Windy days aren’t usually a sign of a good day. For some at least it’s refreshing; for a sensitive to the bones and weather, bum living in their parents’ old home, it’s not so welcome. If the hired handyman who came a few days before did his job, things would’ve been different.

Betts had had about enough of the cold floor. That became her inspiration to, eventually, pick up the handyman mantle. Even if she had been the least helpful with chores for several years now, nothing says unlucky coincidence more than having her old mother also break her ankle. Not on the same day as the heater broke, but days before its tantrum.

Mother had better instincts with the house. Betts inexperience with house “things” made her agree with her siblings, who unabashedly describes her as a voluntary pathetic coward in the presence of responsibility.

Dressed in drab sweats and a ragged loose shirt, she has been the owner of a long oily hair for three years now, and not one attempt in making it sleek and shiny ever occurred to her. Feeling an itchy head is not a reason to distract one from their “how to fix your heater” video, though. No one would be surprised; she had skipped cleaning herself for days now in place of playing her games.

Currently, her job is to stream in a channel named “OrpheliasSophiedSSK,” a gaming channel formerly owned by an old friend of Betts from college. Now it’s shared by at least two other players, all from different game genres with a high ranking. She was the ranker from a MOBA tournament that she had randomly joined, ranking fourth in the finals.

The channel has its popular streak, especially if they’re famous enough to have players participate in matches and contests organized by popular gaming companies. On the weekends she would stream for hours, and the weekdays were the time she spent most practicing on her own, with a group, or just play other games she felt like investing in.

Streaming wasn’t a career she had wanted to focus on at first; still, it was something that paid her a hefty amount and given her the chance to work from home. Comparing her feat to her siblings who worked high-end jobs in the business and marketing end would be a useless thing; she and her siblings have vastly different goals. As she acknowledges the difference of its importance, some can’t accept the way of life that she’s now gotten accustomed to.

Pausing the video she’d only been listening in, rewatching the whole thing again to see if she was doing the right thing, the television in their living room played a recording of the morning news. Sitting on one of the dusty Loveseat was her old mother, one foot on a cast and raised to the cushy stool while she sipped on a sippy cup filled with what smelled like Irish cream.

“...rural areas, plagued with what seems to be mysterious electrical barriers. Locking buildings and citizens in what they call ‘Dimension Pockets.’ Experts explain these ‘Dimension Pockets’ are...”

Directly figuring out the problem in the heater, Betts felt satisfied to try opening it to see if the result of her work had been fruitful. Cloth wrapped in one hand and rearing to turn a valve on the side of the heater. She grips the knob when the windows of their east windows, where the living room is, rattled loudly.

The racket surprised her and her mother, prompting both to shout. One said “c*********r” in an absurdly loud way, while the other screamed as they accidentally twisted the heater knob nipping on the skin between their thumb and pointer.

“...during which humans are being turned into aggressive creatures out to attack others. Please be warned, once these ‘Dimension Pockets’ appear, call the police hotline and run away from it to avoid being targe—”

*vweet!*

“Fff-god, ouch,” wheezed Betts as her mother closed the television.

“What’s becoming of this world, those ‘phuket-they-mention’ nonsense is all over the news for weeks now. I don’t even think it’s real. I think it’s just some government conspiracy.” Said Mother, slightly adjusting herself while drinking the last of her coffee. “You see them targeting those poor are-oh, what happened?”

Barging in the living room towards the cabinet where some medical supplies were, Betts sat beside her mother as she tended to her bleeding hand. There are worse wounds in her childhood that would scare her more than this one. Seeing the red muscle inside her skin can never add to the intolerable current cold under her feet.

“Snagged my skin on the heaters knob. Hmm,” holding her hands, pressing hard as Betts saw the blood slowly seeping out. “Mind if I get a shot of that? Not for the pain, the house is just cold. I’ve yet to ‘fix’ the heater.”

Her mother leaned towards Betts’, “sorry my cups all out.” She looked at Betts’ hands that are now closely clasped on gauze and what seemed to be the useless effort of keeping it from bleeding further. “Holy f—, Betts you’re not a kid anymore. Go to the hospital and get yourself treated. While your brother’s insurance is still going, get in using it.”

“Rior will kill me if I left you alone home, mom,” Betts paused to squeeze her hand. “The last time I didn’t watch over you, you drank two bottles of vodka that the doctor told you not to drink. Before your belief that Rior does not care anymore, he does care. He cares so much that he made sure the doctors can be easily bribed by his money to watch over you. So, that’s not insurance you insist he used the last time.” Betts told her deadpan. Not taking her wounds seriously caused her to watch a few drops of blood drip on the floor.

Clicking her tongue as she saw the blood on the floor, she hurriedly changed the soaked gauze on her hand while contemplating the likeliness of the stain staying on the hardwood. Suddenly, their phones similarly received a red alert message from the City Alarm, stating an area-wide blackout scheduled for today. It starts midafternoon and ends the next day, morning.

Both sighed after reading the message. Betts concludes that it would be a waste to even work further on the heater now that there was no way it’ll work after being fixed. While her mother thought the ice cream she bought for her midnight snack might go to waste. Premium items from her daughter outside the city rarely came by on time, for once, and this vale-jane (Belgian) chocolate had been her guilty pleasure when she was young.

“Grab me the ice cream Betts. Quick.” Pointed mother, towards the fridge in the next room. “These lizards are at it again with their pretend electricity saving.”

Wiggling her pointer finger, mother paused for a moment before squinting her eyes. “Come to think of it, are not back-up, of back-up, back-up, generators a thing? They almost tricked me! See! See!” She says in indignation.

Patting her mothers’ hands but rolling her eyes in hidden annoyance, she went to get half a scoop of the ice cream. Handing her the cup and then went to text their family doctor.

Betts did figure that her wound was too deep. Blood spilling down her hands was worrying but getting them on the floor to stain further increased her anxiety. Was her wound that deep to continue dripping blood?

Seconds had only passed when she received a reply from the doctor. He requested a picture of the wound as additional details for his trusted nurse colleague to attend. After sending the picture with difficulty and prepping the things she could fit in her pants pocket. She contemplated a little bit to see if she should take her car or the bus.

Time was not in her favor if she took the car since routes here were one way in comparison to public transit routes. So, bus it is then. Visiting their neighbors, the Keriums’, she asked their youngest, Bernice, to babysit the old woman in the meantime. Thankfully, Bernice was available and still willing to tolerate the spoiled old woman. Betts left them in a hurry, hoping she’d get back home before the blackout.

Traveling in the bus when Betts got used to her secondhand car had been a “trip.” Closed spaces and collective groups of bodies have begun to sound repulsive to Betts after spending most of her time alone in her room. Meeting residents she knew was even worse.

Nodding at them has always been her go-to greeting if they made eye contact. If they avoided making eye contact, much better, at least she knew she wasn’t the only one feeling self-conscious or awkward about it. A 30-minute bus ride shouldn’t be an ordeal, but; she’ll look out the window as a better option to avoid humans while seeing the rest of the world behind glass walls.

Arriving at the hospital stop, many alighted the bus, including Betts and what she noticed as someone she knew from her high school days. An old schoolmate who now worked as a doctor, Bertrand, Bert to his friends, and Trust for Betts. Some years had passed since Betts had seen him in the flesh; he still looked pretty despite how he insists he is better called handsome.

No matter what, the level of his confidence in his physique did not amuse her one bit. They do, however, share a youth despite the difference in interests and hobbies. That Betts personally think they can be called “kindred souls.”

Brown paper bag of what looked like lunch was in Trusts’ one hand, and his other unoccupied and waving at someone behind him. Once looking back ahead, he made eye contact with her while walking to the hospital entrance, nodding. He shortened the distance between them.

Trust had eyed her in the bus ever since he climbed in. He was not shocked to see her, but the feelings of nostalgia and fondness he had not felt in a long time started to simmer at the ends of his thoughts. Beholding this made him want to talk to her then, but she was too busy to look outside; he did not expect it, however, that she was also going to the hospital.

Today, Trust was in the mood to break the ice. Nudging her shoulders as they neared the entrance, he pushed her towards the Outpatient Ward. Letting herself led towards a different area, she left her wounded hand in her sweatpants pocket and her other holding the phone just to read the message of who the nurse she was supposed to ask for once there.

“I’m here to meet with Dr. Munar, seems like he’s not around though," Betts says while showing her phone to him. His eyes squinted before swiping on the screen and saw the picture of her hands wound.

Eyeing her for the mentioned injury. Trust figured that the hand she hid in her pocket was the injured one, owing to the small stain it had formed on her pants. Somehow, this distasteful state of her attire didn’t deter her from casually just walking with him to what seems to be the hospital break room.

“Oh, he isn’t here. He received an invitation from C-city for some kind of conference? Heard there was some seminar about the related incidents about the ‘Dimension Pockets’ that’s medicine involved. They’re just dragging up professionals from one place to another, guess the threat of those ‘Dimension Pockets’ is bigger than one can imagine.” Moving closer to the doors’ he stopped. “Been long since I last spoke to you in the flesh bosom bud. Mind waiting for me?”

“Can’t.” Betts smiled at him. Pulling her wounded hands, she waved it in front of his face. A hint of disgust momentarily showed on his face.

“Might need a bit of healing for this one, sides there’s gonna be an area-wide blackout. Can’t be away from mom and home, unless I want to argue about responsibilities with my older brother again. Which I don’t, it’s not my habit to always be the enemy of his state.”

Smiling back at her, he used to hear her whine about how her older brother gets overprotective and strict with her; and now it’s more towards their mother, and less towards her. Things did change in the years they’ve lost contact with, but even if he had done the first step. She didn’t fail to step alongside him, just like the old days.

“Alright,” he said before pausing to hand the brown bag to someone. Betts looked back at the reception to see if the nurse who Dr. Munar assigned for her was around. “Wait there,” pointed Trust, “I know the nurse Dr. Munar mentioned in his message. Sadly, she’s not the easiest to drag around since she’s the Head Nurse. Your numbers’ still the same, right?”

Betts typed something on her phone before Trust felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, he smiled at her before leaving. Sitting down willingly as she let her wounded hand air out, she watched the current TV show playing while she waited beside a few others.

Over the lost hour she spent outside her house, the news has now developed a sort of drama between the mysterious “blackout” announcement.  No one wanted that kind of development, but she figured someone must be responsible with the masses’ ire about it.

Many citizens didn’t know of the announcement, and its sudden implementation is gaining negativity. Pulling out her phone to connect to the net, Betts wasn’t surprised when she saw that there are already people theorizing that this so-called “blackout” is an excuse, and somewhere within the city, someone is amassing a “Dimension Pocket.”

Who would want to believe that there were any electrical problems for the past ten years? Most of the recorded “Dimension Pockets” had only started these past few years, all of which can count in one hand. Truth is theories and speculations that borderline leveled with her mother’s logic about government propaganda to extraterrestrial activities were all around her that it’s hard not to acquire them.

Forming an opinion where you lack the basics wasn’t something Betts wanted to have any to think about, but she only knew one thing. Death or chaos includes themselves in these events, and nothing can stop it from happening anytime.

“Bedlyne Darmstadt!” Said the voice of a woman from the reception area. Beside her stood Trust who was conversing with her about something.

“Bedlyne?” Pointed the woman, “names Aurea, how are you doing? Oh, oh god.” She spotted Betts’ hands, “Dr. Munar texted me about this, but I didn’t know you’d got it bad, honey. Let’s get you sitting down to check on that. Lord, what did you do to your hand?” Holding a clipboard in one hand while they walked in a partition.

After recounting the events prior, Aurea left her to see a doctor who would suture the open wound between her thumb and pointer. The extent of how bad it was had finally caught up in Betts mind, and the cold her feet felt suddenly extended up to her knees.

Glasses-wearing Bernice had just been flipping through her Biology 1 textbook. After Mrs. Darmstadt had forced her to eat the ice cream along with her, the girl resolved to continue where she left off from her assignment.

When the winds outside the house begun blasting to the east, somehow, it didn’t seem like it was going to rain when the clouds themselves may look dim but not grey or heavy enough to seem like a downpour.

Rattling trees and other clutter from bins had all but danced in their invisible stage when suddenly each paused as the gust just stopped. Midway and gone, even the feeling of cold it brought had even lost its presence.

After a second’s notice, the air around them became tingly. Unlike the presence of petrichor; or the dampness felt in the air before a storm. Hairs at the end of Bernice’s nape suddenly stood on end as if something felt amiss.

Not far from Bernice, Mrs. Darmstadt sat comfortable on her Loveseat, napping and snoring carefree of the world. The tub of half-eaten ice cream sitting beside her, like a good “abused” comrade with its melted contents. Wriggling like she also felt the tingle in the air, she shifted to a comfortable position when the old woman felt something pass through her.

An electric current that awoke one’s senses but numbed them, at the same time, surged a sensation of shock coursing through their nerves and brain. Minutes to realize what was happening didn’t need to finish for them to hear a blood-curdling scream outside.

Shouts of neighbors, and a mix of growls from far away, could be heard by Bernice that this momentarily stunned her from moving to see what was wrong. Beside her, Mrs. Darmstadt sat stock still; her eyes were wide and looking at the windows.

Shuddering floorboards and shaking walls awoke the old woman a second time, and straightaway had quickly concluded that outside was dangerous. Calling Bernice twice to bring her back to earth, she signaled for her to help her stand up. They scampered to the upper floors, both clinging to each other, one determined to keep her life while the other shaking but managing for her knees to not give way.

Arriving inside Betts room, which Mrs. Darmstadt knew was a better bet than any of the other two rooms on the second floor due to the mini-fridge and desktop systems. All Betts emergency stock when she hid inside her cave of a workplace if she was too engrossed in streaming for a charity event. Add the fortune that her daughter’s room has the adjoining shared door to her rooms’ bathroom. It completes the idea of “panic room survival” Mrs. Darmstadt has in her imagination.

Bernice made sure to lock the door and tried opening the lights but found that the electricity was down. There was a momentary confusion if the electricity was out when she saw that Betts PC was open, but the internet was dead, and it just dawned on her that Betts PC must be running on UPS. Making sure that it was just a fluke, she tried refreshing the browser and the network connection, but both were still offline.

The last option Bernice could think of, to see the world outside, was to manually look out the window and monitor everything from the room. But that idea felt scary for Bernice. Everything seemed surreal, from the moment she felt the hair on her nape rise to how slow it registered to her that the screams she heard outside were not all human.

Growls were heard among them as if wild animals were free from the local zoo. Were the animals aware of the “tingle” and it had affected them as well? Bernice can't have guessed that it was an effect "from" something, but she knew in her mind that it was.

Inside, she was thankful Mrs. Darmstadt had the presence of mind to think of hiding in Betts’ room. Now, all they needed was to ascertain if the danger was real.

Looking back in the room, Bernice watched Mrs. Darmstadt limp to her daughters’ bed, sitting at the edge.

“Bern’s dear, help me sit on this bed a bit better. Ugh, my god, I think I broke my other ankle.” Being moved further to sit on the headboard.

Blasts that sound like a bomb blowing a whole house shook the windows behind the blinds. Sensing its effect, even though both knew that it was from far away, made Bernice frown, and the old woman scoff.

“God damn! The government is pulling the big guns now. I knew it...” Mrs. Darmstadt murmured to herself. “Could you hand me a bottle of water? Dear, you’re paler than normal, I think you’d better drink yourself ‘swell.”

“Uhm...thanks for a while ago, Mrs. Darmstadt.” Bernice sipped a bit of water. “My...somehow, I couldn’t seem to think a bit straight.”

“Your heads still stuck in that book, yeah?” said Mrs. Darmstadt, her eyes wide as she pointed to the door and the window. “Those things, I’ve prepared my mind about them. See here,” poking her temple, “this here is your key to survive, girl. Now, no amount of studying will save anyone’s life. Years of experience is what will.”

Nodding along with the woman as she expounded further on the lizardmen behind the government totalitarian science-fiction invasion, Bernice approached the window and tried peeking behind the roller blinds with difficulty. Outside was bright but glum and grey, almost like the onset of rain. Nothing changed from when she went outside this morning to bring out the trash, yet, it still looked dreary only with the addition of the scent of smoke and something heavier than the dreariness.

“Here girl, what do you see??” Said Mrs. Darmstadt as she waved her empty bottle. “Go on! Don’t be afraid to tell me what horrors the outside is showing us.”

Watching the streets intently, other things like her neighbors running away or towards their house intermingled with a few glimpses of what looked like black, large dogs roaming around. Blinking twice, as if to clear her vision, her sight wasn’t wrong.

Normal dogs didn't come across higher than a trash bin, chest high to her five-foot height. Every dog she could recall did not stand past her head, but the ones she sees outside are giants in comparison.

Trying to see better of their physique, they seem to have clung hair on their exterior, but it felt like something else on them. Figuring this made Bernice pause and stare longer, her body now closer to the window with the blinds fully pushed aside.

Everything else zoned out of her mind; she couldn't even hear the old woman calling for her. Only the growing fascination or nonplus stayed in her mind.

“Hey!” Shouted Mrs. Darmstadt, at the same time a voice of another woman could be heard outside of their house calling to Bernice.

“Mom!?” Bernice looked around. “Mrs. Darmstadt, it’s my mom. She’s calling...” Checking around for her phone, just in case her mother had called her. She found that it wasn’t in her body.

Frantically heading to the door to get her mother, an empty bottle thrown at her head halted her steps. It wasn’t enough to bring pain, but it had finally caught her attention back to Mrs. Darmstadt.

“Where do you think you’re going?? You can’t just haphazardly go out!!” Pointing at herself, “help me up, you girl. You’d just leave me here and I bet you won’t even lock that door after, help me up!”

Bernice watched the woman, before trying to push her back to sit down. “No, no, Mrs. Darmstadt you can’t com—”

“Nitwit, I’ll lock the door after you get out.” Pushing the girl out forcibly, “don’t come back if there’s any danger with you.”

“But Mrs. Darmstadt...you’d still open the door when I get back, right???” panicked Bernice, her resolve wavering a bit, although her concern for her mother seemed to be stronger. “L...if, if there’s nothing and mother is alone or safe, we’ll go back here and knock. Please open the door for us,” she pleaded.

Whisking Bernice away to hurry off, her face determined and annoyed. The door closing in front of Bernice’s face made her feel constrained as a sense of contempt suddenly rose in her heart. She had wanted to shout at the old woman for how heartless she could be, but her mother’s calls were louder and urgent.

Slowly descending from the stairs, Bernice looked cautiously at the windows in the kitchen or the rest of the first floor. At any time, "danger" can be in a corner popping up to say "hi," but it didn't appear, making her heave a sigh of relief.

Listening to her mother’s shouts, worried and asking for her wellbeing sent a familiar relief that started gently replacing the uncertainty and fear. Hurriedly unlocking the first deadbolt, barrel, and then the doorknob, her clammy hands was ready to turn it when she heard several gunshots loud and revolting from the direction where their house was.

She would’ve turned the knob to let her mother in, but the shots made her mother silent, and Bernice rethink otherwise to move any further.

“Bernice...” said her mother, in her now normal voice, quivering and nasal, “honey...listen...”

Obediently waiting for what her mother’s next words were, Bernice bit her lips but didn’t have the heart to look at the frosted bust-sized window of the front door. “I’m...those gunshots you...you heard, must be from your father?” She heard her mother say.

Sobbing haltingly. “Yes. They must be...hic. Your...your sister and brother suddenly...just, just. Turned in into these things, and we didn’t know what to do. They were approaching us like we weren’t...ugh, us...ugh...”

“Mom?”

“We wanted to talk...to them...hic.” Somehow Bernice heard her mother heavily lean on the door, breath heaving with difficulty. This alarmed Bernice but her mother carried on. “And, hold them. They were in pain...Bernice...did you get hurt when the...thing in the...felt?? Bo...boils? Skins...”

No mom, Bernice thought not realizing she hadn’t said it.

Either way, her mother continued. “Wounds, open, all over...all over my body. Bernice...Bernice. Don’t open the doo—ugh. Tell me...are you alright?”

Silent sobs stopped, and a loud thud echoed through the hallways from the hardwood door. Frosted windows rattled. Her mother's head leaving a trail of blood as her silhouette slowly moving side to side.

Another second, and she would’ve turned the knob to let her mother in, but the shots made her mother silent, and Bernice rethink otherwise to move any further.

Gripping the knob was all Bernice could do as a conflict arose in her mind. Behind her grew the pull of hesitation. In front of her stood the door that stopped the source of an ever-growing fear. The middle of it all was the sense of curiosity the pushed and prodded, grossly demanding.

Hesitation. Fear. Curiosity. Which do you think would be the right one to pick at this moment?

Pulling the doors open, she did not prepare herself to see her mother’s face covered in throbbing large veins that slowly covered with what looked like living thin skin. Wrapping slowly around the large veins but continually melting away and crumbling to black like graft skin that burned over and over.

Spreading around her neck also grew the large veins and boils, red and seeping white liquid. Singed skin covered her bloodshot eyes that one could hear the sizzle, only it wasn’t covering the sockets but pulling the eyeballs out.

Bile rose in Bernice’s mouth, causing her throat to dry while an acrid sting couldn’t stop her from screaming out the sound from her head. The shrill ringing wouldn’t stop, as if she wanted to deafen her mind. How many tears should she shed to blind herself?

Strength had lost from her legs, and the cold, wood floor lent its body for her to sit in silent horror. Now her mother’s body grotesquely deformed, limbs disproportionate and coarse. Hairs either growing long from what once was the top of her head or her shoulder blades or spine.

A face that has lost its shape, only the mouth left gaping and barely closing. The skin from the base of the chin, neck, and collar bone is no more, replaced by a spindly flesh that can hardly maneuver.

The once-fingered hands, now charred curled hooves stepped carefully and with grace beside Bernices' cold, still body. Sweat further trickled from her back, as she could not remember what her mother’s body looked like anymore.

Overlayed melted fat of her breasts and tattered clothes, the skirt now housed an unusual tail in between her "thin" like brown, burnt legs that still somehow looked human and strong enough to steady itself.

“Mom!” She says first, like a whisper. “Mom!!” Louder, and louder. “Mom!!! No...no...”

Trying to move her body away from the creature didn’t bode well when it didn’t respond as she instructed, and it even felt unexpectedly hot. The sweat that poured from her skin didn’t feel as cold anymore; it was warm and unusually itchy. Somehow, she knew that something had begun to start within her body.

Was it the same thing that happened to her mother? To it? No, this was different.

"This" felt intrusive and abrasively hindering her sanity, she hadn’t noticed it before, but her mind began to feel heavier and cloudy. Like blinds covering a part that she knew she needed at this moment but somehow couldn’t muster the strength to fight back open.

Above her, its head moved. Swaying drunkenly, left and right, up and down, before stopping, cautiously moving downwards. Drool dripping from its agape mouth, the set of teeth now clearly extended up till the ends, and even back, mixed molars and incisors. Limp tongues of varying sizes and somewhat texture, visible to the eyes, lolled as it gagged out to her.

Bernice pushed her feet and hands to move and mercifully inch away, failing. Only to somehow move her thigh across and squeezing her crotch tight.

The sensation of her wet labia rubbing together suddenly jolted her awake. There it was, the intrusion in her body, but this time it wasn’t dulling. No, it was a blinding sense of lust.

Feeling its tongue and teeth graze at her skin electrified the pleasure and bound her to a debilitating conflict as she tried fighting it. Battling the pull was becoming senseless if it further made her succumb deeper to the growing hunger.

Skin prickling itchiness crawled in her skin when it further lapped at her. Bernice didn’t know what it was doing. She couldn’t see, and if she did, the ends of her toes would painfully crawl gravely inward to witness its mouth’s ends curve upward.

Grasping her painfully with its hooves digging in her skin, it carried her seamlessly and positioned her back on the ground, face down. Nibbling on her skin, with its varying choppers, left tiny grazing scars but were covered disgustingly by its tongues’ saliva.

Satisfied with leaving its mark, it licked the expanse of her clothed back, moving further down to her bum. Silent screams of "stop" rung louder in Bernice’s mind, yet somehow the pain was no more. Now, her only response was a whimpering groan of bodily satisfaction.

Intruding appendages found her ass, and further within was her wet pussy that had already stained through, dripping from her ready body for any further stimulation. Its mouth nipped her hips at first, its left arm pressing down on Bernice’s head and the right busily opening her legs.

Surrendering to the pleasure felt the right thing to do when its mouth nipped her on where her crotch was. Biting back a groan when its lips moved while its tongue aimed at her wet stains.

Tearing the cloth covering it by the force of its tongue surged the desire she felt, and soon her vagina contracted as if to wait for something to clench on.

Before the "being" could continue to invade her vagina, it paused and abruptly raised its head. The still visible curve where the nose once was, was in the air, obviously sniffing. By the time Bernice realized what was happening, the creature was bounding at someone behind it.

The excitement of its actions can clearly show how eager it was to dismiss her for this other thing. In Bernice’s hazy mind, the lust-filled her was saying "don’t go," but her tiny self that's beaten to submission somehow saw the light and willed herself to move again.

Not much of the small actions emulated through her body, but these efforts were worth it. First returning to normal was her five senses. Gradual sound cadenced in her ears. Warmly greeting her with the increasing volume of her father's shouts from the front porch.

Returning to a form of hell she had thought to have left seconds ago did not feel as unreasonable. Just, it was now a different form of torture welcoming her back to reality.

Growls of delight could now be heard, mixed with what she could discern as her father’s loud moans, which morphed from his agonizing shouts, now filled her head. Daring to watch was one thing. Helplessly witnessing it with no choice was nothing worse than wishing god to save them.

Emotions of grief welled, overflowing, inside Bernice. Yet, the tears that wanted to fill her eyes never came. Playing like a horrid porn video a few steps away from the door was her father's body.

Cloth ran ragged on his elbows, and dirt clumped, showing signs that he had crawled in desperation towards them. The large black body of the creature covered his half-lying that laid over the fourth rung of the steps.

Clear notes of soulless pleasure painted his face. Its head leaned forward over his shoulder, mouth clamped tightly, holding both legs in the air brusquely.

Her eyes couldn’t perceive it well, but she knew the tail that it grew formed in what looked like a spout and was sucking her father’s cock violently. Next, she saw the blackness of her shut eyes. Everything should’ve felt better in the faint, but alas, the memories played over and over.

Bernice was not wise enough to listen to Mrs. Darmstadt; she shouldn’t have gone out of the room.

- end of chapter 1 -