Shredder - part II - Sex Stories

Shredder - part II

... Soon though he was feeling disembodied and shaking, like a bad acid trip. The next thing he was aware of was darkness and shadows moving. The fog, pricking sensation on his feet and arms, the loss of control and his heart racing. He thought he smelled paint in the house and tar, but all was silent and he screamed in the empty house. He passed out and when he woke up, it was dawn. Sandy’s detached head was resting on his chest, her dead eyes staring accusingly. He heaved his body to try and dislodge it, but it moved with him, attached to him. He reached for another bottle of water and downed some, ate a sausage, thinking the head was a spectre of his hunger. After two sausages and some chips, he was thirsty and gulped the last of the water. Even though he closed his eyes, every time he opened them, the head was on his chest. As he looked, he saw it was sunset and all around him on the bed were fragments of Sandy’s body, blood all over his body and the sheets. As darkness fell, a low moaning noise started somewhere in the house... It took him a minute or two before he realized it was his chainsaw down in the basement. He was shaking and screaming now; The fog rolled in and the shadows returned as the prickling sensation came again to his legs, he began to shake and toss about as a sweet taste like water flowed down his throat and then darkness fell. He couldn’t see, only hear, feel and smell. He felt heat, cold, smelled burning flesh and hair and heard hissing sounds all ...

... around him. He began to feel the rising sensation again, then a warm rush poured through his body and he felt pure bliss as he passed out again. When he woke again, it was daylight, but he wasn’t in his bed, his hands and feet were still shackled but he was in a box, a pillow under his head, and he was looking into the dead face of Sandy. He was in a coffin, naked, with her head grafted to his chest... He could see from the ceiling and upper wall that was visible, he was in the front parlor of the house; the curtains were closed and only a finger of light filtered through. He could hear crying and because he was in the coffin, he couldn’t see anywhere but in front and above him. He rolled to his side, felt a stabbing sensation and as he pulled away, felt the rush through his veins like really good dope. He lost his sense of reality after that; when he came to, it was dark, but candles burned by the head of the coffin and he was aware that Sandy’s head wasn’t on his chest anymore, it lay on the pillow beside his, except now her eyes were closed. He turned away and felt a stab again and this time, within a minute, he was feeling his throat closing, gasping for air through lungs that were blocked. There was skin and muscle gone from his chest and as he looked down, he could see between his ribs as his heart pounded and his lungs heaved, seeking air, felt his hands and feet were free. He was about to try and sit up as the shadows came again and the lid of the coffin closed, latches ...