecticide. 

Guy’s and Thea’s bodies stopped jerking about. Guy dropped on the floor beside his sister. The immobilized Creeps on their faces and bodies fell off. They lay there for a few minutes, panting, trembling, and waiting for their heart rates to slow down. 

Finally, Thea spoke: “Are the outer coverings of these Creeps going to melt inside us, causing the burning?” 

“No,” Guy said, getting up. “The programming is supposed to make the incendiary content inside melt the outer coating, then burn you. I turned off the program, so we’ll be safe. If the coatings had melted, we’d be feeling it by now.” 

Thea got up, and they both did up their pants. 

“So, to get these things out, we’ll have to shit them out?” she asked as she did up her bra and shirt. 

“Exactly.” 

They looked down at the bodies of Mark, Dino, and Leo. Guy got the key off of Dino. 

“Bastards,” she said, kicking Mark’s corpse. Blood gushed out of his mouth. “Eww. We’d better go get Van Gorder and Shavick.”  

They rushed out of the room, then looked in the door window to the staff room: all the staff were either standing, seated, or lying on the floor, rocking or fidgeting, their eyes agape and staring in a daze. 

“We need to bring Van Gorder and Shavick in there right away,” Guy said, “while the green Creep drug is still at its most potent point, to get them all to confess the truth.” 

“You really think it’ll work?” she asked as they hurried down the hall to the stairs. 

“Yes,” he said as they went down. “Sodium Pentothal is mixed into it; it’s like a truth serum. Besides, when Petunia and the others come down off that aphrodisiac, horny high they’re on, we can get them to confirm the truth about Capitol.” 

“I’m proud of you, Guy,” she said. “You’ve proven what a good guy you are.” They grinned at each other. 

On the first floor now, they could hear banging on a door. They raced over to Room Five, and Guy unlocked the door. 

“Why were we locked in here?” Shavick asked. 

“Because Mark didn’t want you to know that he just tried to kill us,” Guy said. “He ended up killing himself.” 

“I told you he was crooked,” Officer Van Gorder said. 

“C’mon,” Thea said. “Let’s go up to the second floor.” 

They all ran up the stairs and down the hall, much of which had an army of immobile orange Creeps on it, to the staff room. When Van Gorder and Shavick looked through the door window and saw the dazed staff, Guy got out his cellphone, clicked on the app controlling the still-crawling green Creeps that hadn’t yet crawled inside anyone, and turned them off. They lost their glow, and now lay as still and dull in colour as the orange ones in the other room. 

“Luckily, the door to the staff room closes tight enough to seal off any possibility for the Creeps to crawl outside,” Guy said. “Unlike the orange Creeps that were crawling into this other room.” He opened the door, showing the corpses of Mark, Dino, and Leo. 

Van Gorder and Shavick gasped at the sight of the bodies, then winced at their half-nakedness. 

“You said they killed themselves,” the policewoman said. 

“Yeah,” Thea said. “That’s why their pants are down. They let the orange Creeps crawl up their asses.” 

“Why?” Shavick asked. “Why kill themselves like that?” 

“They weren’t trying to kill themselves,” Guy said. “Normally, orange Creeps are for getting the sex slaves ready for sex. These three wanted to get themselves horny—“ 

“So they could rape us,” Thea said. “Then they’d kill us.” 

“Luckily, I had a box of these orange Creeps which had mistakenly been equipped with incendiary content meant for yellow Creeps, and vice versa, as we’ll see in the room where the sex slaves are kept to sleep at night. Mark used these wrong ones on himself and his two bodyguards, and so they killed themselves accidentally.” 

“Sorry,” Shavick said, wincing and shaking his head in confusion. “Orange Creeps? Yellow Creeps? What are you talking about? All these things on the floor?” 

“Yeah,” Guy said. “We’ll explain everything in time.”  

“Let’s go to the sleeping area,” Thea said. “Mark used the wrong yellow Creeps on them, thinking he was going to kill them in revenge for our exposing his criminal business.” They were hurrying over to the sleeping area. “Again, lucky for us, Guy tricked Mark with the switching of the colours,” she continued, as they reached the sleeping area and looked through the door window, “and instead of killing the sex slaves, Mark caused them to do this.” 

“What the hell?” Shavick said as he watched the naked women and men continue their orgy. “It’s like a porno film.” He chuckled; his and Van Gorder’s eyes looked away. 

“Yeah,” Guy said, clicking his cellphone to turn off the yellow Creeps, of which the few still lying on the floor became immobile, no longer glowing. “We’ll have to wait a few hours for them to come down from their horny high. Then they’ll be able to tell you what’s really been going on here.” 

“Do they have any clothes?” Officer Van Gorder asked. 

“Oh, yeah,” Thea said. “There’s a locker room on the far side of the room, where all their clothes are kept. That door in the right corner leads to it.” 

“It’s locked, but I have the key,” Guy said. “When they all come back to normal in a few hours, we’ll go in and get their clothes for them. But for now, let them indulge themselves, I guess.” He chuckled. “They aren’t hurting each other.” 

“It seems to be the best sex they’ve all had in a long time,” Shavick said. All four of them laughed. 

Is my sister Mary in there, in that orgy? Van Gorder wondered as she tried to find her among all the gyrating flesh. I don’t see her anywhere. Oh, well. I’ll try to find her later. 

“In the meantime, let’s all go back to the staff room, and get confessions from the staff,” Guy said as they all started walking back there. “As I told you before, Officer, the green Creeps act as a kind of truth serum, a pacifier that will make them perfectly cooperative. I also want to demonstrate, in the Regulating Room, how we can make them say anything we want. That’s how Mark controlled them.”