Tom\'s Pillow

    He slowly walks out of the bedroom, leaving a trail of blood behind him. Not much can be seen, except his form. He passes through the corridor of the upper floor, holding the gun in his hands. "WHERE ARE YOU HONEYYYY?", his voices echoes in the night's darkness. He stumbles from one side of the wall to the other, trying to keep his balance. "Look, all couples fight at times... it's natural... i forgive you, but you have to GET HERE, RIGHT NOW!!!" The last four words don't come in the voice of the charming guy at the bar anymore. It's the rattle of a psychopathic hunter, stalking his pray.

He goes down the stairs to the living room. Michelle can see him now. She is hiding behind a wall a few feet from him. She can't leave yet! She can't abandon the deformed girl. Michelle holds her breath as the man steps appear closer and closer to her. She remains still, frozen in fear, praying for the man to not notice her...

There's no sound. The footsteps have stopped. As Michelle tries to shift her head and check the room, the man appears right in front of her! He has the same deranged smile he had when he showed her that girl inside his closet, and ...there's a tennis racket coming from the side of his head?!

    Michelle opens her eyes wide. She is laying on the double bed next to Margaret, whose name she didn't know and could not find out in any way. It was all a dream. A terrifying one. Michelle let out a sigh, reminding herself that Tom was very definitely dead in the room upstairs, and could not harm them in any way. At least not anymore.

She turned her head to face the girl. She was finally asleep, dressed in one of Tom's shirts Michelle had picked from his wardrobe. It was years since the last time she wore anything, and the same years since she last slept on a bed. Michelle kept her eyes fixed on the poor woman. She couldn't even begin to imagine how much she must have suffered. She tried removing the glue from her eyes, but it was medical one, meaning it had fused with her eyelids like a second skin. Apart from her obviously chopped off arms and legs, her deaf ears, her cut vocal chords and her blind eyes, she looked really underfed and skinny. "I will take care of you", she whispered to her, even though she knew she couldn't listen.

    Michelle always liked taking care of people. Working for years as a nurse was tough, but as rewarding as she hoped it would be. But there was something more she felt deep inside her while looking at the girl, and it made her so unnerved that she tried to push it away from her head all night.

Sure, living in this big house with a business running itself was logical, as was the fact that probably no one would take as good care of the girl as she would, even her family, if she had one. But as she kept staring at the sleeping girl, with the beautiful, long, blonde hair, Michelle had one thing in her mind. "I want to keep you. I want you."

    The next morning Michelle had to face the fact that she had an 180-pound body to move outside and bury. She wasn't happy about that. Leaving her new roommate to sleep a bit more, she spend the entire morning carrying the tall bastard outside and digging a large enough hole, as far away from the house as it was safe. She had dealt with dead people before, in her work, but never had she shown such little respect for a corpse.

She cursed Tom the whole time while digging his grave, everytime she thought of the awful things he had put that poor woman through.

She returned inside, cleaned most of the blood from the room she was attacked, (or rather, she attacked him, a detail that made no difference at this point). She then took a shower, and went to wake up the girl. She had to eat something this time! Last night she wouldn't eat anything that Michelle had found in the fridge. "I have to give her a name or something, this is not right, referring to her as SHE all the time", the girl thought to herself, even though it wouldn't change much. She uncovered the bedsheet that lay on top of her, and gently placed her hand on her cheek. "Come on, love, time to have some breakfast.." Love. It was a term of endearment she often used, and it came out naturally. The girl reacted, clinging her face towards the hand, with a smile forming on her face. Michelle smiled too, seeing the girl happy.

Then, Margaret reached her tongue towards the hand, trying to lick it, as this was something Tom would like, and therefore something she would be doing at this point. Michelle pulled her arm away, disturbed at the sudden sexualisation of a sweat moment. She tried to show understanding. This girl was probably conditioned into being a sex slave for who knows how long.

    She took the girl in her arms and carried her downstairs to the dining room. she made some toast and a coffee for herself. "I should get a baby-chair", Michelle thought while holding Margaret thoughout this. She tried feeding her toast and a glass of milk, but with little success. Dissapointed at her efforts, Michelle looked through the fridge's shelves to find what was that woman fed all this time? She then saw a couple of bottles she hadn't paid attention to. There were plain, milk bottles, with a brown liquid inside. As Michelle opened one of them, she yelled "Oooh, what the fuck??". This was certainly not chocolate. It smelled like piss, amongst some other things. Could it be?

As Michelle brought the bottle in front of Margaret's lips, the girl begun sipping its contents without hesitation. "GOD DAMMIT!" The bottle was smashed on the floor. Michelle was enraged and full of tears. How could someone do this to another human being? She told herself she was not going to force the girl, no one was going to force her to do anything, anymore. But the damage already done was great.

Michelle mixed a third of the foul goo into the milk bottle and tried again. Not surprisingly, Margaret was much more accepting of her new meal. "Maybe with time, she'll stop", Michelle hoped.

    The next days passed with both of them getting used to a new life. Michelle bought the baby-chair and a sports bottle, so Margaret could drink without needing her help all the time. She also got her some clothes. Any underwear didn't stay on her for long, so Michelle gave up and left her wearing only shirts. "what was the point of underwear at this point?",she thought. She had made one last stop to her apartment to pick up her most valuable belongings, mostly clothes and old music records, along with whatever little money she had on her.

At nights they would cozy-up in the couch in front of the T.V. Michelle liked talking to Margaret, even though she didn't expect any reply. It was a little thing to keep her from going insane from the silence in the house, but she also geniunely loved talking to her "love", as she had grown to calling her. "How can they be so dumb, love, those kids are running straight towards the killer!", she'd say while watching a scary movie, then throw a little smooch on the girl's forehead.

She really liked the feeling of her warm body on her, it comforted her throught the difficult times she would come by. Angst of whether she might be found by police or others, fear of the business ever collapsing, all stopped when she hold her love in her arms. And Margaret loved it, too. In fact, so much so that a lot of the times, Michelle would abrubtly end their "touchy-games" as soon as she felt awkward by the girl getting too hot and bothered. Michelle liked touching the girl, playing with her and tickling her, it was the only way she could communicate with her, but her logic told her: "It's not right, the girl is psychologically traumatized. It will do her good if she can forget about sex and focus on other things for a change". But it was gradually becoming harder and harder to not notice the girl's erect nipples or even wet marks on her shirt, whenever she put her on her lap.

    Two weeks had passed and Margaret was still being fed with the remains of Tom's recipe, being mixed with the normal meals Michelle would make. Until today, when she opened the fridge and realized they were over. Margaret had gained some weight throughout, and looked pretty normal, nutrition-wise. But she still wouldn't eat plain-old food. Michelle tried to come up with a solution, when she felt her bladder was full, and a twisted idea sneaked in her mind. The mix had definitely human piss in it. Maybe all she had to do was piss in her soup and she would eat it. What else could she do? she rationalised it. The weird thing was, the more she thought of it, the more she wanted to do it.

"I have to, otherwise she won't eat", she said, out loud this time, as she walked to the bathroom holding the sport-bottle full of warm soup she had cooked today. She always made sure to brush 'love's teeth meticulously after every meal. " Today, i'll do it twice", she promised herself, again out loud, before relxing her bladder and letting the yellow liquid drop inside the bottle. She felt a weird feeling of power, at that moment. Realizing she was getting a high from this, made her feel horribly right after. Angry at herself, she took the bottle downstairs and fed Margaret her special soup.

    Life went on the remote house in the country-side. The two women would sleep together in the large bed,  with Michelle clutching Margaret in her arms. At mornings, Michelle would usually go for a light run out in the sun, with her friend conviniently placed in her back bag, up to her neck. She liked the breeze and the sun on her face and skin, and Michelle loved seeing her smile, whenever they went outside on a good day. She'd then feed her at noon, her meals containing little to no urine at this point, much to Michelle's relief. She was even eating solid food again, something her teeth had forgotten to chew.

At the afternoon she'd work out and check the progress of the online business she had "inherited" by Tom. And she'd play with her love. Boy, did she enjoyed that. She'd lay her on the couch and watch her react at the moment she would touch her belly, her nose or her head. And tickling. She loved tickling her. It brought her a mother's joy. Even though Michelle didn't have kids, she thought that was probably how it would feel. She tried avoiding any intimate parts, as to not arouse Margaret.

But the girl's sex obsession wasn't being healed, in fact, it was getting worse and worse, and so was Michelle's loneliness. She had dedicated so much time to Margaret, she had forgotten about herself, her family and friends, who probably missed her a lot and worried about her.

    One night, when they had watched another movie, or rather Michelle had, she stayed sitting on the couch, with Margaret on her lap as usual. She had a bottle of whiskey next to her, and it was more empty than full.

Her mind was weak, she wasn't thinking clearly anymore. She slowly pulled up Margaret's shirt, revealing her beautiful pussy to her. Immediately, Margaret started rubbing her hole on Michelle's thigh, finding an opportunity for release. Michelle was going to give it to her, this time. She placed the girl between her legs on the couch and with one hand started feeling her breasts from under the shirt, the other moved down to her privates. Michelle had never pleasured another woman, nor had she ever had such a fantasy, but at that moment, nothing made sense.

She twirled her fingers on and around the girl's clit, and pinched her already erect nipples. She couldn't control herself. "I want to kiss her so bad!", was the only thought in her mind. She lowered her head, nibbling on Margaret's neck, before kissing her lips passionately. The mute girl returned her kiss, like she was waiting for it all these weeks. Sex was her only pleasure for almost a decade of her life. She didn't knew much else at this point. Her orgasm wasn't heard in her voice, but her body spasms and heavy breathing were more than enough clues to Michelle.

She took the helpless girl in her arms and moved towards the bedroom, kissing her sensually the whole way. They undressed completely and layed on the bed. Michelle turned Margaret to face the other end. She wrapped her hands around Margaret's waist and stuck her face to her fuck-hole, licking hungrily, like it was the fountain of youth and she would suck its water from inside. At the same time, Margaret found her way with her tongue to Michelle's parts, and got to work as well.

They must have stayed like this for hours, although Michelle hoped it would never end. They both came several times, before their tongues, more than their will, gave up. At night, Margaret wasn't nervously shifting or grinding towards Michelle anymore. It was the most peaceful sleep they both had in a long time.

    From that day on, Michelle was having sex with the limbless girl all day and every day. It was like she dove into a sea of lust there was no turning back from, addicting and wonderful. Taken over by Margaret's animalistic nature, she gave into it herself. She made the decision to name her "Love" after that night, too. It felt like there was nothing in the world but them, and indeed, this was the case. Michelle would take her time, enjoying her luscious kisses and teasing the girl with her touch, sometimes for hours, before sending her over the edge of ecstasy.

At first, things were very intimate. Caressing Margaret's long hair and her beautiful skin, just to watch the goosebumbs on her it and her cute shivers. Michelle loved playing with Love's tongue, inserting her fingers in her welcoming mouth and getting them drenched wet, before moving them souther to her craving pussy. "You're mine, love", she'd whisper in her deaf ears, turning herself on. Michelle loved eating her out, most of all. She even loved the taste of the girl's cum, flowing generously every time she twirled her tongue on her clit.

Michelle had never thought of herself as a lesbian. But even after all this, she didn't feel like one. Her relationship with Love was stranger than that, something different, deeper. It wouldn't work with any other woman in the world. This was HER Love, and it made sense only with her.

    Months went by. The situation didn't resolve at the slightest. The two women couldn't even take a bath together, (as they routinely did in the past), without Michelle turning it into another wet fuck-fest. They only seemed to stop when Michelle was cooking or when they were asleep. Cleaning was out of the question.

So much so that it became a living hazard. Michelle composed herself one day, in order to clean at least some of the mess she had let build up all these months. "I should clean upstairs, too", she thought.

She entered the room where everything had begun. The floor still had some faint red marks on it, as Michelle had decided it wasn't gonna be used, already from the day she first whipped those blood stains. She opened the closet, the same she had first saw Love in, that horrific day. Dirty shirts and pants, some of them piles down on the ground.

Then, something caught her eye. She kneels to see clearer. It's a metal belt, with ... a dildo attached on it! A remote control was laying a few inches away. Michelle picked it up in her hands, wild lust-driven thoughts rushing to her head. "NO! IT'S WRONG! HE USED THIS ON HER! IT'S NOT RIGHT!" She told herself. But the wetness between her legs, told her otherwise...

    That belt became a frequent toy of Michelle's time with Margaret. She didn't react much when the chubby blonde carefully put it on her. Michelle justified this as a sign of consent, to alleviate her own guilt. She first would leave her for a few minutes before "finishing her off", but soon it turned into hours! Michelle's possesive demon had took over and the sex changed tone. It wasn't loving or caring anymore. It was pure power doing all the work now. Caresses were now gropes and inserting became shoving. There were even sometimes, where unbeknownst to her, Michelle was actively choking Love through some of their "love-making" sessions. The woman still came a lot, and was always game for more, So Michelle didn't think much of it.

    A year had passed since Michelle's moving in to that damned house. Her life was a mess, a deprived, sex-driven mayhem, like a junkie, always searching for his next hit. That night, Michelle had put the belt on Love, as usual, and left her to jerk around for about three hours. She masturbated intensely, watching her with red-shot, wide eyes. She then felt the need to pee. Simply taking Love and placing her on the floor, she stood above her face. Drunk by the power trip (and also from copious amounts of drinking), she let her urine trickle down to Love's face, hitting her mouth. The amputee immediately opened it wide, receiving the gift and swallowing it.

The next day, Michelle woke up, dizzy from the last night. She saw her naked body, the cum soaked bedsheets, the empty whiskey bottles on the floor. And next to them, the form of a girl with no arms or legs. She jumped up in shock and got to her. She was still wearing the belt, the dildo buzzing indefinitely! The girl was twitching and spasming from the entire night's ordeal.

Michelle quickly removed the belt and took Love in her arms. She sat on the bed holding her for a few seconds. It then hit her. "What have i turned into?!"..."I'm just like HIM!" She had stayed in this place to help Margaret, to show her a better life, but all she had managed to do was turn her into HER sex-object.

Then, the realisation that everything she did had no effect on the girl, made her miserable. It didn't matter what her intentions were. Whatever Michelle did. she could never really know her. The girl that once occupied that body, was not there anymore. There were only nerve endings now. There was no distinction of good or bad, of happy or sad, of enjoyment or distress. Michelle realised, she had lost, she couldn't bring Love back.

    As these facts sank in more and more, as if to prove her right, Margaret started licking the woman's breasts that were in front of her. It didn't even matter how much abuse she had suffered just then. Michelle placed her right hand on the girl's head, the other behind her lower back. Then, she pushed Love's head closer on her breasts, until she was smothered by them. Love continued licking for a few more seconds, then went to move her head back, to take a breather. But she felt the woman's hand holding her head in place. With tears in her eyes, Michelle kept holding the girl on her chest, despite her struggling efforts to turn away from her. She started sobbing, lowering her face on the top of Love's head, who was now suffocating. There was no way she could escape the woman's grip without any leverage.

After a few more moments of silent struggle, Margaret became completely still. Michelle held her face on her chest for a bit, before loosening her grip. She held the girl, whose mouth was now resting open, in her arms and wept, with tears running down her cheeks and dripping on the lifeless body.