One of eleven surviving short stories/novellas I wrote in a roughly five-year period (2004-2008).
The sequel to "The Crone-Maiden", it's just as pretentious and antisexual. To add injury to insult, there's a heaping shovelful of sexism on top of it. I never identified as an incel, and didn't even know the term at the time, but this story has all the tell-tale signs of underlying resentment towards beautiful women.
Original spelling mistakes, grammatical errors, omissions, and alterations have been preserved for your reading pleasure.
* * *
This is it. Tonight will be the seventh night. She will come, she will knock, she will ultimately force her way within to get at me. Tho-ugh I am severely weak, I will resist her power; I will make my last stand.
Her name is, or, perhaps I should say, was, Maria Cortez-Rodrieqez, a woman who is, and was, a woman of low moral fibre, a flirtatious brat of a female with vile thirsts and vile partners. Men desired her body, and she willingly gaze her body to them, allowing them perimission to perform any obscene sexual act upon her which they wished to utilise. Her darkness, her amorality, or perhaps immorality, her utter disdain for the male sex and chastity both, attracted the unearthly entity which came and took her soul as its own.
At some point in the recent past, something crossed over from a location unreachable to us to our world, from beyond our very universe,. At some point it found Ms. Cortez-Rodrigez, returning from her night shift at Escher Pysychiatric Haspital, and entered her physical form itself, possessing it, and obtaining complete control. It found, more or less, a willing host in this physically attractive Latino woman, whose dark thoughts were apparently not at odds with its own. Whatever its initial goal upon reachingEarth was, I believe that agenda concern has possibly been already taken care of.
For unknown reasons, she began to attempts to seduce me.
Ever since I had lived within this apartment complex I have known her, since she is my neighbour; however, I am of physical traits substandard, below her taste rin regards to masculine physical charms, and she had never before expressed an interest in me. Yet now she had begun to flirt with me, to speak in of risque subjects in seductive tones, put light touches upon me, and flaunt her body suggestively to me in revealing items of clothing. Regardless of her advances, I denied her. She had had no power over me. She would not have any power over me.
If I had not gratified myself, alone within the privacy of my ch-ambers with her in my thoughts.
I am but a mortal, sinful man, imperfect and always short of true glory. I had vainly resisted physical fornication with her, but I had not seen mental sexual congress and immoral or detestable. Yet as I climaxed that first time, in my mind's eye I saw her elegant features twist into a grotesque [?]alistic sneer of triumph, and I knew she had won; I was hers, I had lost, and I collapsed in sudden weakness. The next night commenced with the first of the physical seintercoarse; she forced her way into my room, undressed, and I willingly caressed her smooth, shiny curves as she drained more of my life from me.
The sessions of sex continued with each night. And know it is the seventh. I will die if she is penetrated once more. So, with my last vestiages of strength, I have retrieved the shotgun and shells from my bedroom closet, and now wait here at the end of the hall, opposite the main door, the barrel levelled. I now hear a loud rap upon the wood, a husky address, then more raps upon the door.
Suddenly, the door is forced in, and a sexy Latino woman bounds in, pulling open her nuse's uniform to exposed round, voluptous breasts.
I pull back the trigger, and her head disappears in a red mist.
The End
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