Elvira: Family Secrets (alt Ending)

[This version of the story is identical to the previous Elvira story until the halfway point, at which point it takes an alternate path. This version emphasizes corruption, seduction and incest.]

*

"Oh, Bob..." Elvira gasped, rubbing her hands over Bob Redding's plaid shirt. She could feel his taut muscles underneath the soft flannel and she pulled the two of them tighter, pressing herself against his chest. "Hold me..."

Her voice was tremulous and frightened but she wasted no time throwing one of her long legs over his hip and leaning back as though faint, forcing Bob to gently lower her to the attic floor to prevent her from falling. She reached out, dimming the light of the oil lamp as Bob's muscular frame lay over hers.

He was breathing heavily and she could feel his heart hammering in his chest as she started to undo the top buttons of his shirt.

Finally! Country boys are fun but they're so slow on the uptake. I've been trying to bring this big oaf in for a landing since I came to town.

"Elvira..." Bob's voice was hesitant, uncertain.

Oh God, what is it? Is he a virgin? He's not going to try and marry me after this is he?

"Hey, don't get weird on me Bob...we're just having a bit of fun." She continued to unbutton his shirt, baring his chiseled, hairy chest and his rippling abdominal muscles. She ran her hands down his torso, moving slowly towards his waist. Since she'd gotten to this town there'd been nothing but horny teens and old creeps, so she was practically trembling in anticipation. "No harm in that, right?"

Her fingers undid the button of his jeans and, too impatient to undress him, she slid her hand down the front of his underwear. Her questing fingertips buried themselves in the wiry thicket of his pubic hair.

Seems like manscaping hasn't made it to Fallwell. Good thing I don't mind a few weeds on the lawn.

Elvira's fingers closed around Bob's dick...

"Wait...what the frick is this?"

It was soft.

She gave it an experimental squeeze, causing Bob's to make a weird little sound of surprise. Still soft. Not even a semi.

"What's the big idea, Bob?!" She snapped at Bob, staring up at him in consternation. "Or not so big, in this case."

"I'm sorry, Elvira. It's just..." He sat up, rubbing his neck. She couldn't make out his expression in the dim light of the attic but he sounded bashful. "The dog's watching."

"What?" She looked over to the far side of the crowded attic room. Sure enough, Algonquin was sitting on his haunches and staring at the two of them. The poodle's eyes glinted red, seeming to reflect more light than they should. "Gonk! Get! Can't you see I'm trying to dig up a bone?"

The poodle just wagged its tail, tongue lolling from its mouth.

"Dumb mutt..." She muttered. Trying to hide her annoyance, she flashed Bob what she hoped was a seductive smile. "Do you want to go down to the bedroom? Then maybe go down in the bedroom?"

"It's just never happened to me before." Bob looked uncertain.

"Don't worry, it happens to a lot of guys! We just need to give it a jump start."

"No, I don't mean that, I'm talking about...all of this." Bob waved his hand vaguely in the air. He started buttoning up his shirt and she could barely contain her disappointment as the expanse of tan skin was covered in that dumb black-and-red plaid once more. "I'm sorry, Elvira...tonight was just...a lot. First, there was the whole thing at the movie theater...then dinner tried to have us for supper...and the whole witch thing."

"Come on, it's not that big a deal." She did her best to sound casual. She had been trying not to think too much about everything herself.

You know what would help take my mind off all of it? A nice big cock!

"There was a giant snake just like...five minutes ago! And then it caught on fire!" Bob pointed at the circle of ash on the floor where the snake she had summoned had accidentally vanished. "Was that a demon? Are demons real? It's just...it's a lot to take in, you know? I just need some time to process."

Elvira sat pouting on the floor of the attic as Bob finished dressing and made his way through the crowded brick-a-brack of the attic. He stumbled over a few pieces of cobwebbed furniture, eliciting G-rated swears like "darn it" and "fudge" as he made his way to the stairs.

She lay back on the floor of the attic, listening to the sound of his footsteps headed out of the house.

"Looks like another night paddling the canoe all by myself, Gonk." She looked over at the dog, still wagging its tail. She sighed and turned her head, looking at the large trunk the two of them had uncovered, thinking about the revelations in the letter her great-aunt had left her.

I thought my mom was a bitch for dumping me in a convent...turns out she's a witch! And creepy uncle Vinnie is actually some kind of evil warlock?

With a sigh, she got back on her feet and turned up the oil lamp once more, filling the attic with flickering shadows. She picked up the so-called "recipe book" her aunt had left her, examining the cracked leather cover and running her fingers across the yellowed, ancient pages.

"I guess I'm not getting that fifty bucks after all." She muttered to herself. Fifty bucks probably wasn't worth handing a book of spells over to the man who killed her mother.

She looked down at the trunk, filled with unusual, occult-looking garbage.

I wonder if anything in here is worth selling? I doubt Uncle Vinnie is going to play nice if I decide not to hand over the book but I'll need cash if I'm going to get out of town.

She sat down by the trunk and started to dig around inside, tossing aside anything that didn't look valuable.

"Mogwai spores...Leprechaun repellant...Krampus dung...ew, gross." She read off labels on canisters and boxes before flinging them over her shoulder. "What the hell is this?"

It was a large book with a cover of stitched-together leather creating the shape of a distorted face. A small yellow post-it note was stuck to the cover with the word "Necronomicon".

"Creepy." She flipped through the book until she reached a random page. "Let's see...klattu...barada..."

She shook her head and snapped the book closed, dropping it next to the trunk. I've already got one weird book that I can't read, I don't need another one.

"Oh? What's this?"

She pulled out a small, rectangular object wrapped in moth-eaten black cloth. She tore the covering off and her eyes widened with excitement. Inside the cloth was a wooden box, carved with unusual symbols and inlaid with gilt. It was about the right size and shape to be a jewelry box.

"Oh, auntie Morgana, what do we have here? I'm sure you wouldn't mind if I pawn some of your old jewelry, would you?"

She reached out to open the box but she almost jumped out of her skin at the sound of a blood-curdling growl. She turned around, quickly enough that she practically spilled out of the front of her dress. The sound was coming from Algonquin. The dog's teeth were bared and its eyes still glinted red in the lamplight, fixated on the box in Elvira's hands.

"What's gotten into you, Gonk?" He was definitely looking right at the jewelry box, with a vicious expression entirely out of place on the poodle. She shook her head. This dumb dog had already cock-blocked her once tonight, she wasn't going to take it again. "Come on, you stupid mutt. Get out."

She dropped the box back into the trunk and Algonquin immediately calmed. He still whimpered when she picked him up by the scruff of the neck and dragged him to the stairway. Closing the attic door behind him she returned to the trunk once more and retrieved the box again. Visions of jewels and rings danced in her head as she grabbed the lid of the box.

It was locked.

She tried tugging harder.

It still wouldn't open.

"Come on! Can't I get a break for once in this stupid town?"

She dug through the pile of loose objects in the trunk, hoping to find some kind of key for the jewelry box's tiny lock. There was a large ring of keys in the chest but they were all big, rusty keys that looked like they belonged in a medieval castle.

"Ah-hah!" She exclaimed, pulling out her discovery. It was a knife, sporting a short, wide blade and a pentagram design on the hilt. It wasn't a key but beggars couldn't be choosers.

Picking the jewelry box back up, she did her best to slip the tip of the knife into the seam between the lid and the base. It was a tight fit and the knife kept slipping out.

"Dammit! This is like two virgins on prom night."

Outside the door, she could hear Algonquin whining and scratching at the wood. The weather outside seemed to be turning sour as well. There was a rumble of thunder and the old house creaked and trembled as the wind picked up.

Elvira didn't pay it any mind. Laying the box on its side she wedged the knife under the lid. She then grabbed her great-aunt Morgana's book and started to slam it onto the knife handle, using the heavy, antique book as a makeshift hammer. Each blow sent ripples along the curves of her chest, causing her jiggling breasts to bounce together as she banged away at the box.

Algonquin howled and the house began to shake, nearly causing the knife to slip free. But with a final, mighty smack, accompanied by a flash of lightning, the lid of the box gave way, sending the knife skittering into the shadowy corners of the attic.

"Ah-hah...wait, what?" Elvira's cry of victory trailed off into an expression of disappointment. The wooden lid of the box had snapped in half, leaving the contents partially exposed but rather than revealing the glitter of gold or gemstones, the lamplight only illuminated a dark, cylindrical object nestled inside the box's velvet interior.

"What the hell is this?" With two fingers she lifted it out of the box. It was around half a foot long, maybe an inch wide and brownish-red in color. It had a dry, shriveled texture. "Some kind of dried salami? Auntie Morgana must have been losing it towards the end."

Elvira held it up to her face and sniffed it curiously. It did smell slightly like meat but the attic was so musty it was hard to tell. The tip of the...sausage?...was slightly bulbous and it looked oddly familiar for some reason.

On impulse, she gave the larger tip an experimental lick, trying to tell whether or not it was still good. Aged salami was a thing, wasn't it? It might be some kind of valuable heirloom meat?

"Whoa!" The moment her tongue touched the shriveled surface of the salami(?) she felt it move...like a ripple passing along the entire length from the tip of her tongue to the base. She dropped it immediately and it rolled along the floor and underneath a decaying ottoman. She scooted backwards until her back hit the wall of the attic but nothing else happened...there was no flash of light, no horrible scream, no movement at all. Even the rattling of the house had finally calmed down and Algonquin had fallen silent.

"Was I just imagining things?" She ran her tongue over her lips, the taste of the salami still strong. She had tasted something like it before but she couldn't quite place it. She smacked her lips as she pondered the flavor. "Salty..."

She shrugged and climbed to her feet, convinced that it was just some old pepperoni that Morgana had stuffed in a jewelry box in a fit of dementia. The old bat was supposed to be over three hundred years old, after all. She'd probably been senile since the Taft administration. She sullenly kicked the empty jewelry box.

"I need a drink."

*******************

"For the last time..." Vincent Talbot, local businessman and 300-year-old necromancer, rubbed his fingers against his forehead in frustration. For the hundredth time, he questioned his choices in hired help as he glared at Travis and Billy's dull, cowlike faces. "It's not really a recipe book. It's a euphemism."

"A what?" Billy's mouth was hanging open in confusion.

"You idiot." Travis snapped at him, blissfully ignorant of the irony of his statement. "It's like...one of them things where you say one thing but you're really talking about a dick or tits or whatever."

"It's a titty book?" Billy's eyes lit up at that.

"NO!" Vincent rose to his feet, slamming his fist on the desk in front of him. The three were in his office for what should have been a short meeting. "Look! It doesn't matter what's in the book. I'll tell you what it looks like and you just need to go back to that house and this time, you don't leave until you have the book!"

"But what about the dog?" Billy muttered, trying to avoid provoking his boss' ire any further, a task at which he was failing miserably."

"I don't care!" Vincent snarled. "Bring along a poisoned steak or a shotgun, just get me that..."

He trailed off mid-sentence, his red-faced fury draining away and leaving him as white as a sheet. His head snapped towards the wall, eyes wide. Beyond the wall, beyond the town streets and intervening buildings, visible only to his mind's eye, was Morgana's house.

"No..." His voice was quiet and shaky, forcing both Billy and Travis to lean forward to hear him. "That stupid girl...what has she done?"

Billy and Travis exchanged looks of dull incomprehension.

"You okay, boss?" Travis asked cautiously, hoping the question wouldn't trigger another fit of rage. Vincent turned his head to look at him and while Travis normally had the empathy of a thrown brick even he could see that something had deeply disturbed Vincent Talbot. He had never seen the old man look afraid before and it made him nervous.

"I have to go." Vincent began to pull open drawers in his desk, yanking out important documents and locked strongboxes. "Right away."

"Where you going, boss?" Billy's forehead crinkled in confusion. Impressively, he managed to be even slower on the uptake than Travis.

"Somewhere. Anywhere. Far away." Vincent crossed the room and opened up the office closet, pulling a wheeled suitcase out. He cleared room on his desk through the expedience of tossing his computer and keyboard to the floor. Billy and Travis both jumped at the sound of the monitor smashing to the ground. Putting the suitcase on the desk, Vincent began to load it with the items he had collected. "Maybe Europe. Or Asia."

"But...you'll miss the eclipse, won't you? You were all excited about that." Billy was starting to get worried too.

"Dummy, they got eclipses in Europe too!" Travis managed to be technically correct while also being completely stupid.

Vincent hesitated in his rapid packing, a pained look on his face. This only lasted a few moments before he shook his head and resumed filling the suitcase. Snapping it shut, he grabbed his hat and coat from the hook.

"I can't...maybe in a few years I'll have another chance." He looked tired.

"What about the book? Should we still get it for when you get back?" Travis got to his feet as Vincent dressed himself and grabbed the silver-headed walking cane from its place of honor by the door.

"Hah!" His laugh was bitter and utterly humorless. "I don't plan on coming back."

With that he opened the door and swept out, dragging the suitcase behind him. Both Billy and Travis jumped at the sound of the door slamming.

"Jeeze...what got up his butt?" Billy scratched his chin, looking over at Travis for guidance. "What should we do?"

"I think..." Travis' forehead was furrowed from the effort of doing just that. "I think...we should probably try and find out how much a ticket to Europe is..."

Billy frowned, looking from Travis' worried face to the door that Vincent Talbot had just fled through.

"Huh..."

******************

True to her word, Elvira had been drinking. She was out of beer so she had broken into Auntie Morgana's liquor cabinet. She was currently swigging something unpleasant and highly alcoholic directly from a green bottle. Balanced on an antique side table, a large boombox was belting out the lyrics to Black Sabbath's "Evil Lady" at its highest possible volume. She was alone, Algonquin having been banished to the back yard after he wouldn't stop barking and scratching at the attic door.

"She's a maaagical myshtical wooomaaan!" She crooned unsteadily along to the music as she danced through the living room. Her black dress swayed, revealing flashes of pale skin as she swished and shimmied. As the song ended, she took another long drink from the bottle. The stuff tasted foul and it got worse the closer she got to the bottom of the bottle. She glared at the label, trying to make out the name of the drink but her vision was starting to turn a bit fuzzy.

"What the hell are you lookin' at Tinkerbell?" She muttered, peering grumpily at the green pixie on the bottle's label. She slammed the half-empty bottle down on the coffee table before flopping down on the couch, which groaned alarmingly as she bounced onto the aged cushions. "Sorry, aunt Morgana...I think I'm going to have to skip town. I can't sell your house. I can't deal with your hocus-pocus bullcrap. Maybe I can find some magician down in Vegas who wants to buy your stupid antiques."

She frowned, peering through the living room door and into the hallway. She rubbed her blurry eyes a few times in confusion. When she had arrived at the house, most of the furniture was covered in thick dust-sheets and quite a few of them were still in place. The hallway had several statues, vaguely Greek-looking sculptures depicting muscular, naked men, which were still draped in heavy, white sheets. But something seemed different...on one of the statues the cloth was protruding like something long and hard was sticking out from the statue. At about waist height.

I'm pretty sure I would have noticed that before

, she thought, getting unsteadily to her feet. In fact, she specifically remembered being slightly disappointed when she took a peek beneath a few of the sheets the day before and found nothing but fig leaves.

Elvira got to her feet and approached the statue, the elderly floorboards creaking underneath her high-heels. She had years of practice keeping her balance under the influence of alcohol and fashion, so she barely wobbled on the slender stilettos. Getting closer, there was no mistaking the familiar outline underneath the sheet. Uncertain what was going on, she reached out cautiously and grabbed the dropcloth, before yanking it free with a single, hard yank.

The statue underneath was exactly what she had remembered...a fit Mediterranean youth with abs you could grate cheese on and a crotch that you could put in a salad. She waved her hand in the air just a few inches away from his waist to make sure she wasn't seeing things (or not seeing things, in this case).

"What the heck is going on?" She murmured, rolling up the sheet and tossing it onto a nearby chair.

Her heart nearly skipped a beat when she looked down the hall and spotted another one. One of the statues on the far end, also covered in a sheet, was also sporting on of the mysterious protuberances. Same height and about the same size...maybe a bit bigger than the previous one.

Get it together, Elvira. She shook her head, worried that she was starting to hallucinate hard-ons, like a Looney Tunes character imagining a ham while trapped on a desert island. She was definitely feeling horny but she didn't think it had been that long.

Hesitantly, she approached the second statue, eyes fixed on the bulge in the sheet. Slowly, she took hold of the cloth between two fingers and started to gradually pull it off of the statues. As the cloth slid off the sculpture, she could see it dragging over the firm protrusion underneath. The sheet fell from the statue's face and hung bunched around the figure's waist, draped over the rigid object underneath like a coat on a hook. With one last tug, she pulled the sheet to the floor, revealing...