niteowluk2003
02-24-2020, 06:18 PM
I began writing this story as a way of broadening my story subjects, this is my first attempt at an erotic horror story. But is it good enough to finish and develop it into a mini series of erotic tales around a haggard witch and an disused tailors shop. The question i ask is for you to read my first draft of part of the prologue. then leave comments if you like or dislike the story but more importantly is it worth developing it further.
In anticipation i thank you for taking the time and trouble to read and respond to it.
The draft...
Working title…
©2020-Copyright. All rights reserved, Niteowluk2003.
The dark heavy laden skies, were suddenly illuminated as violent flashes of sheet lightning illuminated it to the billionth degree, just as quick was the triple peal of thunder that seemed to start in many places but always seemed to end up directly above, Johnathon’s head. The light rain suddenly became a torrent as if someone had just turned on a fireman’s hose, Johnathon just managed to duck into the nearest shop doorway. It wasn’t until he thought about it but the doorway, he had subconsciously chosen was an empty shop. The old tailor’s shop had been vacant for some fifteen months and yet there were still the naked mannequins posing now in what seemed risqué poses. He mused to himself that if he imagined then clothed then the poses seemed to become modest and decent.
Johnathon, never expecting the door to be unlocked, playfully gave it a push, but the door swung open, suddenly whether it was another flash of lightning or as it appeared to him, a strobe light flooded the shop with brilliant white light, he found himself inside the shop. Johnathon then swore, “What the fuck…” his sentence cut short as he was positive one of the mannequins had moved. Johnathon found himself berating himself as being a complete moron, Mannequins don’t move by themselves. He was stood rooted to the spot when the next deafening peal of thunder broke, time seemed to stand still for a few minutes before he recovered his senses. He was almost halfway out of the shop door when the next flash of lightning struck, he naturally turned and glanced back into the shop. There it was again; he was definite that the male mannequin he thought had moved previously had clearly moved this time.
Summoning all his nerve and courage, he returned into the shop; each step towards the mannequin in question seemed to sap his energy and weaken his courage. Again he berated himself for being so stupid, inanimate objects simply do not move by themselves; but now stood by the offending dummy, his logic began to drain away because clearly in the fallen dust were clear freshly made streaks, just like those a two legged mannequin would make if it had lost the power of it’s feet and almost dragged them along instead of lifting them.
The more Johnathon reasoned that what he was seeing was impossible, the more the physical evidence challenged that reasoning. With the next flash of lightning, the mannequins failed to move but another one moved enough for it to fall over with a crash that almost scared Johnathon witless. Johnathon’s own power to move seemed to have left him as his disbelieving eyes watched as firstly the door moved to close. Now you could argue that the wind had whipped around the shop and led to the door closing. But the rusty, almost defunct lock needed a hefty old push to shut it the last few inches and besides the was sure he heard the door lock itself. Impossible as that was without the mortice key.
Not normally prone to difficulty in breathing, Johnathon now struggled to fill his lungs with air and his skin felt like thousands of ants were crawling all over it. Terror quickly began to fill his mind as unbelievably all the mannequins began to move so slowly that in the first instances the movement could barely be seen by the naked eye. But he began to track their miniscule movements by the marks appearing in the dust covering the floor. Not only were the mannequins moving but they were coming towards him. Johnathon’s brain screamed silently at him that this could not be happening.
Silly as it was, he even tried pinching hard on his skin to make sure he was not dreaming but all that did was cause a bruise on his forearm. Slowly but surely the mannequins moved to surround him, you are probably wondering why, if the mannequins were moving so slowly, then why did he not just run at the door and kick his way through the glass panel. He too had that thought, but when he tried to move his right foot it just would not respond. In fact, apart from his skin having the ability to sense the creeping sense of dread and its capacity to right now begin pouring gallons of sweat through his pores, his movement was as dead as the mannequins should be.
Powerless now to move and more worryingly, being surrounded by the mannequins, his mind now registered another impossible fact, the male mannequins had now grown anatomically correctness. In fact, putting it bluntly, they had grown very realistic cocks and balls. It seemed like hours since this unbelievable charade began and now the mannequins encircled Johnathon, he was simply trapped when suddenly from somewhere in the back of the shop a loud cackling laugh boomed out.
Then into view came a grotesque looking women, if you took the wicked witch of the west from the wizard of Oz film and trebled the ugliness, you virtually had this cackling cow which now advanced towards Johnathon. Finally, she stepped into the circle of the mannequins encircling Johnathon and greeted each dummy in turn by licking her hand and then sliding it along each penis of the dummies. Instantly each prick grew another two inches, Johnathon suddenly thought, such a skill would make him a fortune if he could get away from here.
Now fixing her stare onto Johnathon, which incidentally was not easy as her eyes seemed fixed in a cross-eyed stare. The grotesque witch sucked air between her teeth, sounding like a lizard with a lisp. She stretched out her scrawny arm and pointed her bony finger towards Johnathon, she then hissed, “Got you!” and cackled another laugh at his predicament. The witch clicked her fingers and invisible hands held Johnathon tightly, not allowing him to budge an inch. The witch hissed, “Do you want to make a deal, John?”
Johnathon managed to growl a response, “my name is Johnathon, and you can go back to hell!”
She laughed her crazy laugh and hissed, “Oh I am going back to hell after I have put you through it!” and the she added, “Hell, I mean!” “Enough teasing me now, John!”, “I am offering you a deal, you bring me twelve male souls and once you have fucked me you can leave with a cheque for £1,000,000 clear!”
Johnathon responded, “you would have to treble that money for me to even show you my prick!”
“Oh, come now John, you think I haven’t seen your cock already!” she hissed and suddenly there was a vision playing out on the back wall of the shop. It was last week when Johnathon took a woman for their first date to the cinema. Now the witch transformed her-self into that woman but the sound coming from the woman’s mouth was the haggard witch’s voice. The image showed how in the cinema, Johnathon had begun kissing the woman whilst she skilfully worked his cock out of his pants but refuse to suck it. Resulting Johnathon leaving early with the woman remaining in the cinema.
In anticipation i thank you for taking the time and trouble to read and respond to it.
The draft...
Working title…
©2020-Copyright. All rights reserved, Niteowluk2003.
The dark heavy laden skies, were suddenly illuminated as violent flashes of sheet lightning illuminated it to the billionth degree, just as quick was the triple peal of thunder that seemed to start in many places but always seemed to end up directly above, Johnathon’s head. The light rain suddenly became a torrent as if someone had just turned on a fireman’s hose, Johnathon just managed to duck into the nearest shop doorway. It wasn’t until he thought about it but the doorway, he had subconsciously chosen was an empty shop. The old tailor’s shop had been vacant for some fifteen months and yet there were still the naked mannequins posing now in what seemed risqué poses. He mused to himself that if he imagined then clothed then the poses seemed to become modest and decent.
Johnathon, never expecting the door to be unlocked, playfully gave it a push, but the door swung open, suddenly whether it was another flash of lightning or as it appeared to him, a strobe light flooded the shop with brilliant white light, he found himself inside the shop. Johnathon then swore, “What the fuck…” his sentence cut short as he was positive one of the mannequins had moved. Johnathon found himself berating himself as being a complete moron, Mannequins don’t move by themselves. He was stood rooted to the spot when the next deafening peal of thunder broke, time seemed to stand still for a few minutes before he recovered his senses. He was almost halfway out of the shop door when the next flash of lightning struck, he naturally turned and glanced back into the shop. There it was again; he was definite that the male mannequin he thought had moved previously had clearly moved this time.
Summoning all his nerve and courage, he returned into the shop; each step towards the mannequin in question seemed to sap his energy and weaken his courage. Again he berated himself for being so stupid, inanimate objects simply do not move by themselves; but now stood by the offending dummy, his logic began to drain away because clearly in the fallen dust were clear freshly made streaks, just like those a two legged mannequin would make if it had lost the power of it’s feet and almost dragged them along instead of lifting them.
The more Johnathon reasoned that what he was seeing was impossible, the more the physical evidence challenged that reasoning. With the next flash of lightning, the mannequins failed to move but another one moved enough for it to fall over with a crash that almost scared Johnathon witless. Johnathon’s own power to move seemed to have left him as his disbelieving eyes watched as firstly the door moved to close. Now you could argue that the wind had whipped around the shop and led to the door closing. But the rusty, almost defunct lock needed a hefty old push to shut it the last few inches and besides the was sure he heard the door lock itself. Impossible as that was without the mortice key.
Not normally prone to difficulty in breathing, Johnathon now struggled to fill his lungs with air and his skin felt like thousands of ants were crawling all over it. Terror quickly began to fill his mind as unbelievably all the mannequins began to move so slowly that in the first instances the movement could barely be seen by the naked eye. But he began to track their miniscule movements by the marks appearing in the dust covering the floor. Not only were the mannequins moving but they were coming towards him. Johnathon’s brain screamed silently at him that this could not be happening.
Silly as it was, he even tried pinching hard on his skin to make sure he was not dreaming but all that did was cause a bruise on his forearm. Slowly but surely the mannequins moved to surround him, you are probably wondering why, if the mannequins were moving so slowly, then why did he not just run at the door and kick his way through the glass panel. He too had that thought, but when he tried to move his right foot it just would not respond. In fact, apart from his skin having the ability to sense the creeping sense of dread and its capacity to right now begin pouring gallons of sweat through his pores, his movement was as dead as the mannequins should be.
Powerless now to move and more worryingly, being surrounded by the mannequins, his mind now registered another impossible fact, the male mannequins had now grown anatomically correctness. In fact, putting it bluntly, they had grown very realistic cocks and balls. It seemed like hours since this unbelievable charade began and now the mannequins encircled Johnathon, he was simply trapped when suddenly from somewhere in the back of the shop a loud cackling laugh boomed out.
Then into view came a grotesque looking women, if you took the wicked witch of the west from the wizard of Oz film and trebled the ugliness, you virtually had this cackling cow which now advanced towards Johnathon. Finally, she stepped into the circle of the mannequins encircling Johnathon and greeted each dummy in turn by licking her hand and then sliding it along each penis of the dummies. Instantly each prick grew another two inches, Johnathon suddenly thought, such a skill would make him a fortune if he could get away from here.
Now fixing her stare onto Johnathon, which incidentally was not easy as her eyes seemed fixed in a cross-eyed stare. The grotesque witch sucked air between her teeth, sounding like a lizard with a lisp. She stretched out her scrawny arm and pointed her bony finger towards Johnathon, she then hissed, “Got you!” and cackled another laugh at his predicament. The witch clicked her fingers and invisible hands held Johnathon tightly, not allowing him to budge an inch. The witch hissed, “Do you want to make a deal, John?”
Johnathon managed to growl a response, “my name is Johnathon, and you can go back to hell!”
She laughed her crazy laugh and hissed, “Oh I am going back to hell after I have put you through it!” and the she added, “Hell, I mean!” “Enough teasing me now, John!”, “I am offering you a deal, you bring me twelve male souls and once you have fucked me you can leave with a cheque for £1,000,000 clear!”
Johnathon responded, “you would have to treble that money for me to even show you my prick!”
“Oh, come now John, you think I haven’t seen your cock already!” she hissed and suddenly there was a vision playing out on the back wall of the shop. It was last week when Johnathon took a woman for their first date to the cinema. Now the witch transformed her-self into that woman but the sound coming from the woman’s mouth was the haggard witch’s voice. The image showed how in the cinema, Johnathon had begun kissing the woman whilst she skilfully worked his cock out of his pants but refuse to suck it. Resulting Johnathon leaving early with the woman remaining in the cinema.