D.O.A. Extreme Horror Anthology (19 page)

Despite being raised above the level of his heart, blood continued to leak from the mutilated hand. As he watched, a fat drop collected at the end of the board and dropped to the ground. From the sound it made, Johnson could tell that it landed in a substantial puddle.

The voice returned.

“Ah, you are awake again. We had to intervene after that last incorrect answer.”

The man in the chair could not tell where the voice was coming from. It seemed to be all around him.

“Now then, we are growing short on time and you are running short of fingers. How about we work through these last few questions quickly?”

He nodded.

“Good. What was that first video?”

Although his mind screamed for him to remain silent, his lips began moving immediately.

“A little girl, blonde. She was tied face down over a table or a bench or something.”

“Did that arouse you?”

“No—yes.” He steeled himself for the knife. When it did not come, he continued. “I was aroused, but not sexually. Something stirred in me. I liked that she was under someone else’s control. I wanted to be the person in control.”

“Is that why you joined the site?”

“Not really,” he hurried on before he could be punished for the non-answer. “It wasn’t just the video, it was the contest. I joined the website, then paid the extra fee to enter the contest.”

He sighed. The numb feeling in his head was isolating him from the pain. His wounded limbs felt very far away.

“Every month there was a new video. Every month it was different.”

Somehow Johnson thought the owner of the voice already knew all of this. His mind was working furiously. There was something, a revelation, just out of his reach. Meanwhile, he kept talking.

“Some months it was just someone begging, crying, pleading. Other months it was torture. The good months were when there was both.”

Pacing, just outside of the reach of the lightbulb.

“Every month there was that little box. ‘Enter here for a chance to be the star of next month’s video.’ I was surprised to find that there was a fee.”

“But you paid every month, didn’t you?”

“Yes, fifty dollars, every month. I wanted to win. I wanted to be the one in control. I wanted to be the star...”

His words trailed off. His mind finally made the leap.

“Oh.”

It was all that he could say. The silence stretched for an eternity marked only by the dripping of his blood.

“You understand now?” The voice asked.

Statement, not a question, but it still seemed to require an answer.

“Yes, I understand. I won.”

“Yes. Yes, you did.”

“So what happens now?”

“The game is almost over. Only a few more questions. Do you think you can go on?”

The note of concern in the voice startled the man in the chair. He thought about the question for a moment, then nodded.

“Good. Thank you. Now, what, would you say, is your type? What are you attracted to?”

That question again. Johnson mumbled his answer. “No type, no age, just the scenario.”

“What is the scenario?”

“Helpless.”

A moment of silence followed. The word seemed to fly around the room, hiding in the dark corners. 

“Explain.”

“Helpless. At my mercy. Bound, weak, scared, unable to...” Johnson trailed off. “Like me,” he said finally.

“How like you?”

“Not like how I am right now, at this moment. Although, yes, like me right now, all tied up. But also like I am outside here.  Caught up in everything, trapped by life.”

Johnson looked up and saw the owner of the voice step into the pale circle of light. He was a very plain man. He was short, pale. He had a trim mustache and small eyes. A bit of black hair poked out from beneath the plastic poncho he wore. The poncho was splattered with clotting blood.

Johnson’s blood.

The blue surgical gloves covered his hands. The right hand held the knife. It looked smaller now, less important.

“Last question, Mr. Johnson.”

The man in the chair closed his eyes.

“You have answered a lot of questions tonight. You have divulged a lot about yourself, perhaps things you did not even know until you said them.”

Johnson nodded, eyes still closed. He sobbed once, quietly.

“Given all that you have learned, all that you know about yourself now, and considering all that happened tonight, do you want to return to that life? Do you want to continue to be, how did you put it, trapped by life?”

Johnson’s eyes remained closed. A tear traced its way down his cheek. As with many of the questions which had come before, the answer to this one was too horrible to contemplate. 

The last question is always the hardest to answer.

“No,” he said in the strongest voice he could muster. “No, I do not.”

There was movement again. The man had moved behind him.

Had he answered all twenty questions? It seemed like more, but then there had been some repetitions, some which had surely not counted. First he had won the website prize, now he had won again.

Winning was a strange thing.

Johnson sighed again, eyes still closed, and let his head fall back against the back of the chair. He raised his chin towards the ceiling, and claimed his prize.

The knife entered the light one last time, one final arc.  It bit deep, moving left to right, along the neck of the man in the chair. It severed both jugular veins and both carotids. It sawed into the trachea. Blood splashed, spurted. Air from the damaged trachea turned the vital fluid into a fine red mist. The owner of the voice stepped back.

The man in the chair thrashed once, twice, then finally fell still.

There was a moment of silence. Then the lights flickered on. Fluorescent tubes cast a harsh glow upon the body in the chair.  They also revealed the rest of the room—a large concrete box. Positioned outside the area which had been illuminated by the overhead lightbulb were three cameras on tripods. One sat directly in front of the chair, one on either side. Another two cameras were suspended from the ceiling.

A large man with a bald head stepped over to the chair. He wore long gloves which encased his arms to the elbow in black rubber. He began picking up the towels which littered the floor and dumping them in the lap of the body on the chair. He pulled out the IV with one tug and dropped the bag onto the towels

The overhead cameras were lowered. A slight man in jeans and flannel collected the small cassette tapes from each of the cameras and placed them in a leather satchel. Then he began breaking down the cameras and tripods.

The man with the voice walked over to him. He had discarded the poncho and gloves. The knife was nowhere to be seen.

“How long before it’s ready?” he asked.

“Give me a few hours to run through all of the footage.  Another few to cut it together. I should have the rough copies for you tomorrow night, the next morning at the latest. Do you want audio?”

The big man had finished examining the floor. He placed a finger into a Tupperware bowel. He looked puzzled. His eyes squinted, then opened wide. He walked over to the chair, picked up the towels and began to shake them open. An index finger fell from one. The big man smiled.

“Yes,” the voice answered. “But remember, we need all audio regarding the website and contest removed.”

“Of course, I will need a little more time to distort your voice. We should be ready to upload the new video in a few days.”

“Then we can pick another lucky contestant.”

Sisters

Chris Reed

Tony was standing outside the liquor store, drinking with his homeboys and trading the usual stories about pimping hoes, selling drugs and running from the cops, when he saw Lakiesha walk by. Her gold hoop earrings blinked in the summer sunlight and her size 36 double-D breasts jiggled inside her black sports bra—but it was her ass that demanded the most attention. It stuck out like a gorilla’s, each cheek round and firm.

“
Daaaamn
!” Tony said, as his gaze locked onto her massive buns. “I
gots
to git some of
that
! Hey, baby!”

The girl looked, but kept her stride.

Undeterred, Tony capped his forty-ounce bottle of St. Ides and gave chase.

“Hey!” he called after her as he trotted down the sidewalk.

This time she stopped and turned around, crossed her arms in front of her chest and fixed him with an impatient stare.

Tony knew he had to drop his game quickly, so he flashed his gold-tooth smile and said, “What’s your name, baby?”

“Lakiesha,” she said. “What’s yours?”

“Tony. Why don’t you come on over to my crib and have some drinks with me?”

“I don’t think so,” she said. “Alcohol’s bad for you. Did you know it causes birth defects?”

Tony’s smile faded. “So what you saying, you pregnant?”

Lakiesha shook her head. “No, but—”

“Then what you worried about?”

“When I see someone drinking, it reminds me of my sisters.”

“How many sisters you got?”

“Two,” Lakiesha said. “We’re triplets.”

Tony’s eyes got big. “For real?”

“Yeah, but we don’t look the same,” she said sadly. “My mama drank a lot and my sisters didn’t turn out right.”

“Oh,” Tony said, his fantasy of getting busy with three fine women dissolving as quickly as it had appeared. But then he returned his attention to the fine-looking woman in front of him and said, “Looks like
you
turned out all right.”

Lakiesha giggled, and that’s when Tony knew he was getting that ass.

“So what do you say?” he said. “Come on back to my crib. We ain’t gotta drink, we can just chill.”

“It sounds like fun, but I should ask my sisters first.”

“Why?” Tony said.

“Cause they might not think it’s a good idea.”

“Shit, who cares what they think? You’re a grown woman, ain’t ya?”

“Yeah,” Lakiesha answered.

“Then you can do what you want, right?”

“I guess so.”

“All right then,” Tony smiled. “Quit worryin’ about your sisters and let’s go have some fun.”

“But you don’t understand,” Lakiesha said. “Chandra and Quandra are different, they’re—”

“Forget it,” Tony snapped. “If you gonna be a baby, I got better things to do.”

He turned to leave, but Lakiesha grabbed his arm. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll go with you on one condition.”

Ten minutes later, Tony was butt naked and tied to a chair in his kitchen. Lakiesha’s one condition had been that he let her restrain him. She explained that all her previous lovers had gotten cold feet and ran away when she got undressed, and she didn’t want him to do the same. Of course Tony agreed. It had been a long time since he’d had a woman as fine as Lakiesha, and he didn’t know what was wrong with those other fools, but he was definitely knockin’ them boots.  

Hip-hop music bumped from a boom box on the counter as Lakiesha danced for him. Tony had been to many strip clubs, seen many hoes working their bodies for cash, but he’d never seen anything quite like the woman in front of him. It was obvious she wasn’t thinking about her sisters anymore. And even though the ropes on his wrist and ankles were so tight it felt like they were cutting off his circulation, Tony found it hard to stop grinning. “Why don’t you come over here and show me a little somethin’-somethin’,” he said.

“You horny, baby?” she asked.

“Hell yeah.”

Lakiesha took off her sports bra and flung it to the floor, unleashing two plump, black-nippled breasts. She smashed her huge tits into Tony’s face who in return licked hungrily at them. Yet as much as he was enjoying sucking on those big brown monsters, he knew the ultimate rush would be the moment she wiggled out of her shorts and stuck that beautiful black booty in his face.

He let her nipple fall from his mouth and said, “Why don’t you take the rest of your clothes off.”

“I want to do a little something for you first,” she said.

“Oh? What’s that?”

She dropped to her knees and took his hard cock in her mouth.

Tony watched with delight as her thick, black lips slid up and down the shaft of his swollen rod. The head was superb, and he quickly found himself on the verge of orgasm, but each time he was about to come, she removed her mouth from his cock and sucked his balls instead. She repeated this, back and forth from cock to balls, until he was hard as black steel.

“You like that, baby?” she asked, her nose buried in the wrinkles of his sweaty scrotum.

All Tony could do was groan and nod.

“Good, baby,” she cooed, giving his cock one final tight-lipped tug. “’Cause you
really
gonna like what I got for you next.”

She stood up and unbuttoned her shorts... and the horror began.

She turned around, pushed the tight denim shorts down, and Tony’s dick went instantly limp. What he saw was not the juicy ass he’d expected, but two human heads—a deformed face nestled in the meat of each ass cheek.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” Tony screamed.

“Meet my sisters, Chandra and Quandra,” Lakiesha said, as she backed up to him with her ass sticking out.

Now that he was face-to-face with the sisters, he could see how truly horrible they were. Chandra—the left head—had only one eye, which was halfway concealed by a flap of flesh that stretched across the left part of the socket. Inside, her eyeball rolled around uncontrollably. Where her nose should have been were two small holes crusted with dark green snot. Below these rudimentary nostrils was Chandra’s mouth, a small horizontal slit with just the slightest hint of lips. 

Quandra was far more developed. She had two eyes, which were extremely close together, so close they almost touched each other. Her nose was large and flat, and her upper lip was slightly more prominent than her sister’s. As different as each face was in appearance, the siblings shared a common characteristic—they were both covered from forehead to chin with terrible, pus-filled acne. 

“Let me the fuck out of here!” Tony screamed as he thrashed in the chair.