But I resist. Mother can show it to me if she desires.

Excited again, I race back up. Blood pulses through my veins and swells my cock once more. Everything with Mother has involved sexual pleasure, and what could be more sexual than making her pregnant?

The weather in the rest of the house has changed by the time I reached the foyer as if the fires from below followed me up.

Beads of sweat drip down my bare chest and back. The bundle grows heavy and makes my biceps ache.

Mother sits like a mermaid in naked glory on the bed as I burst into the bedroom with my prize. Her expression lights up when she sees what I carry.

“Oh John, you’re Mother’s good boy.” Her hands press together in front of her face.

I step over a body-shaped lump on the floor and slide next to her on the bed to hand her my offering.

“This is perfect, John. Exactly what Mother needs. Here.”

She hands me that object again, the one I used yesterday when Lovely was here. Right at the end. That final orgasm.

The red spray gushing out, covering Mother, filling her mouth, spraying the bed.

I glance at the coverlet and see dark splotches in the moonlight that don’t match the original cream color.

“Right here, John.” Mother peels back some of the fabric, and the creature within wiggles and writhes. She points at a place in the middle. “Cut a hole in it right here.”

I take the sharp stick and plunge it where she directs.

Piercing screams pain my ears.

I saw up and down, meeting resistance, but pushing through. For Mother.

The room falls silent.

Mother’s warm breath tickles my neck as she leans close to observe my work.

I labor a few more minutes until I look to her for approval.

Her eyes gleam with a fiery light. She reaches in with both hands and lifts a round, crimson, dripping blob out.

My insides twist and knot in repulsion as she brings it to her mouth and takes a squelching bite.

* * *

Sweat coats my body. My first waking thought is that the house must be on fire for it to be this hot. Memories of the flames from yesterday dance across my closed eyelids.

Heavy with sleep more like a stupor, my eyes fight me when I try to open them. The room around me blurs.

I blink, thinking I just need to clear the remnants of dozing away, but nothing changes. The walls wriggle and sway like a mirage on a hot summer day. It makes me sick.

I recognize the elements from my parent’s room–the bed, the dresser, the vanity where my mother put on her makeup–yet the rest doesn’t resemble the house I grew up in.

The walls are mostly a burnt black, charred and singed from a fire, with snakes crawling up them. On second look, they aren’t snakes but vines that writhe and squirm in place with bright red and yellow flowers. A drop of dew falls from a brilliant petal and a hiss comes up from the floor where the acidic liquid has created a bowl shape in the flooring.

My heart leaps to my throat and pounds ever more furiously the more I examine my surroundings. What the fuck happened to this place. Where is Mo–

My wife? My son?

“Meisha?” The name leaves my dry mouth like a cloud of smoke and makes me cough. I sit up. “Johnny?”

I try to remember why I’m here. My last vivid memory is in my kitchen at home. Meisha was feeding little Johnny. We were eating steak. She’d just mastered a perfect medium-rare.

My mouth waters, but my heart hurts for some reason. The happy day of the three of us together feels so long ago.

That’s right. I’d gotten the phone call. I needed to come back to my parent’s house and settle the estate in the morning.

Looking around at the wreckage, I can’t imagine that we’ll get very much for it now. What the hell happened? Do we have insurance for this?

A bundle of dirty, crusty clothes lies next to me on the bed. Some awful smell of shit wafts up from it. I wrinkle my nose and proceed to move around it to get up.

The middle of the wad opens upon a gory hole. I recognize blood stains now. My stomach churns as I see glints of white and ponder if it’s bone.

Once more I wonder what the hell could have happened here.

I turn away to scoot to the end of the bed, but my head swivels back.

“Johnny?” I snatch up the linen lump and realize it’s the correct size and weight to hold my son.

My eyes brim with tears, and snot flows from my nose while I hasten to rip away the filthy clothes. A giant A on the front of a torn shirt catches my attention. This is Meisha’s shirt, bearing the insignia of her favorite college team.

“No! No!” I shriek as the last layer falls away to reveal my son’s face. “Johnny!”

I shake him, praying that I can wake him, yet knowing it’s futile with the giant, ragged hole in his chest. A nagging thought whispers that something was removed. Some monster took part of him away.

I grip him to my torso and weep, great racking sobs that cause my sides to ache.

Whoever did this to him will pay. I won’t rest until I avenge my little boy. My baby.

Clutching him to me, I slide to the edge of the mattress.

And my gaze falls to the floor.

Meisha lies there, next to the bed. Naked. Hands bound behind her back. Legs bruised and shackled to a spreader bar. Blood stains her buttocks and thighs. Her head twists at a weird angle away from her body because of a deep slit across her throat.

My wife.

And my boy.

Fresh tears burn my eyes and cheeks.

My entire world is gone. Some monster took away my only reasons for living. Desecrated them.