The Haunted Vagina (9 page)

After a couple days of playing catch with the skeleton, training it not to bite my feet, trying not to move so much so that the enormous wound on my back will fully heal, Fig finally returns.

I’m completely like her now. The long gooey horns, the white and red-splotched flesh, the large eyes and small mouth, the bouncy latex skin. My movements are just as unnatural as hers, like I’m claymated or computer-generated.

“You’re like me now,” Fig says from above. Her screaky voice is like needles to my ears. “You
do
belong here.”

She drops a rope down to me.

“You have to play with me,” she says. “No running away?”

“I’ll be good,” I say. My voice is alien. It is just as squeaky as hers. My voice box must have been turned to rubber.

The rope is easy to climb with my new lightweight body. I could probably even climb the cliff with ease. I look back to see the skeleton climbing the rope after me, chattering its teeth at my ankles.

As soon as I get out, I’m going to take off. I need to get back to Stacy. Hopefully, she’ll still recognize me when I come out. Hopefully, I’ll be able to change back.

Halfway up, Fig says, “Don’t think you can run away. Good zephrans are guarding the bridge. Bad zephrans are under the bridge.”

I keep climbing.

The skeletons aren’t going to stop me. If I have to start cutting off Fig’s fingers until she orders them to go away, I will. Even if I have to kill her. Nothing’s going to stop me from getting back to my love.

Outside the mineshaft, Fig feels my new skin. I check it out myself, in the new lighting. My nipples and body hair have disappeared. The hair on my head has grown in. I wonder if my eyes and hair have become red. Stacy’s going to freak out when she sees me.

“Let’s go play!” Fig says, like an excited little girl.

She’s such a sad lonely creature. No wonder she’s always been crying, weeping out of Stacy’s vagina for the past twenty-odd years.

I follow her through the field of orange flowers, just waiting for the right time to grab her. There aren’t any skeletons with her, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t around. My skeleton follows behind us. I’m not sure whether its on my side or hers.

“This is going to be fun!” she creaky-says.

“What game do you want to play?” I creaky-say.

She hops up and down at me. I go to grab her, but I fall over as the ground starts rumbling. An earthquake.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“Is this the one?” she says, looking around.

I watch the trees thrashing over us.

“Follow me,” she says. “Just in case.”

We run up the hill, stumbling on the shaky ground, trying to get to the highest peak in the valley. We enter the mansion and go up to the roof, where all the other cartoonish people are standing.

They are all looking in one direction, in the distance.

“Is this the one? Is this the one?” Fig yells over the rumbling.

What the hell is going on?

I stand up on a table, to see over the crowd, to see what they are looking at. They are all looking toward the cliff where I came from, but there’s nothing of interest over there . . .

Wait a minute . . . Stacy’s not . . .

A geyser erupts out of the side of the cliff, a burst of white fluid. Then another burst of white fluid. Then another.

She is!

Stacy’s . . . having sex!

I can’t keep my mouth closed. Like an avalanche, the valley fills with some guy’s cum. Some guy Stacy’s cheating on me with. It’s only been a few weeks! And I’m still inside her! What is she doing!

I step down from the table as the earthquake calms down. She didn’t even use a condom. What the hell is she thinking? What if she gets a disease? She wouldn’t have sex with me without a condom for months after we had been dating, after she sent me to the doctor to make sure I was completely STD free. How could she . . .

The crowd keeps staring off into the distance.

“This could be it,” Fig says, pointing at a crater a couple miles away from the cliff.

The lake of sperm oozes across the landscape, flooding the trees, some houses. As the white gook enters the crater, the people hold their breath and look up at the sky.

“Watch for it,” Fig tells me, pointing at the clouds.

I look up.

The clouds scatter, as if wiped away with a rag, revealing the dome-shaped purple sky. Then the entire crowd leaps up with insane cheering as a pink film stretches across the atmosphere, covering us like a blanket.

“It happened! It happened!” Fig cries.

I don’t have to ask to know what they are cheering about.

I already know . . .

Stacy’s been impregnated.

I drop to my butt and look away. My skeleton is in a corner, smacking spiders out of webs and chattering its teeth at them.

I place my rubbery hands in my face. The tears feel foreign against my skin.

“Ha!” Fig squints her face, pointing at me. “You can’t leave now!”

I wipe my eyes.

“I told you,” she says. “You’re going to play with me forever! Mom said so! She’s never wrong!”

She’s right. I can’t leave. Not for a decade or two, at least.

The impregnation cut off the tunnel between this world and the other. We’re no longer inside Stacy’s body, we’re inside of her baby’s. The opening on the cliff’s face has disappeared. I’m trapped in here until a new one opens. Once Stacy’s child is old enough to let me through. And even then, I don’t know if my new body will be able to survive out there.

I wander through the mansion, pacing the musty halls, ignoring the inhabitants, pushing Fig and my skeleton away from me when they try to follow.

How could Stacy do this to me? Not even a single month has gone by and she’s already sleeping with somebody else . . . She’s the one who forced me to come here. Why didn’t she send somebody in to look for me?

This can’t be right. She loves me. She would never do this to me.

Maybe it wasn’t her fault. Maybe she was raped. Or maybe it was some kind of accident. Maybe some guy had volunteered to come into this world to search for me but accidentally ejaculated while trying to climb through her vaginal tunnel . . . Or maybe the guy never believed her about the world in her womb. Maybe he just thought Stacy was some crazy chick and thought he could take advantage of her. “You want me to enter your vagina? Sure, no problem!” Or when he was trying to climb inside, maybe Stacy just got swept up in the moment. She could have been so turned on as he tried entering her that they ended up screwing instead of saving me.

That’s something I always hated about Stacy. She’s the type of person who always gets swept up in the moment. Whenever she’s having a good time with her friends, she’ll always forget about the plans she had with me. Whenever guys flirt with her, she always flirts back, even when I’m standing right next to her. I know she loves me, but sometimes her emotions blind her and carry her away.

For all I know, she could have done it to tease me. It’s just like Stacy to get turned on by the idea of having sex with some strange guy while I’m trapped inside of her. I’m sure that idea would have turned her on. I always hated her sick fetishes. Like how she sometimes liked to choke me or choke herself while fucking. She had some kind of neck fetish. I especially hated when she would lie on top of me and fuck my throat. She liked the feeling of my Adam’s apple against her clit, and liked to choke me with her thighs. She also made me hum while she was grinding my neck so that my voice box would work like a vibrator.

I want to leave her for sleeping with another guy. I want to kick her out of my house and tell her I never want to see her again. But I can’t. I’ll never be able to leave her for as long as I live.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I leave the mansion and stroll down the hill, trying not to look into the clear pink sky. It reminds me too much of Stacy.

After passing a few houses, I realize I’m being followed by Fig. I stop and sneer back at her as she approaches, clenching my fists as if to punch her in the face if she gets too close.

“What?” I yell.

“It’s bright out here,” she says, completely unfazed by my anger.

She wiggles her nostrils at the air, as if trying to smell the pink of the sky.

“Let’s get out of the bright,” she says, wandering into an abandoned lime green house on the left.

I watch her disappear into the house without looking back. I wait in the street for a while, staring at my rubbery red feet. She doesn’t come back out to see what’s keeping me. She’s so odd. I decide to leave and continue down the road, but something prevents me from going. Something drives me to go into the house with Fig. Maybe I just don’t want to go to the bottom of the hill. There are skeletons down there, and the neighborhood of black deformities, not to mention there’s an enormous lake of some guy’s rancid cum. Maybe I have nothing better to do. Maybe I just don’t want to be alone.

I find her upstairs, squatting in the hallway. Her shiny rump sticking in the air as she pulls on carpet fragments.

“They like the attention,” she says.

I realize I am checking out her ass when I see my reflection in one of her white butt cheeks, and quickly turn away before she catches me. I pass her and enter one of the bedrooms. It is filled with three beds, three dressers, and a large window with chainmail curtains. A kid’s room.

“We should play now,” Fig says behind me.

I shrug.

Fig attempts to kiss me. I turn my head away and she begins sucking on my neck with latex lips.

I push her away. “What are you doing?”

She pulls me by the hand toward one of the kiddie beds.

“We’re playing,” she says.

Her wormy fingers curl around my penis. Playing? This is what she meant by playing? She slips her tongue into my tiny mouth as she fondles my squishy member into erection.

I shove her away. “No.”

She looks confused at me. “But we’re supposed to play!”

“I don’t want to play with you.”

“You’re not for her anymore,” she says, rubbing my arms. “You’re for me.”

She knows I’m thinking about Stacy. I clench my fists, my face turning red in Fig’s cartoon eyes. I want to hurt someone. I want someone to feel my pain, physically. I want to make somebody pay for all that’s happened to me.

As my rage builds, Fig watches me, masturbating at me. A vein in my forehead twitches as she wipes her greasy fingers across my lips and nostrils, just like Stacy used to do. Stacy always liked to see my reaction to the taste of her, to the smell of her, even though she knew it pissed me off.

But Fig tastes different than Stacy. She is the flavor of roses. Flower sweat. Her scent fills my lungs and gives my breath a fluffy texture.

Something in my brain snaps and I find myself lunging at Fig. I grab her by the elbows and squeeze her as hard as I can, trying to crush pain into her snake-like arms. Then I throw her to the ground as hard as I can, pin her down, and choke her the way Stacy used to choke me.

I stop when I see her face. She’s looking at me, confused. Not hurt or scared, just not sure what I’m trying to do. I take my hands away from her throat and look away from her, shamefaced.

“That’s not how you do it,” she creaky-says beneath me.

I feel her grabbing at my erection and pointing it into her crotch. She rubs it against her slippery opening, her breath cold on my neck. Then she grabs my butt with both hands and pulls me into her.

Inside, it’s like hot jelly or maybe rubber cement. She writhes under me with a crooked smile, gripping my hips and pulsing against me. We kiss each other with our tiny mouths, pressing against each other’s smooth plastic skin. My rubbery penis pumps into her latex vagina, creating a loud squeaky sound that echoes through the musty room. She doesn’t have any nipples, but I still lick her breasts as if they were there. It doesn’t seem to do anything for her, though.

Our sex feels far from human. More like snail sex. Or jellyfish sex. Or Japanese anime sex. Our boneless bodies twisting into inhuman positions. It’s incredibly strange, but it might just be the best sex I’ve ever had.