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Deputy Duffy
03-12-2007, 02:27 PM
The Red Box of Horror
By
Deputy Duffy

A cold beer in hand, I crashed down onto my computer chair. Thankful that yet another workday had ended. Every fiber in my body ached. It felt like even my balls ached. I was only 35, but I felt like an old man. Turning on the computer and quickly hooking up, I was looking forward to some escapism.

Little did I know?

It only took seconds to realize that today would not be like the last. My eyes couldn’t seem to focus. The screens glare burnt like the sun. (It was strange to say the least.) I even seem to notice what I thought was a red box hovering over the computer screen. It began pulsating, in an illuminated glow, as if begging for my attention.

I rubbed my eyes and then gulped down another mouthful, laughing at my liquid excuse. “It just had to be, didn’t it?” I was still laughing inside when the box slowly opened up with nearly a sound.

My jaw dropped in amazement, while being met with the realization that my eyes could now focus. They were as clear as a newborn babies. They focused solely on the opened red box. I was still stunned, but I had no choice but to look now, as somehow it had me in its grip. I couldn’t even blink. I was its captive audience of one. When the box opened, it seemingly unlocked feelings buried away for years. Emotions started flowing like wine.

It all started with green eyes staring back at me. A creepy eeriness quickly consumed me. Focusing, my fears realized, they were indeed my eyes looking back at me.

(Suddenly the movie Taxi Driver flashed in my head. Not the whole flick, just the part with Robert De Niro and his famous lines, to which I repeated.)

Indeed they were looking at me. But it was my eyes looking at me. Confusion abound, I kept on focusing. I had little choice. “Boy, did I need a shave” was a strange first thought. More focusing brought along the painful realization that a few pounds have crept up on me, over the past few years. (Maybe more then just a few.) But I was older, not a kid anymore.

“What did father time expect?” I asked, my voice echoing into my ears, my lips never moving. “Wow, is that what my voice really sounds like?”

The green eyes swirled their gaze around the room. The one room I called home. Walls, four by four, not made up of steel bars, but of Sheetrock, painted gray. A self-imposed prison cell nevertheless. A lone window, which sheltered from the cold, while offering a small glimpse at the world outside (that often times left me spinning), darkened.

The eyes focused back on the lonely man, who sat in the corner, staring above the computer screen, seemingly frozen solid. (Yet a naked woman projected on the screen, performing perverted acts with a toy of rubber, unfazed.)

The sound of music suddenly filled the air. My ears had joined the party. Why were the “Talking Heads” playing in the background? “Where was my beautiful wife?” Blasted. A painful reminder perhaps at the length of time since a female creature had occupied my time, or maybe more importantly, occupied the unmade bed against the far wall. “When was the last time I even tried to change that?”

More focusing, as I asked, “Was my face always that sullen looking?”

My gaze shifted to the collection of empty beer bottles that collected by my sides, while searching for a clue. Didn’t I know that the life’s answers and solutions never lie at the bottom? Many a man has bought into that lie and I yet another victim.

A sudden crushing pain enveloped me. Breathing became difficult. “Could this be my last day among the living?” “Is this what this was all about?” “Was the red box my bright light?” A flutter of nervousness followed my rapid questions, matched by my rapid heartbeat. Did I even care it this was it for me? My mother standing by my casket answered for me. I just….

But as sudden as it came, it passed.

Yet I was left in a panic. My mind was telling my legs to run now, but they weren’t listening. Closing my eyes was also futile. Movement of any kind -- imposable. I no longer owned my body.

It was as if someone or something wanted me to see what a wreck my existence had become (but deep inside I already knew).

Years of pain and anger of a life gone astray well hidden by a friendly smile or wave. I was the one you would never expect to make the headlines. He was such a quiet man, they would profess. But did they know? Does anyone ever?

The focus suddenly shifted in a flash.

Something told me that I could now see into the window of the house next door. (How? Cast aside.) This was not just any window. It was the bedroom window of the hottest thing on two legs. “Was she home?”

Who?

The girl with the golden blonde hair and the porn-star body, who would often gaze at the stars through that very window, dreaming of the day when she made it big. She was so close and yet, I didn’t even know her name. I did know that she had used that body to tease many a man over the last few years. (I among them.) Her dirty looks, when she caught my hungry eye, aside, I knew it was wrong. However, she was legal now. Her 18th birthday not so long ago and yet I still knew it was wrong to lust for her, but I was hungrier now more than ever.

There she was!

I could see her lying on the floor, doing some leg exercises. (It must have been how she kept them so lean.) She was dressed for a workout, so she wore these tight black bicycle shorts and a red sports bra type top. (Simple, but on her, oh so sexy.)

My eyes zoomed in closer as she turned over on all fours and started pressing one foot into the air. Her tight pants molding her ass cheeks perfectly. She was simply built for sin and judging from the steady stream of male suitors to her house, I would say she knew it too. I also knew that she would “just die” if she knew I was watching.

She started using the other foot, up and down it went, my body pulsating with every thrust.

She suddenly crashed face first to the floor. I let out a gasp, as she was obviously frantic and trying to get up, but something had her pinned. She managed to turn her head to the side, a sheer look of horror etched on her face. Suddenly her legs began to rise until she was on her knees, but her shoulders were still pressed to the floor. She appeared to be screaming, but no sound came out. The only thing heard was her workout music playing in the background.

“Oh no! It was THAT song by Nirvana.”

I joined her tremble with fright, as her shorts began to lower, first over her hips and then down around her thighs, finally stopping at her knees. I noticed that tears were now rolling down her cheeks.

Strange how crying looks like laughter without the sound, I thought. I also thought it strange how her horror didn’t sicken me more.

Her sports bra top suddenly went flying across the room. I felt so helpless. I wanted to at least explain. But what would I say? Could I really tell her that she was living through a dream of mine? Her hair being pulled back left her in the perfect position.

I watched as her body started bucking back and forth. I could also see her ass cheeks quiver with every thrust. It took a second or two to register, but I knew now that she was being fucked, big time. I just didn't know WHAT was fucking her, as nothing was visible behind her. Judging by the horrific expression etched on her face, as she looked over her shoulder, she didn’t either. From her doggie position on the floor, I also didn’t know if it was fucking her in her pussy or ass, or both perhaps. I also didn’t know why that was important to ME!

I began to feel a strange feeling swamp over me, as I watched her being flipped over, giving me a good look at her perky breasts, pointing to the ceiling, for the first time. Focusing on her pink nipples, each one appeared to be pulled away from her body and then snapped back, several times. My mouth watered. Her legs flung apart and her face signaled that she was entered again.

I knew the difference between right and wrong, good and evil. I knew I should be trying to help her escape from her evil invader, but I was strangely jealous. (That must have been the change I started to fell earlier.) Jealous, that it wasn’t me doing the invading. I wanted to be the one using her solely for my pleasure. Tossing her body into any position I wanted. Complete control. Not in the name of love but pure and sinful lust. I didn’t want to know her favorite color or food. I didn’t want to know her goals and aspirations. I just wanted to know how tight she was. How good her pink little pussy felt wrapped around MY cock. No, I just wanted to fuck her, and fuck her, until she screamed out, screamed out my name.

I lost tract of the number of different position she was put into, but each one was watched with a growing admiration. She finally quivered onto the floor, obviously enjoying a long overdo orgasm that she had probably been fighting so hard to avoid.

Her naked body, now glowing in perspiration, slowed until she lay still for several minutes, except for her heavy breathing and some soft weeping.

“I guess she got more of a workout then she planed today,” I said to myself with an evil chuckle, to which I couldn’t believe. “What’s happing to me?”

I smiled as her body was flipped over on her back again. She wore that “not again” look, as her knees were raised and pinned back by her ears.

“Oh yeah, give it to her again!” I snarled, but suddenly my view started getting smaller and smaller. I screamed “WAIT!” over and over.

And just like that she was gone. Gone from my view and from my thoughts.

Suddenly different faces began to dance in my head. There was Mrs. Johns (my 7th grade teacher). Beth (my favorite bartender). Judy (my Uncle’s new wife). April (my 19-year-old sexy niece), and there was many more that flashed by. All of them were waiting for me to visit them (in my own special way).

Funny what you think of when you feel that you won’t be held accountable for your actions, or when you’ve conceded that you’ve lost the battle between good and evil.

And what about me? I knew it was a battle that took place over time, but had Satan conquered this soul? Where his meat claws buried deep within, waiting for the right day? Waiting for a final breath? His offer for yet another beer, another slice, maybe a burger and extra fries, bringing me yet another step closer. With every poor decision another step closer to the end. His laugh, ever present, even if I didn’t always hear it.

I had lost my focus. My head was throbbing. I felt the hands of time pressing on my shoulders. It was always pushing me down. Everything was always pushing me down. It was almost too much to bear.

I suddenly felt a slap to the face, but there was no pain to go along with it, only a soft voice. A wakeup call, perhaps!

Hey Steven, tomorrow is a new day. The sun will come out tomorrow, the
Red-haired girl sang. And hopefully you will find another reason. Another reason to be.

Just have faith.

Believe….

OR…. (I heard evil laughter chase the soft voice away.)

Was this a sign that tomorrow would be my last?

My last day…my last chance. A day to make the back pages of the newspaper. Or would I make the front? Would tomorrow be the day that everyone finds out what evil lies buried deep within this quiet man? Fuck’em all.

The red box suddenly snapped shut and disappeared in a flash.

My body was back under my control. My eyes back to a single pair. My life was back in my hands. Fate, mine for the choosing.

My dream was over.

Or had it just begun?

The End

Thanks for reading my story.
Feedback appreciated.

davesmistress
03-12-2007, 03:16 PM
This is a great story...thanks Deputy...hope more folks check it out

BJ Cortland
03-12-2007, 03:23 PM
Wow! Amazing story! Not what I was expecting after reading your other work, but I loved it! You have one wild imagination!

Semigloss
03-12-2007, 03:32 PM
This is a complex and interesting read! I like it. I gives me something to think about. It makes cultural references without explaining them completely, leaving the reader to take a moment to try to figure them out but rewarding us for doing it.

You talkin' to me? You talkin' to me? Then who the hell else are you talkin' to? You talkin' to me? Well I'm the only one here. -- Taxi Driver

Rape Me -- Nirvana

It may sound silly, but I couldn't help but compare it to The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe where a similarly pathetic person is sitting in his little room, not in front of his computer but in front of his books. They both have a strange feeling to them, as though the words were more important than the story.

What is this red box? It is never clearly described, but you can tell from the way it was written that the box doesn't matter; it is merely there so that he can say things like:

I even seem to notice what I thought was a red box hovering over the computer screen.

For this purpose and nothing more.

The story isn't written in poetry as The Raven is, and it certainly does not rhyme, but there is something poetic at its heart and it has that same focus on style over substance. It is very stylish indeed.

I'm very glad to see that we are getting use out of the Erotic Horror forum!

freedom37803
03-13-2007, 03:00 PM
you know I love your writting Deputy...thanks for sharing this wonderful story with us!

Satans2006
03-13-2007, 04:04 PM
Nice job man.

badlybent
03-13-2007, 11:13 PM
So interesting that I went back and read it again. Something I rarely do. Very subtle and artistic. Quite a leap from you're usual style. A truly original story that is erotic but completely transcends porn. Two thumbs up. This one you could probably find someone to actually publish.

larrykay63
04-04-2007, 03:53 PM
I enjoyed reading this very much. Thank you.

hottieholly
04-14-2007, 01:18 PM
wow! A story were you had to think and it was scary and yet still made my nipples hard.


Off to read more of your stories Deputy Duffy...thanks for the invite.

frozen_north
06-19-2007, 05:54 PM
Fooking great deputy:) :) :)

One of the most intellectual porn stories I've ever read. This is not my usual genre, but the comments forced me to go back and read it. I am extremely happy that I did. Very very well done!

frozen_north
09-24-2007, 03:36 PM
This story was so excellent that I decided that it was only missing one thing. That one thing is a "Bump" :D

Don't_Panic
07-07-2010, 09:19 PM
This is truly a gem, I truly makes you think about your life and all you have done. Amazing story! Great work!