©Oct 2003

Short story #28

Cindy Harrison was scared. She was also nervous, on edge, jumpy, and looking for something. Besides all that, she was naked, on tiptoe, and in her big brother's bedroom. She knew Tommy would be displeased if he found her in his room without permission, which probably accounted for her being scared, nervous, on edge, and jumpy. The only good thing, as far as she was concerned, was that her brother wasn't anywhere to be seen.

His room was dimly lit and shadowy. For some unknown reason the light switch didn't work, so the only illumination she had was coming through his open bedroom door from a light down the hall. It was also dark outside, as she could tell by looking out her brother's window -- dark, except when boomers and screechers were going off, or near any of the dozens of jack-o-lanterns surrounding their house.

A tinkling noise, reminiscent of wind chimes but higher in pitch, could be heard as Cindy scratched absentmindedly at her delicate, white-and-coral-pink, almost-hairless little pussy. She was trying to decide where to search first. The metallic tinkling stopped, mostly, when she made up her mind and started tiptoeing across the room.

Cindy almost tripped over a pair of jeans, making a louder tinkling sound as she did. She wasn't exactly sure what it was that she was looking for, but she knew she had to find it, and fast. Looking around, she could tell it wasn't going to be easy to find what she was looking for either, as her fourteen-year-old brother's room was decorated the way most teenage boys' rooms were decorated -- with unsteady piles of comic books beside the nightstand, collapsing piles of other stuff along the walls, clothes strewn everywhere, unidentifiable lumps and hills under the clothes, and every flat surface, including the bed, holding up ancient, hoary tomes of one type or another.

It wasn't in the closet, which Cindy found easy to search because it was almost empty. It wasn't in the highboy which was also easy to check because it too was almost empty. A cursory glance in the dirty clothes hamper confirmed that it went pretty much unused, containing just one lone action figure which looked like it had been lost there for a very long time.

When tiptoeing past the bed on her dainty toes, tinkling faintly, Cindy almost screamed. It felt like something had reached out and grabbed her pretty ankle. Luckily for her, it was only some weird, rope-tied, half-finished craft project. Unfortunately for her, she tripped while trying to disentangle herself from it and landed on her softly rounded jiggly white bum, going "oof!" and making a muted tinkling sound as she did.

She also bumped into his dresser.

One huge tome, hoarier, dustier and dirtier than any of the others, slipped, teetered, leaned, yawed, and then with an audible creak, overbalanced and poofed onto something soft that was lying on the floor hidden under a sweatshirt. As it was dropping, a part of the title found some light and made itself known to Cindy -- "... ecromon...".

The book fell open, illuminated by a beam of light coming from somewhere that Cindy couldn't see. One page was blank. When Cindy tried to look at the other page, the symbols seemed to squirm and move around like they didn't want her to read them.

Suddenly everything went quiet -- really quiet. Cindy held her breath. It was really, really quiet. Far too quiet. Outside was quiet. Inside was quiet. There wasn't even any tinkling. Then, a faint hint of a whisper of a noise drew her attention to the far corner of the room, where it was really, really dark.

She stared hard into that corner, trying to see what was hiding in those shadows, hoping that it was only her imagination. Hoping that it was only her brother. Hoping that she could get out of the room before whoever or whatever was hiding in the inky depths could get her.

Then the shadows moved.

A tentacle with an eye on its tip looked at her. Another tentacle, one without an eye, moved through some angles that were impossible for her brain to comprehend and reached toward her.

Then the shadows stepped out of the corner.

Cindy's mind froze, went round, then square, and finally tried to turn itself inside out trying to look at whatever it was. Whatever it was, it didn't seem to belong on this normal earth. Whatever it was, it definitely wasn't supposed to be in her big brother's bedroom.

Whatever it was, Cindy's almost-frozen primitive little hindbrain knew that it didn't care to wait around and find out. It decided that here was not a good place to be. Without any help or instruction from the rest of her brain, it ordered her long, slender legs to run.

Cindy sprang up and ran for the door as fast as she could, but tripped over another weird, rope-tied half-finished craft project that also seemed to reach out and grab one of her exquisitely-shaped ankles. She quickly kicked that away, then started scrambling for the door as fast as her gracile little hands and cute, dimpled knees could carry her.

Something jumped into her hand. It was a foot-long, candy-apple-red dildo with vibrating action, revolving beads, and a dual-control turbo-powered battery pack. Cindy went "Oooh, umm" at the warm memories it evoked. Her vagina tried to twist up as small as it could at the memories it evoked. She threw the dildo over her shoulder at the creature, which batted her plastic toy away with one of its many, many flailing tentacles. She crawled faster, her teasingly clenched white bottom mincing deliciously, tinkling her way towards the open doorway.

A slimy, cold, wet tentacle touched her ticklish foot. She yelped and crawled faster. Another something jumped into her hand. This something was an eight-inch-long, transparent purple gel butt plug with twisting and pulsing action and custom pearl-inlaid pistol handgrip. Cindy went "Oooh, ahhh" at the delightful memories this item brought out, and a warm flush washed through her, from her toes to her fingertips. Her demure little bottom hole winced at the memories, scrunching itself up even tinier than her vagina, running away and trying to hide behind her clit.

She threw her rubber plug at the creature too, with about as much effect as the plastic dildo had. The creature didn't slow down, so Cindy tried to speed up, especially when another of its repulsive extrusions almost managed to wrap itself around one of her pretty ankles.

Escape, or at least the hallway, was only a couple of feet away when yet another one of those disgusting, slimy, ropy tentacles did grab one of her splendidly curved ankles, bringing her up short.

Cindy screamed. And fell on her back. And tinkled. And screamed again when the creature started pulling her towards itself.

She threw everything she could reach at it. Her brother's sweat pants just stuck and didn't do much. The book "Home Piercing for Dummies" bounced off, also not having any visible effect. She got dragged a bit closer. A pair of her brother's crusty shorts didn't even stick, but they did leave little bits of gunk which mixed in with the slime.

A leather-and-fur covered ping pong paddle followed, and Cindy went "Oooh, yes" at those more recent memories, flushing pink. Her tiny, sensitive, barely-there breasts and full, round, sensitive bottom cringed, but had nowhere to hide.

A shoe missed the creature all together, bouncing off the wall and landing with a thump on top of a pile of action figures.

The other shoe caught the creature right square in its eye, the one on the end of that impossibly-bent stalky tentacle, and stuck. That tentacle twisted away to somewhere else, taking the shoe with it. Another dozen stalky tentacles, each with differently shaped and colored eyeballs all over them, took its place. All the eyeballs were staring straight at Cindy. She screamed, tinkled, and threw some more stuff.

An open-breasted bustier with attached gel-coated, multi-speed, self-heating vibrating nipple clamps was thrown next. Cindy almost sighed with the pleasant memories that garment evoked. At the same time, her long, pale pink, delectable nipples shrivelled up to almost nothing while trying to invert themselves because of the memories that garment evoked.

A set of twelve eight-inch-long skewers followed. Cindy hesitated a split second before throwing them, those powerful remembrances almost making her pant with passion. Her picture-perfect coral-pink labia majora crinkled and tried to make themselves inconspicuous, which was pretty hard to do when there was a half-dozen gold studs piercing each labium, and each stud had a large silver ring attached to it by a short gold chain, and all the rings were tuned to tinkle merrily any time they came into contact with one another.

The skewers had no effect on the creature, however. Neither did the baseball or the football or the basketball or the soccer ball or the ping pong balls or the ben-wah balls, although the last couple of items did bring a blush to her cheeks.

When she threw the battery-powered electro-stimulator with the alligator clips and four optional sticky pads, she flushed even pinker and did start panting. Her tiny, delicate, sensitive, very wet clit tried to run and hide, but her bottom-hole was hiding there first and kept pushing it back out in front.

Of course, the creature simply swatted her electro-stimulator away with another one of its now-hundreds of gooey, cold, green-slime-dripping appendages.

It loomed over her. It towered over her. It dripped cold, icky slime all over her -- on her taut, flat, lightly-tanned belly, on her long, coltish, lightly-tanned legs, on her long, slender, lightly-tanned arms, and on her white-and-coral-pink, very-much-not-tanned, delicate, soft, barely-starting-to-grow-hair-and-way-too-young-to-die mons. It was reaching for her with more horrible ropey extensions, and hundreds of eyeballs were staring at her from every possible angle, looking at all her most intimate secrets, which Cindy still found embarrassing even though her intimates weren't all that secret anymore. When some of that goo landed in her gorgeous, lightly-curled honey-blonde hair, she made a face and went "ick"!

The tentacles moved closer. Cindy screamed again. She kicked and tried to scrabble away. She tinkled some more. There was only one thing left on the floor that she could still reach, so she grabbed it and threw it. Even more warm, cozy memories suffused her as she recognised it while it was still sailing at the creature. Her entire skin got goose-bumpy, crinkly and tight, and would have crawled off to hide behind the dresser if it could.

With yet another contemptuous wave of a tentacle, the creature attempted to swat that final, desperately thrown article out of the way as well, but somehow it and the tentacle got twisted together. The creature used another tentacle to try and free up the first one, but the second one got just as entangled. The same thing happened to a third, a fourth, and a fifth tentacle. Slime was dripping everywhere, but especially on Cindy.

The creature was now concentrating more on getting itself loose from what had entangled it than it was on her, so Cindy, with a last desperate wrench, managed to free her lightly-tanned and well-slimed ankle and, in a musical tinkling of silver rings, started crawling away as fast as she could.

Taking a peek back over her shoulder, she could see that even this creature, with its hundreds of tentacles and other-dimensional places to move, was having just as hard a time as she did with her full body, customized, adjustable leather restraint harness with chromed buckles, extra attachment straps, and all of the optional D- and O-rings.

Cindy scrambled onto her petite feet and was out the door and most of the way down the hall when the light behind her went out. With a quick backward glance, she saw that the creature, still struggling mightily with her second-most-favourite toy, was giving chase.

She almost flew up the stairs and around the corner heading for her own room, her dimpled bottom bouncing prettily the whole way. The light at the top of the stairs went out just as she passed it, and then the one ahead of her went out as well. A drop of cold green goo splatted on her jiggling, invitingly-swaying posterior as she skidded around one last corner and into her bedroom. She tried to slam her door, but a whole host of tentacles, twisted into a mind-warping, other-dimensional tangle of pseudopods, leather straps and chrome buckles, got in the way and forced her door back open. With yet another scream, she ran to the far corner of her room, automatically making a wide detour around her bed as she did.