IT COMES TO YOU by definitely_not_writing

“Weary toils, worn like stones. Tonight a horror wears her bones.”

Anna trudged to her car, her worn-out shoes scraping against the asphalt as she left work. Her indigo uniform was dripping with sweat, and her name tag was turned around. She clawed at her tucked-in shirt, pulling it free and allowing the crisp midnight air to give her some relief. The door to her not-quite-broken-down car opened, and she collapsed inside. Her delicate, calloused fingers tugged her crimson hair out of the tight bun it had been in for hours and tossed the hair tie into the passenger seat. Another time, she could have been a seamstress, or maybe a pianist, but her demure physique was lost in a life of menial labor. Her car chortled, and she drove home.

Too drained to bother showering tonight, Anna unhooked her cheap, broken wire bra, letting it fall to the floor of her cluttered bedroom. She stripped down to her sky-blue panties and flopped on her comforter, her light breasts welcoming the embrace. Her box fan worked overtime to cool down her slick back. With her head heavy, she fell into slumbering darkness.

Anna’s form floated naked in an abyss. Her long eyelashes fluttered, the flickering glint of sight searching for something, anything. She was warm, and the air was stagnant, like breathing from a plastic bag. Was it air? Her lungs burned, her ribs sucking hard for relief. Anna’s eyes opened in panic, seeing nothing but feeling a presence. Colossal, terrible, wrapping around her, she thrashed her limbs in search of a place to hide, to escape.

A long, wide, sticky muscle pressed against her back. Her legs, butt, spine, and neck were immediately slick with secretion. A second muscle pinned her from the front, oozing against her hips, her breasts, her throat, and over her nose and mouth. They crushed the air out of her chest, and she was unable to move at all. It felt like she was being swallowed. A wordless scream hung from her lips.

Anna woke up still screaming. She was soaked from head to toe. Rain poured down her naked body. Rain? Anna looked up at the stainless showerhead above her. How the fuck did she get in here? Her skin was pink from heat. The knob on her shower was cranked all the way to the left, as far as it’ll go. Dizzy, Anna braced herself against the wall and turned the water off. Groping for the towel hanging on the doorknob, she stumbled and pushed it open. Steam poured like fog into the hallway. She took a deep breath of fresh air to calm her nerves and started to towel herself off.

Anna gingerly padded her legs dry, wincing a little from the overheated, sensitive skin. She worked her way up, her artful fingers finding their way into each nook and cranny of her thighs, her hips, her breasts, her neck…

A tingling jolt shot from the side of her neck, like hitting a funny bone. She gasped as the feeling radiated down her body, giving her goosebumps. Carefully, she touched her neck again, this time with the bare tips of her fingers. It was soft and sort of lumpy, and it was warm, almost hot, like a busted lip. She looked in the mirror and froze.

A dark, purple-red, oval gash bulged out from where she was touching. It was as long as her palm and oozing something black. She pulled her hand away and saw the ichor stick to it, stringing out in strands. Without thinking she brought it to her nose. It smelled like metal shavings and wild honey. The aroma made her head swim. Her cheeks flushed, and a dull ache between her legs began to grow. She staggered back, falling hard on her butt on the edge of the tub. The ache became a throb, and, with steam slipping out around her, her ichor-coated seamstress fingers found the folds of her sweet secret.

Anna’s half smile reflected in the foggy mirror as she danced with her tingling bud. Her other hand slid up her side, squeezing her breast. A low whimper escaped her lips. The tingle quickly became a buzz, and her chest heaved with anticipation. Her eyes opened wide and her legs clamped down as the burning glow of her loins seared into her lower half. Anna gritted her teeth and rode the wave, unable to draw breath. Finally, she was released from the clutch of her ecstasy and slumped to the tile floor.

Woozily, Anna stared at her blackened fingertips, midnight sex stringing from them to her snatch. She wobbled to her feet and looked again in the mirror at the thing on her neck. It buzzed and burned, but most of all it throbbed and ached in a familiar way. The horrid realization struck her. What the fuck was she going to do?

Creatures searching, drawing near

The girl must learn to hide her fear

Anna went to work the next day with a scarf. She saw her boss, a heavy, middle-aged black woman with a clean, polyester blouse and a permanent scowl on her face.

“Anna! Come here.”

Anna did her best to pretend she had a fever. “Yeah, Denise? What’s up?”

If Denise noticed Anna’s ailment, she either saw through it or she didn’t care.

“We’ve had two call-offs today, so we’re gonna need you to pick up the slack stocking.”

The buttons on her ultramarine shirt were stretching to their limit from the sheer size of the woman beneath.

Anna had hoped she’d get sent home so she wouldn’t have to hide her neck all day, but that hope was rapidly fading. She remembered why she hated this place.

“I don’t know how fast I’ll be able to go today…”

She wobbled on her feet a little.

But Denise had already left, probably to pick on more people and hide in the office, pretending to do paperwork. Anna turned towards the shelves, which were already swarming with customers, and her shoulders drooped.

The next few hours were a dance of “Show me where this thing is”, and “What do you mean there aren’t any more?” Anna saw the gazes of the people around her. “Why is she wearing THAT?” She felt like a bug under a microscope: scrutinized, judged, and… watched?

How long had that man been standing there? Someone else approached with, “Can I get some help reaching something?”. In the break of her concentration, he vanished.

A young woman came up to her.

“Do you have any more of these pickles in the back?”

Her blonde hair had loose, permed curls, and she wore a nice, white, collared blouse that was tucked into belted, corduroy pants. She flashed a bright smile. Were her teeth a little too sharp? She looked like she came out of a vacuum catalogue from the 50s.

Anna looked at the pickles. They were an old-fashioned, expensive sort of brand and she was sure she wouldn’t be able to find them in the mess that is the back.

“Well, I can check for you.”

Anna walked the hundred feet to the large double doors where they kept the overstock, and pushed inside.

Huge stacks of cardboard boxes lined the walls from floor to ceiling, held back precariously by black netting. Further back was the employee break area, but nobody was on lunch right now. The space was still.

Anna stood in the back for a minute, eyes closed. Her hair ached from the tight bun it was trapped in. Her khakis were dirty at the knee from stocking shelves. Her scarf was soaked with sweat. She tugged it loose, the cool air granting her relief.

Anna heard the soft creak of the door opening behind her. She whirled around to see the woman standing there, staring at her with a hard smile. She looked taller somehow, like she was stretched in a circus mirror.

The woman took a step forward.

“I know I saw a jar back there…”

Anna, holding her scarf up, took a step back.

“Look, you can’t be in here-”

She backed into someone’s chest, tall and broad.

The man from before grabbed her arms and pinned them back, forcing Anna’s chest forward. Her scarf fell to the concrete floor. Anna’s eyes were wide with panic.

The woman was directly in front of her now, grinning madly. She was close enough that Anna could smell her. It was like vanilla and roses mixed with blood. She twirled Anna’s curls between her thin fingers.

“Shame, what a waste.”

The woman opened her mouth again as if to say more, but her jaw kept getting wider, revealing rows of dark teeth. Her eyes rolled back, and she grabbed Anna’s fiery hair with surprising strength, exposing the side of her neck with the quivering, aching hole.

Anna tried to scream, but nothing would come out as a long, inky black tendriled tongue emerged from the woman’s maw. Wet and muscular, it oozed across Anna’s face. It slithered around the purple gash on her neck, making it itch and throb. Then the tip found the new entrance in her flesh, and it plunged.

The tendril writhed deeper beneath Anna’s skin. Her blood turned to ice, but the tendril made wherever it touched burn hot with desire. The woman shuddered as it probed Anna’s insides, making them feel like wet spaghetti. The hole between Anna’s legs was quickly soaked, begging for the same.

The room got blurry and began to warp. Anna’s clothes melted, and the floor fell away. The woman, stark naked and now pale gray, but still with a gaping, inky black jaw, stroked Anna’s cheek as she squirmed in the man’s grip. All sense was gone from her, replaced with raw animal need.

Anna pressed her butt against the man’s groin and felt something solid, but it was wet and shaped all wrong. That didn’t matter to her anymore.

“Please… Please please please please.”

She begged, though she couldn’t turn her head to look at him. The solid thing pulsed and wriggled on its own, tasting between her legs and mixing its goo with hers. Anna let out an angry, impatient yowl. Its narrow tip found her entry, and, smoothly, it pushed into her babymaker. There was no friction, only pressure and wet static as Anna shrieked. The thing pounded her soaked womanhood, pushing through her cervix and stretching out her womb.

At the same time, Anna could see the tendril in her neck pussy bulge under her skin, coiling around her breast and squeezing her sensitive tissues from the inside. She felt weightless, and everything was still, like the ocean suddenly receding. A static buzz grew from the tendrils as one spiraled up and around her lungs and throat. Anna gurgled with pleasure. The ocean returned, crashing into her body, swallowing her whole, and then it was dark.

A woman floats formless in the hungry void. Midnight teeth fill the horizon. Emptiness throbs with static. Warm, slick walls press inward once more. This time, the woman smiles and greets the maw.

“Nightmares, daydreams, from the dark. Come for those who find their mark.”

THE END