Reddit Collection (Fresh-Short #10) by DeYtH Banger (books to get back into reading txt) 📖

night, toward the woods. Toward the New Jersey Turnpike.

Reilly had taken this route in the past. He’d even seen the old rest stop, but had never given it a second thought. Now, though, it was his first thought. His only thought.

“Will they be there?” he wondered. “Could they have waited?”

Part of him knew the answer. They’d be there. They’d waited. It’s what they’d been waiting for all day. It’s what they were craving as much as he – the man’s wide, watchful eye and his wife’s wet, inviting mouth. Reilly fondled himself as he walked, too turned on to help it. It would be his first. He’d seen it so often in p*rn, but it was never anything more than a detached fantasy. A fiction that never involved him.

This was different. She wanted him. Him.

“Come inside and see,” the voice whispered throughout his reeling mind as he speed-walked through the woods toward the sound of traffic.

After a little over a half hour, he saw the Turnpike. On his left, about a quarter mile away, he saw the rest stop. Cars and trucks raced by, ignoring the dilapidated stop with the prominent “Closed For Renovations” sign that had kept all but the most desperate travelers away for the last fifteen years.

His speed walk turned into a jog, then a run. He ended the journey in an all-out sprint, rushing up to the men’s room door and pushing it open before stepping inside.

It was pitch black, aside from the beam of his flashlight. The only sound came from the traffic outside, but that seemed far away.

“Hello?” Reilly gulped. He was panting from his run. And sweating. Through his jeans, his erection jutted out in front of him like a divining rod.

 

No one answered. The air was offensive and fetid. Hot, too. Much hotter than it had been earlier in the day. He crept past the useless sinks toward the stall from before. The stench of what he’d left in that non-functioning toilet was nauseating, but no nausea was strong enough to overcome the desire he felt.

The desire was colossal, overmastering sense and logic and sanity. He was a teenage boy who was certain he was about to have his first sexual experience, and it was all he knew. All he was.

“Hello?” he called again. The word hung in the thick air, refusing to echo off the filthy surfaces of the bathroom. He opened the stall door and shined the flashlight around. The holes were still there. One right on top of the other, just a few feet above the floor.

“Waist height,” Reilly realized. The beam of light moved from left to right, over and over and over, and he noticed he was trembling.

“Are…are you still there?” he asked, ready to check the other stall to see if the couple was waiting for him. Before he could, the eye appeared in the bottom hole.

 

“Yes,” Reilly hissed. “Yes. I’m ready.”

“Come inside and see,” a voice sighed from the other side. “Come inside.”

Two plump, crimson lips pushed through the other hole. They were dripping with saliva as thick as corn syrup and shone in the dim light like sun glinting off an apple after a rainstorm.

“Come…..inside.”

Reilly watched as strands of saliva stretched, unbroken, between her lips as her mouth formed the words. The eye looked back at him.

“I want you,” he whispered. Her long tongue slipped out from between her lips and stood outward, erect, waving back and forth as a trail of drool leaked from its entire surface in a clear ribbon.

Reilly placed the flashlight on the back of the toilet and dropped his pants around his ankles, exposing himself to the eye on the other side. Its pupil dilated. The salivation from the mouth above intensified. He could feel heat emanating from it like a small furnace.

He closed his eyes and stepped forward. The tip of the tongue brushed over his erection and Reilly gasped. He knew if he hadn’t masturbated earlier, he would have climaxed right there and then. But he could take his time, now. He could savor this.

Reilly stepped forward again and let the mouth and tongue envelop him. The sensation was beyond anything he’d experienced – beyond anything he’d even fantasized. It felt as if his entire body were being bathed in the sanctifying warmth of the hot, willing mouth. He moaned and writhed with shocked pleasure, pressing his pubis against the gritty particleboard wall of the bathroom stall as he allowed the gifted tongue and bottomless throat to caress him.

Lost in a haze of ecstasy, he pushed his hips back and forth, feeling pressure building inside him. The sounds of wet sucking and gulping were overtaken by a gentle, omnipresent hiss, like the sound of a CRT television at full volume with nothing on screen. He knew he couldn’t last much longer.

 

Seconds before climax, Reilly heard the voice again. “Come inside and see.” His eyes snapped open and he looked down. The red lips, as fat and slimy as two banana slugs, were still wrapped around him. The eye below was peering up.

“Come inside and see.”

Reilly’s org*sm tore through him and his knees buckled. Everything went white, then gray, then back to normal. The mouth was still on him.

 

The voice again: “See.”

Suddenly sensitive, Reilly took a step back. The mouth remained latched on. He squirmed. Something warm dripped on his face and he looked up. Another pair of drooling lips was six inches above his head.

“What the…” he muttered, and pulled himself out of the mouth. He had to pull twice. It was clear she’d wanted to hold on.

“See,” he heard again. But it wasn’t from the mouth he’d been using. Or from the one near his head. He grabbed the flashlight and looked around the stall, then shuddered.

More holes – countless holes – had appeared in the walls of the bathroom stall. Some had eyes, some had mouths. All the mouths were dripping and oozing and whispering, “see.” The eyes bulged and jerked back and forth, watching every one of Reilly’s movements.

“I…I gotta go…” Reilly stammered, reaching down to pull up his pants while fumbling for the stall door with his other hand.

The door wouldn’t open.

Hundreds of tongues reached for him. Reilly shrieked and backed away, falling onto the toilet. The tongues, unable to stretch, fell back flaccidly against the walls. Drool poured in a torrent onto the floor.

Reilly was panicking. The stall door went all the way to the slick floor. He couldn’t crawl under. He reached again to hike up his pants and succeeded, then tried to get onto the back of the toilet so he could climb over.

A symphony of racking, retching gags filled the room. Every mouth was making the sound. The tongues flopped uselessly against the eyes below them.

Reilly couldn’t get onto the toilet. It was too slippery. He sat, paralyzed with horror, as the gagging yielded veiny, pink tubes from the dripping mouths.

“The throats,” he realized, with hideous clarity. “They’re gagging up their throats.”

With each gag, more interior surface prolapsed out of the mouths. In seconds, they were longer than the tongues. All the eyes were on Reilly and the gagging mouths grinned and choked out “see” between each esophageal spasm.

The first throat to reach Reilly latched onto his finger as he tried to brush it away. It held and pulled him off the toilet, into the wall of mouths and eyes and throats and tongues. He screamed and screamed and screamed until the nearest throat disappeared down his own, then all he did was choke.

Reilly stopped living soon after.

The police never found him. His family never had any closure. He ended up being an unsolved case – just a teenage boy who went missing after his sister’s birthday party.

But not if you know where to look. Not if you go to that unused rest stop on the New Jersey Turnpike. Not if you meet the same fate as Reilly, because then you can know, as the lips coax and the tongues lap and the throats stretch to suck you up, that one of them belongs to him.

And, soon, you.

I'm away, so leave a message after the beep!

 by whenindoubt_121

 

*BEEP*

Hey neighbour it’s me, Craig.

Hope the vacation was all good, but I’m just letting you know not to worry about what you find in the house when you get back. The soil footprints are me, don’t worry there. Also, I borrowed your spade and accidentally destroyed it so bought you a new one, sorry. Your dog was making a lot of noise too, but don’t worry about that, I managed to clean it up. Again, sorry. Yeah, there was some wild weather recently so that would explain your door being knocked off its hinges too. Anyway, that’s pretty much everything, so yeah.

Oh, wait yeah there was also this random thing, where a letter slipped through under the door while I was in your house picking up the mail, and the letter asked to be fed. It was kinda weird considering it came from the closet. The door was padlocked though, so I didn’t worry about it.

Anyways, see ya… whenever you get back.

Still Alive

  by Chopped_Lettuce

 

 

When I was lying on the floor of my college classroom with a bullethole in my stomach, I realized something I had never considered before.

I was okay with dying. I lived a good life and made the most of my time on earth. Plus, I wouldn’t have to take finals.

However, I wasn’t prepared to wake up in a hospital, unable to move at all. As my mind raced, trying to accept this worst case scenario, I overheard two words from the doctors that solidified my terrifying fate in my mind.

“He’ll Live”

What Do I Know?

 by low_kix

 

 

 

'Write what you know.'

It's one of the