Fuced Into Madness

The Bower House sat at the end of one of the oldest streets in Darkmouth. It was an infamous old house where dark ceremonies and perverse orgies were whispered to be held. It was a shunned place, slowly decaying at the end of Ellis Street, it's windows dark and murky, it's yard overgrown and creeping through an iron fence. None of the uneducated and superstitious people of the neighborhood dared to go near it. They said it was cursed and several old myths and legends surrounded it, mostly obscene tales of debauchery and perversion.

The Bower House had sat empty for a number of years. No one would purchase it, even those who weren't superstitious. It was a rotting corpse of a house in a neighborhood of little value. No one even wanted to buy it just to have it torn down and a new house built in its place. The land it rested on was worthless. It was just a dead house that no one outside of Ellis Street paid attention to and those on Ellis Street completely avoided.

When Charlotte first came to Ellis Street, the Bower House didn't seem much different than the rest of the houses. The entire street was a depressed ruin of poverty and ignorance. Weeds sprouted out of the cracks in the sidewalks. Most of the windows had went unwashed for years. None of the houses had seen repairs for decades. There was something different about the Bower House on second glance though. A sinister quality beyond that of the physical world. Charlotte had wandered down Ellis Street on an afternoon stroll and seen the house. Something about it had enticed her. It was the way that the windows seemed to glare at her as she stood at its iron fence and watch it. It was the way it seemed to lean forward as if menacing her. It produced an effect on Charlotte that she had never felt before. The mystery of the house had ensnared her completely.

A librarian by vocation, Charlotte immediately dived into researching the Bower House. She read its perverse legends and all the sordid history of it that went back three hundred years to its building. It was noted that Bower House may have been the first house built on Ellis Street thus making it one of the oldest houses in Darkmouth. Charlotte was fascinated by history of a darker tone and decided that she needed to buy the house outright and investigate its mysteries for herself.

Charlotte belonged to the wealthy Gilman family, one of the oldest in Darkmouth as well, making its purchase a simple matter of tracking down the current owner. The current owner was a man of fifty named Orson Berand. Charlotte thought the man would be happy to sell the house but Mr. Berand outright refused her. "No," he said as they had tea in his parlor. "Absolutely not. Under no circumstances. That is final."

Charlotte, an attractive woman with dark brown hair, a plump ass and enormous breasts, wouldn't accept a refusal from him. She simply needed to have that house. It was becoming an obsession with her. She pressed him further, "I can make you a very generous offer."

"Absolutely not. I won't sell it to you and that is final. The house is wicked and the neighborhood is filled with all sorts of ruffians and brutes. It's no place for a lady such as yourself."

"I don't intend to live there," Charlotte said, "just study it is all. I merely want to purchase it so that I can do so at my leisure. Please sir, is there no way I can convince you?"

"It's a damn foolish thing you want," he said. After some consideration and little more convincing, Berand decided to sell. Charlotte was ecstatic and moved the proceedings along as quickly as she could drag the reluctant Mr. Berand through them. That October, Charlotte had Bower House.

~ o ~

Bower House was without gas lighting or furnace, so Charlotte would have to rely on candles and the fireplaces. It was mid-October when she was finally able to move some furniture in. Getting it anywhere near livable was a months long process that was turning into a massive financial strain, but Charlotte insisted to her family that it was all worth it for her studies. Earlier in September, she had quit her job at the library in order to focus more on the house. She intended to write a book on it, what would be her first.

The locals did not appear to be pleased that someone had taken residence in Bower House. Charlotte never intended full residence there but that was how things seemed to have worked out. The men, burly bearded drunks of the roughest and lowest forms took to gathering on the opposite side of the street and watching the house with an angry superstition. Their wives all hissed at her whenever she passed them on the street. Some of the men even began to follow her. Charlotte ignored this, thinking only of Bower House and her potential book on it.

The first week in the house was uneventful. She spent it mostly going through the rooms and seeing what sort of artifacts she could find from the house's long history. There was little in the house. Most of the rooms were completely empty. All of the wallpaper was peeling, every stair and step creaked, every door groaned, the curtains were little more than tattered wisps of cloth that blew when the wind whistled through the closed windows. At night, the house was impossibly dark. Candles and firelight seemed to do little against the oppressive blackness that loomed in the halls and corners. The somber, decaying atmosphere of that accursed house seemed to be having a strange effect on Charlotte.

One night, Charlotte awoke to a strange sound. It was something that she couldn't quite make out. |t seemed to be coming from below her, so she climbed out of bed and pressed her ear on the floor. It almost sounded like chanting coming from somewhere in the house. Armed with a burning candle, Charlotte made her way through the house in her nightgown to find the source of the noise. There was nothing both upstairs or downstairs but she could still hear the distant chanting.

By the time she reached the kitchen it had stopped. It was impossible to tell which direction it had come from. It did sound like it was coming from somewhere in the house but it could have come from outside of it as well. Perhaps it was the drunken local men trying to frighten her away from the house that she bought and paid for. That wasn't going to happen. Charlotte was certain of that. She returned to bed and somehow drifted off back to sleep.

Her dreams were strange. Charlotte was lost in a inky darkness. She could hear chanting all around her. There was a feeling of something crawling over her body, sliding around her legs and between her big breasts. The chanting grew louder as her body was gripped tighter by the unseen feeler. Charlotte grew aroused although she didn't know why. She just knew that something hideous was groping at her body.

She woke up in a sweat. It was just before dawn and the house was still dark. There was no chanting noises but Charlotte couldn't shake the feeling that something was in her bedroom with her. She felt as though she was being watched. As the sun came up and the day dawned, that feeling disappeared. Charlotte sighed in relief and looked out the window. The local men were standing on the opposite side of the street watching the house. Staring up at her in the window in her nightgown.

Over the next couple of days Charlotte learned that the leader of that group was a man named Jackson. He was an unsavory sort having been in and out of prison for a series of crimes. He had been making lewd comments around the neighborhood about her going as far as once saying that "he was going to take some of that pussy." This disturbed Charlotte greatly and she considered leaving and returning home never to step on Ellis Street again to be away from those filthy men. She felt unsafe but then one late afternoon she had made a discovery that changed her mind.

It was in the small attic of the house that she found the diary of a previous owner, Janice Berand. According to the diary the Berand siblings had inherited the house from an uncle who owned all sorts of buildings throughout the city of Darkmouth. The neighborhood wasn't as decayed both physically and morally back then so her brother Orson had no objections about taking the house as a home. Neither were superstitious or believed the myths and legends concerning Bower House. A few things in the diary struck struck Charlotte. The first was her description of the chanting noises that Janice would hear at night. The second was her descriptions of her dreams which oddly matched the dreams that Charlotte had been having. The third was the mention of a cellar beneath the house. This was odd because Charlotte never found a door to any cellar. As far as she knew the house didn't seem to have one.

The first place that Charlotte looked was the kitchen, checking the walls and the floor but finding nothing. It was possible that the cellar door was walled up for whatever purpose, but Charlotte couldn't see any signs of that inn the kitchen. She went out to the back of the house next. It was horribly overgrown. The grass was an extremely pale sort of green, almost a gray. Charlotte could make out the remains of what must have once been a lovely little garden with a marble fountain at its center. Charlotte pushed her way through the pale grass towards the fountain to inspect it.

She could see where a statue stood on top of the fountain once sat but was broken off decades ago. Charlotte looked for the statue but couldn't find it. She didn't want to dig through the grass too much, not until she hired someone to cut it for her. There was something in the fountain itself. Just as some of the Sun peaked through the thick, gray clouds she spotted a dull gleam in the corner of her eye. She looked into the fountain and spotted a key sitting on the bottom. Charlotte reached down and grabbed it.

Upon turning around she saw the lecherous Jackson standing on the other side of the broken down fence. He had been watching her and she didn't even realize it. Charlotte thought about what she heard he said about "taking some of that pussy" and quickly made her way back into the house. She tried not to look at him as she did so but couldn't help but glance at him as she went in. He just stared back at her.

Inside, Charlotte locked up the house and then had some tea to settle himself down. After a nerve tonic she managed to settle down. That night she dreamed of Jackson "taking some of that pussy." She was on her back with her legs spread. His hands groped and grabbed at her enormous breasts. His big, hard cock pounded her pussy. She moaned under him as he grunted over her. There were in that inky black darkness as the sound of chanting was coming from all directions. She was enjoying it. Loving it. She was ready to orgasm when she heard a hideous, guttural sound from all directions. Jackson had vanished but something was still inside her. Some disgusting thing fucking her as other invisible things slid over her naked, writhing body.

When she awoke in the morning sunlight, Charlotte was completely aroused. Her head was dizzy. It seemed as though the room was spinning and she was sweating through her nightgown. She rushed out of bed and opened a window. The cool autumn air rushed over skin letting her sigh of relief. She began to calm down.

After breakfast, Charlotte took the trolley to downtown where she visited Mr. Eprham's drug store. He was a family friend and noticed her disturbed appearance. "I've been having bad dreams," she told him, "and I have been experiencing stress concerning my new house."

Mr. Ephram accepted this and sold her a bottle of laudanum at her specific request. She returned home with it where she took a dose of it and felt more at ease at once and spent the rest of the afternoon reading the rest of Janice Berand's journal.

There was no more descriptions of dreams but quite a bit about this phantom cellar. Janice claimed to have found all sorts of strange things in the cellar. She mentioned a stone staircase in the cellar behind an ancient door that required a peculiar key. She had went down this staircase and claimed to have found some massive chamber filled with primitive statues of a distinctly phallic nature. The diary abruptly stopped there. Several blank pages remained and Charlotte wondered what happened to Janice Berand.

~ o ~

Finding Janice Berand turned out to be rather difficult. Orson Berand refused to speak of his sister when Charlotte visited him. She offered him the journal but he refused to so much as touch it. "Burn it," he told her. "Burn it and the house. Rid its filth from the earth."

Charlotte left his house disappointed but still as willful as ever. She went to the library next and looked through the newspaper archives to see if anything could be found. The first day she found nothing and returned to the Bower House, taking the trolley to Ellis Street. As she walked home, the crowd of men led by Jackson were standing on the street near Bower House. Charlotte quickly moved past them and through the iron gate. Once inside she took some more laudanum and drifted off to sleep in the parlor.

She dreamed that she was back in the darkness, laying naked on her back with her legs spread as if presenting herself. She was surrounded by tall, faceless men who were chanting in some hideously crude and primitive language that she couldn't understand. They were stroking themselves while looking down at her and chanting. To her horror, Charlotte found that she couldn't move. Jackson appeared before her, stepping out of the infinite darkness and climbing on top of her. He groped and licked at her huge breasts while the chanting became more intense. He plunged himself inside of her, causing her to moan and arch her back. Charlotte was fucked as the men watched, still chanting in their horrid, indecipherable language. She moaned and cried out not knowing why she was enjoying it so much. She felt his hand gripping her hair as his cock slammed deep into her.

Charlotte looked up and saw something appear in the darkness behind Jackson. It was a hideous monstrosity of dark grey skin with a vaguely humanoid body and a demonic head that resembled something like a deformed pterodactyl. It was massive with great grey wings and long tentacles that protruded from its torso. Charlotte screamed at the sight of it. Its black eyes stared at her and she heard its hideous, guttural voice call for her.

Charlotte woke up on the sofa in her parlor and immediately took some more laudanum. Her entire body was shaking. It was then that she noticed that it was impossibly dark in the house and she had no candles lit nor the fireplace. In a panic she rushed to the fireplace and quickly got a fire going. When the light began to push the wall of dark back, Charlotte saw that the window was open. That was she realized that the front of her dress was open as if someone had groping at her breasts. She went to the window to close, swearing that it was closed when she fell asleep, and noticed muddy boot prints near it. Had she been ravaged in her drug induced sleep? The thought made her shudder and she went and took even more laudanum.

No matter what, Charlotte couldn't pull herself away from Bower House. It had driven her into an obsession. "Jackson had wanted some of this pussy," she thought, "let him have it." She was determined to get to the bottom of Bower House's mysteries at any cost including her virtue and honor. Every man in the neighborhood could take a turn fucking her for all she cared as long as she was still in Bower House.

Her second day at the library bore a little fruit. She had found a newspaper article in the archives mentioning Janice Berand. Thirty years ago she was put in the care of a local asylum for the sexually deranged. The news had a tremendous effect on Charlotte. That was all the information in the article. In the name of decency they no doubt left out the awful details of her descent into moral degeneracy.

That afternoon, Charlotte made the journey to the Dorman Asylum for the Sexually Deranged. It was a large building that seemed hidden by the rest of the city. It was a gothic, fortress like structure of red brick and barred windows behind an iron gate. Black tiled spires of two front towers pierced at the dark clouded sky. The building cast a spell of pure dread over Charlotte as she gazed upon it. It somehow felt familiar to her though she had never been there before.

When she entered the front hall the oddest feeling came over as though she was afraid that she would be trapped there. It was such an unreasonable and irrational fear that Charlotte dismissed it outright and continued her quest to expose the secrets of Bower House.

The nurse at the front desk was pretty blonde girl of about twenty who was more than helpful. Records show that Janice Berand and was admitted to the asylum after finding her naked on the floor of Bower House, gibbering nonsense and covered in a strange, green liquid. Afterwards she was catatonic and brought to the asylum by her brother. Three years later, Janice Berand vanished from her padded cell.

Back home in her parlor, Charlotte returned to Janice Berand's diary to see if there were any clues that she may have missed. Before she did, she made sure that the fireplace and several candles were lit and the windows closed. In the diary, Janice made several mentions of the garden and the fountain that she hadn't paid much attention to before. It was obvious what the next step was, she needed the grass in the back yard cut.

That proved to be a difficult task as no one would come near Bower House, let alone do landscape work on it. Neither in the neighborhood or the rest of the city was a willing worker to be found. The only man she knew who would come near the back of that house was the loathsome Jackson and the thought of inviting him on her property positively revolted her.

There was no one else that she could find and oddly, Charlotte didn't seem to mind the idea that he might force his way in and ravage her senseless on the floor. Anything to get that pale sickly grass cut and see what secrets could be found beneath.

Jackson of course was easy enough for Charlotte to find. He was hanging around the back of the house on the other side of the decaying fence, watching her through the house's murky windows. It was enormous difficulty and courage that she approached him and offered a good amount of pay to cut the grass in the front and back of the house. Jackson spit and agreed with a horrid, lecherous grin that sent a shiver up Charlotte's back. She then informed him that under no circumstances was he to enter the house. He just looked at her and nodded but said nothing in reply. Satisfied with the outcome of the conversation, Charlotte returned inside and locked up the house tight. After a quarter of an hour, she looked out the windows and saw that Jackson was gone.

That next day, Charlotte looked out the windows and saw that Jackson was indeed cutting the grass as she had asked. He had cut the grass at the front of the house. She was a little disappointed in that but reasoned that he would get to the rear of the house soon enough. It surprised her that a man as low, foul and degenerate as Jackson would live up to any agreement. It was a pleasant surprise to be sure.

Throughout the morning she went about cleaning the downstairs of the house. After a light lunch, she bathed and changed and then went to go check on Jackson's progress. The front of the house was done. She went to go check out the back windows. Jackson hadn't started on the back of the house yet. In fact, she couldn't see him anywhere outside. Charlotte became a little concerned as she wanted the work to be over and done with quickly so that she could pay him and hope to never have to speak to the brute again.