Blissful Torment

Staring at the void hardly fazes me any more. I mean this literally. But let me give you some context: A while ago I got into a bit of a kerfuffle with a self-proclaimed god - really just some asshole mage - and since then my world has been a bit ... ehm... complicated. 

One could say I was cursed, though I wouldn't really put it that way, there are way too many connotations on that word: "Cursed". I'd rather explain it straight: I'm forced to hop between imagined worlds, and you all are watching me. Yes, I'm speaking to you, dear readers.

So, that void. You know how most rooms have four walls? Every room I walk into has a missing wall. The fourth wall. That's where the void is. You know, when you read a book, and a character talks to the audience? Like I'm doing right now? Exactly like that. That's my life. I'm stuck in a story of some kind. It's not so easy to tell from the inside. I'm certain it's not a play or a musical; Not enough dancing, and too few soliloquies. Could maybe be a film, but for a while I've been suspecting it's a book. So many visual details in this world are hard to remember, and yet I can sometimes hear other people think. Just makes more sense as a book.

So what kind of book, you ask? Yeah, fuck if I know. It's total pandemonium. I think my writer (or more likely, team thereof) writes flash fiction or some shit like that, because things keep changing at break-neck pace. When I leave my apartment (past the fourth wall where the coat rack is supposed to be) what I find outside never stays the same. Other tenants come and go, and yet they all treat me or each other as if they'd been living here for years. If there even are any. Sometimes my city apartment turns into a small house over night.

It's fucking wild. At least most of the time I seem to be in some slice of life stuff. Like Friends or some nineties family drama. Not all that interesting, and since I have no real connection to any of the other characters I really don't care much. Sometimes however the genres change. In fact, that's why you're reading this, because I just noticed that the weather has taken a sudden turn for the worse. I can hear wolves howl in the distance (there aren't any wolves in this country), and there's this tension in the air. Hard to describe.

thump, thump

What was that? Fuck. I think something just knocked at my door.

Nothing visible through the spy-glass. It's really dark in the corridor.

I could have sworn I heard something.

thump, thump

There it is again! This time from the balcony window. I can't see anything, but rain has started. It's pitch black outside. Even lightning strikes in the distance.

Oh no. Oh hell no. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. I know what this is. That weird feeling? That's the low-key brooding background soundscape. I can't hear it, but I know it's there. Something's coming. I really hate how many windows my place has in moments like this.

I'll better hide in the bathroom. No windows there, and I can lock the door from the inside.

That's better.

CRASH

Or not. That was the sound of my balcony window shattering. Not better at all! Not fucking at all! Shit. I'm so dead! I don't know what happens if I die in this weird universe, but I'd rather not find out. 

click

Lights in this room just went out. I can see shadows move under the door. Which is definitely closed, and I have my back against it. Though maybe that's a bad choice? Maybe whoever, or whatever this is, has guns and is going to shoot through the door? No way I can move now without them hearing me. So I'll better just hold still.

drip drip drip

What was that splashing noise? The shower? Oh fuck me, there's black goo dripping into the sink from the faucet. It just keeps going, and now overflowing onto the floor. It is taking shape, a gooey writhing mass. I always thought being petrified from fear was just a saying, but I can't move a finger. Now it's touching me! The black mass is reaching out with tentacles, and they are prodding my body, my curvy, youthful body of 23 years, with d-cup tits, only covered with a casual t-shirt and panties. Why is this even important? Who cares about these numbers and what I'm wearing?

The tentacles are softly sliding over my pale skin, their black surface a stark contrast. It doesn't even feel so bad. In fact they are gentle. The mass smells good, a little sweaty, musky... It reminds me of something. Sex. It reminds me of the smell of sex.

Ahh, a tentacle has slid into my underwear! It's playing with my clit. This feels so good! It's gently sucking on it. Another tentacle is pulling down my panties. I'm so wet. Why am I so wet? Why am I so horny? What is happening? Now it's going for my pussy, probing the entrance. It's going to fuck me!

Shit, I figured it out. This isn't a horror story. This is a hentai manga. 

Stop reading, you lecherous pervert!

2020-08-19 Blissful Torment