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My dick felt weird, my balls hurt
To tell you the truth, the God's honest truth, I never wanted to go down there. Not for the life of me. It was Beth's fault; she was the one that boosted my ego, that pumped me up to go down those creaking, rotting stairs into the abyss of the cellar of 3 Haskell Street.

3 Haskell Street was a run down building, long ago condemned, the windows were boarded up and it had those orange 'NO TRESSPASSING' signs in the front yard. It was the 'haunted house' of our town. You know the one, the one where kids will dare their friends to go in and spend the night. Most laughed it off as superstition, but I tell you, Doc., going up those steps of the porch, the air around the front door felt ten degrees colder than the air behind you.

Sometimes, walking by at night, out of the corner of your eye you could see movement in the second story window. It was creepy. Real fucking creepy. I heard a rumor when I was a kid, that the owner of that house went crazy after he got out of the service in World War Two, post-traumatic syndrome or some shit. Butchered his entire family in their sleep, and sacrificed his three year old son in the basement. To who? I don't really know. Satan, maybe. Yeah, I never really bought into it, I mean, it sounded like little kid shit. My friend told me he heard it from his grandfather when he was drunk, so yeah, it sounds like horseshit to me too, Doc.

What, Doc? Beth?

Beth was a girl from school, one of my good friends. She was one of those girls that went to church every Sunday, was nice to her folks, got good grades, and wore nice clothes. She was pretty, Doc, real pretty, a little weird when she partied. A real hellcat, but hey, who isn't? Okay, okay...

See, we were a little tipsy, her more than me, though I had three more beers than she did, and I was walking her home from the party. She lived up Haskell Street, right? We walked past number 3, and she stopped in the middle of the street, and tilted her head, like she had heard something, you know? We walked up to the porch, who was I to say no to this pretty, slightly intoxicated girl. I admit I was thinking with my dick. That sounds bad, real bad Doc. Considering what happened. Can you strike that from the record? Thanks.

It was a warm night, it being the middle of July and all, but when we got to the door, we were both shivering. Maybe it was just fear, or our imaginations running wild, but it did seem cooler up there. Much cooler. I tugged hard on the door, the hardest I could, twice. Nothing, the fucking door wouldn't budge as much as an inch. I had shrugged and was ready to give up. She grabbed the door knob and pulled. It opened. Just like that, like the door to a bedroom. That easy, you know? The door opened Doc, it fucking opened, like it was waiting for her. I know that sounds crazy. But that's why I'm here, right?

Yeah, me too, Doc. At first I thought I had unstuck the door for her. But no. It had been locked when we first got there, I had pulled on it, and it was locked. But when we walked inside, after standing there for a few minutes, shocked, I saw the door was unlocked and unlatched.

I was seriously creeped to shit, you know what I mean? The place was fucking creepy as hell, too. It was still furnished in shit from the forties or fifties, and the house had a smell like over-ripe tomatoes. On the surface. Under the ripe tomato smell was another smell, which just screamed to me of evil. Like that chemical smell from those dissections in biology class. Phenylaldehyde, I think it's called.

Beth had her hand over her face to keep from smelling it, and as we walked through the house, we saw the door. The cellar door.

Beth opened it, and the stench got worse, and the blast of cold air from the basement took our breaths away. She kept telling me to go down the stairs, that she wanted to see it. That she had to take a picture of us down there for her Myspace. I told her I was scared shitless. She laughed at me, calling me a baby. She pointed down the stairs and I went, shaking so bad I could hear my teeth chattering.

The stairs creaked bad, groaning really. The sound was sinister, like those sounds the zombies make in those cheesy movies. I had to pause half-way down to light my zippo. The street lights made the upstairs bright, but the cellar was pitch black. I heard Beth coming down behind me, shaking about as hard as me.

I took another step down, then another, until I was on the floor. I could see my breath in the air Doc, like it was fucking January. The cellar was big, with three rotting support beams. The floor was packed earth, and sitting against one wall was a stone bench about four feet tall. I walked over to it, Beth behind me. The top was stained a brown color. The chemical smell now ruled over the tomato smell.

It was cold as hell, and my heart was beating so fast I thought it would burst out of my throat, Doc. Beth looked as bad as me, I could see her nipples poking through her shirt as she grabbed her camera. She told me to sit on the bench, and she took a picture of me with her digital. The flash illuminated the cellar for a brief instant. She looked at the display on the back and her breath caught. I got up to see. In the display, I was sitting on the bench. Actually, I was sitting on the bench, and the body of a three year old was under me, looking at the camera, covered in blood, his eyes glowed a yellow color. I could see through the kid.

We were about to go, Beth had gotten to the bottom stair when the door above banged closed, and we heard a clicking sound, like it was locking. I ran up the stairs, and yeah, the door was closed and locked. I shouldered it a few times, but it didn't open. I went back down, and wrapped an arm around Beth; she was cold, and shaking.

The air got colder and the smell got worse. That's when we heard the kid singing. It was no louder than a whisper, and it made me almost scream:

'Jesus loves me, this I know

For the Bible tells me so...'

Over and over again. Beth started crying. By this time, the beer had left us, so we weren't drunk at all. Just scared shitless. As anyone would be. I never believed in ghosts, Doc, I thought it was all bullshit, but... This was too much.

There was a scratching sound coming from the walls now, the kind of noise that rats make when they get in between the drywall and the support boards, you know? It was loud, but it didn't drown out the kid. I held Beth, I had to. She needed to be held, and I needed to be held. Fuck.

It went on like this for quite awhile. How long? I don't fucking know, Doc, I wasn't wearing a fucking watch. Then the singing stopped. The clawing sound got louder. Then we heard the kid scream, again no louder than a fucking whisper. The kid kept screaming 'DADDY NO! DADDY NO! DADDY NO!' Over and over and over again.

The basement kept getting brighter too, no fucking joke. I know how your eyes will get used to the dark and shit, but this was different. It was getting brighter, and tinged with green. A sick kind of green. Like some of the villain lairs in the Batman show. Soon, we could see without my zippo being out, so I put it away in my pocket. I could see her face clearly now, and it was drawn and pale. Even with the greenish tint, it was pale. She looked up at me, and her lip quivered.

Then thoughts came into me. Dark, perverted thoughts. Like taking Beth to the altar, yes, that's what the bench was, Doc, and bending her over and raping the shit out of her. Fucked up shit like that. I had an erection at this point, and Beth started rubbing my cock through my jeans. I started kissing her Doc, not a sweet slow kiss, no, it was an animalistic, feral kiss, the kind where the tongue is forced down someone's throat. She kept rubbing my dick and moaning, she was moving us toward the altar.

I know what you must be thinking Doc, but it's true. I sat down heavily on it, and she ripped my pants off, and started jacking me off, she bit my lip hard enough to draw blood as she backed off a little to take her pants off. She rode me until she climaxed, it took her about a minute or so, and then got off of me, and bent over the altar, gripping the sides, spreading her legs. I fucked her, Doc, from behind, and she was loving it. I told her I was gonna cum, so she got out of the way, and I came on the altar. She started rubbing it into the stone, smearing it over the dried blood of the kid. Then she lay in it and started rolling around in my cum, grinding into the stone. She told me to get on top of her, so I did, and we fucked again.

We fucked four times, and I have to say that they were each the best orgasms I've had in my life. The animal in me, and I guess in her, loved it. We were not ourselves. Something in the cellar made us that way. We would have never have fucked, if we weren't down there. Each time I came, she rubbed it into the altar, and rolled in it.

After the fourth time, we both pulled up our pants, and were embarrassed of what we had done; I guess reality snapped back to us or something. We could hear the kid crying now, sobbing, really, and I felt real sick.

The green glow had peaked out, and now the cellar was bright enough to see in the corners. The altar remained dark, and as I looked at it, my cum was forming symbols on the stone. They looked a little like those fucking crop circles you see on TV. When all the cum was gone into those symbols, the altar caught on fire. Fucking fire. Beth screamed.

I knew then, that this was not an altar to Satan, or God, or anything like that. This was more. Bigger than Satan. Bigger than God. A name, I think it was a name, at least, shouted in my head. TAK SOTOTH. TAK SOTOTH. TAK SOTOTH. I knew I wasn't the only one thinking it, because Beth was chanting it under her breath, grinding her hips against me.

That's when the walls started bleeding. No, not like in Evil Dead, where that cheesy blood sprays from the wall like a fire hose. No, this was slow. It started on the top of the wall, and trailed down, coating it. It went into the floor. It didn't pool on the floor, it went into it. Beth was still grinding her hips against me, rubbing my cock through my jeans again, and I could hear her saying TAK SOTOTH constantly, chanting it, her voice getting louder every time she said it.

I don't know what came over me. Probably the weirdness of the entire situation, the complete and utter wrongness of it, but I started to say it too. I wasn't scared anymore. I felt high, euphoric. The name seemed right. Like I was meant to do this. Fucked up, I know. The kid was wailing now, but I didn't care. Fuck the kid. No, Doc, not like that.

Beth bit my lip again, in the same spot she did before, harder now, and when she stopped, she licked away the blood and moaned at the taste. She bit my neck next, also drawing blood, which she licked off as well. All the while, chanting TAK SOTOTH.

Bigger than Satan. Bigger than God. This was a god to end all gods. Our Christian god had nothing on this god. The mere utterance of his name could drive people mad. The altar still burned, just flames, no smoke. I wanted so bad to just lay on the flames and fuck Beth, hard.

We fucked a couple more times that night, not on the altar, but each time I came, I did it in the flames. The flames grew brighter each time I did. When Beth would climax she would scream TAK SOTOTH! Until her voice went hoarse.

We both seemed to come awake at the same time. She started screaming, thrashing around, her hair going everywhere. She kept screaming that we were damned. I tried to comfort her, she pushed me away. The kid's voice was crying too. She ran up the stairs, banging on the door. I stayed down there, confused, scared, and shaking in the cold. The flames didn't make any heat. My dick felt weird, my balls hurt. The sick feeling in my stomach reached a new crescendo, and I vomited on the floor. Beth sat on the stairs, crying, shaking, occasionally stomping her feet.

Then the cellar went dark. The door opened, and sunlight greeted us from the upstairs. We went out, through the front door, which we made sure was locked, and I walked her home. I then went home, and slept for three days.

Beth killed herself a week later. Slit her fucking wrists in the fucking bath. She wrote two words in her own blood on the shower wall. She wrote them in her own fucking blood, Doc.


Bigger than Satan, Bigger than God. This was a god to end all gods. Our Christian god had nothing on this god. The mere utterance of his name could drive people mad. And it did. Her mother killed herself in her garage a few days later. Asphyxiation, you know? Put a fucking garden hose on her exhaust pipe, fed it through her car window.

Her father, who found her body, lit himself on fire an hour after his wife was taken by the ambulance.

No, Doc, I never told anyone what happened in the cellar. Why would I? It was fucking insane. Doc, why are you smiling? What are you doing? No! NOOOOOO!

English Sex Stories

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