Jen thought to herself, I've got to get home. She stopped and smiled to herself. Home. My home. She had never had a home of her own before. But it had been six months since she inherited her grandmother's old house. It was an old house that had fallen into disrepair. Her parents begged her to sell it. Her mom complained, why does a single girl need her own house? Her dad warned her the old place would be a money pit. But Jen was stubborn. She loved visiting her grandmother in this quirky old house. And owning it made her feel closer to her.
All summer she worked on the old house. Painting, stripping old wallpaper, installing new plumbing and appliances. Little by little, through her own hard work, Jen brought the house back to life. Room by room, she transformed the old rickety place into place that was all her own. The kitchen and bathrooms were a lot of work, but for Jen, the bedrooms felt like the hardest part to change. It was a small house with just three bedrooms. The smallest used to be her dad's room when he was a kid. That room she changed into a small office for the seemingly, endless parade of videoconferences that were now part of her workday. The other two rooms were the challenge. One, a little smaller of the two, was her grandmother's old bedroom. The other, larger room had always been a mystery. Even as a kid, her grandmother forbid her from entering that room. Grandma swore it was haunted. As any curious kid, Jen wanted to know more about this haunted room, but any mention would make her grandmother turn white and refused to talk. Over the years, the family would laugh behind Grandma's back about the haunted room. Whenever a box or folding chairs needed to be stored, they were thrown into the haunted room and the door closed quickly.
Now, Grandma was gone and the house was hers. Jen remembered the very first time she entered the haunted room. Part of her expected it to look like something scary, like something out of a horror movie. But, it was just a room, dirty and dusty, filled with boxes of junk, but then as she ventured further into the room, she saw another door. She opened it to find that this room had its own bathroom, complete with a huge clawfoot tub. She asked her dad about it. He told her that room was originally his parent's room. But then, after his father, Jen's grandfather, passed away, something happened there that his mom would never talk about. It happened one Halloween. She closed the room and swore that no one would ever sleep in there again. Over the years, even Jen's dad had forgotten that this room had its own bathroom. It was as if the room ceased to exist
Jen spent the last few months, emptying both rooms, painting them, and sanding and staining the creaky hardwood floors. Tile by tile she restored the hidden bathroom, painstakingly scrubbing and polishing the old tub until it sparkled like new. As fall came, she watched with excitement as the new furnace was installed and the heating system was fired up for the first time in years. Finally, after all the sweat and hard work, the old house was move-in ready, just in time for Jen's first Halloween in the neighborhood.
Fuck, I've got to get home. I do not want to miss it, Jen thought to herself. She raced off the commuter train, jumped into her car and raced home just in time. Jen burst with pride as trick or treaters visited and the neighbors welcomed her. They all watched the kids in their costumes playing in the street until the sun went down and Halloween was over.
Jen was still floating on Cloud Nine when she came inside. She smiled at the gentle hum of the furnace and the hiss of the old radiators as she turned on the heat. She walked upstairs and into her bedroom. Yes, the haunted room was now hers. Whatever ghosts were once hidden in walls were now trapped under pale gray latex paint and Laura Ashley accessories. She decided a long, warm bath would be the perfect ending to a perfect day in her new home. She turned on the bathtub faucets and began to fill the tub. As the water filled, Jen stripped out of her clothes.
Always the epitome of the "girl next door," Jen was gifted with a perfect body, not too tall or short, too fat or skinny. Her 34 C-cup breasts sat high on her frame capped with pink nipples and small areolae that pointed slightly upward. Her tummy was flat, adorned only with a tiny belly-button ring she got while still in high school. Her legs were long and lean, firm from years of her love for hiking, biking and outdoor activities. Between her legs sat a small, soft patch of brown pubic hair, trimmed neatly to expose the cleft of her tight vagina.
As the tub was nearly half full, Jen stepped over the side and sunk into the warm water. She smiled to herself. There was no one to bother her or bang on the door, demanding that she finish up. She lifted her legs from the water and draped them over the sides of the tub, angling her body so that the stream of water from the bath faucet hit perfectly right on her clitoris. It feels so good, she thought. As the water danced over her sensitive skin, Jen closed her eyes and spread her labia, allowing the full stream to reach her now-swollen clit. As she masturbated with the water, an uneasy feeling passed over her, as if she was being watched. Interrupting her play, Jen sat up in the tub and looked around. No one was there. Convinced her mind was playing some Halloween trick on her, a remnant of too many horror movies, Jen laughed to herself and slid back into the soapy water. She closed her eyes again and let the water continue her pleasure. She rocked back and forth against the stream, moaning softly and feeling her body begin to shake and tremble. She felt her toes curl until her whole body shook with the release of her orgasm. Spent and exhausted in the best way possible, Jen soaked in the tub as the feelings subsided until her fingers and toes were pruned and wrinkly.
Jen stepped out of the tub and dried herself with a thick, terry cloth towel. After rubbing herself down with her nightly routine of lotions, she pulled on a pair of soft, loose-fitting drawstring pants and put on an old college tank top. Jen made her rounds in the house, checking to make sure that all the doors were locked and the alarm was set. She climbed into bed, turned off the lights, and within minutes, Jen's mind drifted into slumber. As she slept, that uneasy feeling returned as if eyes were on her, peering through her in the darkness. Not wanting to wake, Jen struggled to push the feeling out of her mind, allowing her to descend slowly into a dream. Her body relaxed and her mind fell deeper into the dream state. But it was short-lived.
With a panic, Jen woke to the feeling of a cold, bony hand grabbing ahold of her ankles and pulling her by the leg to the edge of the bed. She tried to scream out, but there was no sound. Her eyes darted quickly around the darkened room. She could not see anything. Then from the darkness, she saw a pair of red eyes, something human but not quite, glaring at her. She shouted out in desperation, "who's there?"
No one responded. But Jen could feel as though whoever or whatever was there fed upon her fear, toying with her, relishing in her despair. She flailed her legs wildly, trying to kick herself loose from the bony grip. But it only tightened, pulling her closer to the edge of the bed. A chill ran through her body as she felt the cold, bony fingers moved up her legs and over her stomach. The hands dragged over her body, scratching her skin as they moved upward over her. She felt the fingers grip the neck of her tank top and begin to pull on it. She continued to struggle as the jagged nails tore through the fabric, the hands pulling the shredded clothing from her body, freeing her breasts. Her skin burned as the nails clawed at her, removing the shreds of her shirt. The odor of rotting flesh rose over her, filling her nose with the acrid scent of decay.
Jen continued to writhe and struggle, but was powerless. She could feel a hand gripping her breasts and lifting them in the darkness to an eager mouth. She felt lips, cold, cracked and dry, close over her nipples. She howled in pain as the lips tightened and razor-sharp teeth sunk into the soft skin of her breast. The pain, already immeasurable, grew as she felt the mouth begin to suck hard. She felt the sucking deep into her breasts as if hidden ducts and pathways in her flesh were being opened for the first time. Her skin hurt as breasts responded, swelling and becoming tender and full. As she struggled to comprehend what was happening, Jen could feel the mouth moving, suckling. She never felt anything like this before, but instantly knew what was happening. As if some undiscovered maternal instinct had been kicked alive, her breasts were shocked into producing milk and, now, her body was forced to nourish this unknown assailant. With each tug on her nipples, she could feel the mother's milk pulled forcibly from deep inside her breasts. She no longer had control of her body, the endorphins that release during breast-feeding soaked her brain, mixing her fear, disgust and anguish with an undeniable feeling of complete euphoria. Without warning, Jen could hear herself moaning with sexual pleasure as her breasts were drained.
