Introduction:
This is a work in progress, I’ll post the other parts when they’re completed
âWait!â
She turned back to see a man stood at the door, wearing nothing but a bathrobe. She took two steps back up the path.
âCharlotte, is it?â the robed man asked, holding out a hand. Charlie tentatively grab a hold and shook it, his palms soft, his grip firm. âIâm so sorry, I was in the shower. Please, come in, Iâll be down in a momentâ he blushed, clearly embarrassed at the situation. Charlieâs cheeks flushed too, the robe only just covering his backside as he stepped back inside
âHis wifeâs?â She thought to herself, closing the large wooden door behind her. She looked around the large hallway she found herself in, her mouth slightly open in awe.
â How does a room this big fit in this house?â she thought to herself, marvelling at the two sets of stairways on either side of the room, rising and meeting a floor above in the centre, with doorways at each side, and one in the centre, Casting her gaze downwards, her eyes were drawn to the glass case in the centre of the room, containing a large green coloured urn.
âGo through the first door on the left pleaseâ the man said, snapping her back to reality âYou can take a seat in the lounge. âMake yourself comfortableâ He smiled then walked up the left set of stairs, vanishing through the door to the left at the top. The sound of the door closing echoed through the vast hallway. Charlie glanced to her left, and pushed through the heavy oak door into the lounge. This room was much smaller in size, but no less grand. Bookshelves lined the far wall, separated in the centre by a rather grand fireplace. Sat above the fireplace, was a large painting depicting an historic battle scene. Charlie shuddered as she look at it, the gruesome detail making her skin crawl. She spied a large armchair in the corner of the room, and gently placed herself down on it. The chair was much softer than she expected, causing her to fall back into the deceptively comfortable chair. She shuffled herself forwards so her feet were back touching the ground and looked around at the various ornaments and accessories in the room. He eyes were drawn to another urn, similar in shape to the one in the hallway, only much smaller. The urn itself was nothing special to look at, the same green as the one in the hallway, no handles, and a small delicate lid perched in the top. She couldnât put her finger on why, but she felt drawn to it, despite its plain appearance. She stood up and walked over to the small table it sat on. As she reached out to scoop up the small pot, she heard a voice,
âPlease be careful with thatâ the gentleman, now fully attired in a sharp blue pinstriped suit, teamed with a pastel yellow tie âItâs very old, and contains the remains of my great grandfatherâ Charlie jerked her hands away from the table, standing bolt upright, her head bowed slightly.
âI…Iâm sorry, I didnât kn-â she started, her cheeks flushing bright red
âItâs okay, I donât mindâ the gentleman smiled âall I ask it that youâre careful with the things I have here. Iâve gathered artefacts from all over the world in my time, and I take great pride in showing off my collectionâ he walked over and scooped up the urn âThis piece came from Peru, along with several othersâ he smiled at Charlie âThey donât all contain dead relatives though!â he laughed. Charlie nervously chuckled back at him âCome on, let me show you aroundâ he gestured.
It was a week before sheâs answered the advert.
âWANTED. House sitter. Must be able to stay at the house for 7 days. $1000 to be paid on my returnâ
âBit low on detailsâ she had thought to herself, as she sat slumped on her bed, peering out through the attic window of her motherâs house, into the street below. âBut where else am I gonna get that much money for doing nothing?â She had left her job two weeks before. She had endured a whole year of sexist comments, lewd advances and general creepiness from her boss, and had finally snapped and march out, not before landing a well-aimed slap across his face after heâd thought it appropriate to slap her backside for the third time that day. She pulled her phone out and dialled the number at the bottom of the advert
âHello, Gregory residenceâ
âErr, hi…I, errrâ Charlie stuttered
âItâs okay, take your timeâ a deep, soothing voice replied, putting Charlie swiftly at ease.
âThanks, errr, I saw an advert online for a house sitter, I was wondering if you were still looking for one?â She asked, her voice growing in confidence âI look after my mother’s house all the time, and Iâve looked after kids and th-â
âThatâs greatâ the voice replied. âItâll be in a week, are you able to do then?â
â….â Charlie sat silent, wondering if it could really be that easy âSureâ she finally replied
âFantastic!â The voice replied excitedly, differing alarmingly from his previous tone âCan I take your email address and Iâll send you all of the detailsâ Charlie gave him her details without hesitating. Almost immediately after ending the email address, her laptop let out a bleep, as an email dropped into her inbox.
âHas that come through?â the gentleman asked, his voice reverting to the calming monotone of before
âIt has, thank youâ Charlie replied âIâll see you next Monday thenâ
âThank you Charlotteâ the voice replied, before the phone disconnected.
âHuhâ Charlie thought to herself, before smiling widely and leaping to her feet/ A thousand dollars. A house to herself. Sheâd hit the jackpot. Her mind began to race. What if this guy went away a lot? If she did a good job, she could do this all the time. She wouldnât need a job. She wouldnât need to go back to the sexist prick and his gobshite of an assistant. She spent the rest of the day almost floating on air. Before she went to sleep that night, she remembered the email. She clicked it open and started to read.
âCharlotte. Thank you for agreeing to look after my home. I leave at 7:30am on Monday. Please be there before I leave. My address is below.
Thank you again.
Percival Gregoryâ
â…..and finally, here is the guest bedroomâ Percival Gregory swung open the last door in the left wing of the house. He had shown Charlie around the rest of the house, bar a couple of rooms (âThe master bedroom and his study, which Iâm sure youâll respect the privacy ofâ), all of which had the same vintage âmuseum-yâ vibe to them. As the door to the guest room swung open, she was surprised at the contrast. Soft magnolia walls, contemporary decor, 4k TV hanging on the wall across from the bed. A laptop on a desk, and a tablet resting next to it. Through another door in the room, an en-suite shower room . It was like someone had dropped a high quality hotel room into a quaint house on the California coast.
âI like to make sure my guest are comfortableâ Percival smiled âI know not everyone appreciates my particular tastesâ He picked the tablet up from the desk and showed it to Charlie âThis controls all of the functions of the house. The heating and hot water. The lighting…â he slid his finger along the screen and the lights dimmed, then brightened again â…the sound system….â a tap brought strains of Beethoven into the room, another tap dismissing it â…the alarm system and CCTV can be viewed too. If you need any food or drink, just order through this. Please donât go to excess though, keep it to one takeaway a dayâ he chuckled to himself. âIn an emergency, you can reach me using this appâ He tapped on the screen and immediately his pocket began to bleep. He pulled his phone out, pressed a button and showed Charlie the screen, showing a live webcam feed from the tablet. âAnd finally, if youâre really in trouble, there are buttons in each room. These will contact the police and fire departments and theyâll be here in 20 minutes. Theyâll also contact me and Iâll head straight homeâ He smiled at Charlie, the laughter lines on his aged face crinkling slightly as he did. Charlie looked back at him. For an older man, he was in fantastic shape. On the tour of the house, heâd told her he would turn 70 next year, but anyone looking at him would say early 50âs at the oldest. His salt and pepper hair swept over to the right, and a perfectly smooth face interrupted only by a black pencil moustache, evoking memories of 1930âs gangsters. âSuaveâ was the word that came to mind when Charlie looked at him. He towered over her, easily 6â4â tall, compared to her short 5â3â.
âOkayâ he smiled again âI think thatâs everythingâ He glanced down at his wrist âIâll be heading off, my plane leaves soonâ they headed down the stairs and into the hallway âRemember, if you need anything, let me knowâ He picked up two suitcases from near the front door and headed out to the car sat on the drive. Gently placing his cases in the trunk, he turned to Charlie âThank you for this Charlotte,, I really appreciate it. Iâll give you a quick call when I arrive to check how things are goingâ Charlie nodded in response Percival slid his tall frame behind the wheel of his car, and slowly drove off through the tunnel and out of sight. Charlie stepped back inside and gently closed the door.
Charlie sat on the guest room bed, the tablet on her lap, the TV on, some god-awful storage hunter show playing to no-one in particular. She was engrossed in the level of modern technology crammed into this seemingly antiquated property. Playing music in random rooms, messing with the lights, and checking out the CCTV cameras. This guy had them everywhere. And not just inside. Through the tablet, sheâd found that thereâs a garage somewhere, and a place labelled as âTOOL-01â, which she assumed was a workshop somewhere, judging by the images she saw on the camera. Sheâd worked out she could move the cameras, and spent the next 10 minutes point them into the corners of every room. As she was flicking from room to room, something caught her eye. In the room labelled âBILLIARD-01â, (a room containing a large snooker table, decorated like an old English public house), on a small shelf behind the bar, nestled between bottles of spirits, was another one of the green urns. Bigger than the one in the lounge, about the size of a house cat. She immediately stood up, dropping the tablet on the bed and headed out of the room, down the flowing staircase and into a room in the right wing of the house. She didnât know why, but she was drawn to it. She swung the door of the room open, and the smell of whiskey hit her like it had when Percival had shown her the room for the first time. Heâd told her she could drink any of the liquor lined up behind the bar (âIn moderation, naturallyâ) but to avoid the bright blue bottles beneath the bar, as they were very rare, and only 20 bottles were ever made. She didnât even glance at these however, and headed straight for the green urn nestled between vintage bottles of whiskey. She very carefully cradled it with her left hand, lifting it from its shelf, leaving a dust-free ring in its wake. The urn was oddly warm to the touch, like it had a lit candle, or some other heat source inside. Setting it down on the bar, she stared at it. The small lid had rocked gently to one side when she set it down. Charlie pondered what to do next. She considered Percivalâs words about the smaller urn, and how it contained a dead relative.
âWas this the same?â she thought to herself, pulling her hand away from the lid of the urn. She then remembered,
âThey donât all contain dead relatives though!â
She still didnât know why, but she had a deep desire to open it. Tentatively she lifted the lid and peered inside. Near the bottom was a small amount of a fine powder. She gently tipped the urn to one side, sliding the fine dust closer to the opening in the urn. She tentatively placed her finger into the powder, immediately jumping back as she touched it, sending the urn spinning on the bar top. The powder was icy cold, with an almost glass-like texture. Charlie grabbed her hand and stared at her finger, expecting to see it bleeding. Nothing. She glanced down at the bar where the urn had come to rest. The spinning had resulted in some of the powder being spread finely over the dark oak surface. The powder itself was bright red, so vibrant it was almost glowing. Without think, she placed her hand at the edge of the bar, and began to sweep up the loose dust. There was an initial shock of the coldness and sharpness of the powder, but this subsided quickly. She felt the coolness turn to warmth as the powder sat in her hand, getting hotter and hotter.
âThis is gonna burn me!â She thought, quickly righting the urn and pouring the powder back in the top, wiping her hands on the back of her jeans. âWhat the hell was that?â She thought. No substance she knew of could do that. âShould I ask Percival?â she questioned of herself. No. Heâd know she was being nosey. She gently placed the lid back on the urn, returning it to the shelf, being careful to line up the base with the dust ring on the shelf. She looked up at the other bottles on the bar. A bottle of Jack Daniels was perched on the end, looking like it had been put there relatively recently compared to the rest of the bottles. She reached under the bar, grabbing a small glass tumbler and pouring a small measure of the spirit out. Downing it in one go, she slammed the now empty glass onto the bar, coughing slightly at the sharpness of the bourbon. Leaning back on the bar, she stared at the urn, her mind racing. The longer she stared, the stranger she felt. A warmth flooded through her body. A hunger. A desire. She pulled one of her hands away from the bar top, rubbing between her legs through her jeans. Slumping back against the solid oak, she slid to the ground, her left hand groping at her breasts through the thin material of her t-shirt. She tossed her head back, letting out a gentle moan, before a deafening siren shattered her enjoyment, echoing through the old house, shaking the windows. She lept to her feet, and ran back upstairs to the guest room. The noise in the room was deafening. She covered her ears, and looked around the room for the source of the sound. She saw the tablet flashing on the bed.
âINCOMING: PERCIVALâ
She pressed the large green button next to the message. The sirens immediately stopped, the sound replaced by the ringing in Charlieâs ears.
âWHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!â Charlie shouted into the device, partially in anger, partially so she could hear herself.
âThe siren?â Percival questioned âOh my dear Iâm so sorry! I have it on really loud when Iâm in the garden so I know when people are calling, I must have forgotten to turn it downâ he apologised, his face in the video feed on the screen flushed with embarrassment. âYou can turn it down on the call settings on the tablet. I am so sorry again…â
âThatâs okayâ Charlie replied, her voice now back to her regular volume, her hearing now fully functioning âI was just watching some TV, it shocked me thatâs allâ She lied, then slid the slider for volume right down. She didnât want to hear that sound that lud ever again!
âAre you okay though?â Percival asked âI just wanted to let you know Iâve arrived. I hope youâre finding everything to your likingâ
âYou have a great houseâ Charlie replied, sitting down on the bed and crossing her legs. As she sat chatting with Mr Gregory, she felt the sensation that she had felt previous. The strange warming sensation. She crossed her legs tighter, angling the tablet more towards her face, while desperately willing herself not go red in the cheeks âIâm sorry Mr. Gregory, I….I need to use the bathroom, I hope youâll excuse meâ She told him
âNot a problemâ Percival smiled, almost knowingly âContact me if you need to. And donât forget to turn the siren downâ he chuckled to himself, gave his best wishes and disconnected the call. Charlie threw the tablet to one side, and threw her legs up onto the bed. She thrust her hips into the air, riding her jeans down over her buttocks, down to below her knees. She plunged her left hand between her legs, rubbing herself through her panties. Throwing her head back in ecstasy, she let out a gentle moan, her right hand running up inside her t-shirt, tugging at her bra and freeing her left breast, gently massaging it as she rubbed herself. Charlie felt the same icy sensation against her right breast, making her shriek loudly, the sharpness digging into her, almost finger like. The feeling changed, as it had before to a warmth, almost massaging in nature. She settled back down into the bed, breathing heavily, panting louder and louder, bucking her hips into her hand, her panties soaking from her juicesâŠ
Then blackness.
A deafening klaxon shook Charlie awake. She looked down at herself. She was fully clothed, lying on the bed. She trained her eyes towards the tablet.
âINCOMING: PERCIVALâ
âWhat the hellâŠ? She thought, pressing the green button to accept the call. âMr Gregory?â she questioned
âIâm sorry Charlotte, i didnât realise youâd be asleep at this time. I just wanted to let you know Iâd arrivedâ
âBut you already didâ Charlie thought to herself âErrrâŠ.thank youâŠ.â Charlie replied
âI hope the siren wasnât too loud for you, I turn it up when Iâm out in the garden so I donât miss anythingâ Percival asked
âNo,â Charlie replied âWell, I thought Iâd turned it down, but I must not have done. I also thought youâd cal-â
âIâm sorry Charlotteâ Percival interrupted âI need to run. Call if you need anythingâ The screen flashed and the video feed cut.
âWhat on earth-?â Charlie said out loud. Was all that happened before a dream? âIt felt so realâ she thought. She rolled off the bed, onto her feet, out down the stairs, back into the room with the urn. The glass she had drunk from was gone. Everything looked undisturbed, as it was when sheâd first entered. She grabbed the urn from behind the bar and tipped it to the side. It was empty. The urn felt normal, just like ceramic would, smooth and slightly cool. Maybe she had dreamt it. She put the urn back, again carefully lining it up in the dust again, and head back out of the room, grabbing one of the snooker balls from the table and rolling it into the bunched up balls at the far end, breaking them apart with a satisfying âclickâ noise. Pulling the door to, she headed back up to the guest room. As she flopped back down on the bed, the siren went off again. Quieter. Manageable. She glanced down at the tablet.
âIncoming:
Charlie pressed the button. Blackness. In the bottom corner, a small green cursor flashed, then letters slowly appeared, the font small, just about legible.
â
_â
Charlie sat there, a puzzled look on her face, waiting for the typing to recommence. After 2 minutes, she gave up, and tapped the red button to end the call. As she did, she felt a chill throughout the room, then loudly screamed as the door slammed shutâŠ.
She swivelled round on the spot, desperately looking around her. Nothing. Just the window blind gently flapping in the wind. She hurried over and shut the window, looking around her. Nothing else in the room. âMust have been the windâ she sighed, relieved. Turning back into the room, she looked over at the door. It had swung back open, now resting against the silver coloured doorstop attached to the floor. Suddenly, the TV on the wall flickered into life. The screen was black, with the same green cursor flashing, this time in the top left corner.
The screen then flashed bright white, with a faded image of a mask in the centre of the screen before switching off completely. The lights in the room shut off, leaving just the orange glow from the setting sun outside illuminating everything in the vicinity of the window. Charlie instinctively ran fro the door, which slammed shut in front of her. She panicked, stood still on the spot, looking for a way out. âThe window!â She exclaimed out loud, bolting towards the window. Before she could reach the window, she felt an arm around her waist, and one over her mouth. They had the same icy feel as the powder had, the coldness burning into her. She screamed into the hand, but nothing came out, just muffled panic. She looked down at the arm around her waist. Where sheâd have expected a large, muscular arm, there was nothing. Yet she was still rooted to the spot, unable to move, unable to scream. She wrestled against force holding her still, thrashing with her arms. She felt herself being pulled back towards the bed, and found herself desperately reaching out for the window. As before, the chill began to subside, turning to heat, a heat which felt like it was scorching her lips, and heat sending floods of pain through her midriff. Just as she reached the bed, The force vanished, she stumbled backwards, the backs of her knees connecting with the bed, causing her to buckle over, falling into the soft bedding. She tried to sit back up, but felt an intense pressure boring into her shoulders, forcing her down into the covers, she let out a scream, and felt a tug at her jeans. Looking down in horror, she watched as her jeans were pulled slowly down, revealing first her bright red panties, then her milky thighs, and down to her knees. She let out another scream as she felt a prodding her her crotch, and another as her tshirt began to ride up towards her breasts, being pulled over, exposing the red lace of her bra. She felt a sharp jolt at the side of her head, forcing it to one side. She tried to fight it, but the force held her firm, forcing her gaze at the television hanging on the wall. It flickered back on, the screen still black. Charlie began sobbing
âPlease, let me go!â she yelled. An image appeared on the screen. The mask from before. Faded, barely visible, but there. The the cursor. Much larger this time, so she could read it from her position prone on the bed
The blinked off. Charlie tried to scream again, but suddenly felt an intense pain, sheâd been punched in the stomach by a heavyweight boxer. The pain got more intense, and spread throughout her abdomen. She screamed once more, the blacked out.
She immediately awoke. She was in bed, carefully tucked under the blanket, one hand between the two pillows. The sunlight burnt through a small gap in the blinds, hurting her eyes/ She threw back the cover and looked down at her body. She was wearing her black Ramones t shirt, one that had belonged to an ex-boyfriend, one she only wore to sleep in. She felt no pain, no anxiety, no panic, no anything. Swinging her legs out of the bed, she rubbed her eyes and wandered into the bathroom. Pulling her t shirt over her head, she stared in the mirror. Her long red hair was all bunched up at one side of her head, messed up and bedraggled. She ruffled her fingers through her locks and neatened them up as best she could, before slipping a hair tie off her wrist, gathering her hair into a loose ponytail off centre behind her head, the end hanging down behind her left shoulder. She looked at her face in the mirror, and noticed there she had no makeup on. The previous day she had made sure she looked her best to make a good first impression on Mr Gregory. She looked around in the bathroom for any sign sheâd removed it. A small trash can sat in the corner of the room, containing a few facial wipes, all smeared with make up. She shook her head and walked into the large shower area of the bathroom, slipping off her panties, turning the large dial on the far wall and stood under the cascade of beautifully warm water. Shaking the water from her face, she rubbed her eyes and considered the events of the previous night. What had happened? Was any of that real?
She finished bathing, and dried herself on a giant white bath towel that hung on a heated rack near the bathroom door. Wrapping the towel around her body, she made her way back into the guest room, and went to get dressed. She found her clothes from the previous day folded neatly by her bag. This threw her. Until then, sheâd convinced herself sheâd just blacked out and couldnât remember the night before for whatever reason, and what she thought had happened was an alarmingly vivid nightmare. The fact her clothes were folded meant something had occurred. She had never folded dirty clothing in her life. Once worn, they were chucked in a crumpled ball and dealt with by the washing machine. She pulled on clean clothing (t-shirt and jeans, naturally) and headed downstairs, tablet in hand. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she noticed the door to the pub room was slightly ajar. She slowly pushed through the door, and using the tablet, brought the lights up. On the bar was a glass, a small amount of liquid in the bottom. Next to it, on its side, the bottle of bourbon she thought she had taken a drink from the previous night. Only empty. Charlie ran to the bar, grabbed the empty bottle and let out a long, relieved sigh.
âThatâs why you donât touch Jack, Charlie!â she laughed, scolding herself. A smile hit her face for the first time since the previous day. âJust a horrible fucking dreamâ she threw the empty bottle into a tall trash can underneath the bar, scooped up the glass and head out of the room, sliding a snooker ball down the table into the balls at the bottom âMust have set these up again too!â She smiled as she closed the door behind her and headed to the kitchen to grab some breakfast.
As the toast popped from the toaster, Charlie looked up from the tablet, over towards where the toast was sat resting in the off-cream, and where the vintage kettle had just finished boiling. Sat on the windowsill was a small flower pot, the same blueish green of the urns, with a large lily-type flower protruding from it, with several offshoots from its thick green stem, crown by a flower deep purple in colour. Charlie hopped down off the bar stool she was perched on, grabbing the butter dish as she went to grab her breakfast. As she began to liberally spread the butter onto her perfectly browned toast, he noticed something about the flower. It appeared to be shimmering, changing colour from the deep, midnight purple sheâd seen from across the room to an earthy green, and back again. She leant in closer, gently cupping the head of the flower in her hand. The colours changed again, from the green to a dark pinkish colour, then through to purple again. Leaning in to smell the flower, she caught it slightly, knocking some of the bright yellow pollen down onto the hand she was using to support herself. Sniffing in deeply, she recoiled as the scent hit her nostrils. Not that it was disgusting, just disappointing, like a bargain store perfume. She looked down at the pollen on her hand, which had changed from bright yellow to deep orange. Without thinking, she wiped the back of her hand on her jeans and carried on with breakfast.
Wiping the toast crumbs from her t-shirt, she downed the last of her coffee and went back upstairs to the guest room, tablet in hand. As she opened the door, she heard the siren ringing, and glanced down at the flashing device in her hand.
INCOMING: PERCIVAL
She tapped the green button to answer âMorning Mr Gregory, is everything okay?â
âGood morning Charlotteâ he replied âApologies if Iâm intruding, I just wanted to see if everything was alright? Did you sleep well?â
âEverythingâs fineâ she replied âI had a really weird nightmare, but I think I may have a drink too manyâ she replied sheepishly âIâll replace the bottle of whiskeyâ
âNo need childâ Percival replied, a smile on his face âIâve already said you can take anything, I have plenty in the cellarâ He smiled again âOh, and I get a lot of people say they get unusual dreams the first night they stay here, theyâll be gone tonight, donât worryâ
âThank youâ Charlie replied, sitting on the bed âI wanted to ask, can you get down to the beach from here? The sun is looking so nice this morningâ
âThere isâ Percival replied âItâs actually a private beach that I own. Itâs only small, but on a nice day, it’s quite beautiful. If you swipe right on the camera feeds, you can see it. To get there, head down the trail in the woods, down the staircase at the end and youâll be there. If you want to take some soda with you, thereâs some chilling in the chiller behind the bar. Have fun!â He smirked, disconnecting the call after Charlie had thanked him. Excitedly, she threw the tablet onto the bed, grabbed her bikini and sun hat from her bag, a towel from the bathroom and ran out into the forest, grabbing a couple of cans of cola from the chiller on the way.
Charlie stepped off the worn wooden staircase onto to the white sand below. The beach itself was small, enclosed on three sides by grass-topped cliffs, the 4th side being gently lapped against by the crystal blue ocean. It felt enclosed, but safe. And it was beyond beautiful. Charlie briefly looked around her, laid the towel down on the ground and began to change into her bikini. As she was unfastening her bra, she heard a noise. Like a strange whirring. Mechanical, not natural. She held the cups of the bra against her chest, the straps hanging loose behind her and glanced around. On the bottom step, a small bird, a dark purple hue to its plumage, sat. It opened its beak, and let out a strange, metallic whirr. Charlie walked over to it slowly, but before she could reach it, it fluttered off into the treetops. Charlie sighed. Another trick of the mind. She continued to change, leaving her clothes in a heap next to the towel. She sat upright at the end of the towel, open a can of cola and downed half of it in 3 large gulps. Pulling her sun hat down over her face, she reclined on the towel and closed her eyes.
Charlie awoke an hour or so later. The sun had peaked in the sky, and was on its way back down, dropping towards the ocean horizon. She stood up and stretched, scooping her clothes up and shoving them into the tote bag she had carried her beachwear in, slipped her shoes back on and headed back up the stairway to the small forest. At the top of the stairs, she saw the same small bird, which let out the same strange whirring noise, then fluttered away. Charlie meandered merrily through the woodland, arriving back at the house and swinging the door open. She ran back upstairs, throwing her bag of clothes next to the bed, grabbing the tablet and ordering a large pizza. Meat feast, extra bacon. âGotta be done!â she chuckled to herself, hitting the order button, then flicking the big screen TV on. A nature documentary. She want to change channel, then noticed the animal. The same bird sheâd seen at the beach. She sat and watched as the voiceover described the bird in a pleasant English accent.
âThe Midnight Song Thrush, named for its dark plumage, is indigenous to the Californian coast. Its is famous for being able to perfectly mimic any sound it hears, and has a reputation as a prolific lover. As such, their feathers are sort after as an aphrodisiac, and the bird itself is endangered. It feeds on-â
Charlie had heard enough. Flipping the channel over to a sitcom, she reclined on the bed and waited for pizza.
âThank youâ Charlie took the pizza from the delivery man. He stood there ogling her briefly. She realised she was still wearing just her bikini. She flushed red with embarrassment, then slipped him a tip.
âTits and a tip, you’re a lucky guyâ she smirked at him, shutting the door before he could say anything. She walked to the kitchen, slice in one hand, box in the other, tablet tucked under her arm. Charlie dropped the box on the kitchen table and hitched herself up onto the stool. She glanced over at the plant on the windowsill, which seemed much bigger than it had this morning. She shrugged it off as an illusion of the late afternoon sunshine, and went back to her pizza. Charlie wasnât the biggest girl in the world, but she could pack pizza away like there was no tomorrow.
âHelps me maintain my figureâ sheâd tell her friends sarcastically when the quizzed her on it. âHer figureâ was curves. Not fat by any means, but not a body youâd find pumping iron. She was happy with it. She had curves where she needed them, and a chest that had got her out of a speeding ticket before.
6 slices later, she closed the box up, leaving the last 2. Breakfast, obviously. She pushed the box away from her into the centre of the table, turned around and gasped. The plant on the windowsill had grown alarmingly in size, filling the window are, leaves and stems billowing out from everywhere. The flower part was now the size of washing machine, the colours flickering between purple, red, green and blue. Charlie kicked the chair out of the way and ran. But not far. A long green vine shot out from the plant, wrapping around her ankle, causing her to trip, She desperately kicked out trying to free herself. The plant gripped tighter, the texture coarse and sticky, It tugged her back towards the table, wrapping another vine around her other ankle.
âItâs a dream. Another nightmare. Iâll wake up soon. Please god let me wake up soonâ Charlie screamed. A vine shot out and wrapped tight around her neck, pulling her upright. Charlie desperately gasped for air as the plant choked her, before it dropped her face first on the table, her ankles still caught by a vine each. She found her face inches from the tablet, which slowly blinked into life. A vine grabbed around the base of her ponytail, yanking her head back, forcing her to stare at the screen. The same mask flashed briefly on the screen. The green cursor blinking. Then text.
A piercing scream filled the room, like an enraged banshee. Charlie clasped her hands over her ears, only to have a vine whip around each wrist, pulling them away, pinning them behind her back, binding them together. Charlie began to scream, desperately trying to wriggle free of the vice grip of the plant. The vine attached to her hair yanked her back, as the two vines holding her ankles pulled apart, spreading her legs painfully wide. She screamed again, as the plant forced her over onto her back, her arms pinned beneath her. She desperately bucked against her bindings.
âLET ME GO!!â She shrieked, kicking ineffectively at nothing in particular, just trying to get free. The vines tightened their grip, the one at her throat causing her to gasp for breath again, before slackening enough for her to just about breathe unobstructed. She felt the rough stickiness moving up each leg, winding around up to her thighs. The ankle bindings pulled and wrapped around her leg, binding her ankles to her thighs. She felt a pulling at her knees, and looked down as best she could at her knees being pulled outwards, exposing her completely, only her blue striped bikini bottoms covering her most intimate of areas. A thin vine, no thicker than the pin of a thumb tack, crawled up her stomach, before splitting into three, each grabbing at a part of her bikini top, wrapping around tightly and tugging at it. 3 swift tugs were all took to remove the top, exposing her breasts to the warm air in the kitchen. She screamed again, watching out of the corner of her eye as the bikini top dropped limply to the ground. Her eyes widened as she saw the thinner vines return, combining back into one, and watching as the snaked around her left breast, tightening slightly, isolating it from the rest of her body. Another thin vine repeated this with her right breast, gripping them firmly. She let out another scream as the end of each vine wrapped around her nipples, the rough texture and tightening grip causing a wave of pain to shoot through her body. SHe began to furiously buck and wriggle, trying to free herself from the merciless grip of the plant.
âThis isnât realâ she kept repeating to herself âThis is a nightmare. This happens in hentai, not in real life. This isnât real. Iâll wake up soon. Endure it. This isnât realâ She squirmed again, the coarseness of the vines digging into her skin causing her to wince in pain each time she did. Then the flower of the plant let out a loud howling noise, like a lone wolf on a winter’s night. She stopped her struggle and watched as two large appendages, bright yellow in colour, broke through the centre, large petals falling to the floor in their wake. These vines were thick in comparison to the rest of the foliage restraining Charlie, roughly the thickness of a can of Coke, and seemingly infinitely long. Charlie screamed as one snaked underneath her ass, wrapping once around her waist, up between her tits then stop, almost like it was staring at her. She opened her mouth to scream, and the tentacle like vine shot forward, like a weasel pouncing at his prey, forcing itself between her lips. The texture was rough and sticky, the taste acidic and salty. Charlie gagged as it forced it’s way to the back of her throat, before retreating them sliding back in, beginning to relentlessly duck her mouth. Drool ran down her chin, dripping down onto her chest. She tried to peer around the tentacle assaulting her mouth to see what the other vine was doing, but couldn’t make out anything. She screwed her eyes tightly shut,
âThis isn’t realâ she repeated, hoping she would awaken from this nightmare. Suddenly, she felt a tug at her bikini bottoms, and a sharp pain as they were ripped from her. She began thrashing as best she could, then stopped as she felt a coolness at the entrance to her pussy, followed by intense pain as a large vine penetrated her. She bucked her hips desperately against the relentlessly pulsating tentacle, each thrust of its muscular mass causing her to cry in pain around the stem between her lips. After what seemed an age, she began to feel the grip of the vines holding her tighten intensely, and the larger vines fucking her began to swell, the colour changing to the deep purple of the bird she had seen at the beach. What was left of the flower of the plant howled again, as tentacle in her pussy stopped briefly and swelled up, putting intense pressure on the walls of her vagina. She screamed around the one in her mouth which suddenly withdrew from her lips and swelled too. She screamed once more before both tentacles simultaneously erupted a thick yellow gel-like substance across her face, down her chest and into her pussy. Charlie gasped and spluttered, desperate to not swallow any of the acrid substance, which kept coming at her, like someone was spraying her with a fire hose of plant cum. She couldn’t keep up, the goo filling her mouth much faster than she could repel. She swallowed a mouthful to prevent herself from drowning, and immediately felt her vision twist, fade, then vanish as she fell unconscious.
She was awoken by the feel of cold water lapping against her legs. She stirred, her head foggy, trying to get her bearings. She was lying face down on the beach, naked. She stood up and saw the stand stuck to small patches of the yellow plant cum.
âit wasn’t a dreamâŠ.â Charlie thought, climbing to her feet. You looked at something glowing next to her. The tablet. On the screen a message:
She angrily gripped the tablet and sprinted back through the forest to the house. Slamming the door behind her, she bounded up the stairs, into the guest room and furiously made a call via the tablet to Percival. She wanted answersâŠ.
She sat on the bad, holding the tablet firmly with both hands, shaking with anger
âAnswer you fucking asshole!â She growled through gritted teeth. A whole minute passed. âANSWER!â she screamed, before flinging the tablet across the room, it crashing into the corner of a dresser and smashing into tiny pieces. Almost instantly, the television set flickered on. She raised her head, focusing intensely on the screen
âGood evening Charlotte, is everything okay?â Percival’s image appeared on the screen, smiling
âDONâT YOU âGOOD MORNINGâ ME, YOU SICK FUCK!â Charlie screamed at the screen âWhat the fuck is up with you?! Who messes with people doing thema fucking favour?! Who has a plant that fucks people! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU??â Percival stared back, his expression blank
âI could ask you the same questionâ He said, his voice monotone, devoid of emotion. His image disappeared from the screen, replaced with a video feed from the kitchen. It showed charlie sat on the kitchen table, with one leg up on the bar stool. The bikini she had been wearing was neatly folded in a small pile behind her. The video showed her masturbating , rubbing her clit with one hand, while using what appeared to be a can of Red Bull as a makeshift dildo, forcing it in and out of her mouth. In the video, she began moaning loudly around the can, jumping off the table, grabbing the plant, which appeared normal size, from the windowsill, and rubbing it vigorously against her pussy.
âThat….that….IT DIDNâT HAPPEN!â Charlie protested.
âOh it didâ Percivalâs monotone droned over the video. âI asked you not to drink those bottles under the bar.â The video feed cut to her grabbing one of the bright blue bottles from under the bar, then cutting to a feed from the beach of her downing half of the bottle
âBut….that….but that was a Cokeâ Charlie pleaded, confusion in her voice.
âI told you not to touch those bottles for a reasonâ Percival sounded angry. The feed ficked again to a feed of the front door. The pizza guy. Charlie on her knees in front of him, sucking him off on the doorstep. Charlie shook her head in disbelief.
âNO! THIS DIDNât HAPPENâ
âThose bottles contain a hallucinogenic drug that heightens sexual desires. There are only 20 in the worldâ Percival stopped and sighed â19 in the worldâ The feed cut back to his face. His cheery demeanour was no longer present. A frown adorned his forehead. His lips, downturned and angry. âI trusted you Charlotte. I had hoped you wre different. His mouth opened wide. His chin narrowed, distorting horrifically, his face appearing to elongate. Charlie scampered back on the bed, horrified. Percivalâs eyes rolled totally back in his head, leaving two solid white balls in his sockets. âYOU WILL SUFFER THE FATE OF THE REST. LOS COLORES WILL HAVE THEIR PRINCESSâ His voice came out massively distorted, both high and low pitched simultaneously. Charlie curled herself into a ball at the top of the bed, shielding herself what what she was witnessing
âPlease…â she sobbed âI havenât done anything. Let me go….â
âLOS COLORES HAVE CHOSEN. AMARILLO & AZUL HAVE BEEN PLEASED. ROJO WILL TAKE HIS PRIZEâ the distorted voice screeched
Charlie stood up and bolted for the door. She had to get away. Far away. She sprinted out of the room, down the stairs and frantically grabbed at the door. Locked. The key that had hung in the lock since she arrived was gone. She desperately tried the nearest window. Locked. She ran into kitchen, rummaging through cupboard. She grabbed the largest saucepan she could find, and began slamming it against the window. Nothing. Not even a chip. She fell helplessly to the floor and started sobbing.
âDonât cry Charlotteâ Percival’s voice echoed through the room, it sounding like it had when they had first spoken âIf you donât disturb them, theyâll leave you alone. They will tempt you. Resist. Iâm sorry Charlotte. If I had told you about everything, you wouldnât have comeâ
âIF YOUâD TOLD ME I WOULDNâT HAVE TOUCHED YOUR STUFF!â Charlie screamed
âIâll be home in 5 days. Iâll be unreachable tomorrow. Have fun Charlotteâ Percival’s voice signed off, in a sinister manner. Charlie sat there naked on the kitchen floor, her head between her knees, gently sobbing. She rolled gently onto her side, and cried herself to sleep.
Charlie awoke the next morning lying on the guest bed, her eyes burning from the sun streaming in through the open blinds. She was curled up close to the edge of the bed, wearing her exâs t-shirt. The clothes she had been wearing the previous day were folded neatly by the bed. The tablet she thought she had broken the night before was sat next to her, not a scratch on it. There was a message on the screen
âAZUL IS HAPPY. AMARILLO IS SATISFIED. ROJO WILL HAVE HIS WAYâ
Charlie launched the tablet into the window, watching as it forlornly bounced off and rested on the floor unharmed. She rolled over, and started sobbing into the pillow. She was interrupted by the vibration of her phone. âUnknown Callerâ
âHello….?â She answered cautiously
âI donât have much timeâ A female voice, a Texan accent, rough and raspy âYou must be strong. Do not let them get you. Fight everyone. Free us. We are und-âThe phone disconnected.
âHello? HELLO?!â Charlie cried desperately into the phone. No answer. She stood up from the bed, a steely determination on her face. She quickly got dressed, wound her long red hair into a rough bun, pinning it on place.
âGot get outâ she said to herself determinedly âFind help. Get free. Find that woman. Find anyone else trapped by this psychopathâ She ran down the stairs with a bounce. Tried the front door again. Locked. The windows wouldnât budge the glass indestructible. She retreated back upstairs, the failures not denting her spirit. She didnât care about the money any more. Just getting free. She tried to remember what Percival, if indeed it was him, had said the night before.
âLos Coloresâ It wasnât something sheâd heard of before. She grabbed the tablet from the floor, and opened a new browser tab.
Google -> Los Colores
Wikipedia
âLOS COLORES are a collection of mythical Incan beings, existing as just colour, with the ability able to posses being and objects. They are associated with a curse put on Incan women who were accused of infidelity, or sexual deviance. It is said that a woman would be marked with a coloured powder, that would induce a hallucinogenic state of heightened sexual desire that left them tormented by imaginary demons, inanimate objects, plant life or animals, dependant on the colour applied. In reality they would be pleasuring themselves, something that then men would enjoy. It was thought that to lift this curse, the women affected were required to please the men of the tribe, and after 20 men would be free of the hallucinations. The idea behind this was that they would experience such a nightmarish experience, that they would be put off sexual encounters forever, and be forever tormented every time they thought of sex.. Those women who had been marked with all four colours (Azul, Amarillo, Rojo and Verde) would be stuck in an eternal curse, forced to endure these sexual nightmares every day for the rest of what inevitably would be a short life. The blue, yellow and red powders applied during these rituals have been found in Peru, and each have been said to increase sexual desires and induce visions, but have been found to have no lasting effects .The green powder has been found t-â
Her reading was interrupted by a loud banging on the door. She looked up. The knocking repeated. She then heard the sound of the door opening, and a loud, booming voice.
âWeâre looking for Percival Gregoryâ the voice shouted in a thick Bostonian accent. Charlie walked out of the room, leaning over the banister looking down into the hallway
âWho are you? Whereâs Gregory?â the shorter of the two men barked up at her, his voice that of a sharp New Yorker.
âHeâs awayâ Charlie shouted, remaining at the top of the stairs, âIâm house-sitting for himâ
âHe owes us money, weâre taking his stuffâ the Bostonian shouted âDonât try and stop usâ
âTake what you want, that piece of shit owes me bigâ Charlie shouted back, any attachment to Percival now a distant memory
âJay, start downstairs. And be careful, this shits worth a fortuneâ the Bostonian man barked at his partnerâ
âSure thing Bossâ he quipped, wedging the front door open and heading into the lounge room. Charlie sat on the top step, staring down at the two men who were slowly removing property from the house. She smiled, then realised. The door was open. She could leave. They donât know whatâs going on. She could walk. Be free. Fuck the others. All that mattered was being as far away from there as possible. She stood up and started to make her way down the stairs. As she reached the bottom, Jar came out of the lounge, a large cabinet in his arms. As he turned towards the door, he smashed into the glass display case holding the large urn in the hallway. The glass shattered with a deafening sound, the urn rocked back and forth, before crashing forward to the ground, spilling a bright red powder across the floor
âJAY YOU FUCKING DUMBASS!â Boss shouted at him
âSorry Boss….â Jay replied sheepishly. He pushed the remains of the urn to one side and carried on. When both guys were back in the lounge, Charlie jogged out of the door, leaving two footprints in the red dust that now covered the hallway. She was outside. Free. She took a look around her, then started to run. She had barely made a step when a large hand clamped down on her shoulder. The hand was at least twice the size of a normal human hand. She swivelled around. There stood Boss. Only not quite Boss. There was Boss in there. He stood 7 feet tall, his mouth was wide open, demonic looking, his tongue, flicking in his mouth, now resembling a snake’s rather than a human. His eyes were bright red, save a small horizontal slit of bright white.
âRojo will have his princessâ Boss roared at her, his voice distorted, his accent as far from Boston as you could imagine. He wrapped a large muscular arm around her waist, hoisting her off the ground, hauling her back into the house. She kicked out, screaming and yelling, desperately trying to fight him off. Boss carried her into the house, kicking the door closed. He gestured to Jay with a nod to follow him. Jay emerged, looking almost identical to Boss, only shorter with a much larger stomach. Charlie was carried into the bar room, and thrown onto the snooker table. A giant hand forced her face into the green cloth, pinning her down. Charlie instinctively knew what was coming. She had to resist. Her arms were free. She reached around for anything she could find. A snooker ball. She gripped the ball as hard as possible, and launched it as hard as she could, blindly, hoping it would make contact. She heard a roar, and felt the hand lift from her head. She span around and sat up, grabbing a cue that was resting on the table, brandishing it like a lance. She grabbed another ball, hurling it at Boss, cracking him square in the side of the head
âGET AWAY FROM ME!â she screamed, retreating as far up the table as possible. She looked around. Boss was holding the side of his heed, a small trickle of blood seeping between his fingers. She looked around for Jay, but couldnât see him. She threw another ball, with major league pitcher accuracy, smacking off his skull with a sickening crack. Then she felt a large sweaty hand clamp over her mouth. Jay had snuck up behind her. She screamed into the hand, to no effect.
âGot her Bossâ Demon-Jay laughed, the voice warped and distorted, but still retaining the New York twang.
âRojo is pleasedâ Boss roared back. âThis puta likes balls. Give her ballsâ he ordered, the Boston creeping back in. There was clearly some part of these guys that knew what they were doing, demon or no demon. Jay grabbed one of the red balls surrounding them on the table. He removed his hand from her mouth and tried to force the ball between her lips. Charlie held firm, screwing her mouth closed as tightly as possible
âOpen up putaâ Jay barked in his garbled tone, digging his fingers sharply into her collar bone. Charlie involuntarily gasped, giving jay the time to shove the ball between her lips. The ball was uncomfortably large, and he had managed to wedge it behind her teeth. She tried to spit it out, but to no avail. She heard the distinct stretching sound of tape, and looked in its direction. Boss had a roll of thick brown packing tape in his hand, and was grinning maniacally. He approached her, and grabbed the back of her head in his huge hand, and began to wrap the tape around her head, over the ball in her mouth, and being very careful not to trap any of her hair, lifting the loose bun out of the way each pass round. Charlieâs tried desperately to shove Boss away, to no avail, his size way to massive to move.
âHold her armsâ Boss signalled to Jay, who dutifully obliged, grabbing an arm in each muscular hand. Boss grabbed the snooker cue that Charlie had been brandishing previously, and began winding the tape around her arm and the cue together, repeating the same with the other arm, leaving her arms painfully stretched out bound by the wooden cue. Charlie struggled against these bindings, ineffectively. Boss grabbed her legs, pulling her so she was sat on the edge of the table.
âLet Rojo have his Princesssssssssâ he hissed. He grabbed Charlieâs t-shirt, one hand on each breast, and tore the blue cotton from her frame in one movement. Charlie began to scream, as loud as she could, the ball muting the sounds to a faint âMMMMFFFFF!â The demon-Boss then grabbed her jeans, pulling them off her like they were nothing more than a wrapper on a chocolate bar, discarding them in a similar manner. Charlie sat in her underwear, a scowl on her face, a determination in her eyes. Boss grabbed her by the throat, Jay lay on the table beneath her. She peered down and began to kick furiously as she saw what was beneath. Demon-Jay was now nude, lying with that sick demonic grin on his face, stroking his cock with his right hand. It had grown proportionally with the rest of his body, and was now easily 14 inches long, and as thick as the tentacles had been, if not thicker. He reached up with his free hand, grabbing her panties and tearing them off as if they werenât there. Charlie heard a loud hacking noise, as Jay spat saliva into the palm of his hand, running it along the shaft of his enlarged penis. Boss lowered Charlie down, and watched in delighted as she squirmed, fighting the inevitable. As the tip of his cock touched her asshole, Boss stopped, and climbed on the table in front of her. He was even bigger than Jay. Charlieâs eyes widened, and she started sobbing at the thought of what was to come. Almost simultaneously, both demons drove into her. She felt like she was being torn apart. The pain of her pussy stretching, and the massive friction in her asshole almost caused her to pass out. âStay with itâ she repeated to herself, over and over, trying to block out the pain
hand, grabbing her panties and tearing them off as if they werenât there. Charlie heard a loud hacking noise, as Jay spat saliva into the palm of his hand, running it along the shaft of his enlarged penis. Boss lowered Charlie down, and watched in delighted as she squirmed, fighting the inevitable. As the tip of his cock touched her asshole, Boss stopped, and climbed on the table in front of her. He was even bigger than Jay. Charlieâs eyes widened, and she started sobbing at the thought of what was to come. Almost simultaneously, both demons drove into her. She felt like she was being torn apart. The pain of her pussy stretching, and the massive friction in her asshole almost caused her to pass out. âStay with itâ she repeated to herself, over and over, trying to block out the pain. Tears ran down her face, over the brown tape holding the ball inside her mouth. She had to break free, but how? She could feel herself getting wet, small waves of pleasure coming between the shocks of pain.
âCum for me, my princessssâ hissed Boss, repeatedly slamming his cock into her, each drive forcing the entirety of his length inside her. His eyes were locked on hers, the white slits glowing with intensity. She focused herd, drawing him in. The an idea. She stretched her arms back as far as possible, throwing her head back, pretending to moan. She braced herself as the rhythmic pounding became faster and harder. The concentration on the demons faces intensified. Charlie took another look, then as hard as she could, slammed the cue down over Jayâs head, the cue in two, freeing her arms, leaving the broken halves attached to her forearms. She rocked to one side, driving the snapped end of the cue as hard as she could into the side of Bossâs skull. Thanks to Bossâs excellent tapework, the cue didnât budge from her arm, and drove straight into his temple. The white slits in his eyes vanished, the eyes fading from bright red to black. He rocked forward onto her, pinning her down onto Jay, his cock buried balls deep into her. She withdrew the shard of wood, a spurt of blood following it. She unwrapped the tape from her right arm, freeing the wood, then, grasping it in her hand, drove it hard into the side of Jay’s skull beneath her. There was a bit more resistance, and Jay roared in agony, throwing both her and Boss off him onto the floor. She pulled herself off Bossâs now flaccid penis, yanking the tape from her mouth and forcing the ball out. She gasped, spitting out the extra phlegm and spit that had built up on the prone body of Boss. Time to go. She looked over at Jay, lying on the table, writhing in agony. The once green baize now stained with spurts of bright red blood. She ran from the room, slamming the door behind her. There was a pile of boxes in the hallway, full of Percivalâs belongings, ready to be loaded up into a waiting van. Shoving them against the door, she pulled at the front door. it swung open with ease. The van sat there on the drive, back doors open. She hadnât remembered seeing it there before, but that didnât bother her. She swung the driver side door open. Keys in the ignition. Result! She fired up the van and slammed her foot on the gas, accelerating hard, throwing gravel everywhere. Then nothing. No power. The van died less than 2 metres from the tunnel.
âFUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!ââ Charlie screamed in frustration, slamming her hands on the van steering wheel, sounding the horn with each slam. She angrily kicked the door and went to leap out of the van. She felt a tightening across her chest. The seatbelt had looped around her, pinning her to the seat.
âNO! GET OFF MEâ she yelled, pulling at the black fabric. As she was struggling, a face appeared around the door, staring at her with piercing red eyes.
âPrincesssssssssss…………….â
Via: https://sexstories.com/story/78473/the_house_in_the_cliffs_2_