#unheimlich

Warning: This story contains sexual activities in which the consensuality is ambivalent at best. If this would hurt you in any way, please do not read it. I would feel very bad if I caused distress to anyone.

I’d been working for about 6 months cleaning houses getting back on my feet after losing my job. I’d had to downsize quite a bit and was living in a small apartment by myself, having also lost my girlfriend around the same time. It was, to say the least,  a pretty low point in my life and my self worth had suffered greatly. A year before I’d been fairly well off with a pretty girlfriend and lots of friends, parties, everything. The friends turned out to have been hers and the parties…well lets just say I was getting pretty tight with Netflix.  I hadn’t even had any contact with my family in years as we were estranged and mutually happy with the arrangement. I was in fact totally alone in the world. 

As I approached my latest client’s house I noted a large and impressive dwelling: I understood that he was a doctor of some sort. A pretty burly guy answered the doorbell— he probably had about half a foot on me; solidly built with hairy, bulging forearms peeking out of rolled up sleeves. I felt a little intimidated by his size and his apparent wealth.  We discussed the details of what he wanted done as we walked through the rooms. 

In his living room I noticed a fairly large collection of marionettes displayed on one wall. “Those are pretty interesting, do you collect them?” I asked. He looked at me smiling and said “Yes, I enjoy puppets…they’re not like people at all, they do exactly what you want them to do, automatically, with no complaints, do you understand”. I laughed a bit nervously and acquiesced to his statement because honestly the way he was looking at me now and his words were starting to freak me out. “Would you like me to show you how it works?” he asked, and not really waiting for my answer he pulled one down off the wall and began manipulating it, “I pull the strings and the puppet just dances to my whims”. He had it walk across the floor and did a few tricks with it. “Hey, it actually looks a bit like you, doesn’t it?” I looked and in fact it did, it was even wearing similar clothing. 

At this point I was even more freaked out but at the same time I noticed that I was starting to get sexually aroused by his patter and the strange display. It was so weird and perverse I guess it was activating some dormant perversion of my own that I hadn’t known was there. “Great”, I thought to myself, “sinking to another new low today”. He gave me a knowing smirk and then walked the puppet back over to the wall and asked me to get started on my work, which included scrubbing the wooden floor in his living room. As I worked kneeling on the floor, in spite of myself I kept glancing over at the puppets on the wall and swallowing a little hard, still aroused by it all and fighting it.  

After several hours of cleaning I told him I was going to take a lunch break and he offered a chair in the room for me to sit in where I could eat and rest. I ate my sandwich at a leisurely pace and must have dozed off for a moment because suddenly I was awakened by a sting on my shoulder, I started to spin around and saw him withdrawing a syringe from my arm! I must have given a shout and started to jump up when every single ounce of energy and fight drained from me. I felt heavy as lead and could barely keep my head up, let alone stand and fight. He walked around and stood before me; looking down at me— as my vision narrowed to a dark tunnel he seemed to tower above, he took my face in one of his large hands and said “Now it looks to me like you have become one of my little puppets, haven’t you?” He moved my head up and down. “Yes, that is right, and I think you will be a good little puppet, won’t you?” Again my head bobbed up and down, up and down— yes.  He then removed all of my clothing as I sat there, unable to resist.  I started to try to speak and he put his index finger over my lips, sealing them. “No, puppets cannot speak”. He began moving his finger around my lips, around and around and then into my mouth, adding his middle finger, pushing slowly back into my mouth, and then on a little way into my throat. Though I ‘d occasionally fantasized about gay sex it wasn’t something I’d ever pursued before, it just hadn’t been at the top of my priority list, but this…

 “I can tell are going to be a very good little puppet indeed, and now it is time for your show.” He pulled his pants off and stood above me, pulled my head into his crotch and began rubbing his cock and balls all over my face through his underwear, around and around, back and forth. As his cock began to grow, I felt my cock stiffening almost in unison with his much larger cock. It was almost as if his  big cock was directly controlling my own. It had power over me. He then took off his underwear and stood before me with his enormous dick bobbing above, filling my vision. He looked down at me, smiled, reached down and grasped my jaw and opened my puppet mouth. He slowly slid his cock into my mouth and slid it in and out a few times, then slid it further and further and finally down my throat. I didn’t gag because I was a puppet, and puppets don’t gag. He continued to slide it in and out in and out for some time, it filled my mouth and throat completely, stretching my puppet lips. 

Eventually he withdrew his massive dick, now covered with a thick layer of the slobber from deep in my throat. He easily picked me up and folded my puppet body over a chair, my ass exposed. I felt the head of his cock pushing against my ass and gently he pushed it in, thrusting it all the way into my body. It felt like my entire body was filled with his thrusting cock. In and out, in and out. The rhythm was hypnotizing me even further. My cock strained and I felt my balls would erupt at any time. On and on it went, and yet I made not a sound, because I was a puppet, and puppets do not cry out. I heard him grunting as he neared climax. Finally he drove his massive dick into the center of me and pumped what felt like gallons of cum into my puppet body, filling it.  Despite the fact that I was a puppet my own dick exploded with cum at the same time. He withdrew and I felt his cum draining down my legs. He stood there panting for a moment, then picked me back up and laid me out on the floor, face up. He looked down at me and said “From now on, you will be able to cum as my puppet, and only as my puppet. Do you understand what I have told you?” He moved my head up and down again. Yes. And furthermore, when you hear me say the words “Down puppet!” you will automatically and immediately return and collapse to this helpless state. Do you understand what I have told you puppet?” My head bobbed up and down in his hands again. 

I must have fallen asleep because I awoke fully clothed some time later. Again he stood above me and asked me to finish the job I’d started, as if nothing had happened between us. I was still woozy and confused and embarrassed so I just started cleaning and finished the job. He then paid me and before I left he said, chuckling, “I will see you again next week…I think that we will put on another little puppet show”.  

When I got home I was confused and felt somewhat humiliated. Had I been raped? After all, I’d never even had sex with a man before, never mind weird perverted drugged puppet sex. Christ!  I just wanted to get back some sense of control over myself. And yet I was already completely horny thinking about what had happened. I got in bed and pulled up some sexy pictures of women and my cock stood directly to attention. I pumped away with all my might, getting closer and closer to orgasm, and yet I found I could not cum, no matter how hard I tried. The next day and for several days after I tried to jerk off, to pictures of men, women doing anything I could think of  but to no avail. I started feeling more and more frightened and I was frustrated to tears. And my cock was always hard, throbbing, insisting, demanding… The day was getting closer…

Then the day had arrived. I’d told myself that I would return because I desperately needed money and I did, though I was pretty nervous. I had made up my mind to have a conversation with him and set things straight in no uncertain terms: I was there to clean his house and that was it, end of story. I had to free myself from this weird situation. I knocked on the door and he answered, a knowing smile on his face. He didn’t appear to be making any inappropriate advances so I decided to just avoid confrontation, clean the place and try to forget what had happened. I worked through the kitchen, bathrooms and other rooms, avoiding the living room with the marionettes. They creeped me out and my cock would also start to stiffen if I thought about them and I really wanted to push it all from my mind. Finally after procrastinating I returned to that room and began dusting. Their dead eyes met my own and I caught my breath and shuddered a bit. He must have crept in quietly because behind me I heard “Down Puppet!” Immediately I collapsed in a heap, unable to move. He stood above me and looked down at me triumphantly. “Well well, you have become my puppet again, haven’t you? And you didn’t even need your shot!  You’re such a good little cock puppet that I’m going to keep you. 

Now, get up onto your knees little puppet.” My body simply obeyed, though obedience isn’t quite the correct term, because it implies a choice. My body automatically responded, and I found myself looking up again at his huge cock bobbing up and down above my head, bobbing and swaying back and forth. I felt my puppet head drifting along with the motion of his cock, my puppet mouth fell open and I felt saliva fill my mouth in anticipation. Again he slid his hard dick into my mouth, deeper and deeper into me. I neither gagged nor struggled and he slid it in and out, in and out rhythmically. Soon, he exploded into my throat, I knew it would please him best to let him cum deep in my throat. I no longer seemed to need to breath either. I realized that puppets do not need air, they simply act on the whim of their owner, whose eyes met my own blank empty puppet eyes in triumph. 

When he was done, I made certain his cock was clean and empty. He slid out of my puppet mouth and put his cock away, then reached under my arms and hoisted me up onto my legs, and trotted me across the room. I looked and saw a large wooden box there, painted in bright colors. He opened the lid and eased my puppet body down, down into the box. I looked up and out at him, he smiled happily and said “Your mind is empty now, puppet”, and it was empty, just like he said, immediately. With obvious relish he  slowly closed the lid of my new box, my new home, where I would now be stored until he was ready to use me once again.  

The Backrooms stills // Excerpt from "The Weird and The Eerie", Mark Fisher:

TRILOGIE

SCHIMMER

Letzter Sommer

Gekko stand am Ufer des Flusses.

Eine Hand hatte er in der Tasche seiner löchrigen Baumwollhose, mit der anderen versuchte er, die Sonne die ihn blendete, abzuschirmen. Neben ihm legte Zibo, der magere Hund mit dem gelben, zerzausten Fell seinen Kopf auf die Vorderpfoten und blinzelte träge.

Ausgerechnet in der Mittagshitze hatten sie Gekko rausgeschickt und nun stand er da und schaute über die trägen graubraunen Fluten des Flusses, von dem es hieß, er würde Kinder fressen.

Gekko war sich nicht ganz sicher, ob das stimmte. Deshalb nahm er, wenn er zum Fluß ging, vorsichtshalber Zibo mit.

Auf jeden Fall hatte ihm seine Großmutter erzählt, dass zwei ihrer Kinder vom Fluß geholt worden waren. Sie waren zu weit hineingelaufen und plötzlich ohne Geschrei und ohne großes Gezappel verschwunden.

Alle Kinder, die damals mit am Fluß gewesen waren, hatten es gesehen. Als seine Mutter noch lebte, fragte er sie manchmal, ob Großmutters Geschichten stimmten und Mutter sah ihn mit ernsten dunklen Augen an und nickte.

Gekko merkte nicht, dass ihm die Tränen über das Gesicht liefen.

Das passierte immer, wenn er an seine Mutter dachte, an seine große schlanke und ernsthafte Mutter. Er hatte es nicht verstanden, dass sie sich einfach während der Regenzeit eine ganze Woche lang hinlegte hatte und dann ohne Wehklagen und ohne Worte starb. Sie war so still gestorben, wie sie gelebt hatte. Wenn sie gejammert und geklagt hätte, wäre es vielleicht anders ausgegangen.

Wahrscheinlich hätte der Vater dann doch nach Agumba, der alten verschrumpelten Medizinfrau geschickt. Die wäre mit ihrem Zauberkram gekommen und hätte die Luft mit allen möglichen Dämpfen und blauem Rauch geschwängert, so dass die Augen brannten und Hustenreiz im Hals steckte. Sie hätte getrocknete Hühnerfüße über die Tür gehängt und eine Medizin für Mutter dagelassen. Alle Leute im Dorf hatten schon einmal ihre Hilfe in Anspruch genommen, nur in ihrer Hütte war sie noch nie gewesen.

Großmutter hatte Gekko zwar erklärt, dass er keine Angst vor ihr haben solle, aber das sah er ganz anders. Ihre krumme Gestalt und die langen dünnen Finger machten ihm mehr Angst, als der Fluß.

Mit ihrer hohen dünnen Stimme hatte Agumba bei der Totenfeier unbekannte Worte gesprochen und Erde und Kräuter auf den Körper der Mutter gestreut, dann war sie im strömenden Regen unzählige Male um die Tote herumgelaufen. Nach einer Weile blieb sie schließlich vor Gekko stehen.

Sie schaute ihn an, als müsste sie ihn in jedem Moment verschlingen, kreischte auf und schrie: „Er wird der nächste sein, den der Tod holt.“

Seitdem mied es der Vater, ihn anzufassen. Gekko bekam einen Platz unter der Plane neben der Hütte.

Gleich wenige Tage nach Mutters Tod, war eine neue Frau eingezogen, die er Siwawa nennen sollte. Siwawa mochte ihn nicht sonderlich. „Du siehst wirklich wie ein Gecko aus, so dürr.“ Sagte sie verächtlich und musterte ihn von oben bis unten.

Nur Großmutter und Zibo waren unverändert gut zu ihm geblieben.

Alle anderen sahen ihn kaum an, wenn er durchs Dorf ging. Mütter zogen ihre Kinder von ihm fort und selbst Mua, sein bester Freund machte mit erschrockenen Augen einen großen Bogen um ihn, obwohl sich Gekko gut fühlte und gar nicht krank.

Er hatte eigentlich keine Lust, immer in der Mittagshitze am Fluß zu spielen. Als Mutter noch lebte, hatte sie ihm die Ausflüge an den Fluß verboten, aber seitdem Siwawa im Haus war, schickte der Vater Gekko fast jeden zweiten Tag zum Fluß.

Er wollte wohl allein mit der neuen Frau sein, denn wenn Gekko zu früh nach Hause kam, durfte er solange der Vorhang vor der Tür hing, die Hütte nicht betreten. Er fühlte sich wie ein Aussätziger.

Überall stand er der immer runder werdenden Siwawa im Weg herum, die sich mit ihrem dicken Bauch trotzdem flink auf dem festgestampften Lehmboden bewegte und dem Vater in immerzu schöne Augen machte.

Zibo stellte seine gelben Ohren hoch und schaute zum anderen Ufer des Flusses. Auch Gekko hatte gesehen, dass sich irgendetwas bewegt hatte. Das Wasser schien plötzlich durchsichtiger zu sein und eine silbern schimmernde Schicht zog darüber hinweg und bewegte sich auf ihn zu. Gekko hatte das Gefühl, als schirme sie trotz der Durchsichtigkeit die Wärme der Sonne ab.

Das silbern Glänzende hüllte ihn sanft ein, und als er langsam vom Boden abhob, ohne zu wissen, warum, hatte er ein gutes sicheres Gefühl. Nur Zibo lief aufgeregt mit dem Schwanz wedeln am Ufer hin und her.

Als die Sonne längst am Horizont hinter der Flussbiegung verschwunden war, lief ein einsamer struppig - gelber Hund zu den winzigen Lehmhütten des Dorfes zurück.