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Turbo Slut: Eat More Pussy – Mr. Deadman

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“You’re such a freak.” His words dripped with anticipation. Spread eagle on a cheap hotel bed and down to a wife beater and boxers, the man observed as she walked over to the other side of the bed. The metal rim of the handcuff dug into his wrist, he shook his hand as if it would help. “Most girls charge extra for this treatment.”


“Well, I’m not like most girls,” she said, as she cuffed his other arm. “I thought you said you don’t normally do this sort of thing.” Her eyebrow raised, blue eyes pierced through him. She snapped the handcuff to the headboard.


“I..uh, I mean, I uh.” He squirmed like a worm on scorching pavement.


“Don’t worry,” She said as she shushed him. “Lotus will be taking care of you tonight.” She shot him a kiss. A Japanese sexdoll with milky skin, long dark hair that fell on her bountiful mounds, and a plump ass with thick thighs. Her pornstar bust contained by a black bra, and a sweet and sour spot behind a thin layer of silk. She stood beside the bed like a perfect goddess. A goddess corrupted by the vile hand of the night life.


“That’s good and all, but I think these things might be a bit tight.” He tugged on the restraints, and the anticipation on his face faded. His cock, however, did not seem all too concerned. A fat stump of Italian sausage formed a tent in his boxers. “You could loosen these up, right?”


“Oh, but what fun would that be.” Lotus removed her bra. Her pale busty ladies freed from the patriarchal restraints. She glanced at him while she pinched an erect pink nipple. “Lotus wants to have fun, don’t you?”


“Oh, course baby.” The man’s eye fixated on her bust. “Now, why don’t you bring those milk bags over here.”


“Milk bags?” A driblet of white leaked out from her nipple. “Oh look, I’m still lactating. You wanna taste?” Lotus climbed on to the bed and he begged her to get closer as she approached. She straddled him. Her plump and cushioned ass pressed on his erect member like stack of weights, as she leaned forward. “Damn, baby. You’re crushing my balls.”


He bucked, and she slapped him. “Not yet. Lotus wants to have fun.”


“Hey, baby doll, why don’t we just get to fucking,” he stated.


She closed in on his face and a cascade of dark hair enclosed around him. “Because Lotus wants to give you the best fuck of your life.”


“That’s great, baby. Believe me that no one likes a good fuck more than Johnny, but…”


Teeth nibbled on his earlobe. Warm breath poured heavily out from wet lips. “But nothing. Lotus is going to give you the best fuck of your life and you’re going to enjoy it.”


“Fuck,” he gulped. “Hey baby, I only got a fifty on me.”


Big mounds glazed with the slightest hint of sweat. Pink nipples aroused and ready. She teased him with a taste. A bead of milk splashed on his bearded chin. “Consider this on the house.” Lotus lowered her milk sacks. A mouth cupped her breasts. A tongue circled her nipple. The man sucked as if trying quenching an insatiable thirst. “That’s right,” said Lotus. “Drink every last drop.”


The man bucked, again. Lotus responded by pressing her breast into his face as he continued to drink, but the man bucked, yet again. Lotus pulled away from the man and gave his face a red palmprint. “Not yet,” she ordered.


“But, baby, c’mon,” he begged. “I want that sweet Chinese pussy.”


“First of all, I’m Japanese,” She retorted. She sat on his chest and unveiled an freshly shaven, tight, pink clam. “Second, if you want to fuck it, you first got to lick it.”


“Baby, bring it on.” His mouth gaping wide open, tongue punching the air.


Lotus sat on his face, spread her pussy, and moaned just slightly as his tongue slithered around. “You make Lotus happy, Lotus make you happy.” Her clit tickled. Her pink flesh aroused. Her pussy widened and a gaseous burst funnelled into his mouth. He squirmed. Handcuffs knocked against the headboard as he desperately tried to reach her. He rocked his head and kicked wildly. Lotus squeezed her thighs, and drilled even harder into his face. A stream of acidic gases flowed through her, green vapors seeped out from her tight grip.


His reddened face, flush with blood, boiled. Bulges of flesh expanded like inflated balloons only to pop with a gory rupture. Blood and pus sprayed from his body as he contorted and convulsed under her. Lotus tightened her grasp as much as she could, and a let another acidic stream rip right through her. The hairs along his melting flesh burned, and released an odor of rotten eggs that permeated the air.


Lotus  rode his face until the last convulsion. “Hope that was the best fuck of your life,” she whispered to him. “You actually made me moan for moment.” She stood over his scorched and melted remains. Johnny’s face looked like a five layer dip poured over a skull. “And for that, I’m gonna give you a parting gift.” A brown log of shit squeezed out from Lotus’s sphincter and splashed in a thick globs on Johnny boy’s face. Not a savage, Lotus wiped her ass on his boxers, using his still erect dick as a shit stick of sorts.


Lotus climbed out of bed, and put her breasts back into captivity. She slid her arms into a denim jacket that remained unbuttoned, and pulled up a pair of skintight jeans. Lotus searched Johnny’s slacks and found a rough leather wallet. A few hundred dollars, some crumbled receipts, a condom, and a picture of an Asian girl smiling. She pocketed the cash in a small purse, and paused to examine the photo.


“You won’t be fucking anymore. Will you, Johnny boy?” she said, as she placed the photo in her bra. She went for the door and paused. “You’re less than shit you fucking kid fucker.” She shook her head, took a deep breath, and somehow managed to maintain her shaking fingers. He’s dead and though the wrongs he committed could never be reversed, she could find peace knowing that the bastard couldn’t harm another. She searched her thoughts, closed her eyes, and found comfort in that she killed him.


She walked out into the hallway, closed the door behind her. A stale emptiness intertwined with desperation clung on to the weathered walls of the narrow corridor. Doors lined in rows like prison cells. Auras of light feather from the hanging light fixtures and offered a pathetic fight against the overpowering darkness.


She pressed the flesh just behind her ear. “I got em, Momma,” she whispered.


“Did everything go well? You seem a bit shakened,” said Momma, her synthesized tones formed a harmonic, calming chorus.


“No. I’m fine. Just the motherfucker knew how to use his tongue.” Lotus pressed on her left breast, and a tiny compartment opened at the top.


“Why did you give him the chance? Did you use the Cytotoxic Milk?” Spoken like an overbearing mother.


Electronic circuitry encased a small vial with milky streaks. She pulled out the vial and tossed it. “I forgot. But I had backup.” She lodged a finger into her bellybutton and pulled out a small vial with a faint green glow. “It’ll be the last pussy he’ll ever eat.” She slid the vial back into her bellybutton until she heard a distinct click.


“You girls need to be more careful,” said Momma.


“Hey baby.” Words reeked of beer flung at her by a passerby dressed in clothes at least a week old. “You could feed the homeless with those titties.”


“Hold on a moment, Momma,” said Lotus. She forced a smile at the drunk and motioned for him to get closer. “Today’s your lucky day.”


“A momma’s girl, huh.” He grinned with yellow teeth.


“Yeah, something like that. Momma always said to feed those in need.” Honeyed words poured out from her lips. She pulled on his stained shirt and endeared a waft of dried sweat and garbage.


“Your mom is a wise woman,” he said, mesmerized by Lotus’s cleavage.


“Come here, let Lotus make it better for you.” She buried his head into her pale fleshy chasm. He pulled back for breath. She pressed harder. The long red nails of her other hand pierced into the side of his neck. The tips of her fingers latched onto his flesh and created a crude seal. Blood flowed through him, drained like a vacuum through grated fingertips. Lotus smiled as he struggled to escape from her grasp. Her smile grew wide while his face grew pale.


His head exploded like a rotten pumpkin loaded with blood bags hit with a baseball bat. Her nails sliced through his neck as he collapsed to his own weight. “What the fuck!” She thought. A man dressed in black on black stood in the shadows with a smoking gun. Cliche as fuck. He stepped into the light, revealing himself as a Hispanic man with such stereotypical features he looked like he came off the Tapatio hot sauce bottle.


“El Turbo Slut,” he said, with a sly smile. “I’ve finally found you. El Jefe del Culo wants to talk.”


“Tell El Jefe he can reach me at 1-800-eat-shit,” said Lotus. She kicked the bleeding heap of bum. The body flew towards El Jefe’s puta, and Lotus seized the opportunity. She ran towards Mr. Tapatio’s blindside, and went to deliver a face destroying kick. A bullet slammed into her, somewhere, shaking her off from the attack. She collapsed and felt a burning on her right upper arm. The sleeve of her denim jacket ruined. Her flesh punctured, but the metal beneath was unharmed.


“It’s not going to be that easy,” said the cliche Mexican. He approached the downed Lotus and placed her under the barrel of his forty-five. “You’ve been costing us a lot of money when you could be making us a lot of money.”


“What are you going on about?” Lotus groaned as the flesh on her arm reformed.


“You’re our property, and El Jefe del Culo wants you back.” He spoke behind the protection of raised iron sights.


“Bullshit.” Lotus rose from the dirty carpet.


Mr. Tapatio fired. A slug slammed into her chest, chipping away a handful of flesh. “Read it for yourself.”


Lotus regained her composure, and glanced down at the exposed titanium alloy.Product of Tokyo, Japan – property of Chivo Cortez AKA El Jefe del Culo.


“You must be stupider than you look,” said Lotus, as she peeled off the hanging bits of flesh from the wound. “You seriously think I give a single fuck what this reads?” Lotus stepped towards him.


“Stay back,” he said, steadying his aim.


“You don’t want to play with Lotus?” She pulled her left breast out from her bra and rubbed her erect nipple. “Please play with Lotus.”


“I know what you do,” he retorted.


“Please play with me, papi.” Her hips swayed with each step as she advanced.


Mr. Tapatio fired a barrage of rounds. Stray bullets whirled by. A slug chipped her shoulder. “Ai Papi.”


“Get away from me you evil puta.” A bullet punctured her right breast like a blood balloon, and a yellowish vapor seeped out from a metallic opening.


“Ai Papi,” she said, with “fuck-me” eyes.


Mr. Tapatio backed into a corner, while she approached as if unphased. With shaking hands, he pulled the trigger only to hear a click.


“Don’t tell me you blew your load already?” She stood over him. Blood dripped from the damaged flesh. Exposed metal shined in the faint light radiating from a flickering florescent bulb. “I don’t have five minutes to wait while you reload.”


“Get away from me you freak!” His voice demanded that she leave, while the bulge in his pants asked for her to stay.


“Are you lactose intolerant?” She played with her nipple, rubbing her blood splattered breast.


“Those are lovely.” His eyes darted from hers to her voluptuous breast. “Perhaps I could have one lick before I go, por favor.”


“Whatever you say, Papi.” She squeezed her nipple and milked her boob. A stream of yellow liquid splashed in burning waves on his face. His hands clawed at his throat while he gasped and convulsed.


“Lotus,” the motherly voice bounced through her skull. “What happened?”


“Don’t worry, mother. It was nothing I couldn’t handle,” she said, while she pressed her fingertips against his exposed flesh.


“You turned off the comm and then your vitals drop, why shouldn’t I worry.”


“He shot my boob,” said Lotus, as she remembered to cover her other one. “But he’s dead now. The pervert couldn’t resist even a one boobed Lotus.”


“How’s it healing?”


A mess of bloody punctured flesh hung loose from a damaged bra. “It’s coming along. The blood I’m taking should help finish the job.”


“I’ll need you to head back so I can run more tests.”


Lotus found a cell phone. The dim glow of the screen illuminated before her like a gift. “No can do,” she said, amazed that the cliche Mexican didn’t bother locking his phone. “El Jefe del Culo is trying reclaim his property.”


“Not likely,” said Momma.


“Not likely? I’m staring at one of his thugs. Dead, of course.” She flipped through the screens on the device and located a thread of prior messages rich with details. “This fucker tried to send a message and I think the professional thing to do is to reply.”


“El Jefe is not a threat. Let him suffer the loss of one of his goons.”


“I’m reading communications that say otherwise. Look, I’ll send it to you.” Lotus placed her palm over the screen and closed her eyes. An explosion of noise rushed through her.


“Is this legit?”


“Pulled it from the fucker’s phone.” Lotus swiped through various tabs until she found a gallery of stills. She found her face smiling back at her among other faces. Most were known associates, familiar faces of the nightlife, but there was one that held her attention. A latina female with blonde highlights smiling back at her.


“Lotus,” Momma alarmed. “They’ve put a hit out on Loca.”


“I’m on my way,” said Lotus. She took the Mexican’s phone along with his wallet and went for the nearest exit.


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Deadman’s Tome is a growing horror zine that publishes horror short stories and horror flash fiction. The online magazine publishes dark and gritty content from professional horror writers, Bram Stoker award nominated horror authors, along with talented newcomers of the horror writing craft. Deadman’s Tome features chilling, terrifying horror shorts ranging from ghost stories, zombie invasions, bigfoot sightings, monster horror, and even horror erotica. Deadman’s Tome is one of the best online horror zines to publish horror short stories, horror flash fiction, and dark flash fiction. The darker the tale the better. If you enjoyed the story, or even if you didn’t, leave a comment below as it helps the horror authors.


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When the Last Candle Dies by Trev Hill

Mamiko felt the hairs on her neck rise as the older girl turned and fixed her with a playful yet malevolent smile. The flames flickered across her face, adding to the demonic glint in her eye. Realising the hold she had over Mamiko, she licked her lips slowly before speaking in a, sing-song voice,
    “And the girl, Yuki, went into the toilet… she went to the third door and knocked , ‘Hanako San, come out to play!’” As the other girls gasped, Mamiko squealed,
    “No, Ayaka, stop… I know about this and it’s true…” The group huddled together in the flickering candlelight, as Ayaka continued slowly, sounding each syllable like a drop of water,
    “Yes Mamiko, it is true… but you must hear it all… those are the rules!”
Mamiko shuddered. She hated this. One every holiday someone would suggest telling these stupid ghost stories. In the old days, it was called hyakumonogatari kaidankai and there were 100 candles in a dark room and people told ghost stories, extinguishing one candle after each tale until there was only one left and then, following the final story, it too was extinguished, leaving the audience in total darkness. Sometimes they stopped at ninety-nine because after the last one was put out it was supposed to be possible to call the spirits. There were only four of them here now, but it still gave Mamiko the creeps, and all the others knew it. Ayaka continued,
    “… and when Yuki called, a little voice said, ‘I am here…’ As she opened the door, Yuki saw a smiling little girl in a pretty red skirt…”
“Sometimes she wears white!” a third girl, Keiko, chipped in, only to be hushed into silence by the single boy in the company.
    “Shhhh! Let her finish!” he snapped. Ayaka continued without breaking rythym,
    “slowly Yuki opened the door… ‘Are you Hanako-San?’ she asked. The little girl turned and smiled‘Yes, I am…’” The girls gasped at the revelation. Looking at each of them slowly, Ayaka smiled, showing her teeth in the yellow- dance of the flame, before continuing,
    “Yuki wanted to scream… the little girl’s eyes were blood red… (more gasps from the audience)  She tried to turn and run, but Hanako-san grabbed her tightly and said, ‘No, you can’t go… you called me… now you have to play with me… Forever!’ and she pulled Yuki down into the toilet… and when her friends came, all they found was Yuki’s handkerchief… covered in… BLOOD!” she concluded, blowing out the candle in her hand to a shriek from the girls and a loud laugh from the boy. The trembling girls began to calm down as the boy, holding the last remaining candle, said,
    “That was good, but do you know the story of Aka Manto?”
    “No!” choired the girls (except Mamiko), “Tell us, Goichi!” Mamiko clenched her teeth… one more story and then they could put the lights on… but she knew Goichi would drag this one out, just for her.
Goichi smiled at them, the shadows dancing across his face. He paused a second before letting his face go blank, betraying no emotion. Then he began,
    “Aka Manto is a charming man, who wears a mask and a red cloak…”
    “But who is he?” Ayaka asked.
    “Nobody knows,” Goichi replied, “but he has the name Aka Manto… ‘Red Coat’, because of the red coat he always wears… along with his silver mask, so nobody sees his face, which is said to be… horrible…”
    “What does he do?” Mamiko squeaked, knowing she would wish she hadn’t asked. The boy continued,
    “Well, one day a girl went to the toilets in her school, it was an old building…”
    “Why do all these ghosts live in toilets?” Mamiko moaned, whose legs had already been crossed for some time.
    “So when they scare you, you are in the right place to pee your pants.” Keiko replied.
    “Quiet!” Ayaka hissed, “Let him tell the story.”
    “I don’t want to hear it if it’s too scary,” Mamiko whimpered, “I’m almost peeing my pants now!”
    “Are you going to let me continue?” Goichi sighed,
    “Go on…” Keiko nodded. Taking a breath and resuming his former composure, Goichi went on,
    “Well, the girl was looking in the mirror and she heard a handsome man’s voice say, ‘You look very beautiful, would you like a red scarf… or a blue one?’ Without thinking, she said she’d like a red one… and they found her… dead.” The girls gasped once more. Mousily, Mamiko enquired,
    “But how do they know she asked for a red one if she was dead?”
    “Because,” Goichi whispered, “ her throat was cut open so wide, that all the blood looked like a red scarf. That is what Aka Manto does… that is how they know.”
    “It’s not true!… is it?” Mamiko demanded, pleadingly. Ayaka put a hand on her shoulder and nodded,
    “It is, it happened at my cousin’s school as well… I heard about it!” she confirmed. Mamiko’s eyes widened. Keiko snorted scornfully,
    “But it’s easy, don’t ask for a red scarf… what else can he do?” Goichi smiled knowingly, shaking his head,
    “That’s not a good idea either,” he cautioned, “Another girl heard about Aka Manto and thought the same thing… she went to the toilets and she also heard a voice asking, ‘Would you like the red scarf or the blue one?’”
    “What did she do?” asked Ayaka.
    “Well, the police say she must have asked for the blue scarf… because when they found her…” Goichi said, suddenly standing up with his arm above his head and his head on one side, “she was hanging by a scarf… and her face was blue!” He blew out the candle. The girls screamed satisfyingly. In the darkeness, Mamiko felt a cold shudder go down her back. After a second, Ayaka went to turn the lights on.
    “Oh man, that’s weird…” murmed Keiko, “Is it true?” Pleased with his triumphant ending, Goichi sat down.
    “Yeah, he’s never been caught… and he’s been seen all round the country.”
    “Stop it,” groaned Mamiko, “I’m scared… and I need the toilet.” Chuckling, Goichi rose from his seat and moved out of the circle,
    “Do you want something to drink? I’m going to the kitchen…” he declared, walking out before anyone had time to answer.
    “In a minute… I really do need to pee…” moaned Mamiko. Ayaka laughed tauntingly,
    “Haha! Those stories really scared you, didn’t they?” Mamiko shook her head defiantly,
    “NO! I just had too much Coke… do you want to go with me?”  she asked. Ayaka and Keiko shrieked with laughter, taunting her together,
    “Ha, you are scared… ooooh, scaredy cat!”Mamiko clamped her jaw and shook her head angrily.
    “No I’m not…” She snorted, stamping a foot, “ I’ll go alone then, see if I care…” and she stormed out of the room, trying to convince herself as much as the two older girls, who stood watching for a second before spluttering out into fits of giggles. Eventually Ayaka pulled Keiko towards the kitchen,
    “Come on, let’s fix something to eat”.
Mamiko sneaked down the corridor of the hostel. This was always the other worst part of these school holidays, staying in these creepy old buildings with faulty lighting. They made you believe the stories…
Eventually she reached the communal bathroom. Slowly, gingerly, Mamiko pushed the door open. There was a toilet next to a shower cubicle and a wall sink with a mirror. Mamiko fumbled for the light switch, waiting in dread to feel something grab her hand. Finding the cord, she pulled it and checked the bathroom once again… Her reason for coming was getting more pressing and she was less worried about ghosts than the amount of Coke she’d drunk. Scanning the room once more, she went to the sink and splashed some water on her face as if to give herself some courage. Suddenly she thought she saw a movement behind her in the mirror. She snapped her head around but saw nothing, just the slight motion of  the shower curtain as the breeze from the window caressed it. Angrily, she scolded her reflection,
    “You’re so stupid… there’s nothing to be scared of… it’s just a game and there’s nothing real… grow up… or you will wet yourself!” Half believing her new courage, she moved to the toilet and, checking once more, slipped her shorts and panties down to her knees before sitting down.
As she began to relieve herself, a deep, male voice crooned softly from behind the shower,
    “You look very beautiful… would you like a red scarf… or a blue one?”
Mamiko stiffened, her shoulders rising and her breath quickening… for a second all she could hear was the beat of her own heart pounding over the dribbling sound in the toilet. From the corner of her eye she could see a red cloak and a silver mask moving slowly from behind the curtain. She tried to speak but produced nothing more than a guttural squeak. Once more the voice crooned,
    “Come my dear… I have a lovely… red scarf just for YOU!” at which a cold, wet hand stroked her neck.
The coldness shocked her into a reaction and Mamiko let loose a piercing shriek of terror and sprang from the toilet. Shrieking again, she ran, only to trip over her shorts as they fell around her ankles. Screaming and sobbing continuously, she crawled madly towards the door before pulling herself up, one hand madly trying to tug up her shorts, before running, shrieking, down the corridor followed by the wild laughter of the red cloaked man, who held onto the sink whilst doubling up with mirth.
Eventually, still laughing, Goichi removed his mask and staggered backwards, sitting on the toilet as he began to calm himself down,
    “Hahaha! Oh god, that was so funny… she really fell for it… whooooo! Aka Manto is coming to get you… silly little cow! Oh I wish I’d seen her face… haha! Whooooooh! Come out to play…”
After a few minutes, he rose and, still chuckling, moved towards the door. Suddenly, he jerked back, his cloak snagging on something. He pulled on it only to find the cloak being tugged back harder, wrenching him backwards. He tried to jump forward but something seized his legs, whipping them from underneath him so that he fell face forward onto the hard, cold tiles of the floor. Before he could move, a small but heavy object landed forcefully on his back and Goichi felt a cold , wet thing slithering up his neck, under his chin. The little hand clamped his jaw and forced his head backwards.
Unable to speak or move his head, Goichi peered out of the corner of his eye, to see a small white face with dripping wet hair that stank of urine. He smelt the stagnant, dank breath as the face came to rest against his, staring from the corner of its own blood red eye into his tearful one. A second slimy little hand snaked over his face and forced itself between his teeth, slowly beginning to prize his mouth open.
The little faced smiled a malevolent yet playful grin as the sing-song little voice giggled,
    “You can’t go… you called me…” Then the demonically strong hands wrenched his mouth open and the upper part of his face backwards. As Goichi felt his jaw joint begin to crack and the corners of his mouth tearing apart, Hanako continued in her giggling song, “… now you have to play with me… FOREVER!”