Twisted Roads – Twisted Horror Stories by Matthew Tonks

Boils Blistering Pus-Filled Explosions

The blister pops, and a stream of green pus sprays across the floor in front of Timothy. He sways, a twisted smile spreading across his lips as another blister slowly swells. He purses his lips, then pulls them back in his best Billy Idol pose, grunting as he thrusts his hips suggestively forward. His flaccid member swings between his legs with each thrust. Throwing his arms back, he clenches tightly wound fists and bites down on his bottom lip, tilting his head to the side to capture the perfect photo profile. With a guttural grunt, the blister erupts, spraying another jet of slime across the floor.

Susie squeals, pulling her legs in tightly and pressing herself flat against the wall. A hiss, a spit, and a sizzle rise from the concrete as the ooze eats its way into the ground. A hazy mist rises, curling upward as the concrete erodes—the slime devours it like a greedy child feasting on a candy bar.

Timothy stifles a burp, his chest heaving as a lazy smile washes over his droopy lips. He pokes his bottom out, then pulls it back in, repeating the motion several times while laughing quietly to himself. The sound is almost like a record stuck on a scratched loop. Meanwhile, another pus-filled boil swells obscenely on his shoulder.

“P-P-Please, I didn’t mean—” Susie begins, her voice quivering under the weight of her fear. But before she can finish, the blister explodes with a violent clap, spraying her legs in a hot, wet torrent of sickly-green goo. Her screams tear pages from books older than mankind as the putrid, corrosive liquid burns through her skin. She grips her legs instinctively, only to have the palms of her hands seared to the melting flesh of her thighs.

The ripe stench of burnt meat quickly fills the air, while her choking cries fall into pathetic, wet gurgles. She thrashes against the wall, her wide eyes locked on Timothy, who dances in mocking rhythm. His hips sway, his penis hardening with each of her screams. He giggles, thrusting his fists onto his hips and standing proudly in another exaggerated pose. Narrowing his eyes, he purses his lips and sneers down at her.

“Does it hurt?” he asks proudly, his words dripping with a sickly, perverse undertone that would almost be considered gleeful.

Another boil pulses on his face, its surface stretched thin and pulsating as if threatening to burst. She sobs, nodding her head weakly, and he smiles smugly.

“Good. Good. That’s how you know it’s real. That’s how you know change will be your reward. We all change. Without change, we are cattle—and cattle is food for the changed!”

The blister bursts, showering her with another wave of corrosive filth. This time it splashes across her face. Her skin bubbles and peels, her cries almost inhuman in pitch. She tears her hands free from her legs and collapses to the floor in an overly dramatic display, her body twitching.

Susie lies crying, half-heartedly trying to drag herself away. Her legs are almost useless, her hands a cradled mess, but the slime burns relentlessly. It eats through her flesh like a living thing, spreading and consuming her inch by inch as though alive.