Chapter 3
The rain had started that day he'd met Charlotte, and hadn't stopped since. Despite her warning, he had had little choice but to start exploring the house out of sheer boredom. There were only so many endless hours you could spend on imageboards, chatrooms and forums talking about pornography. He had thought about describing the girl he had just met to a few of his online friends, but it seemed... crass. She was strange, sure, but nice. She was likely to be the only person near his age for miles around. He didn't want to do anything to mess that up.
The house was a lot older than it had seemed. It didn't take long to map out all the rooms, but each one was so full of old items. Some walls stretched between rooms and suddenly stopped. Others had doors hidden in alcoves which led to rooms you didn't expect. He even found one room totally hidden in between two others, a tiny little cupboard you wouldn't have seen if you hadn't been looking for it.
There was one room that really creeped him out. It was packed full of old furniture, and it was all covered in white sheets. He'd seen one too many horror movies with rooms like that. Even so, he'd taken a look under a few sheets. Even if this furniture all came from this house, it didn't match. Some of it was far older. It must have been accumulated over many generations of people living here.
How many families had lived here over the years? There was enough furniture in that room to fully furnish the whole estate twice. The barren state of the other rooms made sense now. All the furnishings were in here.
Some old paintings proved interesting for a while. He googled the names of people under the more extravagant portraits. Land owners, a few local politicians, even an early film star.
Next he decided to figure out what all the switches in the house did. Most were lights, a few though were more interesting. There was an electronic dumbwaiter which led to the cellar from the kitchen, and up to the second floor. There was a switch in the basement which dimmed every light in the house at once. A few did nothing at all, as far as he could tell.
That kept him occupied for as long as it took to download some 'viewing material', which he proceeded to go up to his room and peruse for a while.
The next day, as the rain showed no sign of abating, he decided to put a tag on every switch, and then figure out what every key was for. The drawer in the kitchen had easily fifty keys, and that air of mystery from the forest was back as he looked through them.
Some were easy to match up. The modern locks took modern keys, older ones the more arched and rifled ones, and the oldest ones used the kind of keys you only really saw in point and click adventure games these days.
Fourty-nine keys, fourty-nine doors or cupboards. It had taken a while but he dumped the keys back into the drawer, complete with their tags. Fourty-nine... and yet one key was left.
Big, black, cast iron. The end was a thick heart-shape, and the head quite ornate and fancy. But where did it go?
He'd already found every door in the house. He'd even found one for a padlock leading to the cellar from outside. Where did this go?
He gave the house another once over, but no luck. he even checked all the sheeted furniture for a hidden chest. Whatever this key led to, perhaps it had been taken by a previous family, and the key forgotten.
Eventually, he sat against the wall in his bedroom, phone in hand, and decided to listen to the rain as he browsed some Discord servers. Behind him the rain was lashing against the windows, and the dark day grew darker.
A flash of light, followed by thunder, tore him away from the rather engaging content he had found – full bodied redheads, coincidentally.
For a split second, in the light, at the bottom of the wall in front of him he'd seen something... odd. Turning the light on on his phone, he scanned the wall in the dim light, until another flash – and there it was.
A keyhole.
---
It wasn't actually a keyhole. Or it was. Rather, the keyhole was behind the wallpaper. So easily overlooked, if it hadn't been for the contrast of the light, he would never have spotted it. Indeed, he might have lived here for years and never noticed it.
The mystery had gotten the better of him. In the kitchen he found the drawer once more which was full of old wires, unknown plastic parts, and sitting suspiciously above all the other keys was the heart-shaped one.
In the back of his head, he heard Charlotte's warning. The house was old, and full of secrets, not all of which should be uncovered.
But Carl was an adult now, a headstrong guy, and full of testosterone. He was also bored, and didn't believe a word of what the girl had said. Even if he had, and maybe he did believe one or two of them, they would only have served to encourage that curious little boy deep within him.
Around it, he realized, was a square shaped crease in the wallpaper. Using the key, he carefully tore at the gap, dragging the key around until all three sides were shorn. Then, softly, gently, he pushed the key against the paper, until all too suddenly it popped in – and the key sank home.
He turned it, and pulled.
Bricks.
A bricked up divide between the rooms. At some point, someone had no doubt filled the other side in to separate something.
Sighing, he closed the small door, and dropped the key in front of it. He clambered up into his bed and turned off the light. For hours, he just stared into his phone, until it sank to his chest as he passed into sleep.
---
The doorway creaked, ever so slightly, as air pushed against it from the other side. The key lay next to it, and was slowly spirited away inside, tugged under the gap. A small tendril re-emerged, and slipped out, followed by a few others.
One reached up to gently wrestle the phone from his hands. The next found his PC and, somehow, brought it online. The third slinked its way under the covers, accompanied by a few others.
Aside from some shorts, Carl slept naked, and the tendrils exploited this to their fullest. One ever so delicately ran its way down his sole, which instantly twitched and kicked, before it repeated the gesture again just to be sure. Carl's foot recoiled, and he rolled to his back in his sleep fitfully.
The others began to silkily caress his thighs, and somewhere in his dream, Carl felt encouraged to let them part. Gleefully, the inky black tendrils began to tug and tease at his shorts, as others snuck their way up the gaps around his thighs.
Almost immediately, his cock rose to attention, tenting the thin bedsheet, as the oily appendages slickly and slowly coaxed his erection to full mast.
The tendril holding his phone had freed it and began to flick through it, investigating every website, server, and more. It found the gallery on his phone and began to flick through at an inhuman speed.
The PC monitor flickered and flashed, dozens if not hundreds of images, stories and videos appearing and disappearing. Search history – carefully disguised – was instantly cracked open and thousands of browser tabs opened. One tendril lifted the headphones up to listen, and something, somewhere, smiled.
A tendril was lovingly drawing a heart shape on the underside of Carl's cock, even as another lavishly circled his foreskin, occasionally delicately dipping inside and supping at the pre-cum which was bubbling forth under the erotic assault. Another had looped around his cock and was using the dribbling pre-cum as lube to rhythmically pump away at the now straining and throbbing cock.
Other tendrils still were teasing and rubbing at every sensitive part they could find, from his feet to his thighs, his stomach and chest, his nipples practically being devoured by the lascivious tentacles. Two more had appeared at either side of his head, hovering just beside his ears, ever so delicately tracing the edges of them and, just maybe, a voice could be heard...
Lastly, one tendril rose up from under the sheet, and hovered in front of his face as if it was watching him. As his breathing deepened and quickened, it lowered closer as if to feel his breath. For a moment, it paused, and then ever so gently, just for a moment, touched to his lip.
BLEEP BLEEP. A message arrived on his phone.
The tendrils whisked back under the door in an instant, his phone landing just next to him, a dead weight.
Panting, Carl felt his cock throbbing, and sweat trickled down him. He felt as if his whole body was on fire, as if he'd just spent hours being sexually tormented. He wiped the sweat from his brow and felt his cock throb and ache.
His dream had been almost frighteningly erotic. A girl not-too-unlike Charlotte had steadily morphed into an otherworldly erotic nightmare as his whole body was adrift in a sea of eroticism.
He lifted his phone and, in his sex-drunken stupor, tried awkwardly to bring up some fap material. He flicked past picture after picture he didn't remember saving. Massive breasted, thick bodied women, all of them with an undeniably... maternal quality. He must have downloaded a whole server's image collection by mistake. Video after video was the same. When he tried to bring up his browser, all the bookmarks were buried under hundreds he didn't recognize, but all led to audios and videos, or galleries, of more of the same.
Grunting frustratedly, his cock was demanding attention. He reached over for some lube only to find his cock was already fully lubricated. Uncaring, he proceeded to – far quicker than he anticipated – stroke his cock steadily.
While he was a big fan of girls like this, they seemed even more exaggerated than he was used to. Almost unnaturally. The pictures of real girls were all near world record holders for the biggest tits, thickest thighs. He'd have called it BBW porn – and there was definitely some of that in there – but most of them were just visions of the most Venusian sexual ideal he could imagine. In his brain a deep rooted, perhaps not fully discovered, seed of fetishism was blossoming. Whether it had always been there or not was uncertain.
He had fully explored just about every fetish he could name, but he had never really taken the time to investigate this aspect. These girls weren't just huge, they looked so... soft. So full. Those knowing smiles, as if they could wrap him around their little finger with just a word.
Much quicker than normal, Carl was getting close. His hand was stroking feverishly, holding his cock just the way he liked it.
Not too far away, something was watching, taking it all in. Observing.
Audio was playing in his earbuds. He didn't remember hitting play, but must have done so by mistake.
“What a good boy, stroking your cock like that...”
JOI audio was something he had been getting into recently, but this was definitely something new.
“Mommy loves watching her boy get so excited.”
A pang of anxiety ran through him. 'Mommy'. He'd never felt entirely at home with incest fetish stuff. Then again, his mind had run a very thorough mental gymnastics course to justify the amount of Mommydom stuff on his hard drive. It wasn't his mother. It was just a mother figure. And on and on it went.
“What a good boy... milking his cock for Mommy. I bet he wants to cum. Good boys love to cum for their Mommies.”
Biting his lip, his hand was a quite literal blur, pre-cum soaking his sheet in tiny splatters.
His eyes glazed over as he got close, screwing together tighter. He could hear the voice as if it was inside his own head. He could swear he could see shadows moving around him. Feel phantom touches on his skin. Something, somewhere in his room was moving.
“Cum for your mommy, cum for me. That's it. Don't fight it. Cum for me.”
His back arched off the bed, and he made a thorough mess of his sheet, as it quickly glued itself to his stomach, cum rocketing in the most powerful and stomach clenching orgasm he had ever had.
He looked at his phone and saw that whatever audio file had been playing had closed itself. Reaching up to take out his earbuds... he couldn't feel them. He pried his sticky sheets off of himself and turned on the phone light to look for them. He couldn't find them anywhere. Come to think of it, he didn't remember ever putting them in to begin with...
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