It Waits

Many thanks to BlackShanglan, who inspired this story with an equine contribution to the contest.

Please vote and offer commentary. It's difficult to improve without constructive critique.

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It waits.

There in the darkness, only its eyes reflecting the light.

For a full year it has lay dormant. A full year it has listened to the voices around it, paying close attention to whomever might be the next to know it. A target has been chosen. The night came. It woke and crept from it's lair to squeeze into the space it had chosen. It watched as the target went about it's business - a routine of cleaning, cooking, and other everyday doings. It watched as the target greeted small ones in outlandish costumes at the door. It watched as the target left.

It waits.

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Charlene hurried back to her door. It was a small town, and a safe neighborhood, so she hadn't locked the door while she was gone. It was just a quick run for more candy, after all. It looked she was just in time. Another group of trick or treaters came around the corner just as she slipped inside.

She dropped her purse on the floor and dove into the plastic bag hanging from her other hand. Just enough time to rip open the bag of assorted candy with her teeth and dump it into a bowl and the doorbell rang.

"Just a minute!" she called out, trying to wrestle her wrist from the handles of the bag. "I'm coming!" Then, in a lower voice, "Get. OUT of there. Yeesh." The bag dropped from her arm and she opened the door.

A cheerful chorus of "Trick or treat!" greeted her.

"Oh, my! A scary witch, and a mummy, a vampire..." She feigned a shudder as she dropped candy into their plastic pumpkins. "This little princess can stay with me, but the rest of you are too scary." Charlene winked at the toddler. The little one grinned back.

They all mumbled their thanks and backed quickly from her porch. The oldest, a boy designated as babysitter for the evening judging by his age and the scowl on his face, looked past her shoulder. His eyes grew wide. "Time to go. NOW." His voice was quavering slightly.

Charlene waved as they walked away. Her brow furrowed. It was odd for him to act like that, she thought. He's captain of the football team. Not afraid of anything, they say. She backed into the house, shutting the door with one hand.

She half turned toward the living room when something hit her from behind. It knocked her flat against the door, making the breath whoosh from her lungs. Stars shone in the blackness closing over her consciousness. The tang of blood found her tongue. She slid down the back of the door until she hit her knees. There was something there that shouldn't have been, but what was it?

Fight it, she told herself. Don't pass out. Figure out what this is. She shook her head violently. For a moment her vision cleared. She was kneeling on packaged candy. What happened?

She started to raise her head. Her ears immediately started ringing. A constant high-pitched squeal. The higher her head rose the louder it became. She stopped moving and the sound stopped. It was replaced by a soft sizzling sound. Something like water boiling over on the stove. She raised her eyes and the sound was back. The squeal.

Her head jerked up in surprise when somebody pounded on the door. The squeal was suddenly a scream, loud enough to rattle the windows. Charlene squeezed her eyes shut and clamped her hands over her ears, her own scream drowned by whatever this was.

Something slammed into her again. She was airborne, then suddenly halted. A hand around her arm jerking her out again, fingernails digging into her skin, blood soaking into her shirt sleeve. She looked up and saw the hole where she had been flung into the wall. Something whipped her around. There was a ripping sound and a sharp sting across her belly. She gasped and looked down. Half of her shirt was gone, along with the waist of her jeans. They lay in shreds across her bleeding flesh.

Charlene gaped down at herself for a split second, then her instincts took over. She whirled toward the front door, where she knew there would be people somewhere, and sprinted the length of the room. There was a sharp pain on the back of her skull and a tearing sound. Her feet were suddenly in the air, still making running motions, then she slammed down to the floor, her breath once more gone. The shrill scream shook the house and a handful of her own hair sprinkled across her prone body. She got to her knees as quickly as she could manage and watched the hair slide to the hardwood. Some of it still had bits of skin attached.

The front door was out of the question. That was clear. The kitchen door, then. She crawled, scrambling in a frenzy toward the back of the house. Another stinging sensation and one leg of her jeans was gone. Her shoe was hanging half on her foot. A frantic kick sent it flying. The other leg is caught. She kicks again, filling her lungs to scream, and hits something hard. A loud pop and searing pain in her ankle follows after. She screamed. This time it was a mixture of pain and terror.

She scrambled to her feet. Her arms swung wildly in a feeble attempt to make her halting limp take her faster toward the door. Nearly there. Just a few more steps. She slams into a wall of nothing. The force of it bounces her backward against something cold. She opens her mouth to scream and the nothing fills it, forcing her jaws open. She finds herself embraced in air, unable to move despite her desperate struggles. Her clothing is peeled away like the rind from a ripe orange.

Her eyes widen and her body suddenly goes stiff and still. A humanoid hand has appeared before her. The fingers are too long, too thin. The nails are sharpened to claws. The hand come closer with an agonizing lack of speed until one claw touches her nipple. The cold emanating from the one finger made it rise proudly. A drop of blood rose from the surface. Charlene squeezed her eyes shut, managing a quavering whimper of fear.

The sizzling sound resumed. The grip on her seemed to loosen slightly, only to be replaced by the feel of something squeezing her small breasts together. She arched her back to ease the pressure on the skin over her ribs. It felt as if it were going to tear. At that moment there was a sudden sharp pain in both her nipples. Something had clamped down over them. Her eyes flew wide once more and she looked down her cheeks toward them. Her breasts were being held together by that strange hand. There was a clear bite mark spreading across one areola and curving over the other. More blood - but this was disappearing as soon as it touched the air.

Her eyes fell shut again. She shook her head to clear it. This was unnatural. This couldn't be happening. Yet there was the pain, and a pulling deep inside. She couldn't deny that something had ahold of her.

Then the thing - whatever it was - starting sucking in earnest. Her legs gave out, making her glad of the being holding her up. She didn't want to hit the floor again. Her toes started to go numb. Then her feet, then ankles, and the lower half of her legs. This was almost a familiar feeling. The only thing missing was the blindness that came along with it.

A quick change. The sucking was gone. A shove from behind and her forehead is touching the floor. The nothing wraps itself around her ankles and pulls them wide, bringing a gurgle of protest from her throat. The grip tightens until her breath nearly stops. Tears start rolling down her cheeks. Her head turns. The thing lifts her feet from the floor, allowing her to ease the pain in her ankle. A gentle touch to her nether regions. Her lips pulled apart. Cold again, then a rasping against her clit. She tried to pull her thighs together. The shriek echoed through the house once more. Claws ripped through the flesh in her back, flaying her from shoulder to ass cheeks. All the gentleness in the touch was gone. Instead there was a deep bite. It ripped the flesh from her labia, all the while screaming.

The mouth of the creature worked upward, the rough tongue lashing at the open wounds on Charlene's back. Every few inches it would take another small chunk of her flesh, consuming her a bit at a time. She was helpless, bound by nothing into complete submission, unable to make even the smallest sound. Her tears flowed freely to puddle beneath her cheek, mingling with the blood dripping from her flesh. The hands found her breasts again. They wrapped around them, the claws sinking deeply. Something probed at the entrance to her pussy. She shook her head, denying the creature, until air pressured against the soft spot at her temple made her stop.

The thing paused. Silence for a moment. No motion from either of them. The hissing sound again, soft against her ear. She closed her eyes, unable to bring herself to look. The touch at her entrance was there again. Gentle. The tip of something slid in. Then a few inches of something cold and hard. It started thin, though it quickly became thicker and longer. The thing started moving against her. Slow, deliberate motions. It sizzled and hissed. Whatever part invaded her kept growing. It strained her opening. The motions became quicker, her blood lubricating them both. The claws in one breast were suddenly gone. The fingers were at her clit again. It stood tall despite what had happened. As the thing pinched at her little nub of pleasure the numbness started to rise again.

The hissing became louder. It pumped faster and harder, pounding her innards mercilessly. The thing inside her kept growing. The hand sunk into her breast pulled her back toward it, against the hold of the air, ripping her flesh. As it drove into her she could feel spines along the length of it's intrusion. They tore her apart from the inside, driving her toward darkness.

The thing could feel her body shudder against itself. All parts of itself, those seen and unseen. The target's orgasm came with the breath of death. It drove into her a few more times to dispel it's seed before withdrawing. A line of it's black essence strung from her abused cunt to the floor. The thing tilted it's head to watch it as it mixed with the blood, sweat, and tears beneath the two of them. It knew it needed to clean the target for it to see it's fruit come to bear.

It drew the air away, letting her fall to the floor. With one clawed hand it scooped the leavings from the floor and let them dribble onto her mangled flesh. As soon as the fluids touched her it licked the open wounds. An acrid smoke rose from them as it did. When the smoke cleared the wounds were gone, healed, leaving scars where the worst had been.

Only when this task was finished did it retreat. Back to its lair to watch the target's belly grow. To watch its son be born. To watch it grow into another like itself. To wait until the next reaches adulthood to see what needs to be done.

It waits.