Disclaimer: This is a work of amatory fantasy. Any resemblance to people living or dead is purely coincidental. If you are under the age of 18, please stop reading here. If you are a bit squeamish about graphic depictions of sex and bondage, please stop reading here. The author takes no responsibility for those who wish to reenact anything written below.
Permission is granted for private use. The author wishes any agencies that wish to publish this work, to please contact him, Or visit his weblog at http://fesselnsfiction.blogspot.com/. Any comments are gladly accepted and encouraged.
A Sequel to 'A New Haunt' and 'Coffin Duty'.
There was horror in the evening air. It was in the dried leafs darting around Brandy's ankles and in the chill that crept through her jacket as she stood by her car. There were few lights on in the old two-story farmhouse. Most of the house was already finished for this year's fund-raiser. The barn was finished as well. Brandy could see the pulsating green light that glowed eerily through the windows and doorways there. Even knowing what Brandy knew about what was lurking in both places, the effect was still very creepy.
This year, the club had decided on an alien invasion theme. There was plenty of material to draw upon, from The Mist to War Of The Worlds to Signs. Brandy was at first reluctant with the theme, but her boyfriend Grant was so enthused about the genre that it infected her as well. Of course, because of the theme, there was more work involved in prepping the place and Brandy volunteered when she could. Thankfully, Grant could spend a good part of his spare time at his job working on the project.
It had been a great year this year. Grant and Brandy had started to be an 'official' couple. He understood her better than any person she had ever been with. Most men, she knew, were attracted to her long blonde hair and generous boobs. And most didn't really see past that. Grant did. It had been two years since they had met and less than a year of actually going out, but it felt as if she had known him since childhood.
The bondage club had been a refuge from her mundane life. She could get tied-up and relish her sub-space within the warm confines of the old farmhouse. Grant had always been a very good 'Master', but she always felt guilty about having to go back to her 'real' boyfriends. Finally, after having bound her up to a Saint Andrew's cross and with a gag firmly in place, Grant had worked-up the courage to ask her out on a date that didn't involve leather or rope. Brandy thought about it for about a millisecond before nodding yes. After that, she dumped her old boyfriend and never looked back.
Grant was good with his hands in more ways than one. A good deal of the bondage furniture that graced the basement of the place was constructed by him. She always thought he was in construction but he always said no. It took over a month before Brandy could pry out of him what he really did for a living: Grant owned his own junkyard; one that had been in the family for generations. He had learned how to tinker and build because he had to.
It was his tinkering that had brought Brandy here. Grant had been working on a secret project and he wanted her to be its first victim.
Rounding the corner of the house, she could see more greenish lights out in the center of the field. This year, their corn maze was an elaborate crop circle with Grant's contraption towards the end. Several of the guys had helped him with it but Brandy couldn't get them to say a word about it other than 'you'll see.'
As Brandy crunched her way through the dark maze, she thought about how tempted she was to sneak out here to look at what he was doing, but decided against it. The best thing about surprises was the surprise. So she bided her time a waited for him to invite her.
There were a few silver clouds in the night sky and the moon wasn't much more than a sliver, making the maze that much more sinister. Corn stalks splintered off into the dark. Several times Brandy had to take her flashlight out to look at the map. Even then, she had stumbled into a dead end where a cocooned corpse was moaning its automated message. She caught her breath and continued on.
This is the kind of thing the blonde craved. Not knowing what was around each corner or what that low humming noise was that seemed to vibrate through the maze. Several times she thought she heard a rustling in the stalks, but when she stopped, it seemed to stop to. With every step, however, she knew she was drawing nearer to the green glow she had seen earlier and her curiosity trumped her fears.
The noise was getting louder as she came closer to where it was. A low mist drifted over the path and snaked away through the stalks. Brandy's steps were more cautious, not being able to see the path itself. Then, rounding a corner, she saw a silvery-gray saucer partially imbedded into the ground. A neon-green glow seeped out from beneath the craft, illuminating the fog that whorled around it like a cloak.
"Grant," Brandy called out, but there was no reply.
The alien craft was huge; bigger than her apartment living room. Some thick, stringy goop oozed over it in several places. Carefully, she made her way around the ship, trying to find an entrance. Grant was probably inside preparing it for the haunted house opening that weekend.
"Grant," she yelled again.
Grant had done a remarkable job. The ship looked just as good as any Hollywood set. Even up close, Grant's workmanship was remarkable. Touching it, Brandy could feel its low vibrations as she made her way around it. Finally, through the mist, she could see a small opening that was not unlike the open jaws of a trap. Slime dripped from the tips of its sharpened teeth. A torn jacket was impaled by one.
Brandy stopped and stared. It was Grant's jacket; his favorite work jacket.
And it was torn to pieces.
Stepping closer, the blonde could see several dark stains blotted over the jacket. It looked like blood but then again their haunted house had lots of things covered in what looked like blood. It wouldn't have been an issue if it hadn't been Grant's jacket.
Suddenly, she really didn't want to be here alone.
"Grant," she yelled, "If you are trying to scare me, I swear to God I will kick your balls down your throat."
Brandy heard nothing more than the growling hum of the craft.
The blonde also noticed that the fog was getting thicker and the cornstalks around the craft were fading into a black wall. Carefully, she stepped back and began to retrace her steps. She dared not turn on the flashlight again to look at the map.
Then Brandi heard the shuffling in the stalks.
'This is fucked, ' Brandi thought to herself. There was no way this was real. Grant and the club were messing with her. She was sure of it. They all knew her love of a good scare. They all knew she loved to go to the movies just to get frightened. But she knew it was all Hollywood magic. The only time she had really been terrified was her unintended introduction to the club via the haunted house; except now.
"This is not the way into a woman's panties, Grant," she called out into the mist.
The blonde could still hear the rustling in the corn, growing nearer.
Unconsciously, Brandy had been backing away from the noises, one small step at a time until she felt her back pressing against the craft. Feeling along the metallic shell, she carefully made her way back to the opening of the craft. Quickly, she pulled out her flashlight and beamed its light into the mouth. It was dark and reddish and reminded Brandi of looking down into someone's throat ... Without hesitation, she stepped through the jaws.
As soon as the girl's foot hit the floor, the whole room started to glow an evil red. She could see along the back wall a knot of tentacles writhing like a pit of snakes...
"Boo!" Grant said inches from Brandi's ear, causing her to scream.
"You shit-head," she yelled, punching him in his broad shoulder.
"Did I scare you?"
"Fuck you," Brandy said stepping back.
"I take that as a yes," he smiled.
"I hate you," Brandi grumped, crossing her arms in front of herself.
"I don't think you hate me as much as you think you do. You were scared and you loved every second of it, sweetheart. Besides, the best is yet to come."
Despite being pissed about Grant getting the best of her, it was hard to stay mad at him for very long. His grin could charm the pants off of her any day of the week. The fact that he was well muscled in a work-a-day like way didn't hurt either. It was a very good scare and she shouldn't be mad at him for giving her something she craved.
"Okay, I'll forgive you this one time, Grant. Don't make me regret it," Brandi said.
"Oh, after I show you what this thing can do, I don't think you'll regret one little thing. Now, do you remember last year?" he asked.
How could Brandi forget. The first night she had been assigned coffin duty where she was tied-up and vibrated the whole night in front of a bunch staring Halloweeners. Of course, they didn't know there was something buzzing turning her on. They just saw a pretty young girl bound and struggling not to get nailed in a coffin. It was one of the most erotic things she had ever done. To be bound in public and being teased into one orgasm after another was a fantasy she had never dared to hope to come true.
"Yes..." she whispered. Already, the thoughts of that night started a tingling through her.
"Well, let me show you what you'll be doing this weekend."
Grant leaned down and gave Brandi a nice, long kiss. He always counted his blessings and Brandi being his girl was always his first one. She always gave one-hundred percent of herself, whether it was helping him in the yard or being a willing victim in the bedroom. At first, everyone thought she was your stereotypical dumb blonde, but she was smart as a whip; one of the smartest people Grant knew. The fact that she was dating him over all the other guys that had their sights trained on her was still a mystery to him.
"You mean right now?" Brandi purred.
"No time like the present."
Brandi noticed for the first time how warm it was in her. Not uncomfortably so, but enough to ward off the October chill.
Grant reached behind the wall of tentacles and brought out a gym bag, "I got you your costume this year. I know it might not look like much, but I think once you are in place, I think you're going to appreciate it more."
Brandy's boyfriend tossed her the bag and disappeared behind the squirming wall. What would she be this year? A sexy witch? A buxom pirate? A demure harem girl? Brandy was eager to find out. She quickly unzipped her bag and pulled out her costume: A old gray sweatshirt and a pair of worn jeans.
"What the hell, Grant?" she yelled at him.
"Quit your whining and try them on," Grant answered.