Gather round, gather round it’s time for the show; ready yourself for a horror bimbo…

The Tall Woman

This is a tale of a well to do young boy forced out on a late night excursion to the supermarket...

“Ugh, not now,” Biscuit grumbles, juggling the bagged groceries to one arm as he pulls out his umbrella and opens it up. Scant seconds later, the sky opens up and a downpour begins. The blue-haired boy glares up at the gloomy night sky as thunder rumbles, his pale golden eyes flashing with frustration. “Spur should have told me we were out of food before she left. And here I am taking a walk in this mess for that fool dog of ours…”

A gentle huff escapes the boy’s lips, turning to wisps of steam in the cooling air. Adjusting his grip on both bag and umbrella to ensure he stays dry, Biscuit begins the short walk home. As he rounds the corner however, he sees a strange, unnatural figure in the distance.

To begin with she’s tall, perhaps two meters or more, and with a figure well beyond what Biscuit has ever seen, even in his father’s magazines. Her chest juts out in an obscene arc both forward and outwards, the spheres seeming unnaturally light for their size as they hand near to her navel. Her lower body is much the same, broad and inhumanly round. Each step is accompanied by a gentle ‘clack’ from her clunky heels, and her body is covered in a sheer, white sundress that exposes every inch of her body now that it’s soaked through.

Despite this, the woman’s movements are graceful, if somewhat slow and deliberate. Her hair is a pale pink, and perhaps at one time it would have been glamorous and well put together, but now it clings to her face and body like a second skin; the thick strands soaking in the rain as it falls from the sky. But Biscuit feels a deep chill when he looks upon her face.

Lidded blue eyes as deep as the sea on a clear day but vacuous, as though all life had been snuffed out. Her mouth hangs open in a slight half moan, the overstuffed lips adorning her face set into a permanent look of surprise. She stares blankly ahead as she trots through the rain, as though no thoughts could possibly penetrate the space between her ears and deter her from her intended goal… whatever that may be.

“This town is getting a little too strange lately,” Biscuit murmurs under his breath, deciding to take a longer route home so as not to pass by this unusual woman. As he moves towards the next block, he stumbles upon a rain-slicked curb and the bag in his hands crashes to the ground.

The sound of torrential rain seems to recede for an instant, allowing the echoing, clattering, crashing and cracking sound of glass and metal upon asphalt to ring out in the stormy night. Scrambling to pick up the now soggy bag and his groceries, Biscuit feels a shiver down his spine, and chances a glance towards the other end of the street. The soaked, tall woman, with the dead eyes has turned her attention on him. The two stare at one another for a long moment, the blue-haired boy’s fingers twitching as he tries to secure the bag in his hands while keeping a grip on the umbrella.

Perhaps the vapid looking woman is just as startled by the sound as he had been. Perhaps, seeing he was okay, she will continue along her way. Perhaps, she will forget the incident in an instant if he just. Stays. Still.

Three seconds later and the tall woman takes a long, unnatural step forward. Her overfilled lips move, and Biscuit bolts, his umbrella left behind as he cradles the bag to his chest. Racing down the street, he can hear the eerie, almost equine rapid-fire ‘clack-clack-clack-clack’ of the tall woman’s heels against the pavement behind him through the rising din of the storm. Even as a young, athletic boy, Biscuit knows he can’t hope to outrun a two meter monster in a footrace. So he resolves to play up an angle the woman is obviously lacking: wit.

Biscuit takes a series of sharp turns in quick succession, chancing a glance back after each one to see the distance between them. Because of the continued change of direction, the towering monster of a woman begins to fall back, and once she is out of sight, Biscuit makes his move.

Diving into a hedge, the boy clutches the ruined paper bag to his chest and does his best to slow his pounding heart. Within seconds the ‘clack-clack-clack’ of awkward heels signals his pursuer’s entrance into the alley and the sound slows to a stop as she pants. The sound of wet fabric straining against skin reaches Biscuit’s ears, and he can imagine the long woman gazing around the street with her vacant stare, wondering where she might find him.

The seconds tick by and the woman gathers her breath. When she speaks, Biscuit shivers, not out of fear or of cold, but because her voice is sweet like drizzled honey.

“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear little boy,” she purrs, “little boy, where have you gone? I have something of yours. Something I am desperate to return to you...”

The monstrous woman’s body still heaves as she struggles to breathe. She begins to stalk down the side road, passing by the bush the boy has hidden himself inside. Chancing a glance out, Biscuit winces and notes that the umbrella he left behind is closed up in her hand. Now soaked to the bone, he shudders again as the tall woman walks past, continuing to moan in her saccharine voice, “Little boy... oh dear, oh dear, I simply must return this to you…”

Her heels ‘clack-clack’ with every set of steps she takes, and Biscuit can see her through the small holes of the foliage. Her long body twists and turns as she walks down the street, her empty gaze taking in everything and nothing all at once. But still the unnatural woman does not notice him.

Seconds become a minute before Biscuit determines she’s far enough away, still quietly moaning and murmuring ‘oh dear, oh dear’. Steadying his breath, the blue-haired boy squirms backwards, gradually extracting himself from the shrub. His feet hit the ground with a wet smack, and Biscuit’s blood freezes in his veins. But the woman on the street does not hear, and continues to call out to him, “Little boy, oh dear…”

Taking that as a sign, Biscuit gathers his soggy bag and doubles back to the near exit of the street. He chances one glance back and finds himself staring into the sea, locking eyes with the tall woman again. Her plump lips curl into a smile, and Biscuit runs for all he is worth!

The streets and houses blur as the red-faced boy breaks towards home. A brilliant light shines, promising safety and security. From behind however, the ‘clacking’ of heels is closing…

Fumbling fingers fetch his house key as he hits the landing, the metal jammed and turned into the cold and wet keyhole. The door opens and Biscuit pushes his way inside. As he turns to secure the door, he can see the vacant smile of his pursuer’s plump lips as she lunges towards the front of the house.

The door slams. The bolt locks in place. And then the pounding begins.

“Little boy! Little boy! Oh dear, you’ve forgotten something! Open the door and let me give it to you!”

Biscuit backs away from the door, still able to make out the obscene silhouette of the woman on the other side. Her breasts squish against the front door while her hair hangs loose and wet, clinging to whatever it can. She continues hammering on the door for a full thirty seconds before stopping. It’s another two minutes before her shadow recedes from the porch.

And only then does Biscuit find his breath again.

After taking a short while to shake off the adrenaline rush, Biscuit stumbles to the kitchen and drops the soggy bag on the counter. A quick, rapid series of barks draws his attention to the purple Pomeranian running circles around his ankles. The boy scoffs and gives the family dog a halfhearted glare.

“You can wait your turn, Bloofy. I got stalked and soaked to the bone for you, so you can at least be patient until I’m cleaned up and dried off.”

The dog, Bloofy, adopts a goofy smile and plops its hindquarters on the kitchen floor, giving a happy bark. Biscuit sighs and reaches down to pet the dog before taking off his shirt and moving towards the bedroom on the second floor. He kicks off the rest of his clothes along the way, shoes, socks, pants, leaving a trail of soaked garments until he is left in nothing but his underthings.

Strolling to the closet Biscuit moves to grab a dry change of clothes, when a powerful shiver runs down his body, the wind catching his soaked, nearly nude body, and chilling him to the bone. But it soon passes and Biscuit collects himself, the promise of a nice, hot shower quickly supplanting the frustration caused by an open window.

Biscuit pauses at the thought. He wets his lips and inclines his head ever so slightly towards a mirror nearby. Just in time to see a pale hand reaching for his shoulder. Biscuit whirls and screams, even as the tall woman descends upon him and takes him to the floor.

Buried underneath an inhuman amount of rain-soaked, chilly breast flesh, Biscuit struggles to breathe and thrash his way out. But the escape does not improve his situation, as he finds himself staring up into the empty sea-colored eyes, and the even emptier head behind. Rainwater from the tall woman’s incredibly long hair drips down upon his face, chilling Biscuit and stealing his voice. Giving her time to speak.

“Oh dear, my dear little boy,” she coos, reaching up and cupping his cheek with a chilly palm, while her mouth seems to stretch in an unnatural way to speak around her fat lips. “You ran so far and hid from me. So very naughty. If only you had stopped and listened, you might have avoided this situation…”

The woman removes her hand and reaches down towards her thigh. Biscuit steels himself for whatever might come next, clenching his eyes shut, only to feel something cool press against his head. He opens his eyes to see the rim of a metal tin resting on his forehead. Fingers twitching as he reaches up, he removes the tin and looks at a can of

“Dog food?” he croaks, blinking in confusion. To which the tall woman only smiles.

“Oh yes, I saw that it rolled away from you when you dropped your bag, and I couldn’t bear letting a fuzzy little friend go hungry,” she offers, her cheeks rosy with warmth now that she’s out of the rain.

“But, y-you chased me and-”

“Well of course! You dropped your umbrella and were getting completely soaked, and it was all my fault for not speaking up sooner. I wanted to make sure you got to a warm, safe place and avoided catching a cold.”

Biscuit lets out a slow, uncertain breath, and then begins to laugh. A misunderstanding, that’s all this was! The tall woman on top of him joins in, giggling sweetly. They remain like that for a few moments, their wet bodies still finding enough heat between them to share.

But all good things must come to an end. And for Biscuit, it’s when his young, but still very male body, begins to react to the sheer amount of sexuality pressing down on him. The tall woman’s eyes seem to light up in recognition as she feels him press up against her belly, before becoming dull and seductive again. She flutters her eyelids and her overfull lips curl into a hungry smile.

She leans down, her still wet hair clinging to Biscuit’s cheek as she whispers, honey-sweet, into his ear. “Now, shall we ensure you’re cleaned up and taken care of for the night? Little boy…?”

It was then that Biscuit realized, his dangerous night was just beginning...

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Pub: 30 Oct 2023 19:11 UTC
Views: 2069