The Intruder

This is a short story I wrote a few months ago

I love jerking off in the shower. It’s the perfect way to start the day, if you ask me. Actually, you could probably go as far to say I’m addicted to it. For some people it’s methamphetamine. For me it’s that perfect, glowing moment. That instant where the rest of the world seems to disappear and all that’s left is beautiful, sublime nothingness. If I believe in God, this is why.

This is a lot like how the story I’m about to tell you started out. Me, tugging at my morning hard-on, like usual. There I was, spraying my orgasm across the frosted glass pane, those thick white teardrops of spunk raining off my cock. My liquid kids. When suddenly, I heard a loud bang come from down the hall- my bedroom.

I quickly rinsed the soap from my shaggy blonde hair and ran naked down the narrow hallway to my room. Empty. Then another bang, but this time it came from inside my wardrobe. I pressed my ear against the door of the antique wooden cabinet. I could hear someone breathing. Careful not to turn my back on the mysterious intruder, I quickly grabbed the Walther P99 semi-automatic pistol from the drawer of my bedside table.

“Listen you fuck,” I shouted, gun pointed at my unknown target. “You’d better come out or I’ll shoot!”

No response- only the faint sound of muffled laughter.

“I’m serious,” I said, putting on my deepest, most commanding voice. “You don’t want to mess with me! I’m a badass motherfucker!”

Still no answer. More laughs. I was beginning to get annoyed.

“What’s so funny?” I demanded, forgetting for a second to sound intimidating.

“Badass motherfucker?” answered the voice, finally. “Who are you trying to fool? I’ve been in here watching you for days. Your mom washes your underwear. You jerk off to the lingerie section of the Sears sales catalog. You’re a pipsqueak. I’m not afraid of you.”

“Am not!” I shouted back. Although to be fair the thing about the Sears catalog was true. “You’d better watch your fat mouth because I’ve got a gun and I ain’t afraid to use it!”

“Alex!” called my mother from downstairs. “Who are you talking to?”

“Don’t worry mom,” I shouted, keeping my eyes on the target. “I’ve got this under control.” I pressed the barrel of the pistol against the wardrobe door and slid the cock back until it made a loud click.

“You hear that?” I said. “Now if you don’t come out of that closet with your hands up right now, I’m going to paint the walls with your brains. You understand?” I stepped back to allow the intruder space to exit.

“Honey!” shouted my mother a second time. “Do I need to make a call to Ms. Allen?” She sounded disappointed. Sort of like the time she caught me beating-off with my dad’s belt strapped around my throat, only not as bad.

Defeated, I put the neon green, plastic water pistol down on my bed and opened the door of my wardrobe. Empty. Not again, I thought to myself. Second time this week. I looked down at my scrawny, naked body. Massive boner. As I pulled my wrinkled, navy blue school vest over my damp skin, I couldn’t help but wonder, why does God hate me?


Ms. Allen, the school councilor, smells like a mixture of rose petals and olive oil. Her hair is red and so are her nails. Later that day- the day with the intruder and the gun- I was sitting in Ms. Allen’s Scooby-Do themed office, fantasizing about what sounds she would make if I stuck my blue ballpoint pen up her pussy. I don’t want to fuck her really, but the idea of her cunt still gives me a total hard-on. I’ve never seen a real one up close. I cunt, I mean. So if I’m telling the truth, I’m not very picky.

“So, Alex, how’s school going?” Ms. Allen smiled sweetly. I’ve been through this so many times; I’m just going through the motions now.

“It’s ok,” I answered, lazily.

“Anything new or exciting going on?” she asked. I want to hate fuck you…I didn’t say that. I just thought it.

“There’s an intruder living in my wardrobe.” I said that for real. “He’s been in there for days.”

“Can you see this intruder?” she asked.

“No, I can just hear him, but I know he’s there.” I was talking to her like normal but in my head I was thinking of wet pussy, anal gaping, deep throating. Anything to keep my mind from thinking about this. Reality. Right now.

Ms. Allen looked deep into my eyes, as if trying to see the inner workings of my brain through my pupils. “I think we should make an appointment for your mother to come in,” said Ms. Allen’s wet lips. “I think the three of us should have a chat.” Cunt. Fuckhole. Gangbang. Anything but this.


I arrived home later that afternoon to find the contents of my closet scattered across my bedroom floor. Did I do this? I thought to myself. I don’t trust my memory anymore.

“Pssst. Alex, is that you?” I heard the familiar whisper coming from inside my wardrobe. “Open the door and let me out!” I slammed my backpack down onto the messy floor, now littered with cum-soaked Kleenex, dirty laundry, and half-empty jars of Vaseline.

“I’m not falling for that one again,” I said aloud.

“Listen you scrawny, zit-faced piece of shit. I said open this door right now!”

ed at my own gullibility, I reluctantly opened the door to my wardrobe. Inside, sitting cross-legged, eating my leftovers from yesterday’s lunch, was a small pink thing. Something like I had never seen before- sort of like a cross between an elf and a small child, only uglier.
Unsure if what I was seeing was real, I gave my cheek a pinch. When he was still there, I smacked myself around the face.

“You’re a fuckwit, you know that?” said the tiny body, bits of ham sandwich dropping from his lips. “You think this is a joke?”

“No,” I said, slightly embarrassed. “It’s just that sometimes I see and hear things that aren’t really there, so I have to double check.” I looked down at the small, disgusting creature- his pink skin and stumpy arms, his fat belly and hideous little eyes- and I couldn’t help but think how satisfying it would be to show up at Ms. Allen’s office tomorrow with the his severed head on a stick.

“I’m going to kill you and mount your head on a stick,” someone said. I wasn’t sure if it was him or me, but I hoped it was me.

“Did I say that or did you,” I asked?

But the stupid little fuck just laughed, like I was some sort of a comedian. That really ticked me off. So you know what I did? I grabbed the pink little shit by the throat and squeezed hard- hard enough that I could feel the crunch of his trachea on my palm. As he spasmed in pain, crumbs flying from his mouth, I used my free hand to grab the heavy-duty garbage bags lying on the floor next to me. Then I shoved the squirming, helpless creature inside the bag head first, double knotted it, and threw the convulsing sack back into my wardrobe. That night I fell asleep to the sweet sounds of his muffled screams.

I arrived at school early the next morning with the garbage bag slung over my shoulder. Ms. Allen’s office was empty. I untied the bag and looked down at the now lifeless figure inside. The creature’s once pink skin had turned a grayish green- his eyes rolled back in his child-sized head. I pulled his rigid body out of the bag and dropped it onto Ms. Allen’s large, wooden desk- careful not to spill any of his leaking bodily fluids onto the immaculate, pale blue carpet. I’m a neat monster. As the creature’s head hit the hard mahogany of the desk, his lips parted ever so slightly, revealing the tip of his salmon tongue. I noticed that his dead, fleshy mouth- faded pink and damp with condensation- looked surprisingly like a pussy. Or at least the closest thing to a pussy I’d ever seen in real life.

Staring down at his corpse, I could feel my dick growing hard inside the leg of my trousers. I wanted to fuck his dead mouth so bad. I looked around for any possible witnesses, but could spot no one. I carefully unzipped my trousers and grabbed hold of my cock. As I shoved my erection into his child mouth, I realized that the inside of his throat was dry, so I pulled my dick back out, hocked-up a big, green wad of saliva and spat it down his neck before reinserting. It felt good- wet and tight and perfect. I thrust hard, pulling the back of his head firmly into my pelvis. I could feel my climax coming as I fucked harder and harder. I closed my eyes. Saliva dripped from my lips as the spunk erupted from inside me, filling the thing’s mouth, and spilling out onto his face and neck. I kept thrusting, harder and faster, pulling him into me. I could hear the bones in his neck snap under the firm grip of my hand. Oblivion. Ecstasy. More bones shattered until his head dangled loosely from his body, connected only by dead flesh. Euphoria. Enlightenment. A moment of clarity in which I realized… if I believe in God, this is why.

When I was done I put my raw, inflamed dick back in my pants. Next I took the blue ballpoint pen from my pocket and scribbled the words The Intruder onto the creature’s moist forehead. I left confident Ms. Allen would get the message.



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