Cabin fever posted in Erotic Horror

The cabin was exactly as I had expected it to be. The wood was old and the paint was cracked. A cold wind whipped through my hair and left my fingers numb as I fumbled with the keys in a stubborn old lock. Eventually the mechanism succumbed to my insistent rattling and the door swung open, allowing me to rush inside and slam it behind me.

An hour later and I'd braved the wind once more in order to retrieve my bags, and had even managed to start a fire. The place was heating up nicely by now and the decision to brave and isolation of a mountain cabin might not have been a terrible one after all. I mean sure I was all alone and harldy any of the electrics worked but maybe that's just what I needed you know. Some quiet, uninterrupted isolation in a beautiful location, surrounded by nature and free to get on with my writing. Now I know what you think but I'm not another cliché, well not totally anyway. I'm not some totured genius about to default on my contract for failing to pop out another book this quarter. I'm a just a regular girl with a job too boring to mention who needed to get away for a bit. Writing just happens to be my escape

I spent the afternoon on the patio, huddled up in my warmest clothes and taking in the startlingly gorgeous view. Studying the mountains one by one and observing the rivers and lakes below. The wind was constantly whistling and whipping at my face but so long as I stayed wrapped in my layers I could handle a cold nose and rosey cheeks. After a couple of hours I retreated back into the warm and the welcoming embrace of a cup of hot chocolate. It's strange to say but after only a half a day I already felt better. Everything was so quiet here and the total isolation gave me a sense of freedom that the cities endless possibilities somehow failed to provide.

Not long after I was tucked away in bed with a fire burning in the furnace and a good book beneath my nose. There were a mountain of covers and blankets to keep me warm and thick pillows to hide from the cold. I read for what seemed like hours, lost in the authors creation and free from any thoughts of time restrictions or rude alarm clocks waiting to punish me for my late night reading. Soon enough however, fatigue took it's toll and I found myself drifting into a deep, dream filled sleep. I woke a few hours later shivering and groping for the blankets and covers but I found none. Forcing my heavy eyes open I looked around the room. The blinds on the window were up and a fierce storm was raging outside, snow was piled thick against the glass and I couldn't make out anything beyond the weather. Another shiver reminded me why I was awake and I looked over the edge of the bed to find everything bundled up in a heap. "Must have kicked them off while I slept" I said out loud, wondering why I felt the need to say anything at all. But I knew the reason, I was scared. I didn't know why, I was a logical person and there was no reason to be afraid. But I was, I could feel it deep down in my stomach.

Reaching out for the covers I felt totally exposed in my bra and panties, even though nobody was there to see me, my skin crawled as if a thousand eyes were boring into my soul. I yanked the fallen covers back onto the bed and snuggled up with the pillows before closing my eyes and forcing myself to think of other things. Eventually sleep took me once more and I managed to sleep right through til morning. I woke again with the covers on the floor but refused to give it a moments thought. Instead I stood and headed for the window, leaning down to get a good view through the glass I saw that the storm had past but the snow had stayed. It must have been at least 5 foot thick on the east side. Which explained why I could barely see my car.

20 minutes and a coffee later I managed the force the front door open just enough to realise that I was going nowhere. Deep down the thought terrified me but instead of letting it show I reasoned that I was planning on staying a while anyway. Let the snow hang around for a bit too. And so went about my routine of drinking hot chocolate and sitting down to write for hours at a time. This lasted right up until dinner time when I felt stomach rumbling. Unwilling to start a fight with my own body I decided to give in and eat something. The cabin was well equipped and the orgin owner obviously enjoyed cooking as the kitchen area was perfectly arranged with everything within easy reach. I however am a very simple cook with very simple needs and so I opened a tin of chicken soup and poured it in a pot to heat.

I sat down to eat at the table and stared out of the window but it was so dark at this point I was mostly staring at my own reflection. I saw my shoulder length, dirty blonde hair frame my face and tried to see the pretty girl so many swore that I was. I could see the body that they admired and the 34dd breasts that drew plenty of attention despite what I did with them but I couldn't see the face. It was like looking at someone else, almost like looking at a man... "Wait I've never looked like a man before" I said to myself before freezing in my chair. "Then who the fuck is that staring back at you!" My inner voice screamed as I dropped the spoon and forced my stiff limbs into action. Jumping up from the chair and grabbing a knife from the kitchen worktop. I spun back toward the window, ready to face the danger but something was amiss. From this angle all I could see was a dark mass in the distance, no face that's for sure. Tentatively I returned toy seat at looked back at the same position. I saw the face again, but it really was mine, the reflection had just morphed with darkness behind and given me a more masculine look.

Eventually my heart rate returned to normal and I managed to finish my soup before heading to the shower. I was told to manage the amount of hlt water I used as it could run out at any minute but right now I needed to relax and if that meant taking a shower then so be it. The bathroom was tiny and held the heat well. Stepping inside I dropped my towel and felt a sudden urge to touch myself, my body felt so sensitive and my fingers were determined to explore every inch of skin they could reach. It was such a sensual experience, standing there alone in the tiny room as my fingers played across my breasts and tugged at my nipples before dipping down between my thighs. In no time at all I was dropping to my knees as I rigorously fingered my own needy pussy, panting and sweating in the heat of the room until I finally pushed myself over the edge.

I few minutes later I entered the shower with sticky fingers and red cheeks. As the refreshing water cascaded down my skin I wondered what had came over me. I mean sure I was no stranger to touching myself but this came out of nowhere. I was in mood for fooling around, especially after scaring myself like that at dinner. It was if i had no control over my body. Leaning back against the tiles I let my muscles relax and decided to let it go. I was obviously just worked up and tense. It was a good release. "Maybe you're one of those girls who gets off on fear" something in the back of my mind whispered. I thought about for a moment before shuddering and dismissing the idea. "No, I don't think so" I replied in my head "being scared is not a turn on" I added with a firm tone, deciding that my words put an end to the silly notion.

And I thought they had, that was until I fell asleep in the living room. The book slipping from my hands and hitting the floor with a thud as I began to snooze. My white robe falling open as one leg swung down off the cushions to reveal my soft, clean skin and neatly waxed pussy. Unaware of my unladylike position I began to dream. A dark a disturbing dream where my life was invaded by darkness and cold. There was a man in my bed. He was telling me what to do and I was obeying. God it felt good to obey, even if he is scary. He hit me and I fell to the floor with a scream but when I came up there were no tears, only a smile. A smile and a small dribble of blood that dripped down my chin and into my chest were it splashed like cum. I looked down and saw myself covered in jizz. Then he hit me again and I felt myself fall to the floor. The blood and cum were gone and I was wearing a bathrobe. I looked around and realised I was awake. The candles were flickering and shadows were dancing on the walls but I was awake. Ignoring the heat between my legs I pulled myself up and tried not to think about the dream.

Later that night I tossed and turned in bed. Unable to sleep my fingers kept tracing the area of skin where the blood and cum had dropped. I felt as though I could still feel it there, sticky and hot. Just my imagination I guess but fuck, it felt so real. After a couple hours tossing and turning I gave up on sleep. Instead I made my way to the kitchen and fixed myself some chocolate to sip before flipping open my laptop. I pulled up a blank page and began to write. What happened next was incredible. My fingers flew across the keyboard and the screen was soon plastered with words, sentences and paragraphs! It was as i f the words were flowing from a second consciousness that I had only the slightest ability to control.

It wasn't until at least three hours later that my fingers ceased tapping at keys and my tired body began to slump down in the chair. Staring at the screen I saw my work and could only recall the smallest slither of it's contents. Desperate to read through it I sat up in my chair and tried to focus but it was no good, my vision was blurred and I was finding it hard to breathe, too hard in fact. This was more than just fatigue. I could feel something restricting my windpipe, something tightly wrapped around my neck, restricting oxygen and forcing me to pass out...

I woke up a few hours later with vague memories of another disturbing dream. Something about a large room full of women's lower halves and a line of shadows. I stood gingerly and made my way to the bathroom. With tired, puffy eyes I looked into the mirror and was horrified to discover that my neck was marked by bruising from left to right and was very tender. Wracking my brains I remembered feeling short of breath before I fell asleep, just after writing.... Writing... What did I write? Momentarily forgetting my bruises I dashed out to the laptop and began to read. It was a short story written in first person about a spirit that lived in a cabin. I wrote this? Continuing down the page the story recounted several events including the arrival and subsequent rape, manipulation and possession of a young woman who was staying the cabin. My body began to shake I read back all the events since my arrival, written as if someone else had steered my hand. I felt for the bruises on my neck once more and winced with pain and fear. The final line read "And as I forced the poor thing to type out her final days I slipped my belt around her neck and squeezed until the bitch died in blissful ignorance."

I slammed the laptop shut before rushing to the bedroom to pack my bags. I wasn't sure if I was going crazy or if this place really was haunted but either way I had to get out. Five minutes later everything I owned was safely secured and dragged into the hallway. "Until the bitch died in blissful ignorance." The last line popped into my head just as I placed my hand on the door. But I wasn't dead, surely if there was a presence here it would know that. I sunk to the floor and let my head fall into my arms. Reason had set in and I'd already began to dismiss the idea that the cabin was haunted and instead began to entertain the more realistic yet possibility more worrying possibility that I was losing my mind. To be able to write that entire story and manage to strangle myaf without any real knowledge of it all, well it didn't make me seem sane.

I stood slowly and looked out of the door window. The car was almost free of snow but the sun was still a few hours away and to drive down in anything other than full daylight was a huge risk. "Fine" I said evenly, trying to regain my composure "Fine I'll wait a few hours and go when the sun shows itself." It felt good to feel in control again, to dispel the idea that someone was here. I moved to the living room and took a seat at the table. It was still dark enough to see my reflection in the glass but this time it was only my face, not the distorted vision of an unwelcome visitor. No he looked more like the reflection next to mine..... My eyes flew open and my blood turned to ice as I stared at the cold smile of the second reflection, then a bone shuddering chill ran down my spine as I felt his breath on my neck and heard him say "I've got good news for you bitch, you're not crazy!" With that he took a firm hold of my hair and used it to slam my head into the table. Everything went fuzzy after that but I vaguely remembered head being lifted and forcefully slammed back down at least one more time before I passed out.

A while later I woke up with a throbbing headache and God knows how many bruises. My entire body seemed to be in pain and there was dried blood on my naked chest that had dripped from the wound over my left eye. Panic set in suddenly after that and i soon recalled what had happened. "The ghost was real, the ghost was fucking real!" I hissed at myself before trying to move. It was no surprise that I couldn't. I wasn't getting out of this so easily and judging by how brutally I'd already been beaten things would only get worse. Just as my eyes closed and my mind began to settle my entire body was dragged upright by the ropes around my wrists. Hanging in mid air the coarse fibers bit painfully into my skin and I let out a pathetic sob. "Why didn't I leave when I had the chance" I said through tears that dripped to the floor.

"Because you wanted a story." Came a voice out of nowhere, it's icy tone seemed to creep over my skin, seeping into every pore until I was shivering uncontrollably. The next thing I knew he was staring me in the face. For the first time had a clear view of my captor and it was a truly horrific sight. His skin was pale, almost grey and his small, perfectly round grey eyes were partly obscured by lank greasy black hair. He opened his mouth to smile and I saw two rows of perfectly white teeth and black gums. He then said something but a loud scream kept me from hearing it, a scream I soon realised was coming from me. Rolling his eyes the bastard showed me his hand, almost human but with longer pointy fingers. "If the bitch wants to scream I'll give it a reason too!" He took the same hand he'd shown me and placed it gently on my stomach. I looked down and tears dripped from my cheeks as I watched. His fingers were heating my skin, only warm at first but it soon built so a searing white hot pain that cooked my skin like a piece of my prime meat. I began to howl louder than ever before finally I felt him inside me. Looking down once more I saw that his hand had disappeared into my stomach and could then feel him gently caressing my organs. At this point I was shrieking like a mental patient, feeling like my screams would shatter the cabins windows.

Then suddenly the pain was gone. My insides were no longer molested and my skin felt completely normal. That didn't stop me screaming though, I was either losing my mind already or soon would do I f exposed to much more of this. Then out of nowhere a harsh slap connected with my face and sent my head spinning to the left, a trickle of blood dripping from a small gash where his nail had caught me "now" he said in that cold, insidious voice "I'm going to make you a deal" he then grabbed my face, squeezing the cheeks together as he forced me to look into those sick little, spherical eyes. "You're going to have my child, I'm going to put my seed in you. Then you're going to raise whatever comes out of your delightful cunt and 18 years later, daddy's gonna come to the birthday party with a special treat. Understand?"

He didn't wait for me to respond, I don't know if I could of anyway, my body felt like it belonged to somebody else and I was just trespassing on their life. I remember everything he did to me after that. I remember every hour he fucked me. How he spent time enjoying every part of me he could take pleasure from. I remember how he choked me with his member before taking me again and again and again in every hole I had while threatening to open me up and fuck me in some new ones too. I remember all of that but thankfully I barely felt it, I was too far gone. About 18 years gone to be exact, already worrying about my unborn child and what was in store for them when that fateful day would come.

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