Reddit Collection (Fresh-Short #10), DeYtH Banger [books suggested by elon musk TXT] 📗

train tracks. But when I went down to get breakfast, my mom was sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for me. She told me that my friend was in a car accident last night. On his way home from the movies, another driver fell asleep at the wheel and drifted into the wrong lane. He swerved to avoid a head-on collision, but his car broke through the guard rail and fell into the lake. He drowned.

A wave of dread passed over me, and I felt like I was going to throw up. The memories of our encounter with the Oracle flooded back to me all at once. Even all these years later, I still think about that summer. I don’t know if the Oracle told use those things because they were going to happen or if he made them happen himself. I still wonder if everything would have turned out the same way if we hadn’t sat down at that table.

 

CREDIT: K. Brown

A Questionable Glory Hole

 This is some kinda of fucked up masturbating story... come on...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“We don’t have time for this!” Art, Reilly’s father, shouted. “We’re almost home. Can’t you hold it?”

“Dad!” Reilly hollered back, his muscles tense, beads of cold sweat popping out on his pockmarked forehead. “It can’t wait!”

“Jesus Christ, we’re already a half hour late,” Art muttered, and swerved his old Subaru off the New Jersey Turnpike into an old rest area that’d been closed for as long as he could remember.

“If the door’s locked, you can sh*t outside around back,” he instructed, as Reilly bolted out of the car and waddled across the littered parking lot toward the men’s room. “Poor b*stard’s not gonna make it,” he thought.

“Please don’t be locked, please don’t be locked, please d–” Reilly thought, clenching everything he had to avoid a humiliating disaster.

The door to the bathroom was not locked. Not anymore, at least. An old Master Lock lay in pieces on the chipped tile floor. There was no electricity; the only light coming in was from the clearly-unwashed skylights. The air, if what he was breathing could be considered such, was thick and fetid. Used.

 

None of that mattered. The nearest stall was open, and a grime-caked, waterless toilet, beckoned. He barged in, dropped his pants, and let go.

He sat, his elbows on his legs and his hands pressed against his eyes, until his body allowed him to move again. He sighed with relief and moved his hands, finally taking in the filth of the room around him.

It’d been a long time since anyone had cleaned the place, but not long since it’d been used. With a feeling of disgust, he glanced over to where the toilet paper should have been.

Then he saw it.

“What the f*ck!” Reilly exclaimed, pulling the front of his shirt down and clamping his legs shut.

An eye was studying him from a jagged hole in the stall.

 

“Um, can I have some privacy please?” he stammered.

The eye blinked. Its veiny lid took a full second to close and open again.

“Dude, come on.”

Outside, Reilly’s dad honked the horn twice. It was the universal “get moving” signal. But Reilly wasn’t paying attention to his dad.

There were sounds coming from the other stall. Wet, squelching sounds. Not the intestinal cacophony that’d been emanating from his own stall, but doubtless biological. Whatever they were, he couldn’t place them. The closest thing he could think of was the time he’d tried to chew a whole six-foot ribbon of Bubble Tape when he was eleven. It was a similar noise, but still unique. Unsettling.

The eye moved around lazily, studying Reilly and the stall around him. He wondered how it was possible the person on the other end hadn’t been put off by the performance he’d just given. The entire bathroom was borderline uninhabitable.

Just then, Reilly heard breathing. It started off as sighs, but then grew labored and intense. “Oh gross,” he thought.

In another hole, maybe an inch above the one housing the eye, something moved. “What the…” he wondered.

Thick, wet lips pushed through the hole. A tongue slid out from between them, long and swollen and red. A heavy strand of saliva dangled from its tip.

 

Reilly yelped. It wasn’t the sight of the mouth that frightened him. It was the orientation. How a mouth could be so close to, as well as above, an eye, confused and disoriented him. He’d had enough.

There was no toilet paper in the stall. A wadded, crusty copy of an adult magazine lay open on the floor like a felled bird. He tore out a redhead and dragged her along his backside, then hiked up his pants and ran out of the stall. He could’ve sworn a soft voice followed him as he left.

“Come and hide and seek.”

Back outside, as he hustled to the car, he could see his father was furious.

“Your sister’s party started an hour ago!” he bellowed, his voice clear through the open windows. Reilly got in the car and the shouting continued.

“Christ almighty, it’s bad enough I have to drive all the way out here to get you because your sh*tbox car sh*t the bed, now your mother’s gonna be pissed at me because I can’t help her with a house full of screaming kids. God damn it, Reilly.”

Reilly didn’t say anything. He was replaying the events from inside the stall. What the f*ck had he seen?

Art snarled and hissed while they made their way to the exit, then turned right twice to double back on the tree-lined road to their house. The woods looked extra foreboding on the cloudy September day. Reilly knew those woods. They spanned from his backyard all the way to the Turnpike about a mile away.

Art sped down the road until they reached their driveway. As they pulled in, they saw hordes of ten-year olds running and playing in the front yard. Leah, Reilly’s mother, stood on the porch. The forced smile stretched across her face did little to hide the stress and irritation she felt.

“I’ll f*ckin’ kill them both for leaving me with all this,” Leah thought, as she watched her husband and son pull into the driveway.

“You stink,” Art commented to Reilly before they exited the car. “Go take a shower and I’ll deal with your mother and the kids. I want you here to clean up once Hailey’s party’s over. Don’t think about going anywhere.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Reilly murmured, and they headed toward Leah, whose smile couldn’t compete with the glare of disdain she was leveling at them.

Reilly walked past her without saying a word. He went inside just in time to hear the beginnings of the whispered argument between his parents.

“How the hell was I supposed to know his car wouldn’t…”

Reilly shut the door. The house was quiet. Everyone was outside playing. From the kitchen window, he saw Hailey in the middle of the yard, ordering around her assembled acolytes. He sniffed the air and wrinkled his nose. He did stink. Discarded, rest-area smut does not a good bathroom tissue make.

Reilly trudged up the stairs toward the shower. He stripped, adjusted the water, and stepped in. The steam enveloped him in a cocoon of moisture. He stood under the showerhead, letting the cleansing water run down his body as his mind returned to that filthy stall.

He couldn’t stop thinking about that mouth.

The eye was disgusting, but it wasn’t particularly disturbing to him. He knew there were perverts out there. It didn’t surprise him that on the side of the New Jersey Turnpike there was a creep who, for whatever reason, wanted to watch a sixteen-year old on the toilet. Gross, but whatever.

The mouth was an entirely different story. Even disregarding the fact it was above the eye, which Reilly had written off as being a second person who must’ve been practically on top of the guy with the eye, there was an aspect to it that was lurid. P*rnographic.

He’d seen his share of p*rn. He was sixteen, for Christ’s sake. But he didn’t have any sexual experiences of his own. Nothing beyond a grope here or a squeeze there – nothing that ever turned into anything more than lonely bedtime jerk-off session.

Reilly hung his head and closed his eyes. He imagined the redness of those lips. Not artificial red. Not lipstick — but red from blood pulsing under skin that shone with a silky sheen of slick saliva despite the dimness of that dank room.

And the tongue.

The muscular, agile tongue hanging low between those wet lips, a long strand of drool with a fat droplet at the end threatening to break off and splatter on the cold floor.

Why had he been shown that mouth?

Reilly opened his eyes and realized he’d been stroking himself throughout his recollection. He was deeply aroused by the thought of that mouth. The context of it didn’t matter – the sh*tty bathroom, the watching eye – he didn’t care. He wanted that mouth. And he knew it wanted him.

 

He emptied his balls into the drain of his family’s shower as muffled shrieks of the partygoers bled into the din of splashing water.

Reilly washed himself and got out. He toweled off and put on a fresh set of clothes before joining his parents downstairs. The kids had come back inside. It was cake time.

Fourteen girls sang “Happy Birthday” while Reilly’s mind drifted back to the stall. The mouth, again. This time, though, it wasn’t its shape and wetness. Rather, what it said as he rushed out of the bathroom. Words he’d only partially heard and had tried to reconstruct.

“Come and hide and seek” didn’t sound right to him. It didn’t make much sense. He was being watched, after all, so there wasn’t much hiding being done.

It only occurred to him after his shower that the words might have been, “come inside and see.”

“Come inside and see” was better, but it was ominous to him. Nebulous, too. It could mean a lot of different things – one of which, and his teenage brain couldn’t help but think it, was that it wasn’t just two creeps on the other side of that stall, but some kind of monster.

Reilly snickered to himself as a slice of cake on a paper Steven Universe plate was pushed in his direction. “The girls in p*rn are the ones who say ‘come inside,’ dummy. And that voice was soft and hot. I bet it was a woman and her husband who gets off on watching his wife service other guys. And I missed out.”

Frustrated, Reilly went through the celebratory motions an older brother needs to perform at his younger sister’s party. He endured her friends, obeyed the orders of his parents, and, when the party was over, cleaned.

It was after dark when everything was finished.

“I’m going upstairs,” Leah announced. “I’ve done enough today. Happy Birthday, sweetie.” She kissed Hailey on the forehead and left the room.

“I’m right behind you,” Art said, and followed her.

Reilly was left with his sister, who was playing her new Zelda game. She was ignoring him, which was not unusual. It’s what he’d been counting on. It meant he could go do what he’d been planning since Hailey had blown out her candles.

He grabbed a flashlight and left the house. No one heard him leave. He walked out into the quiet