Flash Fiction Friday: Kreepy Krawly pt.2: Shower Scene
by Shane McKenzie
Litty sat on the edge of the bed, counting the damp, wrinkled bills. Mr. and Mrs. O’Reilly were told to get into the restroom and clean up. And they obeyed. They always did after Litty was done with them.
The shower hissed from the other side of the wall, a thin fog escaping from under the door into the bedroom. The old couple’s moans were muffled but still audible through the wall as they scrubbed their beaten bodies.
“Abuse us,” Mrs. O’Reilly had begged.
Mr. O’Reilly just nodded, rubbing the front of his khakis and panting like a dog.
“Hurt us. Embarrass us. Please, Litty…please.”
And hurt them she did. More than they realize.
Her sickness was already swirling inside them, eating them from within. They deserved it. All those wealthy pieces of shit deserved it.
Before heading to their mansion, she had made a few preparations. Dipping the strap-on into her menstruating pussy, again and again as if she was churning butter. She wiped off the excess blood, but the purple dildo was still coated in the venomous film.
Once she had arrived to the mansion, once she had the O’Reilly’s naked and crouched in front of her, she slid a razor across their lips, slicing little tack marks across the plump, wrinkled flesh. Then she yanked Mr. O’Reilly’s flaccid cock like a lawnmower cord, brought him to his feet with a hiss and a grimace. She used the razor to open two slits on either side of his urethra like fish gills. The old man watched with squinted eyes as she did this, but didn’t move, didn’t flinch. Good boy.
Mrs. O’Reilly was next. Instead of using the razor on her, Litty shoved her hand into the woman’s dried-up cunt, scraped her nails across the moistening walls. When she pulled out, there was a milky film under her cuticles like lip balm, marbled with blood.
Once they were all bleeding—Litty’s flow was especially heavy that day—the real fun began.
She made them both bend over, rammed the strap-on deep into Mr. O’Reilly’s rectum, grabbed the tufts of white hair at the back of his head and pulled as she fucked him. Then she pulled out, lifted the strap on so her leaking pussy was exposed, and stuffed Mrs. O’Reilly’s bleeding mouth into it, grinding hard against her.
The O’Reilly’s were fucked, beaten, scratched, bitten. Litty took turns on them, made them take turns on her. She didn’t stop until she was convinced they each had her blood coursing through their veins.
“What the fuck?” Litty ground her teeth as she counted the money again. Still came up short. She hopped off the bed, nearly tripped over the strap-on that was marinating in blood and shit on the hardwood floor. Her fists pounded against the bathroom door. “Where’s the rest of my money, goddamnit?”
No response. The only sound the sizzle of water spraying from the shower head.
Litty kicked the door. “I want my motherfucking—”
A sudden warmth oozed around her feet, and at the same second she looked down at the growling puddle of blood sliding out from under the bathroom door, a cockroach scuttled across the top of her foot.
“Fuck me!” She kicked her foot, splashing blood over the door and sending the cockroach across the room. As she backed away, her feet got tangled up with the dildo again, and she landed on her ass and grunted.
The puddle of blood grew wider as more roaches scurried out from under the door, spreading across the room, crawling up the walls, onto the bed, over her legs and hands.
Litty jumped back to her feet, slapped her hands frantically across her body to rid it of the brown and black bugs, trying to hold her panic in check.
Where in the fuck did they come from…?
The bathroom door creaked open. A gust of steam flowed into the room like a giant ghost.
Litty searched for her razors, stomping her feet as the roaches swarmed around her. In a hurry to grab something to defend herself with, she scooped up the strap-on and wielded it like a baseball bat, creeping toward the door.
“Mr. and Mrs. O’Reilly? You…you in there?”
It was less than a whisper, and though she had convinced herself it was just the sound of the water, it still caused her to pause, to squeeze the dildo tighter.
Litty stormed forward, squashing roaches and splashing through the blood until she was in the restroom, facing the tub.
She wanted to scream, to run away, but all she could do was stare, frozen in place.
Mr. and Mrs. O’Reilly hung from the ceiling by electrical wire wrapped tightly around their wrists, ankles, and necks, looking like two burst piñatas. Their torsos were torn open, ribbons of tattered flesh and intestine hanging down and dripping. The rest of their innards filled the tub.
A man sat in the gore bath, staring up at Litty. More wire was wrapped snug around his head concealing most of his face. Tufts of hair sprouted here and there. Dark eyes sparkled out from between the strands of black and red and copper. He rubbed a kidney across his skin like a loofa, scrubbing his armpits and chest. Wrapped around his hands and arms up to his elbows was more tight wire, constricting his flesh so tightly the skin was twisted and torn open in places. Another wave of roaches scuttled out from the tub.
The man stood and blood and bits of meat rained off his hairless, pale body. Dark lesions spotted his skin, and as he glared at Litty, he grabbed his cock and stroked it, using the oily gore as lubrication.
Litty threw the dildo at him and rushed through the door, nearly slipping in the blood but catching herself on the frame. From behind her, she heard wet footsteps slapping across tile.
She collided with the bedroom door, swung it open, and lunged forward.
A shriek erupted from her throat as the skin on her face and arms was sliced open. She backed away, gasping, whimpering, wiping the blood from her eyes.
A taut web of copper wire was stretched across the doorway, a few strands now tinged red.
She yelped, spun on her heels to face the nude, blood-soaked killer.
He approached her slowly, wire-wrapped hands held out as if trying to look unthreatening. Beetles and cockroaches darted over his body, some burrowing into his hair. Tiny bugs darted in and out from under his jaundiced cuticles.
“Wh-who are y-you? What the fuck do you want!”
He was just in front of her now, but instead of attacking, he dropped to his knees, head drooping. His rough, callused hands reached up and began unwrapping the wire around his head.
When the wire lay in a twisted pile beside him, he looked up at her.
Litty’s arms went limp at her sides as she stared into her brother’s face. She thought he was dead. Dead because of her, because of what she had passed into him all those years ago.
His cheeks were sunken, eyes sparkling beads set deep into his face. A tear crawled from the corner of his eye, and he bent forward, gripped her ankles, pressed his lips to the tops of her feet.
She pulled his head to her chest and held him, squeezed him. “I’ve got you. Don’t worry…Litty’s here.”
Shane McKenzie is a horror author that lives in Austin, TX with his wife and daughter. He is the author of All You Can Eat, Infinity House, Bleed On Me, Drawn & Quartered, and Jacked, and is the co-owner and editor of Sinister Grin Press. Also, he is going to kill you.