The Hare and the Hound was the only place in this god-forsaken small town to pick up women. You see, I was a stud – a stallion – waiting for my next mare. That night I had a shitty day at work. Dave from accounting was hounding me about the numbers again, I swear I did send them in but he said I didn’t. Prick must’ve lost them. So, there I was in a black t-shirt and nice jeans, even though this was their second day and probably could’ve done with a wash, I didn’t care. I just needed to let my hair down. I was sipping on my beer, can’t remember what brand now, whatever was cheapest. I’m not one for alcohol, my granddad used to say that a man is nothing if he doesn’t select a good drink in the evening, a whole load of bollocks, you get drunk just the same. So, when he died at seventy three of liver disease I swear I could’ve laughed. The drink was cold though and after a sweaty day in the office it felt more refreshing than anything. At that point, the bar was mostly empty, except for the few regulars that I had come to be acquainted with.
Soon, the bar began to fill with young people and old people pretending to be young. I stayed near the bar, eyeing up the tables. You see our town was small but it had a decent amount of people who came and went from the cities in our area. It was small but not quaint, the perfect place for people to live whilst building their careers. Cheap housing, mostly closed down town centre, the typical place. I had lived here all my life and seen many come and go. So, I spent my night waiting for my next score. A woman a little too drunk, whose friends were clearly done with her antics, and just wanted to leave even when she refused. That was my preferred target but I wasn’t picky. That night, there didn’t seem to be anyone, granted the footy was on and that made the bar decidedly more male, than I would’ve liked. Still, I could banter my way through football, with some random blokes, I blended in, an unassuming predator on the prowl.
A woman walked in, alone. She was dressed up smart but still a little provocative. A mini skirt that was a little unprofessional but could pass in a relaxed office. She looked tired and like she needed a drink. Making a beeline for the bar, she stood next to me. She was looking at the TV on the opposite wall, away from me. Her hair was short but wavy, she smelled like a cheap perfume. I had to come across as natural, in my years of picking up women, I found that what spooked them the most was the sense that a man orchestrated everything. They hated to feel like they were being manipulated. The bartender brought her a drink, which looked like vodka and coke, and she chugged it. This was my moment.
“You had a shit day too?” I asked, fidgeting with my empty beer bottle, causal, unassuming. She smiled, then sighed.
“Yes, I have.” She was even prettier than I had originally realised. Her eyes were hazel with golden flecks which seemed to dance. She was looking at me expectantly, her eyes flicking between me and her now empty glass. I signaled to the bartender, ordering us both another round. She didn’t chug this one but took polite sips, as if savouring it this time. I followed her lead.
“Work or personal?” The bar was loud, a goal was just scored and the men were cheering, hugging as if they themselves had scored the goal. She looked around, her eyes were slightly wide with shock. She clearly hadn’t seen any footy lads before. Before, I could ask if she was alright, her face corrected itself, and went back to looking as she had.
“Personal…do you believe in fate?” What an odd question, I remember thinking she must’ve been one of them mystical ones. I didn’t really care as long as she wouldn’t pull any weird shit on me.
“Yeah, I believe in fate, who doesn’t?” That seemed to satisfy her and she went back to nursing her drink.
“Why are you here? Bad day also?”
“Something like that.” She nodded, worried I had run the conversation into the ground, I told a long swig of my beer. “You know, bad boss and all that.”
“Yes, I have a bad boss too.” She was weird for sure, she sounded almost as rehearsed as me. So many things crossed my mind but I landed on the fact she wanted what I wanted, and that was enough for me to feel more confident.
“If I were your boss, I would never treat such a pretty employee like shit.” Corny, maybe, but effective. She laughed and turned her face away. In the mirror on the wall opposite, I could see her face, it was blank. That did freak me out a little but maybe she was just nervous? That’s what I went with, my confidence would not be knocked.
“I’m Jerry by the way.” I held out a hand, she shook it but hesitated for a second.
“Sally.”
“Why don’t we get out of here, Sally? The footy is still going to be on for a while.”
“Okay, Jerry.”
***
After I was done, I looked down at her, she was laid in this sort of odd position from the contractions of her orgasm. I pulled out and walked to the bathroom. I could hear her breathing from the room, and I smirked to myself – I had shown her a good time. I was proud, smiling to myself in the bathroom. I began to wipe down the residue of my cum. Her breathing seemed to only be getting louder but I thought maybe it was just the quiet of the night, but there was a strange raspiness to her breathing, almost like she had too much phlegm in her throat. Once I had finished, I began to wash my hands. The water was cool on my skin, but then I heard a weird sound from the bedroom. It sounded like when you crack your knuckles but louder – much louder. I popped my head out of the bathroom, making sure she was alright. The room was dark aside from the light from the bathroom, she was laying in the same position – my pride was starting to wane and I became concerned. She was still heavily breathing.
“You alright?” I called out. Her head did a floppy sort of nod, so I assumed she was fine. The pride kind of came back but I was mostly just weirded out. I was glad I didn’t recognise her or remember her name, it would make it easier to forget after she left in the morning. Another crack. Her hand flopped to one side and then back, it was longer. It touched her face when it hadn’t before. I was sure it was the trick of the light, but my breath was sucked out of me. Her breathing was even louder, like a car engine trying to accelerate. Her leg cracked next and her shin split in two. But then something grew out of her leg, stretching the skin, creating stretch marks before my very eyes. Her skin turned pale. She lay in the same position, hardly moving despite the thing growing more by the second. It then stretched out, leaving her leg looking long with too many joints. I froze in place. The only noise was her breathing and a slight ringing in my ears. There was another crack and suddenly her sternum became a pyramid, pointed towards the ceiling. I took a shaky step back, I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. My phone, I knew I needed to get my phone. What I would’ve done with it once I got it, I didn’t know. Call an ambulance or just take a video so I had proof. But then, I couldn’t stop looking at the way her chest split in two, and another rib cage formed in the gaps. The ribs naturally curved as they grew, forming perfectly symmetrical. Her arms began to crack, then her neck, soon she was like a doll with too many pieces. Bones formed replicating themselves, my mind rushed back to year 8 biology, and learning about cells splitting. But this was too fast, too aggressive. Her neck expanded and fit awkwardly on the bed, forming into a curve pushed back against the bed frame. She could now look straight into my eyes, and when I looked into hers I saw nothing. All of this was happening and her face showed no emotion, almost boredom, like this was routine. I was still standing next to the bathroom, this was the only time I had ever wished I didn’t have an en-suite. The mangled thing on the bed stood between me and the hall. I thought about running, but I stayed glued to the spot, staring slack jawed. Her breathing had returned to normal and the bones were still. Now it was silent, which somehow scared me even more. I had spent my whole life convincing myself I was unafraid but right then I was terrified. A weird thought crossed my mind, there wasn’t any blood, none, despite the fact I could see bone and flesh. My eyes frantically looked to see if there was anything to prove she was human or real. But there was none. Even the face, which moments before had looked bored, was now vacant, eyes glassed over.
I finally moved. I grabbed the door frame, all the blood rushed from my face as the shock wore off and the panic set in. How long had passed since I heard the first bone breaking? Why was she just looking at me? I couldn’t answer these questions, my mind was filled with a hot panic that I can’t quite explain. It felt both empty and full, a weird pressure on my forehead. She remained still, no breathing, no sign of movement. I took my eyes off her, looking for my phone, I left it somewhere but the heat of the moment earlier meant I had no idea where. When I looked back, she was still looking at me, but her face seemed thinner, worn out. Don’t get me wrong, she was skinny before, but now she looked ill, like her skin was just simply a sheet draped over bone.
A croak left her lips, as her face began to dismantle. Her cheek bones caved in and her jaw snapped down the centre, only being held together by the small amount of skin left. Her eyes slipped back into her skull, falling backwards as if it was hollow, her sockets hollow and endless stared back at me. She whimpered quietly, the only sound that even resembled the human she had been an hour ago. Then her skull caved in, like some invisible force was compressing it. Her features squished and crumbled like an old Halloween mask, forming into a disk on top of her elongated neck. A loud snap made me jump and my eyes snapped to her lower leg. They snapped at awkward and unnatural angles. Then her arms followed, no longer was this human but a pile of bone and gristle. Her torso followed, her chest curled inward, as her back tore open, revealing her spine. Although, to call it a spine would be wrong. It had several columns, jagged and rolling over one another, creating a scraping noise, as her body jerked and contorted. The mess of limbs, bones and flesh began to curl into a ball on the centre of the bed, somehow getting smaller and smaller. Compressing more and more, till it formed a perfect cube. I could see what was her face in the brick, it was flattened in a way that her nose went into her eye socket. The skin was grey, and there was still no blood.
Silence. I just stood there staring for a while. I can’t remember what I was thinking. I was fogged over with the dread of what had just happened. Was she dead? Or was she never human at all? My mind raced with questions, and there were no answers I could think of. The sudden weight in my feet reminded me that this wasn’t a dream. I fell back onto the cold tile of my bathroom. The bedroom remained quiet, which shouldn’t have reassured me, but honestly, I was glad it was over. I just need to get out. It was at that moment, I remembered my phone. It was in my jeans pocket. Where had I taken them off? I scanned the floor, near the door, I could see them. It required me to walk past the meat cube, and once again I was paralyzed with fear. It hadn’t moved, but an awful smell had hit me. A mix of petrol and rotting fruit. Bile burned the back of my throat. My hands moved to cover my nose, it was getting stronger. Something about it pushed me to finally dart across the room to my jeans. I reached them, and I turned to the door, but then a weird viscous liquid squirted across the door. Turning back to the cube, I saw the cube slowly becoming liquid. The door corroded, and I ran back to the safety of the en-suite. I fell back onto the tiles, and scrambled to get my phone out. Liquid was still flying out of the cube, like a sprinkler. The phone lit up in my face and the safety that came with it. My fingers drummed in 999, but before I could press it, a slosh of liquid burnt my hand and the phone. I yelped in pain, clutching my hand to my chest, only for it to burn there too. Tears openly fell down my face, I stood putting the tap on and washing my hand. The skin was charred and blistered, the water was cool and soothing. There was loud squelch and silence aside from the running tap. I turned it off and peered round the corner. The cube was gone and in its place were two figures, a man and a woman, standing holding hands on the bed.
“Hi Jerry.” It was her voice, the same woman from the bar. But she was dead? There was no way someone could survive that. I tried to focus my eyes on them, I could make out her features, she looked identical to before. The man was average height, but his face was obscured, the light from the bathroom just below him.
“Come Jerry, come look.” She talked in almost a mocking tone, yet I listened. “Turn the light on, Jerry.” When I did, the lights illuminated both of them. I dropped to my knees, screamed out in fear but also despair. A blood curdling white heat spread throughout my gut, I pushed myself back against the wall, my head shaking back and forth involuntarily. It was me. I was looking at my own body.
“Don’t worry, Jerry, he will live your life as best he can.” My eyes snapped to her, she had that same smile as earlier, as if this was just another bad day. He came down from the bed, he stood tall over me. I blubbered, begged, bargained, I’m not even sure. He lifted his hand above his head, and began to beat me, like a monkey. Smashing my head, over and over.
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