Hidden bed sex

Save with Bellesa Boutique promo codes and coupons for October 2020. Today's top Bellesa Boutique offer: 25% Off. Find 15 Bellesa Boutique coupons and discounts at Promocodes.com. Tested and verified on October 16, 2020. 15 Best-Selling Things From Bellesa Boutique That Are Popular For A Reason. BuzzFeed. Close. 6. Posted by 2 hours ago. 15 Best-Selling Things From Bellesa Boutique That Are Popular For A Reason. BuzzFeed. The Aurora, a vibrator for G-spot or clitoral play. It's simply designed with a single-button control, making it great for beginners without ... In this article we have collected 50 best things to sell in a boutique. Customers coming to boutiques expect to find there primarily clothes, shoes, various accessories and and other products related to fashion, beauty and nice appearance. For a boutique to be a profitable business, it must offer high-quality goods. We’ve known for a while that COVID-19 won’t be going away as quickly as we thought, so upping our self-care routines is top of mind. Getting groovy in the bedroom, either with your partner or by yourself, is a great way to pass the time while stuck indoors isolating. Bellesa Boutique is hoping ... 15. Iron ForeverSpin spinning top like this 16. Cool mini drones like this Star Wars one 17. Mini board games like Monopoly. 18. Wireless chargers. 19. Water containers and water with fruit containters. 20. Multitools for men. 21. Bestselling books. 22. 3D Puzzles like this one 23. Smart bracelets like Xiaomi Mi Band 4. 24. Smart watches. 25. Headphones. 26. The racy boutique, Bellesa gifted both. ... Cardi B cited getting ‘tired of f*cking arguing’ as the reason behind the split. ... The awards will air November 15 on E!. Get Straight to the List of Best Selling Products. Here are the top characteristics of the best trending ecommerce products in 2020: Unique, or Eye-Catching: Make sure that the product you have selected to sell is unique. It shouldn’t have a similar clone available. Or, it should not be already available in brick and mortar stores in your ... Bellesa Boutique is an online company which offers sex toys and other fun things for women. The company sells vibrators, dildos, anal, lubes and oils for ladies. Not just that, they are also selling sex toys for the men and also for the couples to make their love life more erotic and thrilling. Sex is magical, sure, but there's no reason to deny reality: For most women, it takes more than just penetration to get the big O.The clitoris (a.k.a. the bean, your happy button, if you will ... 15 Best-Selling Things From Bellesa Boutique That Are Popular For A Reason Because these have that magical ~touch~ that you just won't get enough of. by Nusrat Sultana

2020.10.22 15:07 autobuzzfeedbot Hidden bed sex

  1. The Aurora, a vibrator for G-spot or clitoral play. It's simply designed with a single-button control, making it great for beginners without sacrificing mind-bending orgasms for the pros. It's also visually pleasing!
  2. The Satisfyer Pro 2, designed to give you the clitoral stimulation you need to get there. The pleasurable waves plus the quiet motor means it's discreet enough that your roomie won't hear, so have at it 😉.
  3. The Silkskyn rabbit vibrator — it contours under pressure, has a ridged texture that mimics ahem the real thing, and has five patterns and three vibration speeds that target both your clit and G-spot...like, wow. Prepare for some ~hare-raising~ blended orgasms!
  4. A travel-sized clit-stimulating toy so being on the go doesn't mean you have to give up feelin' good. Its pleasure wave tech means your clit will get luxury treatment 👑.
  5. A wireless bullet vibrator and panty set to let you get saucy and spicy and live out all your fantasies! This comes with a hidden bullet vibrator for your clit that has 15 vibration speeds, and guess what? The remote vibrates too! Reviewers love that the vibrator is strong but quiet.
  6. The Jack Rabbit, a thrusting rabbit vibrator elegantly made so you can ~hip and hop~ to the most luxurious orgasms. With its smooth, subtly swollen tip, curvy shaft for a yummy stretch, three thrusting speeds, and seven clitoral vibration modes from the flicker-eared bunny buddy below, I don't think you'll ever want to let go of this one.
  7. The Halo vibrating cock ring that'll have you both ~surfing~ the waves of pleasure together.
  8. The Diosa, a super smooth, soft, and sexy vibrator that'll just make you say "Oof!" With its tantalizing curve, seven vibe settings, and the one-button simplicity, this baby will take care of you well, whether you're just starting out or a seasoned pro.
  9. The Strapless Strap On, which will allow you to go at it without all the awkwardness of a harness! This stays in place with an insertable, curved probe and a textured clitoral pad so even the wearer feels amazing pleasure, and the vibrating bullet is just a plus. It's time for both of you to lose your senses to bliss.
  10. The Joie Bullet Vibrator, a no-nonsense and discreet-but-powerful little guy with 15 functions so there's bound to be one you'll just love. Its simplicity makes it a great choice for first-timers too.
  11. The Satisfyer Magic Bunny, a strong and powerful vibrator that'll seriously just make you see stars. It'll massage your G-spot and clit with concentrated power, two motors, and 12 vibration modes that are distributed over the entire shaft. Meaning you'll feel the magic ~everywhere.~
  12. The one-button Dea vibrator because it has ergonomically rounded surfaces to touch you where it matters most. It's also waterproof so you can go for those blended orgasms in bed or in the bath!
  13. A toy cleanser because hygiene and cleanliness are of utmost importance when it comes to sex anything! Just spray this antibacterial spray on your toy, rub it in, then rinse. Easy-peasy.
  14. The Air vibrator, which combines suction tech with G-spot tech so you get dual stimulation to achieve a high better than your morning coffee. This one's also flexible and durable, making it fitting for every body type!
  15. The Nirvana, a wand toy that combines functionality with sleek design to bring you over the moon with orgasms.
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2020.10.22 00:28 pandasparkle Hidden bed sex

Welcome! :D This is an updated list for those who purchased/swapped with me before

UPDATE: I added FWP items throughout the post, you can add as many as you want (no max) but shipping may cost extra if it becomes too heavy. If you want to buy all the FWP items, let me know and we can come up with a deal :)
BN = Brand new, BNIB = Brand new in box, SU = Slightly used
Makeup Primers:
Becca Backlight Priming Filter Face Primer BNIB $16
Becca First Light Priming Filter Face Primer BNIB $16
Benefit The PoreFessional Pore Smoothing Face Primer Full Size 0.75 oz BNIB $14 each x4
Bobbi Brown Primer Plus Radiance SPF 35 80% left $5
Cover FX Blurring Primer 1.0 oz 80% left $5
Elf Poreless Putty Primer BNIB $6 each x2
I Heart Revolution Strawberry Whip Pore Blurring Primer 0.91 oz BN $4
Makeup Forever HD Primer 10% left $2
Smashbox Photo Finish Minimize Pores Primer Full Size 1 oz BNIB $14
Smashbox Photo Finish Foundation Primer Color Correcting Adjust Travel Size 0.50 BN $9
Wet n Wild PhotoFocus Water Drop Primer 0.68 oz “Coconut”, “Cucumber”, “Rose (x2)” BN $4 each
Foundations, Concealers, Powders:
Anastasia Beverly Hills Luminous Foundation 1 oz BNIB $20
Clinique BIY Blend It Yourself Pigment Drops “130 MF-G” BNIB $12
Clinique Even Better All Over Concealer + Eraser “WN 04 Bone” BNIB $16
Clinique Even Better Makeup Broad Spectrum SPF 15 BNIB $16
Clinique Superbalanced Makeup “27 Alasbaster N” Used $5
Erborian Korean Skin Therapy CC Cream Radiance Color Corrector Broad Spectrum SPF25 “Golden” 1.5 oz x1 $20 0.5 oz x2 $10
It Cosmetics Bye Bye Under Eye Full Coverage Anti Aging Waterproof Concealer “Medium” BNIB $18
Nyx Born To Glow Naturally Radiant Foundation 1.01 oz SU $5
Smashbox Studio Skin Hydrating Foundation 1 oz BNIB $20
Tarte Creaseless Concealer “Light Medium Neutral” BNIB $13
Tarte Rainforest of Sea Wipeout Color-Correcting Palette SU (W/ Box) $16
Tarte Shape Tape Concealer “Light Neutral” BNIB $14
Too Faced Born This Way Ethereal Setting Powder “Translucent” BNIB $17 each x2
Too Faced Super Coverage Multi Use Sculpting Concealer “Warm Beige” BNIB $16
Ulta Beauty Youthful Glow Foundation 1.1 oz BNIB $6
Urban Decay Naked Skin Weightless Complete Coverage Concealer 0.16 oz “Light Warm” BNIB $12
Urban Decay Naked Skin Weightless Complete Coverage Concealer 0.16 oz “Light Warm” SU $6 or FWP
Urban Decay Naked Skin Color Correcting Fluid 0.21 oz “Orange” SU $6 or FWP
Urban Decay Naked Skin Color Correcting Fluid 0.21 oz “Green” SU $6 or FWP
Setting Sprays:
Colourpop Crystal Setting Spray “Aquamarine”, “Aventurine” BNIB $10 each
Flower Beauty Seal the Deal Hydrating Setting Spray Dewy Finish 3.04 oz BN $7
Flower Beauty Seal the Deal Long Lasting Setting Spray Matte Finish 3.04 oz BN $7
Jane Iredale Pommisst Hydration Spray 3.04 oz BN $15 each x2
J.Cat Beauty Spray Set Go Makeup Setting Spray Aloe Vera Infused BN $2 Or FWP
Mac Prep + Prime Fix+ Spray Full Size 3.4 oz BNIB $16 each x2
Milani Make It Last Setting Spray Full Size 2.03 oz BN $5 each x7
Ofra Makeup Fixer 2 oz $4 or FWP
PUR Haze Mist Setting Spray CBD Replenishing Facial Setting Spray BNIB $10
Revlon Photoready Prep, Set, Refresh Mist Sprayed a few times $3 or FWP
Urban Decay All Nighter Setting Spray 4.0 oz BNIB $19
Wet n Wild PhotoFocus 3-in-1 Primer Water 1.52 oz “Coconut”, “Cucumber”, “Rose (x2)” BN $4 each
Eyebrows:
Anastasia Beverly Hills Brow Wiz Skinny Brow Pencil Full Size: Shades Chocolate (x14), Dark Brown (x3), Ebony (x6), Medium Brown (x13), Soft Brown (x12) BNIB $12 each
Anastasia Beverly Hills Brow Definer Triangular Brow Pencil Full Size: Shades Chocolate (x2), Medium Brown (x3), Soft Brown (x2) BNIB $13 each
Benefit Goof Proof Brow Pencil Easy Shape & Fill Full Size: Shades 3 (x2), 3.5 (x3), 4.5 (x3), 5 (x1) Full Size BNIB $14 each
Benefit KaBrow Cream Gel Eyebrow Color Full Size: Shade “3” BN no box, “5” Swatched a little w/ box $12 each
Benefit Soft & Natural Brows Kit Shade 6 Includes Full Size Goof Proof Brow Pencil, High Brow Pencil, mini 24hr Brow Setter, and Shaping Stencils BNIB $20
Elf Clear Brow & Lash Mascara “Clear” BN $1 each x3 or FWP
NYX Control Freak Eyebrow Gel BN $3 each x3 or FWP
Eyes:
Ardell Baby Demi x3 & Baby Wispies x4 BN $2 each or FWP
Ardell Demi Wispies 4 pack BN $6 each x5
Benefit They’re Real Mascara Full Size BNIB $14
Burt’s Bees Nourishing Eyeliner “Soft Black” $1 or FWP
Colourpop Pressed Powder Shadow Single “143” BNIB $1 or FWP
Covergirl Peacock Flare Mascara “Intense Black” BN $2 each x3 or FWP
Covergirl Lashblast Volume Mascara “Very Black” BN $2 or FWP
Covergirl Clean Fresh Mascara “Extreme Black” BN $2 or FWP
It Cosmetics Superhero Elastic Stretch Volumizing Mascara Full Size BN $12
Kiss Lash Couture “Gala” BN $3 each x3
Laura Geller Glamlash Dramatic Volumizing Mascara “Black” BN $10
Loreal Lash Paradise Mascara “Blackest Black” BN $5
Maybelline Total Temptation Mascara “Blackest Black” BN $5
Milani Stay Put Eyeliner “03 Duchess” BN $4 or FWP
NYX Glitter “Blue (Sealed)”, “Bronze (BN)”, “Crystal (BN)”, “Gold (BN)”, “Red (BN)”, “Style Star (BN)”, “Teal(SU) ” $2 each or $9 for all
NYX Jumbo Eye Pencil “Milk” BN $3 each x2 or FWP
Ofra Eyeshadow Single “Gold Rush” BNIB $4
Tarte Tarteteist Metallic Shadow “Shake Down” BNIB $5 each x2
TheBalm Overshadow The Sexpots Loose Eyeshadow “No Money, No Honey” BN $5
Ulta Beauty Glitter Eye Top Coat “Born To Shine” BN $2 or FWP
Ulta Beauty Perfect Pair Eyeshadow Duo Includes “Petite” and “Beauty Junkie” BNIB $6
Ulta Beauty Eyeliner Pencil “Blackout” BN $1 or FWP
Ulta Beauty Gel Eyeliner Pencil “Blackout” BN $3 x2 or FWP
Ulta Beauty Matte Eye Primer “Nude” BN $5
Ulta Beauty Plush Drama Volumizing Mascara BN $4 or FWP
Ulta Beauty Bold Ambition Volumizing & Conditioning Mascara BN $4 or FWP
Ulta Beauty Limitless Lashes Lengthening & Volumizing Mascara BN $4 x2 or FWP
Urban Decay 24/7 Glide On Waterproof Eye Pencil Full Size “Perversion” BNIB $15 each x3
Wet n Wild Photofocus Eyeshadow Primer “Only a Matter of Prime” 0.34 oz BNIB $2 or FWP
Cheeks (Highlighters, Blushes, Bronzers):
Anastasia Beverly Hills Liquid Glow Highlighter “Peach Fizz” BNIB $15
Becca Shimmering Skin Perfector Pressed “Rose Gold” Mini size 0.085 oz BNIB $9
Benefit Hoola Bronzer Full Size BN $16
Colourpop Super Shock Highlighter “Coastin’” BNIB $8
Colourpop x Disney Villains Super Shock Highlighter “Mistress of All Evil (Maleficent)” BNIB $12
Cover fx Custom Enhancer Drops “Moonlight” BNIB $27
Covergirl Clean Fresh Cooling Glow Stick “400 So Gilty” BN $4
Elf Baked Highlighter “Blush Gems”, “Moonlight Pearls” SU $1 each or FWP
Essence Pure Nude Highlighter “Be My Highlight” SU $3 or FWP
Kora Organics Rose Quartz Luminizer Swatched $5 or FWP
Makeup Revolution Ultra Strobe Stick “Peach Lightening” BN $2 each x2 or FWP
Makeup Revolution The One Sculpt Contour Stick “Contour” x2 BNIB $2 each or FWP
Makeup Revolution Highlighting Palette “Fierce Mind” BN $8
Models Own Sculpt & Glow Highlighter Stick “Incandescent 03” BNIB $3 or FWP
NYX Whipped Wonderland Liquid Highlighter Limited Edition “LH001 Flight of the Fairy” BNIB $7
NYX Away We Glow Illuminating Powder “Brick Road” BN $5
Ofra Eyeshadow/Highlighter Single “Bliss” BN $9 each x2
Physicians Formula Murumuru Butter Bronzer “Bronzer” BNIB $8
Physicians Formula Bronze Booster Glow Boosting Pressed Bronzer “Medium to Dark” Swatched $4 or FWP
Physicians Formula Murumuru Butter Blush “Natural Glow” BN $5
Physicians Formula Murumuru Butter Blush “Plum Rose” SU $3 or FWP
Physicians Formula Murumuru Butter Highlighter “Pearl” BN $5
Tarte Park Ave Princess Amazonian Clay Bronzer Full size BNIB $15
Too Faced Tutti Frutti Fruit Cocktail Blush Duo “Plumagranate” BNIB $10
Wet n Wild Color Icon Bronzer “Palm Beach Ready” BN $2 or FWP
Wet n Wild Color Icon Bronzer “Ticket to Brazil” BN $2 or FWP
Wet n Wild Color Icon Bronzer “Reserve Your Cabana” SU $2 or FWP
Wet n Wild Megaglo Illuminating Palette “320 Catwalk Pink” SU $2 or FWP
Wet n Wild Megoglo Hello Halo Liquid Highlighter “Halo, Goodbye” BN $3 or FWP
Wet n Wild Megaglo Highlighting Bar Limited edition “Earth” BN $10
Wet n Wild Megaglo Highlighting Gold Bar “Holly Gold Head” BN $4
Wet n Wild Megaglo Loose Highlighting Powder Limited edition “Moon Tears”, “Written in the Stars” BN $10 each
Ulta Beauty Duo Chrome Illuminator “Prismatic Mermaid” BN $8 x2
Palettes:
Colourpop Blue Moon Eyeshadow Palette SU $7
Colourpop iluvsarahii Chic-y Palette Not used but one shade is broken & mirror is not glued to palette $7
Dose of Colors Hidden Treasures Palette BNIB $30
Dose of Colors Marvelous Mauves Eyeshadow Palette BNIB $17
Juvia’s Place The Douce Eyeshadow Palette SU $10
KVD Shade & Light Eyeshadow Palette Slightly Swatched $28
Laura Geller Montauk Escape Eye and Face Palette SU $15
Makeup Revolution Reload Eyeshadow Palette “Vitality”, “Newtrals 3” BN $5 each
Makeup Revolution Love Conquers All Eyeshadow Palette BN $5
Makeup Revolution #Selfie Eyeshadow Palette BNIB $5
Milani Everyday Eyes Eyeshadow Palette “05 Earthy Elements” SU $3
Lorac Unzipped Desert Sunset Eyeshadow Palette (No mini eyeshadow primer) SU $17
Smashbox Cover Shot Golden Hour Eye Palette BNIB $12
Too Faced Sweet Peach Eyeshadow Palette BNIB $30
Ulta Eyeshadow Palette and Blush & Bronzer Duo BN $4
Ulta Eyeshadow Palette and Highlighter & Bronzer Duo BN $4
Ulta Eyeshadow Quad “Natural” BN $1 or FWP
Vera Mona Lotus Eyeshadow Palette Swatched $10
Wet n Wild ColorIcon Eyeshadow Quad Limited Edition “Secret Garden Rendezvous” BN $6
Magnetic Palettes: Ofra (includes blush) BN $10 each x2 , Colourpop $10 each x2
Lips (Highend)
Anastasia Beverly Hills Lip Gloss “Luna” BNIB $10
BareMinerals Gen Nude Buttercream Lipgloss “Tantalize” BNIB $8
BareMinerals BarePro Longwear Lipstick “Petal” BNIB $9
Becca Liquid Crystal Lip Topper Glow Gloss “Champagne Dream x Bellini” BNIB $9
Buxom Full On Lip Polish Full Size BNIB “Debbie” (x3, one w/ no box), “Hailey”, “Maddy” (no box), “Sarah”, “Trixie”, “White Russian” (no box) $9 each
Dose of Colors Liquid Matte Lipstick “Bare With Me” BNIB $10
Elizabeth Arden Plush Up Lip Gelato “Red Door Crush 15” BN $10
Fenty Mattemoiselle Plush Matte Lipstick “Snatched” BNIB $9
Juice Beauty Phyto Pigments Liquid Lip “18 Gwyneth” BNIB $10
Lime Crime Diamond Crusher “Lit”, “Trip”, “Unicorn” BNIB $10 each
Lime Crime Lip Glaze (Butter + Glaze) “Rosemary” BNIB $10
Lime Crime Velvetine Liquid Matte Liquid “Bleached” BNIB $12 each x2
Lipstick Queen “Morning Sunshine” Lipstick BNIB $19 each x2
Lipstick Queen Invisible Lip Liner BNIB $9 each x2
MAC Patrick Starrr Retro Matte Lipstick “Hey Boy, Hey” BN $19
MAC Patrick Starrr Retro Matte Lipstick “Mamastarrr” Never used but has dried spots from lipstick sweating (still in good condition) $15
MAC Patrick Starrr Lipglass “Mamastarrr” BNIB $20
MAC Matte Lipstick “Marrakesh” x2 BNIB $10 each
MAC Very Valuable Lipglass Mini Kit 1 BNIB $6
Ofra Long Lasting Liquid Lipstick “Bel Air BN”, “Laguna Beach (x2)” BNIB $12, “Las Olas (SU)” $9, “Mina (x2 one w/out box) $12, “Monaco (x3 one w/out box) BNIB $12
Smashbox Always On Cream to Matte Lipstick "Stepping Out" BNIB $9
Smashbox Always On Liquid Lipstick “Spoiler Alert” BNIB $9
Stila Shine Fever Lip Vinyl “Speedway” BNIB $9
Stila Lip Glaze “Ruby Grapefruit DW” BN $5
Tarte Tarteist Lip Crayon “Blackout” BNIB $3
TheBalm Plump Your Pucker Lip Gloss “Exaggerate” BNIB $9
Too Faced Melted Latex Liquified High Shine Lipstick “Hopeless Romantic” “Safe Word” BN $7 each
Too Faced Melted Liquified Long Wear Lipstick “Sugar” SU $6
Too Faced Tutti Frutti Juicy Fruits Comfort Lip Glaze “Who Gives A Fig?” BNIB $6
Urban Decay Kristen Leanne Liquid Lipstick “Forget” BNIB $10
Urban Decay Kristen Leanne Liquid Lipstick “Forgive”& “Forget” BNIB $20
Urban Decay Ultra Cushion Lip Gloss “Shadowheart” BNIB $8
Urban Decay Vice Special Effects Lip Topcoat “Copycat” BNIB $5
Woosh Beauty Spin-On Lip Gloss “Glam Peach” BNIB $9
Lips (Drugstore): BUY INDIVIDUALLY OR FWP (Take as much as you want)
Colourpop Disney Villains Ultra Glossy Lip “Puppies!!! (Prismatic)” BNIB $10
Colourpop Lippie Stix “Only You (Creme)” BNIB $6
Elf Beautifully Bare Satin Lipstick “Touch of Berry” BNIB $3 each x3 or FWP
Elf Gotta Glow Lip Tint “Perfect Berry” BNIB $2 or FWP
Essence Shine Shine Shine Lipgloss “Behind the Scenes (Clear)” $2 each x2 or FWP
Fizz & Bubble Lip Scrub “Cherry Slush x2”, “Sugar Tart” BN $5 each “Watermelon (not sealed but not used)” $2 or FWP
LA Girl Glitter Magic Shimmer Shifting Lip Color “Champagne Fizz” BN $2 each x2 or FWP
Loreal Limited Edition Balmain Lipstick “Fever” BN $8
Makeup Revolution Lipstick “Chauffuer” BN $2 or FWP
Maybelline Baby Lips Lip Balm “Beam of Blush (Crystal)“, “Cherry Me” BN $1 each or FWP
Maybelline Colorsensational Lipstick “379 Fuchsia For Me x3”, “565 Almond Rose” BN $3 each or FWP
Noyah Organic Lip Balm "Spearmint", "Vanilla" BN $2 each or FWP
NYX Lip Lingerie Gloss “Euro Trash” & NYX Lip Lingerie Matte Liquid Lipstick “Exotic” BN $4 each
NYX Soft Matte Lip Cream “Copenhagen”, “Paris”, “Prague” BN $3 each or FWP
NYX Suede Matte Lip Liner “Subversive Socialite” BN $3 each x2 or FWP
NYX Suede Matte Lip Liner “Stockholm” BN $3 or FWP
Rimmel London Exaggerate Full Colour Lip Liner “063 Eastend Snob” BN $3 or FWP
Skinfix Lip Coconut Mint “Natural Coconut Mint”, “Natural Lemon Mint”, “Natural Watermelon Mint x2” BN $2 each or FWP
Sleek Major Matte Lip Cream “Rioja Red” BN $1 or FWP
Sleek Shattered Glass Lip Topper “Bad Moon”, “Hoax” BN $2 each or FWP
Soap & Glory Poutstanding Lip Contouring Crayon “No Candy Do” BNIB $5 x2 each or FWP
Sunbum Sunscreen Lip Balm SPF 30 “Coconut” BN $2 each or FWP
Ulta Beauty Juice Infused Lip Oil “Coconut” “Sweet Rose x2” BN $3 each O FWP
Ulta Beauty Tinted Juice Infused Lip Oil “Passionate Peach” BN $5 each x2
Ulta Beauty Luxe Lipstick “Mischievous”, “Social Status (x3)” BN $2 each or FWP
Ulta Beauty Lip Plumping Transforming Top Coat “Ethereal” BN $2 or FWP
Ulta Beauty Shiny Sheer Lip Gloss “Pink” BN $2 or FWP
Ulta Beauty Peach Lip Balm BN $2 or FWP
Ulta Beauty Sunscreen Lip Balm SPF 30 “Punchy Pomegranate Lip Balm”, “Tropical Coconut Lip Balm” $1 each or FWP
Wet N Wild Megalast Liquid Catsuit “Nudist Peach” “Ride on My Copper x3 (Metallic)” BN $2 each or FWP
Wet N Wild PerfectPout Lip Scrub Limited Edition “Citrus Elixir” Not sealed but not used $2 or FWP
Skincare: BareMineral Complexion Rescue Defense Radiant Protective Veil SPF 30 1.7 oz BNIB $29
Becca Skin Love Glow Elixir 0.98 oz BNIB $16
Clinique ID Cartridge for Pores & Uneven Texture 0.34 oz BNIB $10
Clinique ID Dramatically different hydrating jelly 3.9 oz BNIB $19
Clinique 3 Step Skincare System Dry Combination Skin Type 2 includes Dramatically different moisturizing lotion (0.5 oz), Liquid Facial Soap Mild (1 oz), Clarifying Lotion 2 (1 oz) $8
Clinique Dewy Delights Set: Includes Moisture Surge 72 Hr Auto Replenishing Hydrator 0.5 oz, Moisture Surge Overnight Mask 1 oz, Moisture Surge Face Spray Thirsty Skin Relief 1 oz, Chubby Stick Moisturizing Lip Colour Balm “Woppin’ Watermelon” BNIB $19
Colourpop Fourth Ray Feelin’ Plumpy Face Milk Kit 3 x 0.47 oz BNIB $18
Crepe Erase Flaw-Fix Eye Cream 0.5 oz BNIB $35
DermaDoctor Wrinkle Revenge Rescue & Protect Eye Balm 0.5 oz BNIB $35
Dermalogica Daily Microfoliant SU $37
Dermalogica Intensive Moisture Balance 1.7 oz BNIB $29 each
Dermalogica Phyto-Nature Firming Serum BNIB (Retail Price $145) $95
Elizabeth Arden Ceramide Lift and Firm Eye Cream Sunscreen SPF 15 BNIB $20 Elizabeth Arden Visible Difference Skin Balancing Exfoliating Cleanser (Combination) 4.2 oz BN $10
Foreo Day Cleanser Awakening Radiance Yogurt 2 oz BNIB $10
Foreo Night Cleanser Celestial Melting Gel 2 oz BNIB $10
First Aid Beauty Pure Skin Face Cleanser 5.0 oz x4 $12 each
First Aid Beauty Ultra Repair Cream 2 oz SU $9
First Aid Beauty Ultra Repair Cream 6 oz: “Honeysuckle” BN $34
Formula 10.0.6 Masks: Be Berry Awake Energizing Peel Mask, Be Berry Bright Exfoliating Mud Mask, Be Berry Clear Illuminating Peel Mask, Be Berry Fresh Balancing Mud Mask, Be Berry Smooth Moisturizing Peel Mask, Pores Be Pure Skin-Clarifying Mud Mask $5 each or $20 for all
Glow Recipe Avocado Sleep Set Includes Avocado Melt Sleeping Mask 2.7 oz & Sleeping Mask BNIB $30
H20 + Rapids Probiotic Sorbet Moisturizer 1.7 oz BNIB $15
IT Cosmetic Confidence In An Eye Cream 0.5 oz BNIB $20
Kate Somerville EradiKate Acne Treatment 1 oz BNIB $18
Kate Somerville ExfoliKate Intensive Exfoliating Treatment 2 oz BN $75
Kiwi Botanicals Purifying Honey Melt Facial Cleanser 3.1 oz BN $6
Kopari Coconut Face Cream 2.5 oz BNIB $25
Kopari Coconut Melt 5.1 oz BN $15 each
Kopari Coconut Rose Toner 5.1 oz BNIB $19
Kopari Coconut TLC Kit: Includes Coconut melt (2.5 oz), and Lip glossy (0.35 oz) BNIB $19
Mario Badescu Vitamin C Serum 1 oz BN $30
Murad Age Reform Hydo-Dynamic Ultimate Moisture 1.7 oz BNIB $39
Murad Hydrating Toner 6 oz BN $15
Murad Resurgence Retinol Youth Renewal Serum 1.0 oz BNIB (Retail Price $89) $65
Neutrogena Ultra Sheer Dry Touch Sunscreen SPF 45 BN 2 pack $10, one $6
No 7 Early Defense Glow Activating Serum 1 oz BN $18
Oars + Alps Wake Up Eye Stick 0.5 oz BNIB $10
OLAY Complete Daily Moisturizer SPF 15 Combination/Oily 6 oz BNIB $6
Peter Thomas Roth Max Complexion Correction Pads Super Size 90 Pads BNIB $46
Philosophy Clear Days Ahead Oil Free Salicylic Acid Acne Treatment Cleanser 3 oz $6
ProactivMD Blackhead Dissolving Gel 1 oz BNIB $10
Shea Moisture African Black Soap Bamboo Charcoal Detoxifying Drying Lotion BN $7
Soap & Glory Scrub Atomic Daily Face Polish 3.3 oz BNIB $6
Soap & Glory Scrub Your Nose In It Two Minute T-Zone Detox Scrub 5 oz BN $5
Tony Moly Peach Punch Sherbet Cleansing Balm 2.82 oz $10
Ulta Beauty 24k Magic Metallic Peel Off Mask Rose Gold 3.4 oz BN $9
Ulta Beauty Hydraburst Leave On Mask 1.7 oz BN $9
UpCircle Face Scrub Floral Blend $4
Body Care: Ahava Deadsea Water Mineral Hand Cream 1.3 oz BN $4 each x3
Ahava Smoothing Body Lotion Superfood Kale & Turmeric 1.3 oz
Bath & Body Works Body Lotion “Into The Wild” 8 oz SU $3
H20+ Beauty Oasis Body Gel Moisturizer (2 oz) & Sea Green Body Butter (1 oz) BN $2 each
Hempz Herbal Body Moisturizer 2.25 oz “Star Jasmine & Vanilla” (Limited Edition) BN $8
Hempz Herbal Body Moisturizer 17 oz: “Cinnamon Sugar & Vanilla Butter Creme (Limited Edition)” BN $20
Hempz Herbal Body Moisturizer 17 oz: “Mandarin Orange & Key Lime (Limited Edition)” BN $20
Hempz Herbal Body Moisturizer 17 oz: “Original" Summer Edition Packaging BN $15
Hempz Herbal Body Moisturizer 21 oz: “Original” BN $30
Pacifica After Sun Body Spray 6 oz” “Blood Orange” SU $5
Pacifica After Sun Body Spray 6 oz: “Pineapple Flower” SU $5
Pacifica Mineral SPF 50 Body Butter 5 oz: “Blood Orange” SU $5
Physicians Formula Body Butter 0.5 oz BN $8
Rituals The Ritual of Sakura Magic Touch Body Cream 2.3 oz “Organic Rice Milk & Cherry Blossom” x4 BN $5 each
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submitted by pandasparkle to dramafreeMUE [link] [comments]


2020.10.21 10:07 Oresama9000 Sex bed hidden

I have shit English, It's my 3rd language. I speak primarily mandarin and Japanese. I don’t think anyone will honestly believe me, but on the off chance that someone might give me advice I’ma try. I 24M are thinking of kidnapping my best friend and have her locked in my house for a bit. Now hear me out first. She 23F has posted on here, she has tried to reach out, and got seriously no replies. So She’s assuming she should just stay.
I have known my best friend, we’ll call Lily as she has that as her fake name on accounts for years as she posts her diary entries on here but disappeared from Reddit a year ago after things changed. I have known Lily since elementary school. I taught her Japanese. I am Japanese. She was my first crush, and my first love. I don’t love anyone but her. She’s what I wanted since the day I saw her before we ever met, and I did everything to make her mine which worked for years. And no, I’m not gonna kidnap her because I’m obsessively in love with her.
I have 2 older brothers that I’m going to mention, I have more siblings but will focus on those two. I’m second youngest in my family of all boys. My eldest brother is 9 years older than I am, 10 years older than Lily. My second eldest is three years older than I am and four years older than her. Lily is one of the most kind and gentle people I have ever met in my life. She’s the most absolute pure human being I have ever known and never says anything negative to anyone and is kind to people who are even cruel and bullied her in school. It would piss me off more than anything and she just said “You never know what they are going through. I know what they do to me is wrong, but maybe they have a horrible life and don’t know how to be better”.
She was always there for me when my mom died when we were in middle school. She was around so much I could sorta say she lived with me and my family almost. She only left when she needed to sleep pretty much. She lived less than a block from my place. In the beginning of high school her brother started being around all the time. Her brother pretty much became closer to me than my own brothers and best friend. He’s a true bro. He’s older than Lily by 3 years, so 2 years older than I am. She’s pretty damn attached to him too but nothing in a wrong way.
I think she called her brother Luke in her post so I guess I’ll call him that too. Luke and Lily don’t look related for crap despite being full siblings. Lily is Caramel skin with black hair and eyes. She’s very small, 159 cm (5’2” for Americans), and is shy and extremely quiet. Most people really think Lily is mute. She will specifically only talk to my family and her family only. She’s not all good at telling how she feels or else she stutters and gets very red, so art is everything to her. I can always tell how she feels because she will draw and the theme of her art is easy to tell. Also she’s a godly level of art skill. Everyone always tells her “Hey, Disney called, they want their artist back” jokes. Lily is always passive, and a very submissive person by nature. Not gonna lie, I did take advantage of that a few times which is how I first got her to let me do her. I knew she would be really nervous, and I knew she would hesitate and make excuses instead of saying no directly.
But I thought back then that unless she said no that meant no, but she told me later that she’s happy I did get her to have sex or else she probably would have been afried of it her whole life. She was the type to very adamantly wanted to be a virgin until marriage, but was gang raped when walking home after staying out late to study. A part of Lily was never the same. She failed school, and her dad died shortly after he found the truth. She was terrified of anything for a while.
Now for Luke. As I said Lily looks nothing like Luke. Luke is a very tall guy. He’s 188 cm (6’2”), and has light olive skin, I guess white but not pasty af white. He has blue eyes or green. Lily says hazel in her post. IDK they change color in different light. But he has dirty blonde hair. Luke was pretty much my solid man. He was my inspiration and pretty much idol. My grades went to shit in school, but he tutored me a lot which led us to chilling. The dude got everything. He got all the girls, which Lily was literally his wingwoman since she knows the type of girls he likes more than anyone else. He had the perfect honors grades, and he did sports. So not those lanky tall guys but the ones who looks like he can judo kick you through a wall.
I don’t know if this matters but I’m 183cm (6’0”). So Lily is incredibly tiny compared to me also. She’s weak up until she snaps. I only seen her snap once, and that was one time when She purposely did the silent treatment to me when I was 19 and she was 18 (She lived with me at the time cuss we were dating n shit) I got really angry and did the one thing I should never to in my life. I tore her sketchbook. I took a few pages out during dinner and shredded them. I have never seen someone go from 0 to 1,000 that fast. Wasn’t even 100 but a 1,000. She threw the whole damn dining room table at me. Not even flip it but picked it up and threw it while screaming like all hell god of war. I thought I was gonna die. Lily threw another chair at me before it took my eldest three brothers to hold her down because she took one of them down. Which my eldest three are actually taller than I am. My other 2 brothers sorta just stared in silence and noped into the other side of the room.
And now I have a phobia of touching her sketchbook. That’s the one and only time she was ever violent and doesn't remember anything she did. I should also mention she has autism but its aspergers. So the art is also attributed to that as well as not only is it her form of communication and expressing emotion, but it’s something she’s devoted to with all her heart and mind.
So Lily stayed with me after she got gang raped. Her family was pretty much blaming her except Luke who visited daily and always helped take care of her. She has a lot of medical issues so at times she can be completely fine one day, and the next she will be unable to move properly due to severe pain from a skin condition as well as no immune system. A cold is deadly to her. I noticed a pattern that every time she gets a cold she gets hospitalized, then goes deaf for a couple months due to having a none stop extremely high fever for over a week. When I saw her get sick it would make me worry so much as I never know if she’s gonna make it or not.
So while she dated me she fell in love with my eldest brother… go figure... it's always the eldest brother. I knew she liked him most. She always has since childhood. She didn’t even care about the age gap but looked at him like he was treasure. She never acted on any of her desires while with me. This part is all on me as I realized he actually reciprocated the feelings. I pretty much called him every name under the sun even calling him a fucking pedo because he was 27 and she was still 17.
The arguments turned into screaming matches, and the screaming matches turned into fistfights. Which Lily hated. She can’t stand violence. She always tried to stop us but one of my other brothers would grab her and hold her back. Eventually Lily got really angry and said she can’t deal with it anymore and she was my girlfriend and not my brothers. But with our behavior she couldn't stand staying at our house, and said that we wither solve it or she’s gone. She said she doesn’t even flirt with my brother, only has feelings to which he actually said she really doesn't initiate or do anything and if he ever tried to advance she would say no and sorry and how she can’t go behind my back.
Funny enough… my brother and I ended up deciding to share her since neither of us would just give her up. I was surprisingly not as possessive of her as I thought I would be by sharing her with him. Oh… and she said no for a whole hour and was yelling how morally wrong and fucked up it was to be with two men at the same time let alone them being brothers, but after both of us talked to her and we basically said “You told us to solve it, we solved it, so just deal with it” she said fine and actually ended up liking it. (And for those perves that fucking wanna know if we fucked her at the same time… yeah we did. Just never the same hole at the same time and wont go in the hole if the other came in it since we never used a condom and only finished in or on her)
Fast forward to this month. October is her favorite month since she says the air smells in a specific way she likes. I personally can’t smell it, but she has a fucking scent of a hound so I know she can smell stuff I can’t. Her hearing is also extremely sensitive too which overwhelms her if she goes in crowds, so she just can’t deal with being in places with too much activity. She broke up with my brother when she was 21 and I because this guy who was super obsessed with her tried to kill her with the literal phrase “If I can’t have you, no one can” and he pretty much tortured her for 3 hours with a friend of his and they would rape her in between on and off. It was honestly horrible. Her phone audio recorded it. I listened to the whole thing and never have wanted to kill anyone so much in my life.
Seeing her in the hospital was the worst as I’ve never seen her so hurt before too. She had to get stitches all over, and her thumb was burned with a lighter. I’m not gonna go into too much detail but that's just a bit of the damage done to her. She was too terrified to even want anything to do with anyone, but fuckinig hell. She fell for a fucking other Japanese guy she called Ren who is the same height as me. And fucking married him 34 days after meeting him. He too though became as close to me as Luke is. He’s also that close to my eldest brother too. Fucking ironic. So anyways, her mom moved out on the 5th this month half way across the country. And shit hit the fan so fucking hard.
HERE IS WHY I WANT TO KIDNAP HER! To put it very bluntly her berother went fucking nuts. Luke raped her 3 days after their mom moved away. And it wasn’t some he got horny and decided incest was gonna be cool suddenly. I mean… Yeah that's one thing, but he was very violent and aggressive. She moved back to her moms house 2 months ago. So it’s only her, Luke, Ren, and I in the house now. I am actually in her old bedroom as I’m typing this. Her bedroom was next to another room which was the guest bedroom, but since she moved in the rooms reversed. So her old bedroom is the guest bedroom and the old guest bedroom is her now bedroom. I’ve only been here for 2 days.
I only found this out yesterday too by the way. No I’m not calling the fucking cops. I’m too conflicted right now. But anyways, if Luke fucking incestuously raping her wasnt enough, the next day he beat the shit out of her, which he never done before, Then 2 days after Ren is all up on “well I I think Luke is in the right and you should just deal with it” bullshit. Ren began violently raping her right after he said that. I right away noticed that week something was very off with her.
She and I text on a daily basis and she out of nowhere could barely respond within the hour or have full sentences. I asked her if anything was wrong because the only times this ever happened was with her gangrape from almost 7 years ago, and that fucking psycho from 2 years ago. I kept asking if things were okay. I even called her. She just cried but barely said anything and said she was fine. I asked if Ren and Luke were there and know she’s crying. She just got silent for a second and said they know then quickly said she had to go. When she hung up I thought it was fucking weird as hell. I texted Luke and Ren who say she’s just being emotional and she’ll calm down eventually. Which is weird af too. Since they are always right there and make sure she calms down, not just wait for her to chill.
Lily posted on Reddit the day her brother raped her and she noticed her husband was watching and asked reddit for help and said the whole situation but again, no replies. That's about the time when I called her too and the crying on phone thing happened. Shit got fucking worse. They would take turns on her soon after that. And they forced her to orgasm by using something. I’m not gonna go into details, but it was a 100% forced orgasm, as she gets 0 pleasure from anything they do. And that’s when I guess she broke. This was I think a week and a half ago.
I started realizing something was severely fucking wrong with her when 4 days ago I finally got to talk to her. And she was out of it as hell. She talked almost like she was in a daze, she couldn't remember what she did the whole week. She only was in and out of spacing out. She didn't cry at all. But had such a dullness in her voice like she was just completely dead inside. She mumbled something about how maybe she deserved what happens to her in life. Which I didn’t understand what she meant at the time. I asked her how Luke and Ren are. She pretty much looked like she came out of her daze. She said they were okay.
They are happier than she’s ever seen them before. I had this horrible feeling and asked how they are treating her. I never really asked that question before but her reaction is what made me decide to go over here. She just paused. Full on paused and her eyes widened like she was terrified for a second but then stuttered they are good. She only stutters like that when she lies. I Asked her whats going on. She said nothing, with the stutter. I asked what Ren is doing to her which she paused again and said he’s being his usual self. Lied again. She then suddenly said how he’s so affectionate to her. Ren isn’t the type of guy to give affection at all. He never does more than holding hands.
I could tell by the way she described it that she was telling the truth. I asked her why he’s being so kind and she just paused again. And said something like “He’s changed a bit… I guess it's to make up.” and when I asked to make up what, she looked mortified and asked if she said that out loud. I asked about Luke, pretty much the same shit. And I pretty much realized they are doing something to her. But holy shit did I not expect this level of fucked up.
I talked with them and they said okay to me coming over for a few days. If they are doing shit I want to document it at least for proof. Lily is fucking horrible looking. I actually can see her right now and she's sorta just… staring off into space while listening to music. She looks dead inside. Also she hasn’t showered since they first started this. That’s not disgusting as tbh if I was in her shoes I wouldn’t really be fucking coherant enough to prioritize showering either. She has dark circles under her eyes, shes rapidly losing weight. She barely sleep. She’s began to mumble a few times to herself today. I think her mentality is completely deteriorated to even properly think whats right or wrong.
I caught it yesterday. I noticed odd squeaking cries from her, in her room and a shush sound and a smack sound. I thought at first Ren was fucking her since the movement sound. But had this feeling to just check on her. I honestly feel horrible for my reaction. I opened the door. Ren is holding Lily down by the wrists above her head while his dick is right at her face. Luke is balls deep in her and the other 2 freeze and yell at me to get out of the room. Lily pretty much scream cried but was muffled since Ren slapped a hand on her face. I didn’t even think. I just said sorry and just closed the door.
It took me a good 10 seconds to even process and realize what was going on. They didn’t stop by the way but did lock her door. I really have no idea what to do. Those two are so fucking close to me. Were there for me at my worst. But Lily… Lily is there more and longer and I still love her. But I just don’t know what to do about those two. Everyone fucking pretended nothing happened and I pretended I didn’t see anything until much later in the day when I was able to pretty much corner Lily alone in the house because she thought I was gonna do that shit too. And kept avoiding me.
I do have to say the way I went after her wasn't really the best thing. Because I should have approached her calmly. Not spend a whole 5 minutes chasing her through the house and then stand over her like the way I did when she scooted against the wall and sorta just curled into a ball. She begged me not to do what the other two do. I did get to her level after sorta in shock for a few seconds and when I went to touch her shoulder she flinched so I just got on my knees to her level more and talked to her. It took about 10 minutes to convince her I won’t rape her.
I told her to go with me and to be quiet because I don’t want her brother and husband to hear me with her. We went to the garage and she told me everything. I said she needs to leave. Nope. She refused. Absolutely won't even consider it. She says they are so kind to her anyways most of the days and even much better than before and do her favorite things for her when they don’t do that. I got angry. I told her they are using that to condition her to stay. She’s too fucking brainwashed to realize it. She won’t leave because she has stockholm now I guess.
So I just got the idea to kidnap her. Take her away from Ren and Luke. Have her safe. And in time she will realize how horrible they are and what they are doing is wrong. I’ve been already thinking of places those two don’t know. I have thought of how I would keep her there. I know if I tell my eldest brother he will help me. He will even be at my place to watch her too if I need him to. So that when I sleep he’s awake, and when I’m awake he can sleep. Just basically someone up at all times to make sure she can't run away back to them. I can’t get police involved. I still very much care about Ren and Luke.
Also Lily threatened she would rather die than have those two go to jail and she can’t live without them. So she’ll kill herself. She will do it. I know it. She’s too mentally fragile to think straight and will keep to that word. So for not Police and any form of authority is completely not an option. Also her health is so severe that without me or those two she will die. I know what her health is, everyone knows without specific accommodations, it's 100% fatal for her. I looked up every goddamn place for help, she actually did too before she pretty much… went metally gone and stuff. And not a single place can accommodate so she’s screwed if just taken away without me there. Her health is so bad that sometimes she can’t even get up or even change her clothes and needs assistance with it at times since she was 21. She isn’t gonna live to see her 40th birthday, but I want her to have at least a happy and good last 10 years of her life.
The biggest issue I have is that in her post her biggest fear is Ren and Luke manipulating me. Today they started saying things to me as to keep quiet and stuff. Convincing me why calling the police is a bad idea and that she’s gonna just die without them and I know that too. They said how we’ve been so close for so long and I can’t just turn on them. I really don’t know what to do about that. So I really aren't gonna get the police involved. That I’m not changing at all no matter what. My biggest issue is that they talked about the time when i first started fucking Lily. And asked if it felt great doing it like that.
I got pissed off as hell saying I never physically forced her into anything like they have. But they contradicted that and I suddenly remembered that when Lily tried to make excuses I did tell her to shut up and interrupted her and said she owed it to me or some shit like that. And said she lived with me for free so it’s the least she could do. And when she just got quiet I pushed her to the bed and said sexual things to her but after that point she was compliant with me and listened to everything I said and let me do everything to her without even a bit of resistance, and even had an orgasm herself. And in the morning was cheerful as could be but then later cried saying it wasn't about us having sex, but because of her feelings for my brother.
I got really pissed that they knew so much details but they said they got Lily to say it the day before I came here. They said I’m no better than them. It pissed me off more than anything. But I also feel like I myself are completely shutting down mentally. This is so overwhelming. They asked me if I felt powerful and so happy doing it, if I felt like a God, if I felt euphoric. I refused to answer. They took it as a yes. Which actually was a yes, no fuckin hell am I saying it out loud to them. They asked if I wanted to just feel that way again. And I’ve shared her before so what difference would it be. It’s been messing with my head all day. It’s all I can think about all day now.
I look at Lily and almost feel tempted to wanna feel that again, but then just have this horrible crushing feeling in my chest of even considering it. I am on and off thinking I wanna feel that way, and feeling bad and completely refusing to ever want to hurt her. I really fucking need help. Lily pretty much still spacing out and it’s been 2 hours of me writing this. Luke today during dinner made a slut joke at the table, which actually was pretty funny and everyone other than Lily pretty much laughed. And she made some comment which made Luke say something cruel to her. She said something back and he said “Says the one who is having dinner with three people she fucked. How does it feel being in a house of people you fuck?” That's when I got quiet and Lily got up and just went to her room not saying anything else.
I did say that was horrible to him to say and Ren pretty much just said Luke wasn’t lying. And I just continued eating since technically they are right. I ate the rest of Lily’s half eaten sandwich that she left and made her a completely new one which she actually just asked for it finally and I gave it to her a few minutes ago. Also I’m not picking a fight with them because yeah I’m fit n shit, but still it's 2v1. Ren does boxing, Luke does martial arts, I just do normal shit. The only person who could probably take them on is probably my eldest brother since he's the one who actually fucking goes to do martial arts and boxing with Ren and Luke. He’s also 195cm (6’4) so bigger than both of them too.
I’ve never felt emotions like this before. I ever looked at Ren and Luke with so much anger, hatred, but still have the same bond, feeling and loyalty to them and care about them. But also look at Lily with almost temptation but so much pain and desire to help her I feel so sorry and bad for her. Should I kidnap her like I plan on? I thought of doing it on Monday. I’m still adding onto the list of things I should do and how to keep her hidden. It’s all for her own good. I’m gonna help her. I’ll make her better. She will get out of her sick mental state and see the truth and be better. I know she can’t be okay. She probably never will be the same, but she can work on it. My third eldest brother is a therapist anyways for people who are through situations like this. But I’m not gonna say it anything yet as he will just call me a fucking psycho and say I should have called the police by now.
Again, please, what should I do?
TL;DR My best friend who is also my ex girlfriend is being raped by her brother and her husband and who are my 2 best friends in the world. I’m staying with them right now and are playing along, I guess to not raise suspicion as I am trying to kidnap her to get her away from them and to safety before further action. Really want advice if that's a good idea or not.
submitted by Oresama9000 to u/Oresama9000 [link] [comments]


2020.10.20 01:53 r3ctl Sudden emotional instability weeks after early miscarriage of unplanned pregnancy

I feel ashamed, embarrassed, and incompetent. So much so that I can't share this with anyone in my life. Living with my parents, they are strictly against premarital sex, so I have been walking on eggshells to hide my situation. Being in my early twenties, I have received thorough education on contraceptives and prevention of unplanned pregnancies. Yet around mid-September, I found out I was pregnant. I had multiple positive pregnancy tests in what would be my 5th week. I had been experiencing nausea, fatigue, and tender breasts for weeks, but that did not ease the shock. Once the denial had passed, I felt quite calm and apathetic. Although in retrospect, I believe my mind switched into an emotionally numb state to cope and allow myself to act, rather than get lost in the fear and anxiousness. I considered briefly what it would be like to continue the pregnancy, but all I wanted in that moment was to discretely terminate it and pretend it never happened.
To set the context, I was raised in a religious family, but the pro-life beliefs I was taught eventually evolved into pro-choice beliefs in recent years as I developed my own independence. Although I believe that women should have a choice, I was thoroughly convinced that I would never have the heart to go through with an abortion myself. So my response rendered me utterly confused, and I lost trust in the values and morals that guide my actions.
Less than a week after my discovery, I started spotting, which eventually led to extremely heavy bleeding one night. (MILD GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION WARNING)-----
I spent the entirety of that night in inexplicable pain with heavy muscle contractions and nausea as I felt large clots pass out of my body. The blood soaked through multiple overnight pads and eventually half my bed, so I sat on the bathroom floor until the flow started to slow in the early morning.
(CONTINUE HERE) I continued to lightly bleed and spot in the following days, and managed to book a doctor's appointment for later on that week. I was told by the doctor that I had likely experienced a miscarriage at 6 weeks, and the only step from here was to confirm by testing for serum B-HCG. The doctor called the following week to confirm that I had fully miscarried.
Physically, I felt very weak, and so growing up as a competitive athlete, my solution was to overcompensate by pushing my body beyond its limits with running and biking. Emotionally, I was completely numb and apathetic, which enabled me to continue with normalcy. If anything, I felt guilty for also feeling relieved that I didn't need to make a decision, or go through with an abortion. However, over the next few weeks, I began to slowly unwind. It occurred so inexplicably and sudden-I stopped sleeping, lost my appetite, became isolated, stayed indoors and in bed all day, failed to fulfill commitments, experienced heavy brain fog, started having frequent anxiety attacks, and drank regularly (I normally abstain). However, there are swings in my mood where I'll feel perfectly alright and act fully functional, especially to keep my behavioural changes hidden from my family and friends.
I am still confused as to how I suddenly lost my mind as I don't see how my experience could have warranted this reaction. I have completely lost control over my life, and cannot reclaim it regardless of my efforts (therapy, forcing a strict schedule, etc.). However much it feels hopeless, I have faith that I will be alright with time-it's simply difficult to be patient with myself or justify my behaviour when I am so utterly confused as to how I've reached this point. There's so much shame with feeling deeply damaged and alone over something so silly-if defies my expectation that I should be over this by now because I was so early on in pregnancy, the miscarriage was over so quickly, and I didn't even want to conceive.
To this day, the thought still lingers on whether I should have told my former partner about the pregnancy as we had been broken up for weeks. I feel some degree of guilt for not sharing the news with him, although I'm not sure that he would have still wanted to know after I miscarried. To clarify, since we weren't on speaking terms, I was planning to inform him once I received confirmation from a doctor to avoid unnecessary stress. However, I miscarried soon after finding out myself, and haven't had the capacity to speak of it.
submitted by r3ctl to mentalhealth [link] [comments]


2020.10.20 00:02 r3ctl Hidden bed sex

I feel ashamed, embarrassed, and incompetent. So much so that I can't share this with anyone in my life. Living with my parents, they are strictly against premarital sex, so I have been walking on eggshells to hide my situation. Being in my early twenties, I have received thorough education on contraceptives and prevention of unplanned pregnancies. Yet around mid-September, I found out I was pregnant. I had multiple positive pregnancy tests in what would be my 5th week. I had been experiencing nausea, fatigue, and tender breasts for weeks, but that did not ease the shock. Once the denial had passed, I felt quite calm and apathetic. Although in retrospect, I believe my mind switched into an emotionally numb state to cope and allow myself to act, rather than get lost in the fear and anxiousness. I considered briefly what it would be like to continue the pregnancy, but all I wanted in that moment was to discretely terminate it and pretend it never happened.
To set the context, I was raised in a religious family, but the pro-life beliefs I was taught eventually evolved into pro-choice beliefs in recent years as I developed my own independence. Although I believe that women should have a choice, I was thoroughly convinced that I would never have the heart to go through with an abortion myself. So my response rendered me utterly confused, and I lost trust in the values and morals that guide my actions.
Less than a week after my discovery, I started spotting, which eventually led to extremely heavy bleeding one night. (MILD GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION WARNING)-----
I spent the entirety of that night in inexplicable pain with heavy muscle contractions and nausea as I felt large clots pass out of my body. The blood soaked through multiple overnight pads and eventually half my bed, so I sat on the bathroom floor until the flow started to slow in the early morning.
(CONTINUE HERE) I continued to lightly bleed and spot in the following days, and managed to book a doctor's appointment for later on that week. I was told by the doctor that I had likely experienced a miscarriage at 6 weeks, and the only step from here was to confirm by testing for serum B-HCG. The doctor called the following week to confirm that I had fully miscarried.
Physically, I felt very weak, and so growing up as a competitive athlete, my solution was to overcompensate by pushing my body beyond its limits with running and biking. Emotionally, I was completely numb and apathetic, which enabled me to continue with normalcy. If anything, I felt guilty for also feeling relieved that I didn't need to make a decision, or go through with an abortion. However, over the next few weeks, I began to slowly unwind. It occurred so inexplicably and sudden-I stopped sleeping, lost my appetite, became isolated, stayed indoors and in bed all day, failed to fulfill commitments, experienced heavy brain fog, started having frequent anxiety attacks, and drank regularly (I normally abstain). However, there are swings in my mood where I'll feel perfectly alright and act fully functional, especially to keep my behavioural changes hidden from my family and friends.
I am still confused as to how I suddenly lost my mind as I don't see how my experience could have warranted this reaction. I have completely lost control over my life, and cannot reclaim it regardless of my efforts (therapy, forcing a strict schedule, etc.). However much it feels hopeless, I have faith that I will be alright with time-it's simply difficult to be patient with myself or justify my behaviour when I am so utterly confused as to how I've reached this point. There's so much shame with feeling deeply damaged and alone over something so silly-it defies my expectation that I should be over this by now because I was so early on in pregnancy, the miscarriage was over so quickly, and I didn't even want to conceive.
To this day, the thought still lingers on whether I should have told my former partner about the pregnancy as we had been broken up for weeks. I feel some degree of guilt for not sharing the news with him, although I'm not sure that he would have still wanted to know after I miscarried. To clarify, since we weren't on speaking terms, I was planning to inform him once I received confirmation from a doctor to avoid unnecessary stress. However, I miscarried soon after finding out myself, and haven't had the capacity to speak of it.
submitted by r3ctl to Miscarriage [link] [comments]


2020.10.19 22:49 Atrophied_Silence Hidden bed sex

A continuation of my story, The Angels Burned
Check it out here if you have not read the first part

It was gearing up to be a long night.
The place was packed two-deep with thirsty patrons, and our barback was nowhere in sight. I wouldn’t know it until hours later, but he had quit out of the blue, leaving me to manage the tides myself.
The entrance to our pub was tucked away inside a bricked alleyway, marked with a crooked street lamp. Beyond the frontage of oak and stained-glass windows, the inside oozed with old-fashioned character.
A western fireplace fitted with wrought iron pokers, rickety wooden stools, dozens of triple X whiskey water jugs hanging from the ceiling, and old-world goods for display on the dark shelf-lined walls.
The perfect Old West backdrop for tourists.
That’s how all the seasons go in Vail, Colorado.
When visitors weren’t coming to freeze on the slopes, they came rolling in for the summer glamour, the velvety hills, and the smell of fireweed and creek water in the air.
Stressful as it made my shift, and as much as I wanted to wring the barback’s neck for it, I was used to handling things on my own.
It’s how I cut my teeth in the bar trade—my rite of passage, you might call it. Multi-tasking like a maniac, memorizing cocktail recipes, and answering the electrified calls of drunks—maybe a shot or two on the side to take the edge off.
A few of my regulars were perched along the bar—a triad of glossy-lipped girls fresh in their college years. I could never remember their names, but I always remembered which of them tipped the best.
As the three of them laughed noisily and shouted back and forth to each other, I was keeping an eye on the fellow two stools down from them.
He’d strolled in just as they arrived and settled quickly at the bar.
“What are you thinking, boss?” I asked, taking his order.
“Vodka, neat,” he muttered with an inkling of drowsiness. “Keep my tab open.”
His face matched the drink, a hard, marbled expression with nothing else mixed in, straight from the bottle to the glass. He wore a dark coat with a red cap fighting to keep his ruffled hair from poking out. A beard enveloped his mouth and dangled under his chin like that of a billy goat.
He’d been eyeballing the girls for a while, and noticeably, none of them cared for it. As two of the girls went to the restroom and one stayed behind, he took his chance.
Busy as that night was, I couldn’t help but watch him give it his best:
A subtle gesture to her glass followed by a shake of her head.
A little bit of chatter, and another shake of her head.
But Goat Beard would not be swayed, and I heard him asking something along the lines of, “Do you smoke? Want to go out and smoke with me?”
“Sorry, no,” she said, turning her entire body to convey the end of their conversation.
Finally deterred, he left her alone and made his way around the tavern.
Watching him rubber-leg his way over to the dartboards, I wished I had caught how drunk he was before pouring that last drink.
He took a seat near a group of younger guys and watched their darts fly. Whenever one missed its mark or landed clear off the board, the boys—along with their new spectator— erupted with laughter.
He leaned back, teasing the chair on its last two legs, and cackled loudly. Others looked over in curiosity and annoyance until even the jukebox tunes were second to the horsey laughter. The group of guys didn’t seem to mind it. They even welcomed it, with one of them enthusiastically high-fiving him. But eventually, the obnoxious chortling wore out its welcome, and the group made their way elsewhere.
Goat Beard followed and asked one of the boys something—the one that initiated the high-five. Judging by him tapping a V shape against his lips, it seemed like another request to go out and smoke.
The boy shook his head, denying the offer.
Striking out twice, the man stumbled his way back to the bar and reclaimed his seat, hunched over like a brooding Paul Bunyan. He seemed anxious, hands clenched and fingers trembling.
Soon enough, his neck arched back up to me and hollered, “Hey! Another neat, bud.”
“Sorry, man,” I replied bringing him a glass of water, “We’re going to need you to slow down tonight.”
He eyed the water and then blinked bullets at me, “What?!”
“Have to cut you off for now. Just sober up a bit, alright?”
Betrayal crossed his fleecy face like I had spat on a long-lived kinship. “I had one shot, bud. Ain’t even drunk yet. Now pour me another, alright?”
No drunk liked to be 86’d, but such things were necessary in the world of adult baby-sitting. I shook my head at him, “Sorry, you have to sober up a bit.”
“I’m not even drunk,” he challenged me again and then not even a second after, he slammed both palms on the table. “Now take my fuckin’ order!”
He grabbed the glass and doused me with the water I had poured for him.
I signaled for our bouncer who immediately made his way over and locked arms with the disturbance.
“Bastard!” he yelled, digging his heels into the floor, “My money’s good here, my fuckin’ money’s good here!” As he was dragged out and his screams dissipated, onlookers returned to their drinks and conversations.
I wiped off the water as well as I could and went back to work. It wasn’t the first time I’d been swilled by an angry customer, and it most likely wouldn’t be the last.
Ten minutes after the last call, we stopped serving drinks. Thirty minutes after that, we emptied the bar and closed shop.
I counted the money to make sure the checkout was correct, and ran a cursory sweep over the place for any stragglers in the bathroom or under the booths. The last thing we needed was a drunkard waking up to their own alcoholic Wonka factory.
***
The night air always tasted nicer after a long shift, especially if there wasn’t the residue of vomit in the pavement or cigarettes in the air.
I made the short walk to my car, parked in the space reserved for on-duty bartenders. Half the parking lot was glazed in the fluorescent light of a streetlamp, while the other half was covered in 4 a.m. blackness.
As I fished the keys out of my pocket and opened the door, a ring of icy steel pressed against the nape of my neck.
“Don’t,” a voice breathed from behind me as I reactively tried to move away from it.
From the window, I could make out the orange-dipped reflection of a man with a gun and a tufty beard.
“Okay, okay,” I said quietly, my hands pitifully up in front of me. “Take it easy. I’ll give you whatever you want.”
“Shut up.” Goat Beard grunted, digging the muzzle deeper into the scruff of my neck. “Get in the car.”
I did as he was told and gripped the wheel.
He circled to the passenger door, found that it was locked, and tapped the gun against the glass.
Sure, I could have jammed the keys into the ignition and whipped the car into a screeching reverse, but the short seconds to do that felt much slower than a bullet smashing first through the window then through my skull.
I unlocked the door.
He opened the door and seated himself, the snout of a firearm still marked on me. “Start the car.”
The engine rumbled awake. “Good,” he grinned, the light outside casting a grotesquely clear look of his sweaty pores. Something awful lingered in his breath—the foul musk of a rotten tooth. “Now drive.”
The gravity of the situation hit me all at once, a blast of fear obliterating everything else out of my system. My insides shook like the temperature had just plummeted.
I looked up at my own eyes in the rearview mirror. What I saw was undiluted fear and desperation, “Please,” I whimpered, “I’m sorry for what happened. I really am, man. Take the car, it’s yours, I won’t—”
The hand holding the pistol slammed the dash. “DRIVE!” he screamed in an almost forlorn bellow.
I dropped the gearshift into reverse. As the car’s backside turned and faced us toward the road, I shoved it to drive.
“Go west on the interstate,” the man said clicking in his seatbelt and gestured for me as well. How ironic.
We followed the dark slate of road and slid up the ramp of I-70, heading into the gloomy darkness of the westbound highway.
We drove in silence for some time, during which the tight panic in my chest had shifted to a hot anger. All this for a drink. Really? All this for a goddamned drink?
I’d dealt with angry drunks before. Hell, I thought that I’d dealt with the worst of them. But I’d seen nothing like this. This guy was an entirely new level; he was bat-shit insane.
I slipped a glance at him. His eyes were turned vaguely toward the road. I hated everything about him—his shape in my peripheral, the awful smells wafting off him, his oafish breathing through those whiskers.
Where were we going? What was going to happen when we get there?
Wherever it was, I was running out of time.
Hit the barrier, I thought, and grab the gun when it drops out of his hand. I was tempted, even commencing countdowns in my head to swerve off the road and blindly grab at him in the chaos. I eyed the orange needle of the speedometer, fluttering over seventy miles per hour. Bad idea.
This was not about to become a scene in an action flick for the unscathed hero. It was real life. And in real life bodies hesitate, fingers pull triggers, and both people die in a fiery car crash.
“Where are you taking me?” I finally asked, breaking the silence.
Instead of a response, I caught the dim, grubby shape of his profile as he flicked open a lighter.
Cigarette smoke wafted out of the mottled formations of his face, no open window for it to escape.
I guess he’d finally found someone to smoke with.
He instructed me to take the next exit and to merge on Highway 24, to follow the mountainside.
At one point, a set of headlights came from the opposite direction. I pushed on the accelerator, bringing the needle up to an illegal ninety, praying that it happened to be a cop ready to have us pulled over. My passenger didn’t seem to notice our gradual rise in speed.
As the car shot right by us, it was, unfortunately, a sedan, probably heading home to a safe, warm bed—a place I should be right now.
A wet belch sighed out of him, and he sucked it back in. Digested alcohol now joined the smells of cigarette tar and a decaying tooth. I prayed for him to vomit and for the vomit to clog up his throat and turn his face blue.
What did he want? To kill me? To demand a ransom for me? My head ached with the possibilities.
There had to be something I could do to get out of this.
“My son’s birthday is next week,” I lied, hoping some form of that would reach the sliver of humanity floating around him somewhere.
He exhaled out a puff of smoke, and that was all.
I kept pushing. “He wanted one of those small cars, the one you have to build the little plastic track for and everything. We were going to have a surprise party for him.”
“Slow down,” he blurted, signaling to an upcoming side road. “Turn here.”
As the road became a C-shaped flank along the mountain, the turn-off practically came out of nowhere.
Ahead of us, a large metal gate meant to block off the path had been left wide open. Someone had taken a pair of bolt cutters to the padlock securing it. Hanging off its side, a sign read in bold letters: Trespassers will be prosecuted.
The road twisted into an aspen-lined path and became much grittier and less kempt. Loose, rocky debris crunched under the tires, and a stray branch snapped like a femur bone. We maneuvered around a few large stones that had tumbled their way along the track.
Houses clad in deformed shingles and decrepit, sagging porches formed out of the darkness around us. Their walls had either crumbled entirely or were coated in elaborate graffiti. Rundown. Abandoned.
The old neighborhood sat in Terrance-like rows along the mountainside, now left to slump along its incline.
A ghost town, one of the many that littered Colorado’s terrain.
“Do you know this place?” Goat Beard asked, surveying the deserted homes himself.
I shook my head, not interested in doing anything else.
“I’ll give you a clue—silver boom of the 1800s, once at the dead center of all zinc and lead mining productions. Back then anyway…”
I wasn’t interested in answering him, and in response to my silence, he shook his rugged head, “Gilman! Come on bud, you don’t know your own state’s history?”
The sudden shift in his tone irked me greatly, like this kidnapping had become a friendly outing together. Fuck you, my thoughts grunted.
Without being prompted, Goat Beard continued, “In 1899, half the mining town was wiped out. The school, the iron-mask hotel, a shaft house—poof!” He flexed his fingers. “All lost to the fire.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
His drunken eyes found me again. “Do you know what the townsfolk did? They came together and rebuilt what was lost. Made it better. A tragedy made into a communion. Do you know what I mean?”
I didn’t answer.
“Forest fires—those are tragedies, right? Wrong. They clear out the dead litter, make room for new generations of growth. Thriving in the ashes. That is what we need, you know? That is what this cold, fuckin’ world needs.” He was slurring to himself more than to me now, “Men, woman, everyone out there prays to some distant God, crying for the angels to fly down and save us. But he is out of angels to send, so we must abide. We must make them.”
His gaze shifted, a bent smile forming in the scruff. “Thank you.” He almost wept. “Thank you for making me choose you.”
Truly, it was the sudden giddiness in his voice that scared me the most, like the very reason he’d drank himself half to death tonight had finally been resolved.
The neighborhood led us to the town area, where we passed by an old workshop, a sun-bleached garage, and two Gilman dump trucks, their sides plastered with ancient mud. From out of the cracks, weeds had pushed their way through the untended turf.
"We’re here. Stop,” Goat Beard snapped as he rolled down the window to flick out his cigarette.
We came to a stop before a large, boxy building. Though it was one of the many paint-flaking fossils surrounding us, this structure looked especially dismal. Its once-white coat was murky with age. The few windows that weren’t clouded with grime were entirely blown out, their bits of glass shimmering like teeth in the moonlight.
More graffiti lined its base in one of which sat the grey outline of a cat. And sprouting atop the structure’s roof sat a single cracked chimney.
“Shut it off,” Goat Beard ordered again, gesturing obnoxiously toward my keys and then grabbing them as I did so.
Out from the building’s dark entryway, a silhouette came.
My insides rippled with fear at the sight.
This was it, the end of our journey together. Of course, this would be the perfect place to make me disappear. Nobody would know, and even if someone found me, they’d only stumble upon my corpse, rotting like everything else in this toxic place.
I was done playing ball. This was going to end my way, not theirs.
As Goat Beard moved to open his side of the car, I snatched at his gun.
My fingers locked around his wrist and jerked to the side to spin the barrel away from me. Its nozzle smacked against the dashboard, but his grip remained locked tight around it.
I yanked again, harder this time, using whatever leverage I could muster in the tight, little space we were in.
The parts of his face still visible to me were screwed with anger.
“Son of a bitch!” he screamed, trying to wrestle my hands off of him, growling like an angry dog.
My thoughts were loud, screaming in a unified chorus: Take it, take it, take it! That is all I cared about, all I wanted in the world. To take it meant the end of this horrible night, to live through it.
I pried desperately at his grubby fingers, feeling them starting to break their hold.
As from out of nowhere, a calloused fist struck my face. Pressure filled the inside of my cheek and made it clench. His free hand struck again, even harder this time. My head flopped back, but my hands only clutched tighter.
The gun was almost out of his grip, almost in mine.
Then there was a sound behind me, and a pair of hands ripped me right out of the driver’s seat.
The underside of my legs scraped painfully across the gravel, and before everything stopped spinning, I was pinned on my stomach.
A broad knee dug between my shoulders. Something looped around my wrists and then bit into them as tight bracelets. Zip ties.
“Easy! Easy, guy,” a new voice spoke, infuriatingly calm.
I heard the passenger side close as Goat Beard bustled over to join whoever had a hold of me.
I spat and cursed at them, feeling sharp bits of grit push into my cheek.
“He’s a troublemaker,” Goat Beard jeered, hawking a gob of mucus on me.
My teeth ached and the blood was rushing to my left cheek, probably swelling like a balloon.
Without warning, the two men yanked me up to my knees, crammed something into my mouth, and slapped a streak of duct tape over my lips.
“That’ll put a muzzle on him,” Goat Beard chuckled, proud of himself.
The man who had just pushed his fingers into my mouth nodded. He was much taller, with a bristled frosty chin and a nose permanently bent to the side.
“Listen,” he spoke with that collected voice, “if you keep causing trouble, I will have to take this…” He held up a knife and pressed it up to my groin, “and unzip your sack. So, behave, huh?”
I stopped struggling at the sight of it.
Whatever they’d just shoved in my mouth rolled along my tongue. It felt like a tablet—some kind of drug, maybe. In no way was I going to swallow it, but that wouldn’t stop it from dissolving anyway.
“We need to hurry,” Goat Beard mumbled, to which Bent-Nose nodded and lead me into the wretched building.
Inside, they walked me down a short, cramped hallway.
The air I had to force in and out of my nostrils was stale and feverishly thick. Mold had built up and crawled down the wall from the ceiling, trailing along the cracks.
The interior of the room we entered resembled a kind of workshop, somewhat lit by a flashlight propped up on a table.
In its beam, someone else had their back to us. A hunching figure with a veiny bald head and a raw-hide coat that hung off his wiry frame.
He was dipping his fingers into what looked like a jar and smearing it in oval strokes on the wall, humming a hymn while he did so.
Piled along the left flank of the wall were heaps of worn medical equipment, pushed aside and left in a dusty pile.
Paper and negatives from an X-ray were littered all over the floor.
This was a hospital—or at least something along the lines of one.
Behind the mound of grimy equipment, a woman was hunched against the wall.
Her dark eyes peered up from the duct tape, cheeks creased with eye shadow, and her face sagging with the weight of hopelessness. As our eyes met, neither found comfort in the other.
I felt the urge to gag as the thing in my mouth melted into a bitter glaze. It tasted horrible.
“Are we ready?” Goat Beard asked from behind me, his gun pressed firmly into my spine.
“Almost,” Skinny replied, turning his pointy face toward us before returning to the thing he was creating. His wide eyes held a fierce intensity behind them.
Bent-Nose joined him, grabbing a jar of his own and streaking the same circled pattern over the next half of the room.
Dozens were on the walls—large red circles filled with six inner rings. Grayish chalky writing had been scribbled into them. Not words at all, but layers upon layers of gibberish all winding toward the sphere’s center.
They seemed like sigils, like ones you might find in a cult.
That explained Goat Beard’s crazy speak, but what was this, really? Our captors didn’t strike me as cultists with robes and hidden, hooded faces. They were more a gang of scruffy misfits showing off their toys.
I looked at the woman. Her eyes had gone elsewhere, swaying and wobbling around the room. Muffled, droning sounds buzzed behind the duct tape. She was on something, probably the same thing they’d forced-fed me. To keep us “muzzled.”
“Alright!” Skinny spoke excitedly, clapping his spattered hands. “Who should we start with?”
“Her,” Bent-Nose spoke, gesturing to the girl who continued to sway and teeter in her corner.
Skinny looked at the woman, and then blinked back at him with irritation, “What are you doing? Where are her restraints?”
Bent-Nose scoffed at him, “She’s high as a kite, wouldn’t even notice a fly on her face right now.”
“That isn’t the point,” Skinny snapped. “Do you want this to end up like the Moselys? Think!”
Musing on that, Bent-Nose fastened the cables over her wrists and yanked her off the ground, her bare feet dragging along the floor.
As she was laid in the center of the room, she rested whimsically on her back, putting up as much fight as a sex doll. He ripped the duct tape from her mouth before leaving her there.
A pause fell over the room, and then the men began to chant in unison. It swelled from their throats, pulling straight from the chest and meshing together into a low, prolonged baritone.
In the poor acoustics of the room, their voices bounced off the stained walls, gaining more volume with an unmistakable deep, powerful devotion.
Between their vocals, Skinny spoke out, straining his lungs into some gravel-throat language.
I was starting to feel clammy and prickly all over the place.
My mind focused on breathing—sucking in the awful fumes around me of body odor and decay.
As my heart pumped frantically, I tried to focus on its rhythm, tried to ignore the sounds of vibrating vocal cords rumbling my ears.
I forced down a swallow and breathed. The drug couldn’t be affecting me now, could it? This quickly?
The walls around us didn’t feel like walls anymore, but massive slabs of canvas coated in waxy circles. Awful art. Horrible, awful art.
The voices rose, heaving out their vocals even louder.
My leg muscles squeezed together, then relaxed, like taffy being rolled and stretched from a machine.
I wanted to sit down—to sit down and breathe. But as I started to drift downward, Goat Beard forcefully hoisted me back up again. I’d forgotten he was there.
“Are you feeling it? Are you feeling the good shit, yet?” His words trickled with them a warm, rotten breath.
Whatever harness keeping my thoughts together was loosening. I wanted to squeeze into one of the cracks around us, to sleep and make the bad world go away.
The walls started to move, puffing in and out in perfect tandem with my wheezing chest. In. Out. In. Out.
Even the sigils moved, shivering their waxy bodies with the dark chorus. Within them, the chalky figures danced and wriggled with such life I almost believed they each had their own pulse.
That was when I saw the fire.
It clawed over her, starting as a bluish ripple that quickly flared into a bright, savage red.
Even as the burst of heat rolled over my face, I didn’t think it was real. The men hadn’t ignited her—or doused her in anything—or even flicked a match. A hallucination, that’s it. I’m hallucinating, my mind pleaded, trying to grip its last fibers of that harness.
But the sound of her screaming was what made it real. She bucked and writhed beneath the flames, crying out for any of us to help her.
Smoke burrowed into my nostrils and bristled the back of my throat. I retched emptily into the duct tape and tried to pull away, only to be forced back toward her.
“Watch,” Goat Beard hissed, only stopping his chants to whisper into my ear, “Watch the angel shine.”
I could smell her hair burning. Her skin roasting.
Faces appeared around her, forming with the blaze and then in the same instant, rippled into the smog.
She screamed until her throat split and her echoes fell to a dry, breathless yowl.
The ties bounding her hands had finally snapped and released them to flail helplessly about.
All the while, the strident chants continued, feeding the inferno as it spat more pieces of her into the air.
They sang, they cheered, and as their shadows throbbed up and down the walls, I could swear those changed as well. Oily shapes with bodies contorted and torturously stretched into things not even remotely human.
Skinny stood the closest to the burning woman, both hands raised in sadistic glee over their living kindle. Just another man outside these walls, but here in the firelight, he looked like the devil.
Psychopaths. Monsters!
I fought in Goat Beards grip, jerking my head back to break his nose, kicking my feet backward toward his knees. I couldn’t stomach any more.
Something blunt struck the back of my head. I keeled over onto my knees. Even in a drugged-up daze, the static spreading around my skull told me I’d just been pistol-whipped.
The last of the strained cries finally crept from the woman’s throat as she succumbed to a crackling silence.
I thought she was finally gone, prayed for it even.
However, she convulsed once more, turning her stomach up and letting her head hang downward—now looking at me.
I saw her face clearly. Her skin resurfaced with blisters and curling raw patches. Her nose a mottled stump of white seared tissue. And the last remnants of her hair coiling against a ruined scalp.
Then her lips, which had dried to thin scabs, suddenly parted.
I expected another hellish scream to empty out of her, but it was something else—a warped laugh only possible with a throat full of charcoal. Laughing hysterically in an upside down-grimace.
Though no eyes were left in her sockets, I could feel their gaze swallow me up.
Stop, I whimpered internally, please stop looking at me.
Her suffering had ended, but in its place, something different had taken its place, clawing its way out of the burn.
The laughing seized as she struggled back to her feet, standing tall in the lashing flames. Fragments of clothing hung from her grizzled frame, fused to the skin.
The chorus of the men had stopped as they backed away from her, like lion tamers who had suddenly lost their whips.
She seemed to pay them no mind as her neck slowly swiveled around the room, eyeing up each of the hastily smeared sigils.
Her heels scraped against the floor as she chose one of them and gradually shambled toward it.
Upon reaching the crest, her body collapsed forward. A skull-rending crunch resounded from the impact and left her limply against it. Pieces of her torso—followed by everything else—began to fall away from her, dispersing in blackened particles.
The flames shrank and sputtered as more of her body broke down into fine-grained piles around her. Before long, she had crumbled to nothingness, a vague smear of her existence marred into the wall.
As the last of the embers fizzled in their ashes, the room returned to its heavy darkness.
“Beautiful!” Skinny cheered, looking like he’d just wiped away a tear, though it was probably to rub the sweat off his face. Those wide, intense eyes traveled to me, “One down, one to go.”
I looked once more at the crest on the wall, smothered by the left-over shape of a woman.
Then I was on the ground, staring up at the ceiling.
They’d left me in the same spot, peppered with her ashes. Beneath me, the scorched floor burned against my spine.
Goat Beard smiled as he tore the duct tape from my mouth. Why? So, they could hear me scream next?
My limbs had jellied into uselessness. Maybe from the fear, or maybe from whatever godforsaken substance they’d forced into my system.
Tears welled up in my eyes. I thought about my parents’ faces and the last time I’d seen them. I thought about my first bar gig, and how many times I had messed up the mixes.
An angry shout tried to tear out of my throat but was rasped short by how raw it had become.
I didn’t want to die. Not here, not in this demonic place.
When the chanting started again, I squeezed the tears shut, and prayed for my nerves to burn quickly.
Then the sounds stopped.
Silence stilled the room, save for a few scraping feet.
“What was that?” Bent-Nose spoke. “You hear that?”
“Go check it out,” Skinny ordered as a set of shoes pattered out of the room.
A few anxious mumbles passed between him and Goat Beard until a flurry of shouts rang from the hallway.
Both of them beat past me and ran toward the disturbance.
Something surged through my body—an electricity which kicked my limbs from their paralysis and back to working order.
I pulled my upper half from the ground and into a sitting position. Once my feet were under me, I got myself back to standing. Just being vertical again filled me with absolute joy.
The sounds from outside came as incoherent barks from the hall until they were silenced by a loud crack then two more in its place—gunshots.
I pulled my arms below my body and carefully lifted one leg at a time over my wrists, bringing them back to the front of me.
After that, I brought both over my head and threw them down into my stomach. The ties didn’t break. I tried again, raising them as high as I could. Break, you bastards, and slammed them down even harder.
The locking mechanism snapped, finally freeing my hands.
From behind the thin walls shuffling movements registered from the outside. “My ear!” a voice bellowed sounding very much like Goat Beard’s slurred speech, “Shot—my fuckin’ ear!”
Car doors opened and closed as an engine revved to life and an accelerator was depressed. They sped off, retreating from something.
As I twisted myself toward the exit, a man was now standing there, his gun pointed at me. “Stay away!” I screamed haggardly at him. “Stay the hell away from me!”
“Take it easy, I’m not one of them,” the man said lowering his weapon, a whole new face in the fray.
We stood at an impasse inside the acrid, unlit room. I wanted to believe he was my rescue, but my nerves were shot. The fact that things around me hadn’t stopped moving didn’t help.
His eyes scanned the workshop and settled on the human-shaped scar on the wall. A look of familiarity tensed his features. “Do you know where you are right now? Were you forced to come here?”
“Please,” I breathed, “just let me get out of this place.”
He nodded in agreement and led the way through the narrow hallway.
The fresh night air prickled down my throat and coughed back out of me. I bent over and retched into the ground. The ashes were all over me, on my clothes, in my hair.
The stranger retreated from me, almost like he was expecting something to suddenly happen. When nothing did, he cautiously drew closer. “My name’s Tucker, can you tell me yours?”
“Peter,” I responded, blowing the remaining spittle off my lips. “Are you a cop?”
“I used to be.” He itched the back of his neck, then continued “I need you to tell me everything that happened here Peter, everything that you can remember. Can you do that for me?”
I looked up at him and rubbed the imprints dented into my wrists, “You aren’t going to believe any of it.”
The ex-officer then smiled, “Try me.”
submitted by Atrophied_Silence to DrCreepensVault [link] [comments]


2020.10.19 22:47 Atrophied_Silence Sex hidden bed

A continuation of my story, The Angels Burned
Check it out here if you have not read the first part

It was gearing up to be a long night.
The place was packed two-deep with thirsty patrons, and our barback was nowhere in sight. I wouldn’t know it until hours later, but he had quit out of the blue, leaving me to manage the tides myself.
The entrance to our pub was tucked away inside a bricked alleyway, marked with a crooked street lamp. Beyond the frontage of oak and stained-glass windows, the inside oozed with old-fashioned character.
A western fireplace fitted with wrought iron pokers, rickety wooden stools, dozens of triple X whiskey water jugs hanging from the ceiling, and old-world goods for display on the dark shelf-lined walls.
The perfect Old West backdrop for tourists.
That’s how all the seasons go in Vail, Colorado.
When visitors weren’t coming to freeze on the slopes, they came rolling in for the summer glamour, the velvety hills, and the smell of fireweed and creek water in the air.
Stressful as it made my shift, and as much as I wanted to wring the barback’s neck for it, I was used to handling things on my own.
It’s how I cut my teeth in the bar trade—my rite of passage, you might call it. Multi-tasking like a maniac, memorizing cocktail recipes, and answering the electrified calls of drunks—maybe a shot or two on the side to take the edge off.
A few of my regulars were perched along the bar—a triad of glossy-lipped girls fresh in their college years. I could never remember their names, but I always remembered which of them tipped the best.
As the three of them laughed noisily and shouted back and forth to each other, I was keeping an eye on the fellow two stools down from them.
He’d strolled in just as they arrived and settled quickly at the bar.
“What are you thinking, boss?” I asked, taking his order.
“Vodka, neat,” he muttered with an inkling of drowsiness. “Keep my tab open.”
His face matched the drink, a hard, marbled expression with nothing else mixed in, straight from the bottle to the glass. He wore a dark coat with a red cap fighting to keep his ruffled hair from poking out. A beard enveloped his mouth and dangled under his chin like that of a billy goat.
He’d been eyeballing the girls for a while, and noticeably, none of them cared for it. As two of the girls went to the restroom and one stayed behind, he took his chance.
Busy as that night was, I couldn’t help but watch him give it his best:
A subtle gesture to her glass followed by a shake of her head.
A little bit of chatter, and another shake of her head.
But Goat Beard would not be swayed, and I heard him asking something along the lines of, “Do you smoke? Want to go out and smoke with me?”
“Sorry, no,” she said, turning her entire body to convey the end of their conversation.
Finally deterred, he left her alone and made his way around the tavern.
Watching him rubber-leg his way over to the dartboards, I wished I had caught how drunk he was before pouring that last drink.
He took a seat near a group of younger guys and watched their darts fly. Whenever one missed its mark or landed clear off the board, the boys—along with their new spectator— erupted with laughter.
He leaned back, teasing the chair on its last two legs, and cackled loudly. Others looked over in curiosity and annoyance until even the jukebox tunes were second to the horsey laughter. The group of guys didn’t seem to mind it. They even welcomed it, with one of them enthusiastically high-fiving him. But eventually, the obnoxious chortling wore out its welcome, and the group made their way elsewhere.
Goat Beard followed and asked one of the boys something—the one that initiated the high-five. Judging by him tapping a V shape against his lips, it seemed like another request to go out and smoke.
The boy shook his head, denying the offer.
Striking out twice, the man stumbled his way back to the bar and reclaimed his seat, hunched over like a brooding Paul Bunyan. He seemed anxious, hands clenched and fingers trembling.
Soon enough, his neck arched back up to me and hollered, “Hey! Another neat, bud.”
“Sorry, man,” I replied bringing him a glass of water, “We’re going to need you to slow down tonight.”
He eyed the water and then blinked bullets at me, “What?!”
“Have to cut you off for now. Just sober up a bit, alright?”
Betrayal crossed his fleecy face like I had spat on a long-lived kinship. “I had one shot, bud. Ain’t even drunk yet. Now pour me another, alright?”
No drunk liked to be 86’d, but such things were necessary in the world of adult baby-sitting. I shook my head at him, “Sorry, you have to sober up a bit.”
“I’m not even drunk,” he challenged me again and then not even a second after, he slammed both palms on the table. “Now take my fuckin’ order!”
He grabbed the glass and doused me with the water I had poured for him.
I signaled for our bouncer who immediately made his way over and locked arms with the disturbance.
“Bastard!” he yelled, digging his heels into the floor, “My money’s good here, my fuckin’ money’s good here!” As he was dragged out and his screams dissipated, onlookers returned to their drinks and conversations.
I wiped off the water as well as I could and went back to work. It wasn’t the first time I’d been swilled by an angry customer, and it most likely wouldn’t be the last.
Ten minutes after the last call, we stopped serving drinks. Thirty minutes after that, we emptied the bar and closed shop.
I counted the money to make sure the checkout was correct, and ran a cursory sweep over the place for any stragglers in the bathroom or under the booths. The last thing we needed was a drunkard waking up to their own alcoholic Wonka factory.
***
The night air always tasted nicer after a long shift, especially if there wasn’t the residue of vomit in the pavement or cigarettes in the air.
I made the short walk to my car, parked in the space reserved for on-duty bartenders. Half the parking lot was glazed in the fluorescent light of a streetlamp, while the other half was covered in 4 a.m. blackness.
As I fished the keys out of my pocket and opened the door, a ring of icy steel pressed against the nape of my neck.
“Don’t,” a voice breathed from behind me as I reactively tried to move away from it.
From the window, I could make out the orange-dipped reflection of a man with a gun and a tufty beard.
“Okay, okay,” I said quietly, my hands pitifully up in front of me. “Take it easy. I’ll give you whatever you want.”
“Shut up.” Goat Beard grunted, digging the muzzle deeper into the scruff of my neck. “Get in the car.”
I did as he was told and gripped the wheel.
He circled to the passenger door, found that it was locked, and tapped the gun against the glass.
Sure, I could have jammed the keys into the ignition and whipped the car into a screeching reverse, but the short seconds to do that felt much slower than a bullet smashing first through the window then through my skull.
I unlocked the door.
He opened the door and seated himself, the snout of a firearm still marked on me. “Start the car.”
The engine rumbled awake. “Good,” he grinned, the light outside casting a grotesquely clear look of his sweaty pores. Something awful lingered in his breath—the foul musk of a rotten tooth. “Now drive.”
The gravity of the situation hit me all at once, a blast of fear obliterating everything else out of my system. My insides shook like the temperature had just plummeted.
I looked up at my own eyes in the rearview mirror. What I saw was undiluted fear and desperation, “Please,” I whimpered, “I’m sorry for what happened. I really am, man. Take the car, it’s yours, I won’t—”
The hand holding the pistol slammed the dash. “DRIVE!” he screamed in an almost forlorn bellow.
I dropped the gearshift into reverse. As the car’s backside turned and faced us toward the road, I shoved it to drive.
“Go west on the interstate,” the man said clicking in his seatbelt and gestured for me as well. How ironic.
We followed the dark slate of road and slid up the ramp of I-70, heading into the gloomy darkness of the westbound highway.
We drove in silence for some time, during which the tight panic in my chest had shifted to a hot anger. All this for a drink. Really? All this for a goddamned drink?
I’d dealt with angry drunks before. Hell, I thought that I’d dealt with the worst of them. But I’d seen nothing like this. This guy was an entirely new level; he was bat-shit insane.
I slipped a glance at him. His eyes were turned vaguely toward the road. I hated everything about him—his shape in my peripheral, the awful smells wafting off him, his oafish breathing through those whiskers.
Where were we going? What was going to happen when we get there?
Wherever it was, I was running out of time.
Hit the barrier, I thought, and grab the gun when it drops out of his hand. I was tempted, even commencing countdowns in my head to swerve off the road and blindly grab at him in the chaos. I eyed the orange needle of the speedometer, fluttering over seventy miles per hour. Bad idea.
This was not about to become a scene in an action flick for the unscathed hero. It was real life. And in real life bodies hesitate, fingers pull triggers, and both people die in a fiery car crash.
“Where are you taking me?” I finally asked, breaking the silence.
Instead of a response, I caught the dim, grubby shape of his profile as he flicked open a lighter.
Cigarette smoke wafted out of the mottled formations of his face, no open window for it to escape.
I guess he’d finally found someone to smoke with.
He instructed me to take the next exit and to merge on Highway 24, to follow the mountainside.
At one point, a set of headlights came from the opposite direction. I pushed on the accelerator, bringing the needle up to an illegal ninety, praying that it happened to be a cop ready to have us pulled over. My passenger didn’t seem to notice our gradual rise in speed.
As the car shot right by us, it was, unfortunately, a sedan, probably heading home to a safe, warm bed—a place I should be right now.
A wet belch sighed out of him, and he sucked it back in. Digested alcohol now joined the smells of cigarette tar and a decaying tooth. I prayed for him to vomit and for the vomit to clog up his throat and turn his face blue.
What did he want? To kill me? To demand a ransom for me? My head ached with the possibilities.
There had to be something I could do to get out of this.
“My son’s birthday is next week,” I lied, hoping some form of that would reach the sliver of humanity floating around him somewhere.
He exhaled out a puff of smoke, and that was all.
I kept pushing. “He wanted one of those small cars, the one you have to build the little plastic track for and everything. We were going to have a surprise party for him.”
“Slow down,” he blurted, signaling to an upcoming side road. “Turn here.”
As the road became a C-shaped flank along the mountain, the turn-off practically came out of nowhere.
Ahead of us, a large metal gate meant to block off the path had been left wide open. Someone had taken a pair of bolt cutters to the padlock securing it. Hanging off its side, a sign read in bold letters: Trespassers will be prosecuted.
The road twisted into an aspen-lined path and became much grittier and less kempt. Loose, rocky debris crunched under the tires, and a stray branch snapped like a femur bone. We maneuvered around a few large stones that had tumbled their way along the track.
Houses clad in deformed shingles and decrepit, sagging porches formed out of the darkness around us. Their walls had either crumbled entirely or were coated in elaborate graffiti. Rundown. Abandoned.
The old neighborhood sat in Terrance-like rows along the mountainside, now left to slump along its incline.
A ghost town, one of the many that littered Colorado’s terrain.
“Do you know this place?” Goat Beard asked, surveying the deserted homes himself.
I shook my head, not interested in doing anything else.
“I’ll give you a clue—silver boom of the 1800s, once at the dead center of all zinc and lead mining productions. Back then anyway…”
I wasn’t interested in answering him, and in response to my silence, he shook his rugged head, “Gilman! Come on bud, you don’t know your own state’s history?”
The sudden shift in his tone irked me greatly, like this kidnapping had become a friendly outing together. Fuck you, my thoughts grunted.
Without being prompted, Goat Beard continued, “In 1899, half the mining town was wiped out. The school, the iron-mask hotel, a shaft house—poof!” He flexed his fingers. “All lost to the fire.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
His drunken eyes found me again. “Do you know what the townsfolk did? They came together and rebuilt what was lost. Made it better. A tragedy made into a communion. Do you know what I mean?”
I didn’t answer.
“Forest fires—those are tragedies, right? Wrong. They clear out the dead litter, make room for new generations of growth. Thriving in the ashes. That is what we need, you know? That is what this cold, fuckin’ world needs.” He was slurring to himself more than to me now, “Men, woman, everyone out there prays to some distant God, crying for the angels to fly down and save us. But he is out of angels to send, so we must abide. We must make them.”
His gaze shifted, a bent smile forming in the scruff. “Thank you.” He almost wept. “Thank you for making me choose you.”
Truly, it was the sudden giddiness in his voice that scared me the most, like the very reason he’d drank himself half to death tonight had finally been resolved.
The neighborhood led us to the town area, where we passed by an old workshop, a sun-bleached garage, and two Gilman dump trucks, their sides plastered with ancient mud. From out of the cracks, weeds had pushed their way through the untended turf.
"We’re here. Stop,” Goat Beard snapped as he rolled down the window to flick out his cigarette.
We came to a stop before a large, boxy building. Though it was one of the many paint-flaking fossils surrounding us, this structure looked especially dismal. Its once-white coat was murky with age. The few windows that weren’t clouded with grime were entirely blown out, their bits of glass shimmering like teeth in the moonlight.
More graffiti lined its base in one of which sat the grey outline of a cat. And sprouting atop the structure’s roof sat a single cracked chimney.
“Shut it off,” Goat Beard ordered again, gesturing obnoxiously toward my keys and then grabbing them as I did so.
Out from the building’s dark entryway, a silhouette came.
My insides rippled with fear at the sight.
This was it, the end of our journey together. Of course, this would be the perfect place to make me disappear. Nobody would know, and even if someone found me, they’d only stumble upon my corpse, rotting like everything else in this toxic place.
I was done playing ball. This was going to end my way, not theirs.
As Goat Beard moved to open his side of the car, I snatched at his gun.
My fingers locked around his wrist and jerked to the side to spin the barrel away from me. Its nozzle smacked against the dashboard, but his grip remained locked tight around it.
I yanked again, harder this time, using whatever leverage I could muster in the tight, little space we were in.
The parts of his face still visible to me were screwed with anger.
“Son of a bitch!” he screamed, trying to wrestle my hands off of him, growling like an angry dog.
My thoughts were loud, screaming in a unified chorus: Take it, take it, take it! That is all I cared about, all I wanted in the world. To take it meant the end of this horrible night, to live through it.
I pried desperately at his grubby fingers, feeling them starting to break their hold.
As from out of nowhere, a calloused fist struck my face. Pressure filled the inside of my cheek and made it clench. His free hand struck again, even harder this time. My head flopped back, but my hands only clutched tighter.
The gun was almost out of his grip, almost in mine.
Then there was a sound behind me, and a pair of hands ripped me right out of the driver’s seat.
The underside of my legs scraped painfully across the gravel, and before everything stopped spinning, I was pinned on my stomach.
A broad knee dug between my shoulders. Something looped around my wrists and then bit into them as tight bracelets. Zip ties.
“Easy! Easy, guy,” a new voice spoke, infuriatingly calm.
I heard the passenger side close as Goat Beard bustled over to join whoever had a hold of me.
I spat and cursed at them, feeling sharp bits of grit push into my cheek.
“He’s a troublemaker,” Goat Beard jeered, hawking a gob of mucus on me.
My teeth ached and the blood was rushing to my left cheek, probably swelling like a balloon.
Without warning, the two men yanked me up to my knees, crammed something into my mouth, and slapped a streak of duct tape over my lips.
“That’ll put a muzzle on him,” Goat Beard chuckled, proud of himself.
The man who had just pushed his fingers into my mouth nodded. He was much taller, with a bristled frosty chin and a nose permanently bent to the side.
“Listen,” he spoke with that collected voice, “if you keep causing trouble, I will have to take this…” He held up a knife and pressed it up to my groin, “and unzip your sack. So, behave, huh?”
I stopped struggling at the sight of it.
Whatever they’d just shoved in my mouth rolled along my tongue. It felt like a tablet—some kind of drug, maybe. In no way was I going to swallow it, but that wouldn’t stop it from dissolving anyway.
“We need to hurry,” Goat Beard mumbled, to which Bent-Nose nodded and lead me into the wretched building.
Inside, they walked me down a short, cramped hallway.
The air I had to force in and out of my nostrils was stale and feverishly thick. Mold had built up and crawled down the wall from the ceiling, trailing along the cracks.
The interior of the room we entered resembled a kind of workshop, somewhat lit by a flashlight propped up on a table.
In its beam, someone else had their back to us. A hunching figure with a veiny bald head and a raw-hide coat that hung off his wiry frame.
He was dipping his fingers into what looked like a jar and smearing it in oval strokes on the wall, humming a hymn while he did so.
Piled along the left flank of the wall were heaps of worn medical equipment, pushed aside and left in a dusty pile.
Paper and negatives from an X-ray were littered all over the floor.
This was a hospital—or at least something along the lines of one.
Behind the mound of grimy equipment, a woman was hunched against the wall.
Her dark eyes peered up from the duct tape, cheeks creased with eye shadow, and her face sagging with the weight of hopelessness. As our eyes met, neither found comfort in the other.
I felt the urge to gag as the thing in my mouth melted into a bitter glaze. It tasted horrible.
“Are we ready?” Goat Beard asked from behind me, his gun pressed firmly into my spine.
“Almost,” Skinny replied, turning his pointy face toward us before returning to the thing he was creating. His wide eyes held a fierce intensity behind them.
Bent-Nose joined him, grabbing a jar of his own and streaking the same circled pattern over the next half of the room.
Dozens were on the walls—large red circles filled with six inner rings. Grayish chalky writing had been scribbled into them. Not words at all, but layers upon layers of gibberish all winding toward the sphere’s center.
They seemed like sigils, like ones you might find in a cult.
That explained Goat Beard’s crazy speak, but what was this, really? Our captors didn’t strike me as cultists with robes and hidden, hooded faces. They were more a gang of scruffy misfits showing off their toys.
I looked at the woman. Her eyes had gone elsewhere, swaying and wobbling around the room. Muffled, droning sounds buzzed behind the duct tape. She was on something, probably the same thing they’d forced-fed me. To keep us “muzzled.”
“Alright!” Skinny spoke excitedly, clapping his spattered hands. “Who should we start with?”
“Her,” Bent-Nose spoke, gesturing to the girl who continued to sway and teeter in her corner.
Skinny looked at the woman, and then blinked back at him with irritation, “What are you doing? Where are her restraints?”
Bent-Nose scoffed at him, “She’s high as a kite, wouldn’t even notice a fly on her face right now.”
“That isn’t the point,” Skinny snapped. “Do you want this to end up like the Moselys? Think!”
Musing on that, Bent-Nose fastened the cables over her wrists and yanked her off the ground, her bare feet dragging along the floor.
As she was laid in the center of the room, she rested whimsically on her back, putting up as much fight as a sex doll. He ripped the duct tape from her mouth before leaving her there.
A pause fell over the room, and then the men began to chant in unison. It swelled from their throats, pulling straight from the chest and meshing together into a low, prolonged baritone.
In the poor acoustics of the room, their voices bounced off the stained walls, gaining more volume with an unmistakable deep, powerful devotion.
Between their vocals, Skinny spoke out, straining his lungs into some gravel-throat language.
I was starting to feel clammy and prickly all over the place.
My mind focused on breathing—sucking in the awful fumes around me of body odor and decay.
As my heart pumped frantically, I tried to focus on its rhythm, tried to ignore the sounds of vibrating vocal cords rumbling my ears.
I forced down a swallow and breathed. The drug couldn’t be affecting me now, could it? This quickly?
The walls around us didn’t feel like walls anymore, but massive slabs of canvas coated in waxy circles. Awful art. Horrible, awful art.
The voices rose, heaving out their vocals even louder.
My leg muscles squeezed together, then relaxed, like taffy being rolled and stretched from a machine.
I wanted to sit down—to sit down and breathe. But as I started to drift downward, Goat Beard forcefully hoisted me back up again. I’d forgotten he was there.
“Are you feeling it? Are you feeling the good shit, yet?” His words trickled with them a warm, rotten breath.
Whatever harness keeping my thoughts together was loosening. I wanted to squeeze into one of the cracks around us, to sleep and make the bad world go away.
The walls started to move, puffing in and out in perfect tandem with my wheezing chest. In. Out. In. Out.
Even the sigils moved, shivering their waxy bodies with the dark chorus. Within them, the chalky figures danced and wriggled with such life I almost believed they each had their own pulse.
That was when I saw the fire.
It clawed over her, starting as a bluish ripple that quickly flared into a bright, savage red.
Even as the burst of heat rolled over my face, I didn’t think it was real. The men hadn’t ignited her—or doused her in anything—or even flicked a match. A hallucination, that’s it. I’m hallucinating, my mind pleaded, trying to grip its last fibers of that harness.
But the sound of her screaming was what made it real. She bucked and writhed beneath the flames, crying out for any of us to help her.
Smoke burrowed into my nostrils and bristled the back of my throat. I retched emptily into the duct tape and tried to pull away, only to be forced back toward her.
“Watch,” Goat Beard hissed, only stopping his chants to whisper into my ear, “Watch the angel shine.”
I could smell her hair burning. Her skin roasting.
Faces appeared around her, forming with the blaze and then in the same instant, rippled into the smog.
She screamed until her throat split and her echoes fell to a dry, breathless yowl.
The ties bounding her hands had finally snapped and released them to flail helplessly about.
All the while, the strident chants continued, feeding the inferno as it spat more pieces of her into the air.
They sang, they cheered, and as their shadows throbbed up and down the walls, I could swear those changed as well. Oily shapes with bodies contorted and torturously stretched into things not even remotely human.
Skinny stood the closest to the burning woman, both hands raised in sadistic glee over their living kindle. Just another man outside these walls, but here in the firelight, he looked like the devil.
Psychopaths. Monsters!
I fought in Goat Beards grip, jerking my head back to break his nose, kicking my feet backward toward his knees. I couldn’t stomach any more.
Something blunt struck the back of my head. I keeled over onto my knees. Even in a drugged-up daze, the static spreading around my skull told me I’d just been pistol-whipped.
The last of the strained cries finally crept from the woman’s throat as she succumbed to a crackling silence.
I thought she was finally gone, prayed for it even.
However, she convulsed once more, turning her stomach up and letting her head hang downward—now looking at me.
I saw her face clearly. Her skin resurfaced with blisters and curling raw patches. Her nose a mottled stump of white seared tissue. And the last remnants of her hair coiling against a ruined scalp.
Then her lips, which had dried to thin scabs, suddenly parted.
I expected another hellish scream to empty out of her, but it was something else—a warped laugh only possible with a throat full of charcoal. Laughing hysterically in an upside down-grimace.
Though no eyes were left in her sockets, I could feel their gaze swallow me up.
Stop, I whimpered internally, please stop looking at me.
Her suffering had ended, but in its place, something different had taken its place, clawing its way out of the burn.
The laughing seized as she struggled back to her feet, standing tall in the lashing flames. Fragments of clothing hung from her grizzled frame, fused to the skin.
The chorus of the men had stopped as they backed away from her, like lion tamers who had suddenly lost their whips.
She seemed to pay them no mind as her neck slowly swiveled around the room, eyeing up each of the hastily smeared sigils.
Her heels scraped against the floor as she chose one of them and gradually shambled toward it.
Upon reaching the crest, her body collapsed forward. A skull-rending crunch resounded from the impact and left her limply against it. Pieces of her torso—followed by everything else—began to fall away from her, dispersing in blackened particles.
The flames shrank and sputtered as more of her body broke down into fine-grained piles around her. Before long, she had crumbled to nothingness, a vague smear of her existence marred into the wall.
As the last of the embers fizzled in their ashes, the room returned to its heavy darkness.
“Beautiful!” Skinny cheered, looking like he’d just wiped away a tear, though it was probably to rub the sweat off his face. Those wide, intense eyes traveled to me, “One down, one to go.”
I looked once more at the crest on the wall, smothered by the left-over shape of a woman.
Then I was on the ground, staring up at the ceiling.
They’d left me in the same spot, peppered with her ashes. Beneath me, the scorched floor burned against my spine.
Goat Beard smiled as he tore the duct tape from my mouth. Why? So, they could hear me scream next?
My limbs had jellied into uselessness. Maybe from the fear, or maybe from whatever godforsaken substance they’d forced into my system.
Tears welled up in my eyes. I thought about my parents’ faces and the last time I’d seen them. I thought about my first bar gig, and how many times I had messed up the mixes.
An angry shout tried to tear out of my throat but was rasped short by how raw it had become.
I didn’t want to die. Not here, not in this demonic place.
When the chanting started again, I squeezed the tears shut, and prayed for my nerves to burn quickly.
Then the sounds stopped.
Silence stilled the room, save for a few scraping feet.
“What was that?” Bent-Nose spoke. “You hear that?”
“Go check it out,” Skinny ordered as a set of shoes pattered out of the room.
A few anxious mumbles passed between him and Goat Beard until a flurry of shouts rang from the hallway.
Both of them beat past me and ran toward the disturbance.
Something surged through my body—an electricity which kicked my limbs from their paralysis and back to working order.
I pulled my upper half from the ground and into a sitting position. Once my feet were under me, I got myself back to standing. Just being vertical again filled me with absolute joy.
The sounds from outside came as incoherent barks from the hall until they were silenced by a loud crack then two more in its place—gunshots.
I pulled my arms below my body and carefully lifted one leg at a time over my wrists, bringing them back to the front of me.
After that, I brought both over my head and threw them down into my stomach. The ties didn’t break. I tried again, raising them as high as I could. Break, you bastards, and slammed them down even harder.
The locking mechanism snapped, finally freeing my hands.
From behind the thin walls shuffling movements registered from the outside. “My ear!” a voice bellowed sounding very much like Goat Beard’s slurred speech, “Shot—my fuckin’ ear!”
Car doors opened and closed as an engine revved to life and an accelerator was depressed. They sped off, retreating from something.
As I twisted myself toward the exit, a man was now standing there, his gun pointed at me. “Stay away!” I screamed haggardly at him. “Stay the hell away from me!”
“Take it easy, I’m not one of them,” the man said lowering his weapon, a whole new face in the fray.
We stood at an impasse inside the acrid, unlit room. I wanted to believe he was my rescue, but my nerves were shot. The fact that things around me hadn’t stopped moving didn’t help.
His eyes scanned the workshop and settled on the human-shaped scar on the wall. A look of familiarity tensed his features. “Do you know where you are right now? Were you forced to come here?”
“Please,” I breathed, “just let me get out of this place.”
He nodded in agreement and led the way through the paint-flaking hallway.
The fresh night air prickled down my throat and coughed back out of me. I bent over and retched into the ground. The ashes were all over me, on my clothes, in my hair.
The stranger retreated from me, almost like he was expecting something to suddenly happen. When nothing did, he cautiously drew closer. “My name’s Tucker, can you tell me yours?”
“Peter,” I responded, blowing the remaining spittle off my lips. “Are you a cop?”
“I used to be.” He itched the back of his neck, then continued “I need you to tell me everything that happened here Peter, everything that you can remember. Can you do that for me?”
I looked up at him and rubbed the imprints dented into my wrists, “You aren’t going to believe any of it.”
The ex-officer then smiled, “Try me.”
submitted by Atrophied_Silence to creepypasta [link] [comments]


2020.10.19 22:46 Atrophied_Silence Bed sex hidden

A continuation of my story, The Angels Burned
Check it out here if you have not read the first part


It was gearing up to be a long night.
The place was packed two-deep with thirsty patrons, and our barback was nowhere in sight. I wouldn’t know it until hours later, but he had quit out of the blue, leaving me to manage the tides myself.
The entrance to our pub was tucked away inside a bricked alleyway, marked with a crooked street lamp. Beyond the frontage of oak and stained-glass windows, the inside oozed with old-fashioned character.
A western fireplace fitted with wrought iron pokers, rickety wooden stools, dozens of triple X whiskey water jugs hanging from the ceiling, and old-world goods for display on the dark shelf-lined walls.
The perfect Old West backdrop for tourists.
That’s how all the seasons go in Vail, Colorado.
When visitors weren’t coming to freeze on the slopes, they came rolling in for the summer glamour, the velvety hills, and the smell of fireweed and creek water in the air.
Stressful as it made my shift, and as much as I wanted to wring the barback’s neck for it, I was used to handling things on my own.
It’s how I cut my teeth in the bar trade—my rite of passage, you might call it. Multi-tasking like a maniac, memorizing cocktail recipes, and answering the electrified calls of drunks—maybe a shot or two on the side to take the edge off.
A few of my regulars were perched along the bar—a triad of glossy-lipped girls fresh in their college years. I could never remember their names, but I always remembered which of them tipped the best.
As the three of them laughed noisily and shouted back and forth to each other, I was keeping an eye on the fellow two stools down from them.
He’d strolled in just as they arrived and settled quickly at the bar.
“What are you thinking, boss?” I asked, taking his order.
“Vodka, neat,” he muttered with an inkling of drowsiness. “Keep my tab open.”
His face matched the drink, a hard, marbled expression with nothing else mixed in, straight from the bottle to the glass. He wore a dark coat with a red cap fighting to keep his ruffled hair from poking out. A beard enveloped his mouth and dangled under his chin like that of a billy goat.
He’d been eyeballing the girls for a while, and noticeably, none of them cared for it. As two of the girls went to the restroom and one stayed behind, he took his chance.
Busy as that night was, I couldn’t help but watch him give it his best:
A subtle gesture to her glass followed by a shake of her head.
A little bit of chatter, and another shake of her head.
But Goat Beard would not be swayed, and I heard him asking something along the lines of, “Do you smoke? Want to go out and smoke with me?”
“Sorry, no,” she said, turning her entire body to convey the end of their conversation.
Finally deterred, he left her alone and made his way around the tavern.
Watching him rubber-leg his way over to the dartboards, I wished I had caught how drunk he was before pouring that last drink.
He took a seat near a group of younger guys and watched their darts fly. Whenever one missed its mark or landed clear off the board, the boys—along with their new spectator— erupted with laughter.
He leaned back, teasing the chair on its last two legs, and cackled loudly. Others looked over in curiosity and annoyance until even the jukebox tunes were second to the horsey laughter. The group of guys didn’t seem to mind it. They even welcomed it, with one of them enthusiastically high-fiving him. But eventually, the obnoxious chortling wore out its welcome, and the group made their way elsewhere.
Goat Beard followed and asked one of the boys something—the one that initiated the high-five. Judging by him tapping a V shape against his lips, it seemed like another request to go out and smoke.
The boy shook his head, denying the offer.
Striking out twice, the man stumbled his way back to the bar and reclaimed his seat, hunched over like a brooding Paul Bunyan. He seemed anxious, hands clenched and fingers trembling.
Soon enough, his neck arched back up to me and hollered, “Hey! Another neat, bud.”
“Sorry, man,” I replied bringing him a glass of water, “We’re going to need you to slow down tonight.”
He eyed the water and then blinked bullets at me, “What?!”
“Have to cut you off for now. Just sober up a bit, alright?”
Betrayal crossed his fleecy face like I had spat on a long-lived kinship. “I had one shot, bud. Ain’t even drunk yet. Now pour me another, alright?”
No drunk liked to be 86’d, but such things were necessary in the world of adult baby-sitting. I shook my head at him, “Sorry, you have to sober up a bit.”
“I’m not even drunk,” he challenged me again and then not even a second after, he slammed both palms on the table. “Now take my fuckin’ order!”
He grabbed the glass and doused me with the water I had poured for him.
I signaled for our bouncer who immediately made his way over and locked arms with the disturbance.
“Bastard!” he yelled, digging his heels into the floor, “My money’s good here, my fuckin’ money’s good here!” As he was dragged out and his screams dissipated, onlookers returned to their drinks and conversations.
I wiped off the water as well as I could and went back to work. It wasn’t the first time I’d been swilled by an angry customer, and it most likely wouldn’t be the last.
Ten minutes after the last call, we stopped serving drinks. Thirty minutes after that, we emptied the bar and closed shop.
I counted the money to make sure the checkout was correct, and ran a cursory sweep over the place for any stragglers in the bathroom or under the booths. The last thing we needed was a drunkard waking up to their own alcoholic Wonka factory.
***
The night air always tasted nicer after a long shift, especially if there wasn’t the residue of vomit in the pavement or cigarettes in the air.
I made the short walk to my car, parked in the space reserved for on-duty bartenders. Half the parking lot was glazed in the fluorescent light of a streetlamp, while the other half was covered in 4 a.m. blackness.
As I fished the keys out of my pocket and opened the door, a ring of icy steel pressed against the nape of my neck.
“Don’t,” a voice breathed from behind me as I reactively tried to move away from it.
From the window, I could make out the orange-dipped reflection of a man with a gun and a tufty beard.
“Okay, okay,” I said quietly, my hands pitifully up in front of me. “Take it easy. I’ll give you whatever you want.”
“Shut up.” Goat Beard grunted, digging the muzzle deeper into the scruff of my neck. “Get in the car.”
I did as he was told and gripped the wheel.
He circled to the passenger door, found that it was locked, and tapped the gun against the glass.
Sure, I could have jammed the keys into the ignition and whipped the car into a screeching reverse, but the short seconds to do that felt much slower than a bullet smashing first through the window then through my skull.
I unlocked the door.
He opened the door and seated himself, the snout of a firearm still marked on me. “Start the car.”
The engine rumbled awake. “Good,” he grinned, the light outside casting a grotesquely clear look of his sweaty pores. Something awful lingered in his breath—the foul musk of a rotten tooth. “Now drive.”
The gravity of the situation hit me all at once, a blast of fear obliterating everything else out of my system. My insides shook like the temperature had just plummeted.
I looked up at my own eyes in the rearview mirror. What I saw was undiluted fear and desperation, “Please,” I whimpered, “I’m sorry for what happened. I really am, man. Take the car, it’s yours, I won’t—”
The hand holding the pistol slammed the dash. “DRIVE!” he screamed in an almost forlorn bellow.
I dropped the gearshift into reverse. As the car’s backside turned and faced us toward the road, I shoved it to drive.
“Go west on the interstate,” the man said clicking in his seatbelt and gestured for me as well. How ironic.
We followed the dark slate of road and slid up the ramp of I-70, heading into the gloomy darkness of the westbound highway.
We drove in silence for some time, during which the tight panic in my chest had shifted to a hot anger. All this for a drink. Really? All this for a goddamned drink?
I’d dealt with angry drunks before. Hell, I thought that I’d dealt with the worst of them. But I’d seen nothing like this. This guy was an entirely new level; he was bat-shit insane.
I slipped a glance at him. His eyes were turned vaguely toward the road. I hated everything about him—his shape in my peripheral, the awful smells wafting off him, his oafish breathing through those whiskers.
Where were we going? What was going to happen when we get there?
Wherever it was, I was running out of time.
Hit the barrier, I thought, and grab the gun when it drops out of his hand. I was tempted, even commencing countdowns in my head to swerve off the road and blindly grab at him in the chaos. I eyed the orange needle of the speedometer, fluttering over seventy miles per hour. Bad idea.
This was not about to become a scene in an action flick for the unscathed hero. It was real life. And in real life bodies hesitate, fingers pull triggers, and both people die in a fiery car crash.
“Where are you taking me?” I finally asked, breaking the silence.
Instead of a response, I caught the dim, grubby shape of his profile as he flicked open a lighter.
Cigarette smoke wafted out of the mottled formations of his face, no open window for it to escape.
I guess he’d finally found someone to smoke with.
He instructed me to take the next exit and to merge on Highway 24, to follow the mountainside.
At one point, a set of headlights came from the opposite direction. I pushed on the accelerator, bringing the needle up to an illegal ninety, praying that it happened to be a cop ready to have us pulled over. My passenger didn’t seem to notice our gradual rise in speed.
As the car shot right by us, it was, unfortunately, a sedan, probably heading home to a safe, warm bed—a place I should be right now.
A wet belch sighed out of him, and he sucked it back in. Digested alcohol now joined the smells of cigarette tar and a decaying tooth. I prayed for him to vomit and for the vomit to clog up his throat and turn his face blue.
What did he want? To kill me? To demand a ransom for me? My head ached with the possibilities.
There had to be something I could do to get out of this.
“My son’s birthday is next week,” I lied, hoping some form of that would reach the sliver of humanity floating around him somewhere.
He exhaled out a puff of smoke, and that was all.
I kept pushing. “He wanted one of those small cars, the one you have to build the little plastic track for and everything. We were going to have a surprise party for him.”
“Slow down,” he blurted, signaling to an upcoming side road. “Turn here.”
As the road became a C-shaped flank along the mountain, the turn-off practically came out of nowhere.
Ahead of us, a large metal gate meant to block off the path had been left wide open. Someone had taken a pair of bolt cutters to the padlock securing it. Hanging off its side, a sign read in bold letters: Trespassers will be prosecuted.
The road twisted into an aspen-lined path and became much grittier and less kempt. Loose, rocky debris crunched under the tires, and a stray branch snapped like a femur bone. We maneuvered around a few large stones that had tumbled their way along the track.
Houses clad in deformed shingles and decrepit, sagging porches formed out of the darkness around us. Their walls had either crumbled entirely or were coated in elaborate graffiti. Rundown. Abandoned.
The old neighborhood sat in Terrance-like rows along the mountainside, now left to slump along its incline.
A ghost town, one of the many that littered Colorado’s terrain.
“Do you know this place?” Goat Beard asked, surveying the deserted homes himself.
I shook my head, not interested in doing anything else.
“I’ll give you a clue—silver boom of the 1800s, once at the dead center of all zinc and lead mining productions. Back then anyway…”
I wasn’t interested in answering him, and in response to my silence, he shook his rugged head, “Gilman! Come on bud, you don’t know your own state’s history?”
The sudden shift in his tone irked me greatly, like this kidnapping had become a friendly outing together. Fuck you, my thoughts grunted.
Without being prompted, Goat Beard continued, “In 1899, half the mining town was wiped out. The school, the iron-mask hotel, a shaft house—poof!” He flexed his fingers. “All lost to the fire.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
His drunken eyes found me again. “Do you know what the townsfolk did? They came together and rebuilt what was lost. Made it better. A tragedy made into a communion. Do you know what I mean?”
I didn’t answer.
“Forest fires—those are tragedies, right? Wrong. They clear out the dead litter, make room for new generations of growth. Thriving in the ashes. That is what we need, you know? That is what this cold, fuckin’ world needs.” He was slurring to himself more than to me now, “Men, woman, everyone out there prays to some distant God, crying for the angels to fly down and save us. But he is out of angels to send, so we must abide. We must make them.”
His gaze shifted, a bent smile forming in the scruff. “Thank you.” He almost wept. “Thank you for making me choose you.”
Truly, it was the sudden giddiness in his voice that scared me the most, like the very reason he’d drank himself half to death tonight had finally been resolved.
The neighborhood led us to the town area, where we passed by an old workshop, a sun-bleached garage, and two Gilman dump trucks, their sides plastered with ancient mud. From out of the cracks, weeds had pushed their way through the untended turf.
"We’re here. Stop,” Goat Beard snapped as he rolled down the window to flick out his cigarette.
We came to a stop before a large, boxy building. Though it was one of the many paint-flaking fossils surrounding us, this structure looked especially dismal. Its once-white coat was murky with age. The few windows that weren’t clouded with grime were entirely blown out, their bits of glass shimmering like teeth in the moonlight.
More graffiti lined its base in one of which sat the grey outline of a cat. And sprouting atop the structure’s roof sat a single cracked chimney.
“Shut it off,” Goat Beard ordered again, gesturing obnoxiously toward my keys and then grabbing them as I did so.
Out from the building’s dark entryway, a silhouette came.
My insides rippled with fear at the sight.
This was it, the end of our journey together. Of course, this would be the perfect place to make me disappear. Nobody would know, and even if someone found me, they’d only stumble upon my corpse, rotting like everything else in this toxic place.
I was done playing ball. This was going to end my way, not theirs.
As Goat Beard moved to open his side of the car, I snatched at his gun.
My fingers locked around his wrist and jerked to the side to spin the barrel away from me. Its nozzle smacked against the dashboard, but his grip remained locked tight around it.
I yanked again, harder this time, using whatever leverage I could muster in the tight, little space we were in.
The parts of his face still visible to me were screwed with anger.
“Son of a bitch!” he screamed, trying to wrestle my hands off of him, growling like an angry dog.
My thoughts were loud, screaming in a unified chorus: Take it, take it, take it! That is all I cared about, all I wanted in the world. To take it meant the end of this horrible night, to live through it.
I pried desperately at his grubby fingers, feeling them starting to break their hold.
As from out of nowhere, a calloused fist struck my face. Pressure filled the inside of my cheek and made it clench. His free hand struck again, even harder this time. My head flopped back, but my hands only clutched tighter.
The gun was almost out of his grip, almost in mine.
Then there was a sound behind me, and a pair of hands ripped me right out of the driver’s seat.
The underside of my legs scraped painfully across the gravel, and before everything stopped spinning, I was pinned on my stomach.
A broad knee dug between my shoulders. Something looped around my wrists and then bit into them as tight bracelets. Zip ties.
“Easy! Easy, guy,” a new voice spoke, infuriatingly calm.
I heard the passenger side close as Goat Beard bustled over to join whoever had a hold of me.
I spat and cursed at them, feeling sharp bits of grit push into my cheek.
“He’s a troublemaker,” Goat Beard jeered, hawking a gob of mucus on me.
My teeth ached and the blood was rushing to my left cheek, probably swelling like a balloon.
Without warning, the two men yanked me up to my knees, crammed something into my mouth, and slapped a streak of duct tape over my lips.
“That’ll put a muzzle on him,” Goat Beard chuckled, proud of himself.
The man who had just pushed his fingers into my mouth nodded. He was much taller, with a bristled frosty chin and a nose permanently bent to the side.
“Listen,” he spoke with that collected voice, “if you keep causing trouble, I will have to take this…” He held up a knife and pressed it up to my groin, “and unzip your sack. So, behave, huh?”
I stopped struggling at the sight of it.
Whatever they’d just shoved in my mouth rolled along my tongue. It felt like a tablet—some kind of drug, maybe. In no way was I going to swallow it, but that wouldn’t stop it from dissolving anyway.
“We need to hurry,” Goat Beard mumbled, to which Bent-Nose nodded and lead me into the wretched building.
Inside, they walked me down a short, cramped hallway.
The air I had to force in and out of my nostrils was stale and feverishly thick. Mold had built up and crawled down the wall from the ceiling, trailing along the cracks.
The interior of the room we entered resembled a kind of workshop, somewhat lit by a flashlight propped up on a table.
In its beam, someone else had their back to us. A hunching figure with a veiny bald head and a raw-hide coat that hung off his wiry frame.
He was dipping his fingers into what looked like a jar and smearing it in oval strokes on the wall, humming a hymn while he did so.
Piled along the left flank of the wall were heaps of worn medical equipment, pushed aside and left in a dusty pile.
Paper and negatives from an X-ray were littered all over the floor.
This was a hospital—or at least something along the lines of one.
Behind the mound of grimy equipment, a woman was hunched against the wall.
Her dark eyes peered up from the duct tape, cheeks creased with eye shadow, and her face sagging with the weight of hopelessness. As our eyes met, neither found comfort in the other.
I felt the urge to gag as the thing in my mouth melted into a bitter glaze. It tasted horrible.
“Are we ready?” Goat Beard asked from behind me, his gun pressed firmly into my spine.
“Almost,” Skinny replied, turning his pointy face toward us before returning to the thing he was creating. His wide eyes held a fierce intensity behind them.
Bent-Nose joined him, grabbing a jar of his own and streaking the same circled pattern over the next half of the room.
Dozens were on the walls—large red circles filled with six inner rings. Grayish chalky writing had been scribbled into them. Not words at all, but layers upon layers of gibberish all winding toward the sphere’s center.
They seemed like sigils, like ones you might find in a cult.
That explained Goat Beard’s crazy speak, but what was this, really? Our captors didn’t strike me as cultists with robes and hidden, hooded faces. They were more a gang of scruffy misfits showing off their toys.
I looked at the woman. Her eyes had gone elsewhere, swaying and wobbling around the room. Muffled, droning sounds buzzed behind the duct tape. She was on something, probably the same thing they’d forced-fed me. To keep us “muzzled.”
“Alright!” Skinny spoke excitedly, clapping his spattered hands. “Who should we start with?”
“Her,” Bent-Nose spoke, gesturing to the girl who continued to sway and teeter in her corner.
Skinny looked at the woman, and then blinked back at him with irritation, “What are you doing? Where are her restraints?”
Bent-Nose scoffed at him, “She’s high as a kite, wouldn’t even notice a fly on her face right now.”
“That isn’t the point,” Skinny snapped. “Do you want this to end up like the Moselys? Think!”
Musing on that, Bent-Nose fastened the cables over her wrists and yanked her off the ground, her bare feet dragging along the floor.
As she was laid in the center of the room, she rested whimsically on her back, putting up as much fight as a sex doll. He ripped the duct tape from her mouth before leaving her there.
A pause fell over the room, and then the men began to chant in unison. It swelled from their throats, pulling straight from the chest and meshing together into a low, prolonged baritone.
In the poor acoustics of the room, their voices bounced off the stained walls, gaining more volume with an unmistakable deep, powerful devotion.
Between their vocals, Skinny spoke out, straining his lungs into some gravel-throat language.
I was starting to feel clammy and prickly all over the place.
My mind focused on breathing—sucking in the awful fumes around me of body odor and decay.
As my heart pumped frantically, I tried to focus on its rhythm, tried to ignore the sounds of vibrating vocal cords rumbling my ears.
I forced down a swallow and breathed. The drug couldn’t be affecting me now, could it? This quickly?
The walls around us didn’t feel like walls anymore, but massive slabs of canvas coated in waxy circles. Awful art. Horrible, awful art.
The voices rose, heaving out their vocals even louder.
My leg muscles squeezed together, then relaxed, like taffy being rolled and stretched from a machine.
I wanted to sit down—to sit down and breathe. But as I started to drift downward, Goat Beard forcefully hoisted me back up again. I’d forgotten he was there.
“Are you feeling it? Are you feeling the good shit, yet?” His words trickled with them a warm, rotten breath.
Whatever harness keeping my thoughts together was loosening. I wanted to squeeze into one of the cracks around us, to sleep and make the bad world go away.
The walls started to move, puffing in and out in perfect tandem with my wheezing chest. In. Out. In. Out.
Even the sigils moved, shivering their waxy bodies with the dark chorus. Within them, the chalky figures danced and wriggled with such life I almost believed they each had their own pulse.
That was when I saw the fire.
It clawed over her, starting as a bluish ripple that quickly flared into a bright, savage red.
Even as the burst of heat rolled over my face, I didn’t think it was real. The men hadn’t ignited her—or doused her in anything—or even flicked a match. A hallucination, that’s it. I’m hallucinating, my mind pleaded, trying to grip its last fibers of that harness.
But the sound of her screaming was what made it real. She bucked and writhed beneath the flames, crying out for any of us to help her.
Smoke burrowed into my nostrils and bristled the back of my throat. I retched emptily into the duct tape and tried to pull away, only to be forced back toward her.
“Watch,” Goat Beard hissed, only stopping his chants to whisper into my ear, “Watch the angel shine.”
I could smell her hair burning. Her skin roasting.
Faces appeared around her, forming with the blaze and then in the same instant, rippled into the smog.
She screamed until her throat split and her echoes fell to a dry, breathless yowl.
The ties bounding her hands had finally snapped and released them to flail helplessly about.
All the while, the strident chants continued, feeding the inferno as it spat more pieces of her into the air.
They sang, they cheered, and as their shadows throbbed up and down the walls, I could swear those changed as well. Oily shapes with bodies contorted and torturously stretched into things not even remotely human.
Skinny stood the closest to the burning woman, both hands raised in sadistic glee over their living kindle. Just another man outside these walls, but here in the firelight, he looked like the devil.
Psychopaths. Monsters!
I fought in Goat Beards grip, jerking my head back to break his nose, kicking my feet backward toward his knees. I couldn’t stomach any more.
Something blunt struck the back of my head. I keeled over onto my knees. Even in a drugged-up daze, the static spreading around my skull told me I’d just been pistol-whipped.
The last of the strained cries finally crept from the woman’s throat as she succumbed to a crackling silence.
I thought she was finally gone, prayed for it even.
However, she convulsed once more, turning her stomach up and letting her head hang downward—now looking at me.
I saw her face clearly. Her skin resurfaced with blisters and curling raw patches. Her nose a mottled stump of white seared tissue. And the last remnants of her hair coiling against a ruined scalp.
Then her lips, which had dried to thin scabs, suddenly parted.
I expected another hellish scream to empty out of her, but it was something else—a warped laugh only possible with a throat full of charcoal. Laughing hysterically in an upside down-grimace.
Though no eyes were left in her sockets, I could feel their gaze swallow me up.
Stop, I whimpered internally, please stop looking at me.
Her suffering had ended, but in its place, something different had taken its place, clawing its way out of the burn.
The laughing seized as she struggled back to her feet, standing tall in the lashing flames. Fragments of clothing hung from her grizzled frame, fused to the skin.
The chorus of the men had stopped as they backed away from her, like lion tamers who had suddenly lost their whips.
She seemed to pay them no mind as her neck slowly swiveled around the room, eyeing up each of the hastily smeared sigils.
Her heels scraped against the floor as she chose one of them and gradually shambled toward it.
Upon reaching the crest, her body collapsed forward. A skull-rending crunch resounded from the impact and left her limply against it. Pieces of her torso—followed by everything else—began to fall away from her, dispersing in blackened particles.
The flames shrank and sputtered as more of her body broke down into fine-grained piles around her. Before long, she had crumbled to nothingness, a vague smear of her existence marred into the wall.
As the last of the embers fizzled in their ashes, the room returned to its heavy darkness.
“Beautiful!” Skinny cheered, looking like he’d just wiped away a tear, though it was probably to rub the sweat off his face. Those wide, intense eyes traveled to me, “One down, one to go.”
I looked once more at the crest on the wall, smothered by the left-over shape of a woman.
Then I was on the ground, staring up at the ceiling.
They’d left me in the same spot, peppered with her ashes. Beneath me, the scorched floor burned against my spine.
Goat Beard smiled as he tore the duct tape from my mouth. Why? So, they could hear me scream next?
My limbs had jellied into uselessness. Maybe from the fear, or maybe from whatever godforsaken substance they’d forced into my system.
Tears welled up in my eyes. I thought about my parents’ faces and the last time I’d seen them. I thought about my first bar gig, and how many times I had messed up the mixes.
An angry shout tried to tear out of my throat but was rasped short by how raw it had become.
I didn’t want to die. Not here, not in this demonic place.
When the chanting started again, I squeezed the tears shut, and prayed for my nerves to burn quickly.
Then the sounds stopped.
Silence stilled the room, save for a few scraping feet.
“What was that?” Bent-Nose spoke. “You hear that?”
“Go check it out,” Skinny ordered as a set of shoes pattered out of the room.
A few anxious mumbles passed between him and Goat Beard until a flurry of shouts rang from the hallway.
Both of them beat past me and ran toward the disturbance.
Something surged through my body—an electricity which kicked my limbs from their paralysis and back to working order.
I pulled my upper half from the ground and into a sitting position. Once my feet were under me, I got myself back to standing. Just being vertical again filled me with absolute joy.
The sounds from outside came as incoherent barks from the hall until they were silenced by a loud crack then two more in its place—gunshots.
I pulled my arms below my body and carefully lifted one leg at a time over my wrists, bringing them back to the front of me.
After that, I brought both over my head and threw them down into my stomach. The ties didn’t break. I tried again, raising them as high as I could. Break, you bastards, and slammed them down even harder.
The locking mechanism snapped, finally freeing my hands.
From behind the thin walls shuffling movements registered from the outside. “My ear!” a voice bellowed sounding very much like Goat Beard’s slurred speech, “Shot—my fuckin’ ear!”
Car doors opened and closed as an engine revved to life and an accelerator was depressed. They sped off, retreating from something.
As I twisted myself toward the exit, a man was now standing there, his gun pointed at me. “Stay away!” I screamed haggardly at him. “Stay the hell away from me!”
“Take it easy, I’m not one of them,” the man said lowering his weapon, a whole new face in the fray.
We stood at an impasse inside the acrid, unlit room. I wanted to believe he was my rescue, but my nerves were shot. The fact that things around me hadn’t stopped moving didn’t help.
His eyes scanned the workshop and settled on the human-shaped scar on the wall. A look of familiarity tensed his features. “Do you know where you are right now? Were you forced to come here?”
“Please,” I breathed, “just let me get out of this place.”
He nodded in agreement and led the way through the paint-flaking hallway.
The fresh night air prickled down my throat and coughed back out of me. I bent over and retched into the ground. The ashes were all over me, on my clothes, in my hair.
The stranger retreated from me, almost like he was expecting something to suddenly happen. When nothing did, he cautiously drew closer. “My name’s Tucker, can you tell me yours?”
“Peter,” I responded, blowing the remaining spittle off my lips. “Are you a cop?”
“I used to be.” He itched the back of his neck, then continued “I need you to tell me everything that happened here Peter, everything that you can remember. Can you do that for me?”
I looked up at him and rubbed the imprints dented into my wrists, “You aren’t going to believe any of it.”
The ex-officer then smiled, “Try me.”
submitted by Atrophied_Silence to nosleep [link] [comments]


2020.10.19 18:30 findingerotica1 Hidden bed sex

Not only does a younger generation of hetero men have less sex than other age groups but there is evidence to suggest that more straight men have "gone missing" in their intimate relationships. Quoting sex therapist Stephen Snyder, the Guardian notes that "in heterosexual couples, it’s usually the man, counter to popular expectation, who has lost his desire – or, as he puts it, “gone missing in the bed”. (Typically, the man is still masturbating privately, so it’s only his desire within the context of the relationship that is lost.)
Many factors contribute to his findings: gender roles have been changing for quite awhile, perhaps even more so in an era of heightened awareness about sexual abuse, and new norms are evolving--some caused by changing roles others by the various health and political crises that put us in a reactive position.
"The men who land on Snyder’s couch often struggle with a sexual selflessness that saps their desire. Sometimes, he says, men who have grown up with a domineering father overcompensate, and in the process they disconnect from their own wants. The trick for these men, is to find “the right balance between passion and consideration – self and other.”
And to face the hidden shame of sexual rejection unveiled by researcher Brené Brown in her book Daring Greatly, “I guess the secret is that sex is terrifying for most men.”
submitted by findingerotica1 to findingerotica [link] [comments]


2020.10.19 14:36 la_mort_de_lamour Hidden bed sex

My husband has had this addiction for 20 years. We have been together for 16 married for 10.
I found out about this a year into our relationship. I was 18. I stayed because he promised better and we were young. But over the next 4 years he kept it hidden until I’d find out he’d apologize and say it wouldn’t happen again. He promised that once work or our living situation or this or that got better things would overall be better including this.
In 2008 after some rough months in which it was discovered he was hiding things again I wanted to end the relationship. I made a plan. I told him I couldn’t live like that anymore. I cried for 2 days i didn’t get out of bed my eyes were swollen shut. I was 22. On my 23rd birthday a month after... he proposed. Promised to never do it again. I thought he meant it. He had so much conviction. I said to him “do you understand what marriage is ? That you have to leave that old person behind. “ we went to pre marital guidance as a precondition of marriage for the church we were married in. We were married in 2010. Sexless wedding night. Sex ONCE during our honeymoon. Our relationship began to experience many issues almost immediately. Lack of intimacy, dead bedroom, “ zoning out”, just miserable.
He manipulated and gaslighted me for 10 years. Every time I questioned if he was looking at things again he’d say no. “I’m not that person anymore” often getting mad at me for bringing it up. He made me feel like I was stuck in the past and couldn’t see he wasn’t like that anymore. But things just didn’t add up. I always felt off that something wasn’t right. There were incidents. Creep stares at other women. My dad was in the hospital ICU unexpectedly and in a poor condition and the nurse caring for him was the victim of my husbands creep stares. I was so emotionally exhausted I just said “ can you please stop doing that “ looking back now it was probably one of the low points. He always had an excuse “ I only look because I’m concerned about your dad and fascinated by what they are doing” ..... I believed it ... until we had a male nurse and suddenly it wasn’t interesting anymore. One of my friends worked on the hospital floor and told me that one of the nurses caring for my dad had put on a fake engagement ring to ward off my husbands stares. I was mortified. But still I stayed...
Things between us just declined. He would blame it on work or money or where we lived. We moved to Europe for months because he said things would be better there. I think that’s when I knew this was bigger than work or money or where we lived. I clearly remember sitting in a beautiful apartment in France. And he wanted to watch TV and be on the computer. And had no interest in staying there to live. Nothing changed.
That was 5 years ago. The lies continued. The manipulation continued. The resentment in me grew. I knew something wasn’t right. So I began to push that I didn’t think we were right for one another anymore. We had a dead bedroom. We were able to be “friends” take care of our house, watch movies, be around friends and family who have no idea, be there when one of our cats had cancer and passed away , all of the things couples go through. He said give him time to “show me” he could be better with the marriage. Nothing changed. Still the gut feelings never went away and I never stopped voicing it. He never stopped lying and denying. He’d throw his phone at me and say I’m not hiding anything look for yourself.
At one of his work’s Christmas parties I noticed one of the girls he works with who is single smiling at him non stop and staring at us and him when we moved around the room talking. It was awkward. Some of his married coworkers were there with their wives and gave my husbands the cold shoulder. When I pressed the issue “ I don’t know they are in their own cliche. And the girl I think she has a crush on me “
Last November he was verbally abusive to me in a way I will never forget and we separated. We share a house and agreed to separate in the house temporarily due to finances. I couldn’t shake the gut feelings and so I checked on things... I found over 11 years of his history and searches. Things he slipped up and forgot to completely delete. All of it. Dark searches as well. I confronted him. He attempted to lie. I basically said you need to get this out of shadows now or it will consume you. He came clean. Somewhat. He downloaded blockers and got the fortify app and has a therapist now all of it.
The work girl. He admitted cheating with her. But left it vague “ I just wanted physical she wanted more “.
A switch has flipped in me. My mindset changed. I felt anger yes. Pity and disgust and a resounding feeling that was it. It’s over. I have no desire to have him in my life.
Why? He didn’t come to me and say I see this is bad for us and I need to come clean I want to stop because I love you and this is tearing us apart. He just didn’t do that. He protected his porn above all else. Kept it hidden and safe from being found out.
If he would have come clean on his own. Tell me he didn’t want that anymore. Anything on his own. It would have made a difference. He had to be caught. I had to find him out. I can’t look at him the same because of that.
This stuff wrecks lives. I don’t know who my husband is because this stuff basically turned him into mush. He would just agree with whatever I said mirror my behavior because that was easy. He has admitted he doesn’t even know who he really is because this started for him when he was 13/14 or earlier. My heart hurts with the damage he’s done to himself and this marriage a life that could have been wonderful. Now we are hoping to keep things civil and divorce.
What I struggle with now ?

What keeps me going?
If you are going through this please don’t make the mistakes I did. Find support. Find strength. Get out of that situation.
Thank you for providing this space. Finding this and reading others stories & supporting words encouragement and strength. It’s wonderful.
submitted by la_mort_de_lamour to loveafterporn [link] [comments]


2020.10.17 13:47 Crafty-Hovercraft788 Hidden bed sex

My (M35) Wife (F34) of 13 years and I are in a free fall. Sexsomnia, work, and trust to blame
Throwaway account because of work and stuff.
I'm a pastor (that's the work part) and my wife moved out of the house two weeks ago to get some space and be able to think and process.
The last year and a half have been hell.
From my point of view, we had our issues but could talk about them and find balance and make things work with our three young (ten and under) kids.
Here's where we struggle:
My high expectations
I told my wife it was super important to me that we be home with our family 4 nights a week. For a while, that was what she expected of me. In my first job, I was out a lot. And I worked and worked to be home more. After moving, I found a place where I was only out one night a week.
I also really wanted to have dinner together as a family. That was important to me.
Then she got a job in fitness. At first, it was great. She's a KILLER coach and is great at delivering a class. She taught one class at night and others during the day. We even all went together to her Saturday class as a family (kid care was awesome) and then went on an adventure.
But she changed gyms and roles and started working 3 nights a week plus a class on another night. It was tough, but I started taking her class and bringing the kids to the gym later than we normally stayed out "to see mom" and so I could cheer her on.
But she said she felt like I hated her job and wanted to take all of her time. She would often come home from work at 8 or 9 pm and then have to work more on a class for the next day. So I felt double robbed of our time.
And she felt like she only disappointed me.
Negative Feedback Loop
So whenever a dispute came up, or she pointed out something that was difficult for her, she said that if she told me about it, I would get sad.
Then the only way for her to cheer me up would be to be physically intimate with me.
So she felt like she was carrying her burdens plus my dead weight.
I honestly did not put these pieces together until last year, but she still says because of the past Negative Feedback Loop, she has a really hard time sharing anything with me.
I am willing to break this cycle now that I know about it, but then...
Sexsomnia
I have the sleep condition known as sexsomnia. And it's not new. We talked about this for the last decade of our 13 year marriage.
Now we had a regular and I thought healthy sex life. Once a week or so and we talked about things, tried things and were positive with each other. We would both "finish" and weren't lacking in being satisfied.
And the sexsomnia didn't bother her. It would be perhaps once a week on top of our awake sex. She even said if I found myself having sex with her (I would sometimes wake in the middle of foreplay) that I shouldn't stop because she'd be all hot and bothered and awake. So might as well we both finish.
She would express frustration at not getting enough rest (and with there kids, I get it), but that was the end of the negatives.
Until it wasn't.
She had a conversation with her boss who shared that he had experienced sexual assault in their younger years. My wife replied with "Well, my husband does this weird thing at night..."
He replied with "Wow, that's really f*cked up"
And then this thing we had known about and talked about for years became something that was really f*cked up.
Like, she would have PTSD like triggers if I even touched her while she slept. Rolling over in the middle of the night my foot touching her foot triggers.
We slept with a pillow between us. I went on antianxiety meds and to counseling. I took a sleep study.
She couldn't deal with it.
It's been a full calendar year since my last episode, but the pain is still really fresh to her.
She said it was like taking away her choice. If she didn't want to have sex that night, I'd say that was fine, while I was awake.
Then I'd try to have sex with her when I was asleep.
I hated myself for this thing I have no control over. I wanted to take every step I could to fix it and have.
But she says she doesn't know if she can ever trust me again.
This leads to...
She doesn't trust me, but wants me to trust her completely
We never had secrets between us. There were some counseling situations I couldn't share with her at work, but other than that we talked. Often. And about a lot of things.
But then she shut down.
She didn't want to share anything with me.
So I started to reach out to communicate more. But she asked me to give her space. Then she didn't want me to know who she was talking to.
She didn't want me to ask who she was texting. She didn't want me to ask where she was going, who she was going to hang out with, when she would be back, nothing.
She told me she was hurting and that I needed to trust her process.
Even if that meant being out until 2 or 3 am or texting people what felt like non-stop when we actually were together.
She's hidden her location on her iPhone. She's hidden her activity on her watch.
Now I take care of the bills. And the insurance. And the dentist and the doctor appointments for the kids. I get the kids up and ready for school in the morning and on the bus. And the house stuff. I do it all. Dishes. Cleaning. Literally of it.
She trusts me with our kids, finances, doctors, etc but not herself.
I'm not deep enough?
She's a smart one. I try. She's said she's experienced real pain in our relationship (something that I can't really put a finger on outside of what I've outlined above). Whenever I say "Oh, I think I figured this out about myself" it's usually met with "I knew that about you already. That's not deep enough. It's still really shallow."
MAN I'M TRYING.
I told her I had been doing a lot of thinking and writing in order to try to discover more. She told me that she's prepared to be disappointed with what I've found out because it's probably just a step deeper and not REALLY deep where she is.
She didn't feel heard
This is TOTALLY my fault and I get it. She would say she had an idea and I'd get really excited about it.
A laundry hamper for the bathroom or a trip to the beach.
Then I'd take care of all the details.
And she felt like I didn't take or want her input. That was bad. I admit that I really messed that up and wanted to make it right. I've tried to make it right by asking her for her opinion and trying to slow down my rushing out to fix things and do things before we've talked about it.
Totally me.
And then everything else
She didn't want me to meet her at the door when she came home from work at night because she was stressed and needed space.
She didn't want me to come upstairs in the morning when she was getting ready to talk to her because she just woke up and wasn't ready to talk.
She wanted me to speak her love language of getting her gifts, then she DIDN'T want me to do that anymore because each note or gift was something she had to unpack and think about.
I had a hobby writing novels (and making a good chunk of change from it) and doing some podcasts, but then she wanted me to stop that so I could focus on her more. I did, then it became I'm focusing on her too much.
She didn't want me to text her during the day.
She didn't want me to call her.
She wanted me to dress better (bought clothes and did).
She wanted me to be more athletic (have been going to the gym 5 days a week)
She wanted me to meal prep with her because she felt lonely doing it all by herself (done)
She didn't want me to offer to take her to lunch or spend time with her because she felt like all I was trying to do was lead up to sex.
She didn't want me to sleep in the same bed as her.
She wanted to rent an apartment and move into it for six months so she could have some space to process and think and feel (She's been moved out for two weeks).
...
I'm exhausted.
I love this woman with my whole heart. I told my church about the difficulties we were having and was hinted at heavily that her moving out was going to be a deal-breaker. I told her and the church it didn't matter. She was more important to me than my job. Since then I've been assured my job is secure, but that we should go to marriage counseling.
Something I wanted to do a year and a half ago when she told me that she was in a bad place.
All of this came down in the last year and a half. I wanted to go to counseling together right away. She said she wasn't ready. She's still saying she's not ready but willing to go to the counselor she selected and at the frequency she can handle (probably not once a week, in other words).
Granted, a crap ton has happened to us in last two ten years:
My father passed away before we found out we were pregnant with our first child
Our second child had a major heart condition corrected at ten weeks old (TAPVR).
We went on food stamps because of student loans and only one income.
We moved across the country.
We had a third kid.
I lost my older brother, all four grandparents, and my uncle.
She's lost her grandparents.
A good friend of ours died of breast cancer. My wife literally felt her friend's last heartbeat as I hugged her husband's neck.
I broke my leg and was out of my normal dad helping for three months.
She had a herniated disc in her back that required surgery to fix (much better now with a ton of PT and training).
There's a LOT of stuff we've been through.
...
I've been to counseling. Like, A LOT of counseling. Six months, twice a week and a crap ton of journaling. Personally over all of this and feel like I'm a plain better human being because of it.
I just wish it was enough for my wife.
...
Every time I talk about our years before, which I look back on with such fondness, she tells me she just sees sadness and pain. Now granted, we talked about that when we were going through it. I know we did. But we overcame it. Or so I thought.
She can't really name times she was happy.
We went on quick weekend trips just to be together and go on adventures. We had regular dates. We laughed. A lot.
Until it all stopped.
...
I don't want to lose her.
I'm afraid marriage counseling will be too little too late.
I'm willing to make the changes and do the work.
She has said she knows what the counselor is going to ask of us, but she doesn't want to do it.
I'm exhausted.
I love her.
But I'm exhausted.
TL/DR!
A year and a half ago, my wife told me everything that was wrong with us. I was blindsided. She doesn't think she can trust me or be intimate with me again. We're going to marriage counseling next week.
Is it already over?
Questions
Are there things I'm missing here? I want to take responsibility for my own faults but I don't want to be blindsided again.
How can I approach the marriage counselor when we are together without just saying "But I've done everything she's asked of me!" without throwing her under the bus?
submitted by Crafty-Hovercraft788 to secondary_survivors [link] [comments]


2020.10.16 05:41 Grouchy_Bug Sex hidden bed

Hoping someone here can advise me what to do here.....
I met my girlfriend 3 months ago - fell in love with her the moment I saw her, and she pretty much fell in love with me too, admitting to it just a couple of weeks later. Not puppy love or anything daft, we've both been around the block and know a thing or two about a thing or two. And I just absolutely adore her.
Now we've been candid about our mental health - she has a history of depression, and I have bipolar type 2. I'm on meds that have for a long time have worked and I am confident I am on top of things, she however is on meds prescribed by her regular physician as she doesn't have a psychiatrist. We were confident going in to this that our understanding would be good for both of us if either one had an episode.
We were both working - I'm a manager but even before all of this crap worked from home, so transition hasn't been a problem. For her she was able to work from home and perfectly fine. However recently, they insisted she return to the office, and she did willingly, apart from a week where she had to work from home and we were symptomatic of COVID (though fortunately ok).
She's had days where she has gone down (its obvious her meds are inadequate), but last week she lost her job. Now she self medicates with alcohol a bit anyway (a naughty beer at 10am - but just the one and occasionally) but since then she's been sneakily drinking behind my back. And a lot.
What however is infinitely worse, is that she went through my stuff to find my Klonopin which I had hidden from her and took the lot. Not to kill herself, but just to get off her face. I had it out with her, threatened to leave her (albeit calmly) and mainly as she had done this whilst my 8 year old kid was staying with us.
We talked it through, I'v reiterated she needs help and have offered to help her get it. I love her and don't want her to hurt herself, and more than anything want us to be happy.
Tonight however, after she is sociable, suddenly turns after looking up my kids mum on Facebook and sees a picture of me, her and my kid. For context, we broke up when he was just a few months old, it was a painful few years but we worked through it and love each other as parents, and for our son. She gets shitty, I calm her down as again my son is here, she goes to bed and I wait for her to fall asleep. I go in there tonight and she's weird - she's cuddling me, then rolling around, we start making out and having (and lets be very clear here - consensual) sex (I genuinely thought she was being frisky), then she needs the bathroom, then sits on the end of the bed, lies down again, mumbles, and then starts trying to sleep, kicking around, won't keep still but can't stay lucid.
So I have it out with her and sure enough, she found some over the counter sleep aid from CVS in her drawer and decided to take the lot. She'd also later I found texted me saying 'Not to come in'. She's not lucid, but alive. So tonight is another night I'll be awake all night monitoring her breathing, making sure she is ok. She seems just out of it, and I think she'll be ok, but still....
Now if she wanted to harm herself, my BP meds would have done the trick, so I am wondering if this is just her trying to get fucked up, take some mental pain away or a cry for help. She's stated many times she needs help and I have absolutely tried everything to get her that help, but the next day she is not interested. It's a vicious cycle and I get that - I've been there. But this time its different as I am on the outside but importantly, there is my kid in this environment and I will not let him see any shit like this - I did when I was younger and it scarred me for life.
So, kinda screwed here as I am about to move out to protect my kid - which is horrible to her but I have to protect him at all costs. I emailed her Dad (who I have never met or spoken to) but apart from that I am lost. Do I just call an ambulance and have her put on a ward? I would, but the scene would scare my kid and may jeopardize my access to him if his mother finds out the environment he has been staying in
submitted by Grouchy_Bug to depression [link] [comments]


2020.10.15 18:19 Edwardthecrazyman Hidden bed sex

This place was encompassed entirely by sandy shores with a single cove on the northern face; this here grotto was overgrown with vegetation at the mouth and within its throat, deeper, deeper, there curiously flowed a mystique that was yet to be discovered. The sand upon this circular coast was quite plain and insignificant- like any other. There was a squat mountain in the center of this island, nearly perfectly picturesque in comparison to most entire ranges elsewhere; higher than the peak, there was mist and all, thicker than the thickest human-witnessed fog. Over the face of this small isle that stretched in all directions for only several miles, where there was not the mountain nor the sandy shores, there was a forest with patches of flat-lands all helter-skelter about the body of the seemingly faerie-infested wood. On the southern sands of the shore, there lay a full grown man on his side, curled into a smallish ball of a form. Mr. Peculiar then began to stir. He looked about his surroundings quickly with wild, way-ward eyes and what he found did not seem to suit him at all; his icy blue irises showed a true fear. No recollection was before him and no somber trail led him in his stupor. Upon his palms, he felt sand and began clumping some in vigorous fists as he let a belt of coughs echo from him. Mr. Peculiar gasped in air for the first time, again. He smelled an ocean, and the sand, and even whispering whiffs of whiskey from his own clothes, especially around his collar. He was drenched in sweat and salt water and for a moment, he wondered why. Why? Why was he wet? Had some unfortunate shipwreck been the antagonist of his demise? Mayhap a storm- perhaps another calamity. He did not know. And after that conceptual moment passed he didn't really care anyway. 'What the fuck?" was all that he said, wiping his dry lips. It genuinely was the phrase that summed up his oddly confused state in entirety; t'was a question, indeed, an inquiry to the universe with no verbal response. Even if he some how did find an answer to his question, he would not have been able to interpret Destiny's parted lips to any human degree. He began to stand up but rocked on his knees then fell hard onto his ass. His shirt was a deep blue and his trousers a fading brown. Finally, Mr. Peculiar did stand fully with a frown that bordered a melancholy sadness- a sorrow- he did not understand, and one he wished to never know. But he knew it still without quite remembering.
Something about a crash, crumpled metal and all. Had he been behind the wheel? Yes. Undoubtedly it was-
Mr. Peculiar hoisted his trousers higher onto his hips, because they were too big for his frame. He hated that. He hated most things and that's how he perceived most of the world nearly all the time, a simple succession of desolation within his very own chest; he didn't know why he felt that way, maybe he was a pure victim of circumstance and all that. Maybe he was something more. He hoped, for that's all he owned in that space of not knowing too much, not enough. His eyes, bluer than the waters out there, stared indifferently at the dancing, swirling waves that sprayed his face within the more uproarious bouts that struck unto itself. Thus, he made his way inland without paying any particular mind to where he went, but he was drawn onward never the less.
-his fault. Yet there was no fault or guilt he felt, for he was the only to perish. A bottle up-turned followed by squealing wheels of an automobile.
Mr. Peculiar began a stroll through the inland wood and smelled the scent of amaranths and lillies and other wondrous smells never smelled before. The light was high in the sky and luminescence flowed through the canopy in misshapen shafts of yellow-gold that caught his face here or there. He shunned the light with the back of his hand. After a time, he sat with his back to what seemed a draping willow and contemplated for a spell. What an isolated purgatory this was. His orbs flickered lazily, his lids fluttering and a strange breeze blew past him- through him. He fell to an ill and restless sleep. Once hugged in this crazed embrace of solitude, he groaned near violently.
No protection and that was probably the start of the trouble after all. Sex was dull and worse whilst wearing it. Then came the wail of a babe and within the midst of mediocrity, he found true love. This, he recalled in the corridors of interlapping dreams, woven from the threads of his life. There he was then, a quilt of mottled cloths. And he wrapped himself around this child, showing his real self for a while, with all those half-smirks and smiles.
When he opened his eyes, it was pitch black all around him. In fact, when his eyes came wide, he was not sure they were open at all. But they were, and after a while, after his vision adjusted, he saw shadows moving in the darkness. They were lumbering figures that moved and danced like daemons of a Dagon ode. They were many and not too far away either. He swallowed slowly and heard it in his ears. He hoped they didn't. He shimmied his back up the trunk of the willow as he stood. Never before had so much sweat sprung over his body. His clothes clung to him. A knot on the trunk must have been driving directly into the small of his back, because his spine tingled straight up to the back of his neck, and though there was nothing there, it felt as if something was breathing down his collar. Within these moments of watching those creatures move, he remembered memories of a childhood where, at night, all things came to life to haunt one from the depths of ravine-like closets; it was in the places of the mind where these thoughts rested that absolute fear was locked within. Mr. Peculiar thought of bed time stories that were too frightening and oh the lightning on storming nights. His stomach churned and his groin muscles tightened. He covered his mouth to save his heavy breathing from the things' ears, if they had any, and strained his eyes whilst craning his neck forward to get a better look at the gangly group of outlandish ghouls. Hounds of hell they surely were, fighting amongst themselves, gnashing, clawing, and the noise was sickening but low in volume, nearly inaudible. It was slime upon slime, sliding with no friction but the lubricant itself did cause a sticky slapping sound. He saw half quadrapeds with glistering skins coated in a membrane of veins and cartilage. They moved amongst themselves before him like a bustling wave with tentacle-appendages that plumed from their arched backs, swaying to and fro unmelodicly as though they bustled awkwardly uncoordinated through a massive orgy. He saw no eyes. Still these monstrosities were unwary of his existence. Though these things were shining in their coat of gross lubrication, he did not spy any source of light, even from the sky. He wondered how they managed to rebound so brightly with no logical torch. But, of course, abso-fucking-lutely, the core of who he was, a breed of human purely, he was indescribably driven to be curious. So he remembered faintly that he'd left something in his pocket. He rifled through his pocket and withdrew a small metal lighter. Mr. Peculiar gave it a strike but nothing came forth. He glanced at the things; they still rustled vigorously in their same way. All he wanted was a better look at something so fantasticly wild. He wanted to see them and their build entirely. On the second strike, he did. Regret flushed over his body in a hot-cold stimulation. Every single one of these beasts stood absolutely still and stared at Mr. Peculiar with eyeless sockets that ran like tunnels to the backs of their skulls, and there, there was no light. Yes, the glow he held in outstretched hand washed a golden colour over a large spherical area, but when that gold reached these beasts' drilled ocular, orbless holes, the colour ceased quite definitively, like darkness incarnate. For an eternity and a half, not the slightest sound escaped from any place. He was positive within the moments that passed that he could not breathe. Finally, he gasped and ran with no particular guide, with no intention save parting the distance between himself and the beasts. He rounded the trunk of the willow, bounding through its dangling branches, bumbling and bustling past thickets like a man with hell on his heels. The lighter had gone out and darkness was a villian in those fitful moments. He heard them as he went. He heard them directly behind him and they were fast, ravenous. Nowhere to go, he continued onward, not daring to slow or gander over his shoulder. The wood whistled past him as he bolted further out of it; growls and howls followed him in a chorus. He began laughing and hooting with them- as though he were one. His muscles ached and he was intoxicated from his own madness. Something warm flowed over his face, something he did not understand. How long had it been since he wept aloud? He couldn't be sure; it would be very hard to determine, but it felt as though it must have been too long. His shoe lace caught on an unseen, uprisen root and he tumbled into a wide, circular field where the grass was none too tall. Cantering, crawling to his feet, he went to the center of that naturally occurring stage where all the trees could see. There, he spun, both hands clenched at his sides. There, Mr. Peculiar made his stand. They encircled him, rotating in a line round his vicinity, closing. He began lunging at them in a faux manner, bearing his teeth against them. A few showed hesitance in their formation. His resolve stood solid. The beasts came at him, one by one, but he was unmoving and as each struck his flesh, they disappeared, dissipated straight away into a flash and mist of ash. With each creature gone, the sky grew a brighter hue of blue. With the last one vanquished and the field conquered against the innumerable Horde, he yelled at the grand, cloudless sky above, then looked down at the ground, then at the grime they'd left him coated in. Mr. Peculiar dusted himself off then sat more pondersome than previously so. He thought, and he thought hard but grasped at only frayed edges of a life before that one.
Something, something more seeped into his mind of that aforementioned past that forced him to wonder through the halls of cruel remembering. And truth came with it. There had been a fight- nothing physical of course- an argument really. He'd looked upon his wife's eyes. 'I'm not happy,' was all she had said to spur it. In the exchange of words that followed, he was enlightened with a sickness. She'd began swelling a second time by no fault of his. Mr. Peculiar responded with anger, trepidation most prominent. He'd tried taking the bundle, his child, in his arms, but she snagged it from him. He left then, vowing to return. He was pissed and drunk when he died.
After a while, he stood from the ground and saw a mount to the northern horizon. 'I'll climb it,' he said to no one; his words fell from his mouth, irresolute. Under the skin, he was undoubtedly nonplussed by what had occurred only a while before, but if anyone were to see him in those moments after the assault of the Horde, they may guess he was going for stroll. For you see, his eyes were like well-woven walls of indistinguishable will. He was more powerful than any manifestation of shadows spawned forth from him. And anyway, he wasn't phased by the morbidity of the situation on the surface because he had faced far fiercer amounts of darkness; that was the only solution to something so absolute anyway- facing it. It's what it came to. Soon, as he went, he came on a massive, sprouting tree at the edge of the wide field that he'd yet noticed. Among it, he felt puny. Swaying in little winds, bobbing from the tips of the trees' wiry fingers, their were little plump fruits that looked to glister with a dew though there was no explanation for the sparkling droplets. Here, he ate to his content. The fruits were sour and went down slowly. He plucked extra, polishing them on his shirt then depositing them in both pockets. He went on, into the forest, watching the peak of the mountain- his destination- until it was gone entirely, hidden by a canopy of Fall colours. Although he was pleased that he'd not perished against the night-fiends, no smile lay slain upon his lips, but instead they were mealy and stretched into a kind of grimace. He was terribly thirsty; his lips were dry and cracked and he could feel blood beginning to pool in the elongated ridges forming over his mouth. The fruits he'd downed were juicy but somehow just didn't suffice. Mr. Peculiar wished for water- maybe something with more of a burn to it- but heard no running streams or falls. The temperature was fine in the wood he trod through, however something weighed over him, making him dab at his brow. Yes, he thought of his immediate surroundings but he hoped more prominently than that, that his sense of direction was fairing well. He ate another fruit from his pocket and tossed the core over his shoulder. In what seemed no longer than a few hours, he came to the base of the mount. In the very least, he could only assume that's where he was, because the earth was rockier and more solid. He had to take deeper breaths as he continued and the ground seemed to slant more. The trees about were growing less dense, though the canopy stayed thick. Through sparse openings of the leaves overhead he saw bits of light shining through into the cozy colours below. And he sometimes saw what he hoped to be the peak of that foreign mountain. His hopeful queries came unveiled as the wood dispersed absolutely, as though in a mathematically fine line. And he was crawling hap-hazardly rather than walking upright. 'It's not so tall,' he told himself with a cracking smirk. But he ascended with this illusion in his head. How was he to know? It really hadn't looked so tall. But something about it made it not so. The mount was an easy prospect to any unknowing soul. Finally, he was climbing and his knees ached in unison with the webbing under his flesh where his arms and shoulders met. His lightly calloused hands felt tender against the abrasive rock-face and his footing seemed to grow looser with each hoist- as though he were teetering at the pit of everything and he might just slip and fall forever. That's when he truly began to question the magic of the mountain. Mr. Peculiar gazed upward and saw that he was not nearly halfway up the side of the thing. He started to think of it differently, the mount. After all, it had seemed small, seeing it from down there on the ground. Then something urged him to look down. And he did. From where he was, the base was a million miles away. But he went. Very shakily, granted, but he pursued this goal never the less. The idea of failing sickened him worse than that great altitude, so he felt compelled to rid himself of that ailment. He shook off cowardice like a cloak. 'You fucking pussy. C'mon, you can do this. Don't you dare give in," he whispered this like an incantation. Over and over. His fingers bled, but he did not give in. He strove, foothold after foothold. Repetition. Breath after heavy breath.
He'd gone to the store with winos out back; the one that was filthy and smelled like shit. He recalled a smile- a mask- as he'd entered. Once he was a true patron, he galloped back to his compact car. He stared at the crumpled brown bags with glass necks sprouting and snatched a bottle up. His intention was to forget. A quarter of the swirling dark amber liquid was gone from that container before he finally drove away. By the time he had a moment to realize he didn't know where he was going, it was too late. He drew a face of wicked sadness. That's when he assumed that on some level, he'd decided to-
One last lurch brought him over the wall face of the mountain and he was only one small slope away from a serpentine trail that rested thirty yards lower than the pointed peak; this trail was cut into the mount and circled round to the opposite side. He walked the small slope then mounted the walkway. Sweat dripped from him all profuse. Mr. Peculiar followed the trail.
-kill himself.
He stopped and wiped his forehead; wasn't it supposed to be cooler at higher altitudes? He stood there, thinking of this new revelation. Had he really killed himself? It seemed so silly now. And why was it so fucking hot up here? He possessed too many wonderments at once. His feet carried him forward, ever onward to some unknown destination. What did he hope to achieve while following this strange pull that the island had over him? For the first time up so high, he saw the island's landscape more so. It was wonderful. It was beautiful. It was expansive. But the detail he most prominently noted was that although he was risen above everything, it did not seem that the ground below was so very far away. While climbing, it was such a perilous fall, yet from where he stood then, it was little more than a slight tumble. Illusions or some other trickery of the like was all that he could assume of that life after life. He rounded the circumference of where the mountain met the cut walkway fully and saw what awaited him there. A little further onward, the trail dropped off at a ninety degree angle, but before that, a stair case ran into the side of the trail from the right that led downward, opposite the side he'd come from. As he came upon the staircase to his right, he saw the steps were of some transparent material. The steps' edges were rounded, dulled and worn slippery as though they'd been there a long time and many others had walked them, descending to their own Destiny. And so, there went Mr. Peculiar, descending to his. He walked warily, wearily down the case. It seemed he might slip at any moment, but the case held steady and the rubber of his shoes did not slide against it. There was a bit of a reflection to that glass-like, aqueous looking stone that made up those steps, and he saw his shadowy form in them. He noticed that his reflection looked confident, but he didn't feel like that. He felt terrible, like at any moment, something bad was going to happen to him. His breathing grew more rapid as he met the halfway point on the staircase and he didn't have the faintest idea why. He gazed up at the sky, cloudless; he did find the time to smile queerly but stopped himself when he realized he was doing it. The sky was bright after all. Hadn't that canvas up there been blotted with a thick fog not too long ago? He thought it had, but could not remember. Recollections were not his forte as of late. On the last step before his feet would strike solid, grassy ground, he stopped and peered over his shoulder from where he'd come. The case of translucent nature was changing and rising, starting from where it met the mountain and the change continued, descending toward him. As the case rose to the sky above, it turned to some mist. Soon, it was blanketing the sky and it was clouds. He stepped from it, turning his body, craning his neck backward, blue eyes averted to a blue sky changing quickly. Though this happened, no gust rambled. The last step disappeared upward. The blanket above grew dark and so did the scape. He was in awe with his hands stuffed in his pockets, fidgeting in them nervously, searching for something and finding nothing. Perhaps he was looking for rationality in a circumstance without. It was beautiful and terrifying, like good art, because it pulled the thought of the fragility of the physical world from him and made it an actual manifestation before him. He saw nothing in that strange night phase. He had nothing to cling to in it, save his nervous sweat. There was a cold in the air that actually passed through him again. Before he could even grow comfortable with the night, a gash of light spilled open from the sky. It was a dry lightning continuously zig-zagging above. Within one of these flashes of light, he saw the image of himself and stumbled onto his ass; in the next flash, he saw nothing where, only moments before, he'd seen his own form. There was no doubt about it, what he'd seen was himself- something had been slightly off however. What he'd seen was his own face, but instead of eyes, there were a pair of twinkling crimson spheres sunken into a more drawn and haggard head. Those eyes- if they could be called that- had an extreme luminescence about them. It had been like standing before a mirror that distorted one's self into a daemon. Hadn't his teeth been exposed by a wide and crazed grin? His immediate recollection assumed they had been. Hadn't his teeth looked more viscous? Elongated perhaps? It didn't matter though; it must've been only another illusion, some non-existent doppelganger. It could not have been possible, his mind evidently summed up. It was an impossibility, simple as that. To cling to the last bit of sanity he owned, Mr. Peculiar refused to believe it within the realm of any reality. His mind was nearly gone, but he hung by an elusive thread that whipped to and fro, forcing him to find it all the time. Even though there seemed to be no physical danger amongst the dark and erratic bursts of powerful light, something, some intuition willed him to search the immediate area of ground around him with his fingertips, hoping for something to don as a projectile to launch at anything that deemed a presumable threat. At first, he felt nothing but thin strands of dream-like grass- but finally! There was something. It was immobile, he couldn't lift it. It was flesh covered. He turned to face it. Then came a spurt of lightning, illuminating his surroundings. And he saw that thin, drawn face again, only inches from his own. It was smiling. When the scape went dark, he still saw those incandescent red eyes floating in nothing, like the lanterns strapped to Death's caleche. The eyes, they wavered but did not disappear. Mr. Peculiar jerked from his doppelganger's frosty hand, spastic, but the daemon twin gripped up his hand and squeezed with the burning ferocity of a thousand shifting tectonic plates. Mr. Peculiar tried to scream but not even a whistle of air escaped his throat. He could not look away from those eyes fit to be burning coals. And so he was a prisoner to them, locked away within that stare; there was no word to express that tingling terror. He was finally forced to face the fire that was a part of him. But it wasn't who he was, only an isolated beast partitioned from the rest of who he was as an entity; however, within those silent moments, he forgot this and believed himself and the daemon were one and the same. And in that idea, he became lost.
He had laughed and cried and loved and longed.
But he'd also hated and punished some who had wronged him.
But he'd asked for forgiveness and been grateful to those that had forgiven him and spoken of his humility for doing so.
Had he meant it though? Probably not. It was a farce, another happy face to show people. Another mask of just contemplation. It had been in jest, no doubt.
But no! That's not possible; he did remember goodness and love and all the rest. He'd been a righteous person. He didn't steal and he gave all he had away to those with less. He'd sacrificed his own life to aid those that he believed he only brought misery to.
Lies! It had been a selfish act. He only wanted the pain and self-loathing to cease. It had been for him and no one else.
But he had been human only, a fragile minded being that had a hard time differentiating beliefs and truths. His intentions were sound!
So, he stood and fought, ripping his arm from the daemon's gripping fingers. 'No!' he screamed. A flash of lightning. He looked down at the perverted and deformed version of himself still sitting. The daemon looked so small, wiry, and fragile. It creeped to a standing posture as well and lurched towards him, bony grey fingers extending with no nails. Those red eyes were fading to some hue of pink. Mr. Peculiar's hands slipped around the thing's thin neck and he fell upon it, clenching its neck-flesh as tightly as he could muster. It was a while before he realized he was yelling some indistinguishable language as the light behind the daemon's eyes faded to black. And then he was grasping nothing in gauntlets of strangulation, and the light was back, and he couldn't remember why he was on the ground at all. So he was standing again. He looked at the spot he'd been only moments ago, there on the ground. Nothing lay there. He laughed curiously. No weight rested on his chest and no trickles from a past life passed unto him. In this ignorance, he was bliss filled, like a man doped from a proper dosage. Then he felt the will of the island again, urging him to go only a little further north. He followed this invisible guide with no real sound thoughts or inquisitions of his position. He continued, passing through the beautiful, tranquil forest. Everything was quiet; not even buzzing insects could pierce the silence. He traveled through the wood like a man through a dream. After a spell of walking, the soles of his shoes struck the sand of the northern coast. He threw his shoes off happily, walking the coast barefoot. Then his sand covered toes ascended the steps of an ancient dock. Docked there was a single, two man row-boat. He stepped into it cautiously as it rocked in the waves. He unharnessed the rope and it was off with no visible push nor tug into the depths of the calm ocean. With no navigator nor oar, it rode along the coast at no distance further than forty yards, eastbound briefly, circumnavigating the shore. He enjoyed this funny, little magically propelled boat. Searching through his pockets, he plucked out a fruit and bit into it. This time, it tasted sweet, as sweet as ignorance. After a time, he very nearly dozed, but his eyes came open at the sight of the wide mouth of a dark grotto. The air seemed different there. Mr. Peculiar breathed deeply as the boat went into the cavernous cove, inhaling a breeze of Aether. That air was thicker. The grotto's ceiling lit up and the stone there reminded him of the same material that had been the make of the staircase descending from the mountain. Only, the stuff lining the ceiling glowed as though magic was more powerful there. He smiled. Even though Mr. Peculiar rode the boat into the place known as Oblivion, still, he smiled.
submitted by Edwardthecrazyman to JustNotRight [link] [comments]