Twisted Roads – Twisted Horror Stories by Matthew Tonks

Three Mouths to Feed

He takes a staggered step back, shuddering as the chill cuts into him. He clutches himself, flinching as the cold fog closes in, strangling the light. He sucks in a breath and allows a moment’s hesitation—a moment lost. He hears the hypnotic song first, then the laughter, from all sides, moving quickly. He turns, twists, and spins in all directions, following the sounds. His eyes narrow, ears prick up, and he scurries right, then left, grabbing at the air, only to grasp nothing.

“John?” a woman’s voice calls playfully.

“Oh, Johnny boy?” another woman’s voice teases.

“Over here’s where you want to be!” calls another.

“W-W-Where are you?” he stammers, holding his hands out, feeling like a blind man in the middle of the afternoon.

“You’re getting warmer!”

He smiles nervously, spinning slightly, and takes another step forward.

“Oh! Now you’re getting colder!”

He spins back the other way and steps.

“COLDER!”

“Fuck!” he hisses under his breath, shaking his hands vigorously before holding them out in front of him again. Closing his eyes, he spins in a slow circular motion, eventually taking a step forward.

“HE’S GOT IT!” one of the women shouts.

“HE’S GOT WHAT?” another shouts back.

“NO CLUE!”

“W-W-What?” he stammers, freezing in place.

“Don’t be a bad sport, Johnny. Keep playing along. We promise the reward’ll keep you smiling for days,” a warm breath purrs in his ear.

He stammers and stutters, a wry grin washing over his lips. “I-I-I like rewards,” he says, spinning around and grabbing at the air, once again grasping nothing.

“Nice try, but you’ll never be quick enough—not while you’re a fully-fledged meat suit.”

“W-W-What do I need to do to trade up?” he asks eagerly.

The fog settles, and the three women stand before him. He takes a stuttering breath in through trembling lips as they circle him like animals on the prowl. His heart skips as they crisscross and round him again.

“Trading up isn’t something done on a whim,” one of the women says.

“You would need to prove to us that you deserve our gift,” another adds.

“And only when all three of us agree would we even dare to offer you the chance,” the third one says.

“Yes, y-yes,” he spits. “I-I-I’ll do what you need me to do. I’ll do the time, show you I’m worthy, and I’ll worship each and every one of you,” he says, dropping to his knees as he tears his shirt open and tosses it to the ground, displaying his perfectly chiselled chest and abs. “I’m an instrument. Use me.”

“Oh my,” the first says.

“He is quite a weapon,” the second agrees.

“But is he a useful weapon?” the third asks.

“YOU DARE QUESTION ME?” he grunts, getting to his feet and flexing his muscles.

The third woman is upon him in an instant, gripping him by the throat and lifting him high into the air.

“I dare anything, worm. I dare the day’s end. I dare the night sky. You are a bleeder, food, nothing more. Now know your place and bow down or I’ll end your miserable existence. Do you understand?”

He gasps, choking, “Y-y-y-yes,” he stammers.

She drops him to the ground, flashing a toothy smile. “Good. Now, be a good provider and bring us meat, or you’ll be the one we eat!”

“W-W-What s-s-sort of meat d-d-do you like?” he gasps, clutching his red, swollen neck.

“Why don’t you bring us a few of your gym buddies—muscles and roids make me all hot.”

“OHH I love me some muscles,” another chimes in.

“B-B-But…”

“You want tomorrow or d’you prefer yesterday?”

“T-T-Tomorrow,” he stammers. “T-T-Tomorrow!”

“Well then, go on and bring us your friends,” she says.

“Feed us,” another adds.

“Provide for us and we’ll provide for you,” she says, smiling a mouthful of sharp teeth.

“Tomorrow, Johnny boy.”

“Tomorrow,” he says with a nervous smile.