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WARNING: This is a work of erotic fiction. It contains depictions of
nudity and graphic sex, etc.
Author: A Missing Number
Title: The Pale Man : A Ghost Story
Summary : Part 1.
Keywords: MF, oral, nc, rough, horror, tent
Copyright A Missing Number, 2013
Imagine a corridor; narrow, and punctuated with the occasional door.
The corridor is scrupulously clean, though the fading of the whitewash
on its walls hint towards the age of the corridor's building.
Each door is reinforced; the steel is plaintive beneath the thin veneer
of paint.
Barely audible are the noises made by those beyond the doors, muted into
indistinct groans or sobbing.
The world outside experiences a dusky twilight, but that is not
discernable from the uniformity of neon lighting in this corridor.
Down this corridor walk a man and a woman. The man is an orderly, with
fresh scrubs and a burly figure. The job is thankless and weary, so it is
natural that he wears a stern expression. His name is unimportant.
The woman is in her late twenties, petite yet trim, with fiercely
intelligent eyes framed with wire-rimmed spectacles. She is dressed in a
jacket, skirt, and a pristine white blouse. Altogether, she projects a
precisely manicured image, svelte and professional.
Her name is Dr Helen Rose.
She is holding a folder.
"Fascinating."
She half-mutters to herself. That single word breaks the stifling
silence between her and her stoic guide, who had so far resolutely limited
his communication to grunts and hand gestures. The man snorts, betraying
his cynicism.
"You're not the first, Doctor. There's been others like you, all come
here to fix this girl. But there's things that can't be fixed, and she's
BROKEN."
Dr Rose shoots him a withering glare, but the orderly's face remains
impassive.
"I've read the so called 'reports'. Each more brief, more slipshod than
the last! She's a HUMAN BEING, not some piece of furniture you can discard
when you can't be bothered to fix. The preliminary observations ... "
"Were brief because they couldn't stand her," he interrupted.
She shot him another glare.
"Yeah, I heard what's so interesting about this girl too. 'Daughter of
senator survives seven years in wilderness!' Only there's no happy ending.
They bring her back, but she's messed up in the head. So they lock her up
here. If her family wasn't loaded, you can bet there wouldn't be another
soul on earth who gave a damn about her, like the rest of these lot here."
He scrunches his face in what might be approximated as a cross between a
sneer and a sneeze.
"But even those money grubbing know-it-alls knew better than to stick
around her for long."
Helen's features hardened, brushing aside the thinly-veiled
insinuations.
It was true, however, that she other doctors had not demonstrated much
persistence in their treatment. Most didn't last for more than a few
weeks, and their observational reports were erratic and amateurish. Most
cited the patient's displays of outright hostility, shyness, and generally
uncooperative behavior, but none tried, really TRIED, to make any headway
into establishing a rapport with the patient. There were prescriptions of
some powerful medications, but none seem have much effect. At best, they
tranquilized her during the day, but...
"... at night, she really goes wild. That's what you're here to see,
right doctor?"
She'd pulled some major strings to get this interview, calling in her
favors and working her considerable charm on the direcctor. It was a
breach of protocol, but it was neccessary.
"She was alone in the WILDERNESS, huddling inside some cave, alone for
God knows how long. What do you think her nights were like THEN? Freezing
in the darkness, starving, worrying that a predator might decide to snack
on you? She's safe now, but the first step in curing her is to understand
what she's still afraid of. You can't just give her drugs to 'fix' her,
because she's not BROKEN, just scared and misunderstood. Especially by
you."
The orderly hesitates for a moment, considering a response. Instead, he
simply scowls and remains silent. Helen allows herself a
barely-perceptible smirk. They resume their silence until, finally, they
reach their destination.
He opens the door. "Don't say I didn't warn you, doctor."
The room is comfortable, but messy. The wallpaper, a vapid floral
attempt to inject some cheeriness into the room, seems to be crudely
vandalized with an abudance of indecipherable scribbles and drawings. The
window admits the last rays of the day, the sunset visible through
reinforced plastic. The girl is not visible.
Helen breathes a sigh of relief as the door shuts behind her, and she
hears the footsteps of that insufferable man trail off into the distance. A
smile, slightly forced, creeps across her face. She leans low, looking
below the bed. Suspicious eyes glare back at her.
"Hi, Ellie! Do you want to come out of there?"
The girl slides, crab-like, from under the bed. Wary eyes closely
regard Helen, never leaving her. Ellie pauses, hunched low, like a deer
expecting a predator.
She'd filled up slightly from the emaciated wretch that she was in the
photos - the long, dirty hair and skeletal ribs were gone, but her eyes
remained the same. The eyes of someone who's been too close to being prey,
too many times. The nineteen year old girl might even be considered
superficially pretty, but few would ever have truly thought so in her
presence. Her fear, her wariness were almost palpable, even to the most
obtuse person.
Ellie approached Helen, in a half-shuffling, but utterly soundless,
gait.
"You not like the others. Different. You different. But same. same
to me," her words were hesitant, but forthcoming. There was more she
wanted to say, but the words seemed to escape her.
Helen was mildly surprised at how easy it had been : the others had
often taken weeks to get any form of communication going, and it had always
been halting, and limited.
There was so much more information, just below the surface, Helen could
almost taste it.
"Why don't you tell me about you? How were things before you came
here?"
Ellie hissed, scurrying back a few steps. Soon, however, she approaches
Helen again. Her voice is a low whisper.
"Long time. Three ... one, two, three. Me, daddy, ben. Camping.
Then, big snow. Daddy gone. Me, ben, we go to ... inside, rock. Hole.
Dark, but safe. Me and ben. Ben go, long time. Not come back. Cold.
Hungry."
Helen scribbles Ellie's words furiously in a small pad.
"Go on, Ellie. What happenned next?"
Ellie grimaces. "Then He came. From dark. He give food," she opens
her mouth wide, and points down her throat.
Helen arched an eyebrow, in mild curiosity. The hand signal seemed
vaguely sexual, indicating something being forced down her throat. She
said nothing, however.
"He give warm, but no light. Make warm, inside."
Her words were slowing down, becoming more hesitant. She was becoming
less coherent, struggling to put her thought in words. Helen leaned
forward attentively.
"You're doing good, Ellie. Keep going. Tell me more."
"I do... he make me do..."
"Who is he? what did he make you do?"
"He's here." The light gutted from the window, leaving the weak
flourescence of the bulb to illuminate the room.
Helen's eyebrows knitted in mild frustration.
"Is he you? What did he make you do?"
Ellie grimaces, as if Helen had just told a bad joke.
"No. No. Not me. Him."
Ellie leans in, her voice barely louder than a whisper.
"He make me do THIS"
Ellie's hands grab roughly at Helen's breasts and crotch. Surprised,
Helen reacts and shoves Ellie hard, sending her tumbling backwards.
The young girl recovers from her fall quickly, rising slowly. Still
shocked from the sudden assault, Helen remains on the ground. Her mind
races, and she feels the rush of adrenaline through her veins. Should she
run, like the others? Call for help? But she had come so far, been going
so well...
Ellie's body is rigid, her expression almost trancelike. Shadows skirt
around the corners of Helen's vision, the weak neon illumination of the
room surrendering to the darkness.
"He didn't like that."
At once, the lights go out, and the world is swallowed in oppressive
darkness. Ellie's tone changes again, almost pleading.
"Please don't run."
Helen fumbles in the darkness, scrambling for the comfort of anything
that could give her light. She finds a cell phone.
It's screen glows faintly, scattering some of the darkness ahead. Faint
luminescence cathces the pale outline of Ellie. She is very close to
Helen.
Ellie is naked, her clothes scatted at her feet. She makes no attempt
to cover her nakedness, remaining transfixed in her trancelike state. She
has a vacant smile, and a distant gaze.
Helen recoils clumsily, grasping for the sweet comfort of the door
handle.It is not there.
Pale, leathery hands emerge from behind Ellie, cupping her young breasts
with far, far too many fingers.
Helen screams, scrambling in the direction of the door. In the shadows,
something grabs her. The phone clatters to the ground, weakly illuminating
Helen's surroundings.
lostlittlelamblostlittlelamblostlittlelamblostlittlelamb
The Pale Man's hands crush Ellie's tender, young breasts, drawing soft
moans from the girl. He had entered this girl a thousand times, even inch
of her young flesh now his to enjoy and abuse. His thoughts were alien and
predatory, but he still appreciated the whimpering, the moaning, the slght
trembles of revulsion to his touch.
In the eternity of the darkness, he felt the envy of others of his kind.
When she screamed, howling and sobbing in the darkness, their desire burned
even stronger. He had been careful not to break her fully, nurturing his
young lover's spirit even as he tormented her. Clawed fingers dug cruelly
into her breasts, drawing a thin trickle of blood.
Ellie held back a scream, muting it into a dull groan. He wanted her to
scream. She couldn't resist him, but she didn't have to give him
everything. She closed her eyes, rather than look into the darkness around
her. She felt the leathery, sickly cold touch of his mass behind her,
clutching her body. Possessing her.
She remembers the first rape in the darkness, how she struggled and
flailed. She was so weak, then. The claws grasping her, with their
vicelike strength. The cold. The dark.
She feels her cunt stretch painfully to accomodate his phallus. She
cries, because she always cries when the fucking begins. The relentless,
inhuman fucking that tears her inside, that forces wave after wave of
pleasure and pain crashing over her. Her whole world is darkness and the
burning nerves in the young pussy, as the monster forces himself into her
again. And again. And again.
She will be broken and exhausted when dawn comes.
Helen thrashes in the darkness, flailing against the crushing hold of
vile tentacles. She feels their mass writhe around her in the darkness,
grabbing and probing her.
tastytenderwitherwhoretastytenderwitherwhoretastytenderwitherwhoretastytend
erwitherwhore
Their touch burns against her bare skin, a stinging, caustic sensation.
She screams in panic. She regrets that decision almost immediately, as a
swarm of thin tendrils force themselves down her throat. She pulls against
her restraits harder, and more desperately, but her limbs remain
immobilized. She groans and gags against the intrusion, but she can do
nothing against the pressure forced down her gullet. The pain is
phenomenal, and tears streak down her cheeks.
She is helpless. She is vulnerable. She is prey.
She hears the hungering laughter of the dark.
She doubles over in pain, releasing another muted scream. Nearby, Ellie
is face down on the floor, her ass high in the air. In the dying glow of
her phone's light, Helen sees the thin, pale humanoid gripping her. Its
long, thin limbs bend at impossible angles, entwined around the young girl.
Sinew snakes across its withered body, forming small knots across its
leathery skin. Ellie's young pussy leaks some dark fluid, even as an
inhumanly long cock slams into her. Helen watches the young girl being
pounded into some sort of dissociative fugue by the brutal assault, and
almost forgets her own helplessness.
Prehensile tendrils form from the darkness, grasping her clothing with
small claws. Then, coordinated by some invisible will, they PULL. She
feels her clothes fall to shreds around her.
Helen whimpers into her tentacle-gag, her exposure sending another jolt
of fear down her spine.
Slowly, the thick, whip-like tendrils press against her, trapping her in
a prison of probing, clammy flesh that spreads over every inch of her skin.
In a deliberate motion, they penetrate her defenseless pussy and asshole,
stretching them painfully wide in their invasion.
She screams in muffled agony and terror,again, and again. The last
light of her cell phone sputters and dies, leaving her alone in the dark.
In the eyeless night, she feels the tendrils surge with renewed vigor,
twisting, probing, writhing in her insides. She feels the rising thrill of
an orgasm, even as the tendrils push deeper into her rectum and womb,
bringing a wave of pain and pleasure crashing down on mind. The
stimulation is intense and relentless.
She vaguely registers that her feet are no longer on the ground, and
that she is suspended in mid air by the dark tendrils in her pussy, ass and
mouth. She feels them filling her with some liquid, a vile stinging gel
that seems to absorb the warmth in her, even as it stings and irritates her
insides. Her body twists and bucks instinctively , trying to find comfort
against this unnatural violation. She finds none.
tastytenderwitherwhoretastytenderwitherwhoretastytenderwitherwhoretastytend
erwitherwhore
Her agony and pleasure only serve to inflame the malevolent will of the
darkness. More tendrils plunge into her, and her whimpers renew in
intensity as her orifices stretch and distend like rubber. The vile liquid
and her sex juices leak from her, even as she feels herself bloating with
their cum. The darkness absorbs the dripping expulsion back into itself,
savoring the pain and pleasure in each drop.
She moans and trembles in yet another orgasm, even as the darkness
devours her spirit, drop by drop.
Time passes. Hours? Weeks? Months? Helen does not know. A haze of
sex and agony clouds her mind, reducing her to little more than a drooling,
cumming slut. THe tendrils get rougher, touching every last nerve of pain
and pleasure, desperate to wring another drop from Helen. Something twists
in her bowels, and she releases a scream. It emerges from her cum-soaked
gullet as a gurgle, even as another jolt of sexual pleasure fires through
her.
takehereatherbreakhertakehereatherbreakhertakehereatherbreakhertakehereathe
rbreakher
Helen hears the whispers again, closer and louder now.
Suddenly, pain. The terrible sense of wrongness, the urgent drive to
flee. She senses it in the oily shadow that surrounds her, that evelops
her.
Through the curtains, a ray of light slices through the darkness.
She feels the tendrils withdraw from her, and she coughs and sputters
out volumes of its cum. The inky liquid escapes from her orifices, and she
collapses into an exhausted heap. The shadows retreat into a
corner,sheltered from the sunlght by the angle of the wall.
She feels herself being dragged, slowly, by a single shadowy tendril.
Her exhaustion numbs her limbs, all she can do is gasp ragged breaths. She
feels the unending hunger of the dark. She knows what ceaseless torment
awaits her there, in the other world, until she is little more than a
withered husk.
intothedarkforeverintothedarkforeverintothedarkforeverintothedarkforever
She finds the strength to shed a single tear.
Suddenly, she feels the warm touch of Ellie, the girl's hand faintly
clasped around hers. The young girl's nakedness is visible in the glowing
light, as is the pale, faceless monster behind her.
"Don't. Go."
The skin of the pale man hisses and burns in the sunlight, even as the
monster withdraws his member from Ellie's pussy with an audible pop. Her
young cunt is a gaping hole, and leaking the same oily, inky fluid as
Helen. He withdraws to the darkness in a shuffling, inhuman movement,
bending thin limbs with too many joints over each other to move. He seems
transclucent in the shade, with a thin hand beckoning towards the window.
The tendril around Helen's foot releases her, while another slides into
her gaping asshole. She grunts in pain as it shapes itself into a pillar,
forcing her on her feet. Her legs, after an eternity of restraint, and of
being forces open into unnatural angles to expose her genitals, are clumsy
and aching.
Nevertheless, she moves, like a puppet on a string. Or, more
accurately, a puppet with a hand up its ass. Ellie's hand slips from her
grasp, and the young girl weeps.
She expects the darkness, but the tendril guides her towards the window.
The pale man scurries over, touching her face with a thin finger. She
feels a numbing cold inside her mind, the skittering of darkness around the
edges of her thought...
The pale man touches the window. It seems insubstantial now, just a
mist in the wind...
Helen walks towards the window, her facial expression calm and
tracelike. She no longer worries about her nakedness, exposing her ample
breasts to the world. She does not seem to feel the shadowy tendril that
impales her rectum. It guides her closer to the window.
She feels familiar pressure from below, and a gentle nudge forward.
Effortlessly, she falls. She smiles as she rushes towards the waiting
grass below.
The man hears a noise, and walks over to investigate. He sees Helen on
the ground, gasping and naked in the low light of early dawn. This is
unusual, even for a man inured to the eccentricities of the mentally
deranged.
"Holy crap. Now, what the hell happenned to you?"
He looks her over for injuries. She is bruised, but alive, the soft
ground cushioning her fall. He looks up at the window. It is hardened
plastic again, unmarred and impenetrable. A young girl peeks out of it,
then withdraws.
"Help. Me." Helen's eyes flit open. She stirs feebly.
"Easy lady, I got you." The man kneels next to her.
"Help. Me." She reaches for his crotch. He recoils slightly.
The man looks over her again, this time with a much different intent.
His hand cupped the ample swell of her breast, while his eyes drifted over
her trim, spectacular figure. The scent of her pussy juices filled the
air. She smiled vacantly.
The man smiled too, picking her slight form up. This woman was broken,
and he knew just the place for her. The older wings of the asylum were
rarely visited, and much more ... private.
He smiled.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
--
Well, that's part I of The Pale Man. Part II will be posted, hopefully
sooner rather than later. This is one of my first stories, so i'd love to
hear any comments or suggestions!
Send any comments, requests, or suggestions to
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