Fear the Abyss: 22 Terrifying Tales of Cosmic Horror Read Online Free
Author: Jack Ketchum, Tim Waggoner, Harlan Ellison, Jeyn Roberts, Post Mortem Press, Gary Braunbeck, Michael Arnzen, Lawrence Connolly
products. After my encounter with Dana, my duties focused solely on manufacturing Extraction Buffer, and my workspace was moved to the farthest lab.
Regina calls the lab phone just as I swallow some Zelko.
"Hey, Reg. Good morning," I say, gulping down a bit of bile that jumps up with a belch.
"You're going to make Extraction Buffer today," she says.
Surprise, surprise. "Ten liters?" I ask.
"You got it. Say, how's the temperature in that lab today? Not still too hot, is it?"
"Nah, it's actually pretty chilly." I look at the thermostat. "62 degrees."
"Oh my, that's a little cold, isn't it? I'll have Facilities fix that right away."
"Why bother? They can never find a happy medium. One day, it's freezing. The next day, it's a sauna."
"What, you don't trust me, Harvey?" she asks.
"Of course I do."
"Good. Do you want Dana to help you manufacture the buffer?"
"No!" I adjust my volume with a vodka-laced grunt. "No, thank you. I'll be fine."
"Good. I'll check in later," she says, cutting off the call before I can respond.
In those few minutes, the temperature has dipped to 59 degrees, so I choose to start production on the buffer just to get out of the cold. Before I begin, I make sure to take a sip from the flask I have stashed under the bench. The more I drink, the easier the day slides by. Before I know it, it's time to head home; I just hope I can make it there in one piece. But then I ask myself, "Why?" One piece, two, eight: does it really matter? The vodka tells me it does. I am very, very important, it says. I tell ya, vodka, there are times I've believed you. I just don't remember when they were.
*****
The next morning, I step into an inferno. The temperature of the lab has sailed to nearly 90 degrees, making my vodka taste like rotten milk. Still, it was rotten milk that could get me drunk enough to ignore the heat.
My head thumps terribly. I sit down, awaiting Regina's phone call when the lab door flies open. The blast of AC from the hallway feels good, but the scent it carries makes my stomach twist into a fistfuck of a knot.
"Jeez, it's hot in here!" Dana squeals.
I notice her getting moist. Her armpits, her neck, her fourth chin. Misshapen "U's" appear below her sweaty breasts, and though I don't want to look, I can't tear my eyes away. My dick burns against my zipper, crying out for relief. A hand will do, but it wants something warmer, something wetter.
Dana fans herself with her hoof and coughs up a chuckle, "Wasn't it cold in here yesterday?"
"Sure was," I hiss, digging my elbow into my balls, hoping the pain will soften me.
"You okay, Harv?"
God, the smell of her. What is it? Cookies or roses or Versace FuckJeans, it's amazing. And no, I'm not okay, you mustached hag. I need to beat off. Now.
The phone rings, and I know right away it's Regina.
"Yes, I'm here," I sputter into the phone.
"Oh good. How's the lab today?" she asks sweetly.
"Hot," I reply. Dana giggles, making the Tigger appliqué on her shirt dive down her chest until he's swimming in the pool between sweat-splashed mountains.
My body screams. Hand. Toilet. Flask. Hand. Toilet. Flask. I need to get away.
"That's too bad. I'll have Facilities fix it tomorrow."
My stomach churns, causing a beast of salty bile to claw its way up my throat. Dana's perfume is overpowering, and Regina's insane promises make my blood boil.
"Don't worry, Harv. We'll take care of it," she says. "Oh, and I know you worry about being alone back there, so I have a surprise for you."
"I don't worry about that," I grunt through rising pain.
Dana touches my shoulder. Her scent thickens as if she were spraying me like a cat in heat. I turn to see drops of sweat clinging to her mustache, so thick and imposing, I swear I can smell it. Through her pleasing perfume, one of skunk cabbage and black licorice punches free, causing my aching stomach to lurch. But it's not quite as bad as the ache in my crotch, especially when she licks the droplets away and I
Regina calls the lab phone just as I swallow some Zelko.
"Hey, Reg. Good morning," I say, gulping down a bit of bile that jumps up with a belch.
"You're going to make Extraction Buffer today," she says.
Surprise, surprise. "Ten liters?" I ask.
"You got it. Say, how's the temperature in that lab today? Not still too hot, is it?"
"Nah, it's actually pretty chilly." I look at the thermostat. "62 degrees."
"Oh my, that's a little cold, isn't it? I'll have Facilities fix that right away."
"Why bother? They can never find a happy medium. One day, it's freezing. The next day, it's a sauna."
"What, you don't trust me, Harvey?" she asks.
"Of course I do."
"Good. Do you want Dana to help you manufacture the buffer?"
"No!" I adjust my volume with a vodka-laced grunt. "No, thank you. I'll be fine."
"Good. I'll check in later," she says, cutting off the call before I can respond.
In those few minutes, the temperature has dipped to 59 degrees, so I choose to start production on the buffer just to get out of the cold. Before I begin, I make sure to take a sip from the flask I have stashed under the bench. The more I drink, the easier the day slides by. Before I know it, it's time to head home; I just hope I can make it there in one piece. But then I ask myself, "Why?" One piece, two, eight: does it really matter? The vodka tells me it does. I am very, very important, it says. I tell ya, vodka, there are times I've believed you. I just don't remember when they were.
*****
The next morning, I step into an inferno. The temperature of the lab has sailed to nearly 90 degrees, making my vodka taste like rotten milk. Still, it was rotten milk that could get me drunk enough to ignore the heat.
My head thumps terribly. I sit down, awaiting Regina's phone call when the lab door flies open. The blast of AC from the hallway feels good, but the scent it carries makes my stomach twist into a fistfuck of a knot.
"Jeez, it's hot in here!" Dana squeals.
I notice her getting moist. Her armpits, her neck, her fourth chin. Misshapen "U's" appear below her sweaty breasts, and though I don't want to look, I can't tear my eyes away. My dick burns against my zipper, crying out for relief. A hand will do, but it wants something warmer, something wetter.
Dana fans herself with her hoof and coughs up a chuckle, "Wasn't it cold in here yesterday?"
"Sure was," I hiss, digging my elbow into my balls, hoping the pain will soften me.
"You okay, Harv?"
God, the smell of her. What is it? Cookies or roses or Versace FuckJeans, it's amazing. And no, I'm not okay, you mustached hag. I need to beat off. Now.
The phone rings, and I know right away it's Regina.
"Yes, I'm here," I sputter into the phone.
"Oh good. How's the lab today?" she asks sweetly.
"Hot," I reply. Dana giggles, making the Tigger appliqué on her shirt dive down her chest until he's swimming in the pool between sweat-splashed mountains.
My body screams. Hand. Toilet. Flask. Hand. Toilet. Flask. I need to get away.
"That's too bad. I'll have Facilities fix it tomorrow."
My stomach churns, causing a beast of salty bile to claw its way up my throat. Dana's perfume is overpowering, and Regina's insane promises make my blood boil.
"Don't worry, Harv. We'll take care of it," she says. "Oh, and I know you worry about being alone back there, so I have a surprise for you."
"I don't worry about that," I grunt through rising pain.
Dana touches my shoulder. Her scent thickens as if she were spraying me like a cat in heat. I turn to see drops of sweat clinging to her mustache, so thick and imposing, I swear I can smell it. Through her pleasing perfume, one of skunk cabbage and black licorice punches free, causing my aching stomach to lurch. But it's not quite as bad as the ache in my crotch, especially when she licks the droplets away and I
Readers choose
Sheila Horgan
Shelley Wall
Christopher Nuttall
M.J. Labeff
Jerusha Jones
Deborah Layton
Kathleen Morgan
Jennifer Ashley
A.C. Ellas
Mr Toby Downton, Mrs Helena Michaelson