Finding My Sister's Killer: Part Two, Reunion
by A duck named TEF
Copyright© 2026 by A duck named TEF
Horror Sex Story: After her sister goes missing, a woman returns to her home town to find answers. While home she meets someone who leads her to her lost family member.
Caution: This Horror Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Hypnosis Reluctant Heterosexual Fiction Horror Incest Mother Son Aunt Nephew Torture Necrophilia Cannibalism .
“You want the truth of what happened?” I asked the inspector standing at my hospital bedside. My voice coming out weak, of course it would, given my current condition.
The inspector decides to take a seat, retrieving a voice recorder from his breast pocket, “Yes please. The details matter, so don’t hold anything back if you can help it.” His voice is steady, carefully measured. He’s done this before. I can see he thinks I’m a victim.
I am no victim, maybe I was at first, but my mind was changed when I realised that I had found something I didn’t know I was looking for...
“Okay. I won’t hold back...”
It began a few weeks after my sister had gone missing. She left behind a few suicide notes, I had no idea she was so upset. I knew things were rough after the divorce, but I never imagined she was that far gone. I would have reached out sooner had I known.
Due to her state of mind at the time of her disappearance, the police were treating it more as a body search than anything else.
I had a feeling though something more had happened. Call it a sister’s intuition.
I tried to reason with the police but it got nowhere. I even implored my own estranged husband to listen, nothing. I finally lost hope of receiving any help when I was coldly rebuked by my own daughter, a PI!
If I was going to find out what really happened, I would be doing it alone. I was afraid, but determined. I had to find my sister.
I started at home. Well, when I say home I mean our shared family home. She had to move back with our parents after everything in her life imploded.
My parents weren’t much help. I asked them to go over every detail they could remember about the last day they saw her. They were hesitant to tell me anything, out of grief and exhaustion from already going over everything with the police.
I left and decided to drive around. I felt stupid, useless, pathetic, like I was failing my baby sister.
“This place hasn’t changed since I left.” I found myself saying outloud.
It’s a small town, the most exciting thing here is the high school. There’s a community college in the next closest town, but nothing more unless you go an hours’ drive away.
What would my sister have done before disappearing?
I soon found myself parked at the old watering hole, a run-down bar. The kind that is busiest on the weekends, and only the true die-hards are found during daylight hours.
While lingering in my Prius, the sound of a rumbling diesel engine brought my attention to the parking spot beside me.
A rather rough looking man exited the truck and swaggered into the bar.
Something was itching in the back of my mind. Something about that man, I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I knew I had to engage him.
I waited a moment longer. That itch was only getting worse. I decided to go in.
This bar was just like the town, it too hadn’t changed since I was last there. I saw the cigarette burn on the bar counter I had left once during the start of a weekend binge.
I was a bit of a wild one back then. A terrible influence on my sister. Because of me, she got pregnant young. Unlike me, she decided to keep her first baby.
Nostalgia hit hard as I took a seat. I didn’t see the man who entered, I know he entered though.
I didn’t recognize the barkeep, I guess somethings had changed.
“Whiskey, full bottle please.” I had never been a light weight, and that day I really wanted at least a buzz.
The barkeeper eyed me with suspicion. They didn’t want some drunk who wouldn’t pay ordering a full bottle. Wouldn’t be the first time something like that happened.
Rolling my eyes I pulled out a large bill, I can’t remember what but it was enough for a full bottle and a decent tip.
After setting the bill on the counter the barkeeper handed over a brand new bottle of Makers Mark and a glass. There were a few bottles of Jack’s behind the bar; I guess the barkeeper figured something sweeter would be to my liking.
Honestly, whiskey is whiskey to me, I drank more for the burn than the sweet or sour after taste.
I took the newly opened bottle and threw back a drink. Not as good a burn as a small batch brew, but it would do for a buzz.
“I’ve only seen one other woman knock back whiskey like that.”
The voice was deep, with a thick southern drawl. I looked in his direction to see the rough looking stranger I followed in.
His eyes were dark, hair shaggy and brown with a hint of gray throughout. There wasn’t much special about him that I could tell right away.
“Oh?” I raised a brow, swirling the bottle in my hand, relishing how it made my chest heat up on the way down.
He gave me a side grin, a chipped canine poking through. “Sure as shit. You have the same looking eyes as she had.”
My heart skipped a beat. Was he referring to my sister? Everyone commented that she and I had the same eyes.
I must have seemed eager when I asked, “Was she a blonde?”
The man cast his gaze up thoughtfully and nodded, “Yeah, pretty little thing. Long blonde hair, voluptuous I believe is a good description. Tasty.”
My free hand gripped the counter. Maybe this man would be a good lead! I took another long swig from the bottle and slammed it down, maybe a little too hard.
“When did you see her?” I asked, the heat rising in me from the emotional rush.
“Whoa...” The man raised his grease smeared hands, “Settle down, it’s still pretty early.”
I was desperate, and I didn’t care who knew. “Sir, you don’t understand,” I was hoping to appeal to his humanity, “she’s my sister, and she’s missing.”
I think something in the way I was pleading broke through. The man nodded.
“Let’s talk at my place. But first I’m gonna stop at the Git’n’Go* for some Pabst.”
After obtaining the beer I followed behind his truck in my Prius out to the sticks.
My chest tightened as I parked, was this where my sister met her end? Why was I coming here alone? I wasn’t about to go in unprotected. Slipping my pepper spray into my bra and a small taser into my pocket, I’d see what he had to say, but I was going to keep my distance.
He led me into his trailer. The cleanliness here was unexpected given the man’s appearance. It was unnervingly clean. The smell of bleach almost made me gag, and everything was covered with a plastic cover. Just who was this guy?
“Sorry ‘bout the smell. I get a little over zealous on cleaning day.” He said when he noticed my hand was over my nose and mouth.
“Oh, no, I’m just a bit sensitive.” I know I wasn’t reassuring at all. I’m a terrible liar.
He raised a brow but proceeded to remove his shoes and lock the door.
“Please, make yourself comfortable. I’ve got this beer, some milk, tea even if you’re still thirsty.”
I shook my head, I still had the bottle of Makers Mark in my Prius. Sheriffs around here don’t enforce the open container law, they barely enforce click-it or ticket.
I removed my heels and stepped further into the trailer.
“So, you met my sister?” I asked, clutching at my coat rim around my chest.
“Yeah, she came here in a bad state.” He casually leaned against the kitchenette counter, opened a tallboy and took a long, drawn out drink then continued. “Sat right on that couch, lamenting a life lost.”
This man looked every bit a hick, but the way he spoke was rather eloquent. I felt almost hypnotized by that smooth, deep drawl of his.
No, I had to keep my wits about me. Something was still itching at the back of my mind, something was horrifically wrong here.
I made sure to note that there was a back door where the main room ended and the hall leading to the washroom and any bedrooms. I know he locked the front door, and that was a heavy duty lock, but the back door was much less secure. Should anything go wrong I’d rush to that exit first.
“You sure you don’t want a beer at least? You seem a bit jumpy.”
The man’s voice jarred me from my thoughts of escape, should I need to.
“Oh, no,” I said, face flushed, “really I’m fine. It’s just ... I-” Fuck female emotional intensities! I broke down, crumpling to my knees. “I miss her. I know something bad has happened, I just know it. I feel it in my heart.” My voice was rising and falling in pitch. I continued to clutch at my chest, and pulled my knees closer, stabilizing myself with my other arm.
Soon I felt a heavy blanket across my shoulders, one of those weighted blankets.
“The weight helps.” I heard the man say. He then crouched in front of me, an oddly gentle look in his dark eyes. “I get it, missing family can be rough. I lost my parents when I was in high school. Came to this town because my maternal grandparents live here.”
I pulled the blanket tighter around myself, and struggled to stand until the man helped me up and held me in his strong arms.
“Give me a minute to clean off some of this grease, you take a bit of a breather to compose yourself in the meantime.”
He left me in the main room, disappearing into the hallway. I should have left. I should have ran away then. Instead I stood there alone for a moment and decided to snoop.
There wasn’t much around in the main room. A couch, a side table, a record player with a couple records, nothing else.
The kitchenette didn’t have anything out of the ordinary for a kitchenette either. He really liked meat though, his fridge and freezer had a lot of pork cuts.
I thought it was pork at the time.
Having not found anything of note I made my way to the hallway.
The man was singing ‘Fly Me to the Moon’ while showering. I thought I had some time.
Continuing deeper into the hallway I made sure to keep my ear on the stranger. Still singing like no one was listening.
As silent as I could, I crept into the only other room down the hall. It was the bedroom, occupied only by an extra long twin-sized bed, and a side table. The bed was a mess, but otherwise the room was as spotless as everywhere else in the trailer.
A black framed photo on the side table caught my eye. A smiling couple holding a chubby baby boy. I knew that couple.
Without thinking I took up the photo, my eyes began to water and it felt like all the air was sucked from the room. I went weak, the photo dropped from my hand, glass shattering. In my weakened state I fell against the bed, a leg poked out from under the blankets.
“Oh my god, I am so sorry!” I spoke quickly, pushing away from the bed and falling flat on my rear.
Everything stopped. The leg, it was so pale. That wasn’t the worst part. There was a half-moon scar on the ankle. It was my sister’s leg!
The sound I made can only be described as something primal. It felt as if my whole body was unwilling to function as I wanted. I wanted to run away but I kept falling back down.
Finally I reached the door, only to see those dark eyes looking down at me.
The last thing I can recall before waking up again was a heavy blow to my stomach.
I heard whistling. It gave way to singing, Sinatra, again, with a deep southern drawl.
“Strangers in the night exchanging glances...”
I tried to move but soon felt such excruciating pain in my wrists. I looked up, I was hanging by a meat-hook attached to a beam in some dilapidated barn.
My eyes went wide, I began to scream again behind taped lips, sweat beading my brow. My eyes moved rapidly, taking in the surroundings, there were other bodies strung up, missing parts, and in various stages of decay.
“Wondering in the night; what were the chances we’d be sharing love?”
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