Creepy Explorations: Volume 1 (Lemon)

The Breather

The phone rings again. Through the camera, Noah stares at the black smartphone loudly vibrating and ominously rattling across his desk before answering it with a jittery wrist.

"Who is this?!" he nervously demands. "Are you stalking me?!"

Nothing.

"...Hello?!" he pleads once more.

...

"I FOUND YOU," a husky female voice growls from the other end.

But it's not just from over the phone this time.

This time, it can also be heard echoing down the hallway from outside.

The phone slips straight out Noah's palm and clatters to the floor. He makes a break for the door in a wild sprint as its knob turns, seizing the handle just before it completes its rotation. He digs his left shoulder into the door and uses himself as a makeshift barricade to keep what they called "The Breather" out. The kid's not nearly strong enough, however, and the door comes flying open with a kick so mighty it's more like a battering ram, sending Noah tumbling straight to the carpet. (Maybe if he had used his other hand to help hold the door rather than the camera he would've had a better chance at keeping the depraved serial killer out...) 

But regardless, Noah gets a worm's-eye view of The Breather's curvy silhouette lurking in his doorway, kitchen knife in hand. She invites herself into the guest room, cockily strolling in and taking her time since the frozen-in-fear Noah's not going anywhere any time soon. She sits in the space between his thighs and digs the heels of her boots into his outstretched arms to pin him to the floor with. Now that she's closer to the camera, you can make out some details. She looks just like those stock images of a shady, faceless, hoodie'd figure to represent Dark Web hackers, but with a feminine twist.

"What's a kid like you doing on the Dark Web?" that same snarling voice from the phone barks out the shadow cast by her drawn hood.

"I-I was just making a video, I swear! Oh God, PLEASE don't hurt me!!" Noah begs for his life even more terrified than usual.

"A video huh?" her words heavy with contempt, leaning closer to the camera to reveal her face, though it's still mostly obscured by a procedure mask so she looks like the love child of a surgeon and a back-alley creep. "I'll give you something to film."

She pries open the fly on Noah's pajama pants, sending a button flying off-screen and his genitals flopping out onto the floor. The only inch of her appearance not censored by some article of clothing is her eyes, a pair of big brown peepers laced with a beastly and malignant intent. The Breather scoops up Noah's scrotum with the flat side of her knife, inspecting it like a chef would his food. He audibly shivers at the harsh iciness of the metal on such a sensitive area of his body. Then she moves a floor up by taking a spoonful of his flaccid cock with her blade. All she would have to do is twist her knife ever so slightly and Noah would be sterilized. His shivers of cold devolve to shivers of crippling fear towards this psychological torture. 

But in the end, it's all just teasing. After all, who's she kidding? If she castrated him, she wouldn't have a toy to play with. In one violent lunge she stabs the knife earthbound towards Noah's head...into his hood, further pinning him to the floor. Then she wraps her fingers around his penis, hands garbed with sky blue smooth surgical gloves that surely feel angelic against his shaft, and begins jerking. At first, his shrunken penis seems nonexistent in her balled fist, but it eventually balloons big enough until his pink tip is just barely peeking out between her thumb and index finger. Noah whines as his legs squirm underneath her thick thighs at the fist pumping up and down on his cock.

"You like that, you little shit?" she demeans like a dominatrix whilst ruthlessly tugging on him. "Just how you like all that twisted shit you looked up?"

"N-No!! I-It made me s-sick, I swear! PleEase stop hurting mEe!!"

Her choke moves down to squeeze Noah's balls. "YOU make me sick, you PERV!"

She accentuates that last word by crushing Noah's sack like a soda can. A full soda can, that is, as 12oz of baby batter comes exploding out his shaft to paint The Breather's grey, blood-stained hoodie with. Noah's break-neck but explosive climax is emphasized with his pained squeak, followed by his soft attempts at catching his breath. She watches in disgust as cum sops off her sleeve. She yanks the knife out the carpet and holds the shine of its razor tip to Noah's throat.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't carve your neck open like the pig you are like I do every other  creep I track down."

All Noah can return is incoherent blubbering. The Breather rolls the eyes of her annoyed scowl, likely far too used to this old song and dance of "Please don't!". She then rises to her feet and lets Noah off the hook out of pity.

"You're in the wrong place, kid," she warns before disappearing in the darkness of the doorway.

Noah spends the next half minute trying to steady his vitals as he wipes the tears from his face, prior to pulling himself up to a bow-legged stand, shutting his door, and shambling back to his desk. You get a glimpse back out the window as he plops down onto his chair, and The Breather's rape van is nowhere to be seen. He reassembles his set-up before tiredly addressing you.

"Alright..." Noah pants. He's a complete mess as always, but this time, he's...different. Worse. You haven't seen him this disturbed and shaken since SCP-106... "Usually, I wouldn't let...setbacks like that get to me for the sake of the video but this time...a serial killer just invaded my home. I think that's enough of the Dark Web for one sitting...I'll see you guys in the ne-"

A small pop-up window barges into Noah's laptop.

It's an invitation to "The Red Room".