*Hello everyone! Annabelle, this is my first story on Literotica and I really hope you like it! The story is about a man who inherits a house filled with many mysterious creatures who meet a person for the first time in fifty years. I plan to introduce a new creature almost every chapter, so come back for more!
“There’s a fairy in the bathtub!”
Mike stared at the Victorian house in awe, overwhelmed by its sheer size. The tower-like structure brings a medieval feel to this blue house, which is surrounded by a simple garden with waist-high bushes that are in desperate need of pruning. Stone lions guard the path leading to the front door, while a stone path disappears around the back door.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” Mike started, dropping his sleeping bag to the floor. He bent down to pick it up and felt his cheeks heat up. “I’m afraid you have a tough task ahead of you, Mr Radley.”
As Beth, the representative of his aunt’s estate, walked by, Mike laughed nervously. The woman was taller than him, attractive, and serious. With her dark hair pulled up in a bun, she paused to look at something on her clipboard. Mike took the opportunity to admire her rear through the thin layer of her pencil skirt. There was a very faint line of panties around her hips, and Mike couldn’t take his eyes off them. She turned toward him and pretended to struggle with the sleeping bag.
“I doubt you’ll need it,” he gestured, offering a helping hand. It smelled like peaches and something floral, a scent he couldn’t identify. “There’s plenty of room in the house.”
“I’ve been a Boy Scout since I was six years old,” he replied. “Be prepared. That’s my motto.”
“Yes.” Beth helped him put the bag under his arm. “Trust me when I say you don’t need it.” She led him up the stairs, the wooden deck creaking slightly under their weight. Mike stared for a while at the rocking chair swaying gently in the breeze on the front porch. Beth looked at Mike as she pulled out her keys. “This will be like a fairy tale for you.”
“No fairy tale. Just a weird coincidence,” he said, keeping his eyes carefully on the lace top of her blouse. Generally speaking, women make him nervous. Especially pretty ones.
“You hear these things all the time,” she said, putting the key in the lock. “But you never see how they behave.” The door clacked against the doorframe and Beth pushed it open with her shoulder. A lock of hair fell out of her bun as she pushed the door open and walked in. “A long-lost relative has died and left everything to you.”
“Yeah. I’m lucky.” Mike followed her inside. The house was cold and dark. Beth opened a few windows to let some light in. Beth pulled the covers off the couch, sending a small layer of dust into the air.
“You don’t seem too keen on the idea, Mr. Radley.” Beth opened the coffee table with one hand and set her purse and clipboard down. “This is a very nice house.”
“This is no house. Call me Mike.” Mike dropped his sleeping bag and backpack in a clean spot on the floor. Forced by habit, he took off his shoes at the door.
“Well, Mike, we had a hard time finding you.” Beth spotted a loveseat nearby. “We’re only a few weeks away from the company tearing down the house.”
“As far as I understand, that’s still an option?” Mike asked, staring at the pale yellow curtains.
“Right.” Beth picked up her clipboard. “Unless you decide not to keep it.”
“That’s right.” Mike looked down the long hallway toward the kitchen. “I’m not used to having so much space. It scares me.”
“At its core, this style of home is actually very comfortable.” Her shoes clicked on the hardwood floor as Beth led her to the kitchen. “There’s plenty of room to stretch your legs in here.”
“I’ve never lived in a house with more than two bedrooms,” Mike replied, following the woman. Beth checked the appliances to make sure they were still working and showed Mike where the fuse box was. A brief visit to the kitchen revealed several jars of jelly, an old box of cat biscuits, and an empty tub of ice cream in the refrigerator.
“So, where’s the cat?” Mike asked, shaking the cookie box.
“As far as we know, she wasn’t. Your great-grandmother was drafted into the military long before my parents graduated from high school and had little contact with the company. According to our sources, she was basically a reclusive person. These behaviors are likely much older than you and me.”
“Unless she eats them,” Mike muttered, tossing the cookies back into the cabinet.
“So you’ve only been in the apartment?” Beth led Mike to the stairs. As she walked up, Mike stopped to look at the living room. Sure enough, there was a creepy porcelain doll sitting on top of the fireplace, its legs draped over the mantelpiece. He was all terrified and looked up the stairs. Beth’s legs were now exposed and he could see the top of her stockings. Jesus. He pulled hard on the railing, eager to catch up.
“Yeah. My mom was always unemployed, so we were always staying with friends.” Spending long nights in bed with his mother, the smell of alcohol seeping out of her pores and stinging her eyes. Years of therapy may have helped him get over the worst of it, but he would still wake up terrified in the night, convinced he was in bed with his mother again.
“That sounds daunting,” Beth said. She opened a door to reveal a study. “This is the office. Everything in here is custom-made.”
“I don’t see the router.” Mike came in and looked around the room. The bookshelves in the room are filled with poetry collections and various inspirational works. Every inch of the desk is decorated with fake flowers.
“Your aunt doesn’t have internet.”
“Yeah, I would.” Mike frowned and looked out the window. He could see the backyard had grown enormously. A huge stone fountain, filled with silt and overgrown with weeds. “I build websites for a living. If I decide to keep this place, I’ll have to install it.”
Beth was already making notes in her scrapbook. “I’ll see what we can do. Just a reminder, this house is listed as a historical monument, so we may experience some delays.”
Mike waved his hand dismissively and knelt down under the desk. “I have my way. Just give me some high-speed lines and I’ll do the rest.” He crept behind the desk, looking for an exit.
“Let me take you to the guest room,” Beth said, reminding him that she was still there. Mike stood up and banged his head on the table. He smiled shyly, ran his hands over his head and followed her into the hall. Beth opened the other door and showed him a regular single bed with a big pink quilt on top. Daisies were embroidered on top.
“I have nothing to say,” Mike said, looking toward the guest bed.
“I don’t blame you.” Beth opened the closet. “There were some extra sheets in there, but they weren’t much better.”
“What is the purpose of locking the guest room door?” Mike checked the closet. At the bottom he saw another porcelain doll.
“My best guess is that this is the same room your father lived in when he was a child.”
“What do you think?” Mike lifted one end of the pink quilt.
Beth smiled. “I never said it was a good idea. Your father has a few cousins, most of whom were once little girls.”
“I’m sure.” Mike looked at the bed, his thoughts wandering. Did his father really sleep under this roof? The man died of an aggressive form of cancer shortly after Mike was born. The same disease caused his mother to become an alcoholic. Thinking of his mother, he couldn’t help but shiver when he laid eyes on the tiny bed. No bullshit way. He needed a bigger bed.
“Where does Auntie Mabel sleep?” she asked.
“In her room, down the hall.” Beth paused. “She died there.”
“On the bed?” Mike was already wondering where to unfold his sleeping bag.
“No, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Beth led him back into the hall. Mike found himself staring at her ass again. When she looked back his eyes suddenly turned to her. “Right here, right here.”
Beth opened the door. The room is large, with a high ceiling. Mike realized he was in one of the circular tower rooms he had seen from the front. The bed was in the middle of the back wall, with a large poster surrounded by curtains. His eyes followed the curves of the walls, admiring the intricate molding on the middle walls and ceiling. Two dressers, a standing wardrobe, and a mirrored bedside table, all of which Beth had seen on her rounds. A large opening marked the entrance to the bathroom. On the other side of the room, a large oriental rug covered the floor.
“The rug is in a weird spot,” Mike said, pointing to it.
“It took us a while to find your aunt,” Beth replied. “We’re working hard to find suitable replacement materials. It’s not easy to find century-old hardwood floors that match the surrounding flooring.”
“Why not replace them all?”
“The Historical Society, remember?”
“Ah.” Mike looked at the bed. It could easily have been a king size. “His heart failed?”
“She’s 96. It happens.” Beth looked at her scrapbook. “I made some notes for myself. I just needed a signature to authorize some purchases.”
“Of course.” Mike ignored Beth for a moment as he went to the bathroom. “Oh my god, have you ever seen this?”
Beth smiled behind him. “I do. Impressive, isn’t it?”
Mike looked at the biggest clawfoot tub he had ever seen. He looked at Beth wide-eyed, jumped in, and lay down. Her head and feet didn’t touch the edge, and she spread her arms out. They were almost fully extended before they touched the edges.
“I admit, your aunt’s taste in decoration is questionable in some ways, but this is probably my favorite piece.” Beth sat on the edge of the tub looking at Mike. Mike sat up and looked over the edge of the tub. The edge reached his chin.
“I feel like I’m on a boat.” Mike turned his attention to the dragon’s head. Two separate taps, made of some sort of bronze, supplied water to the tub. “Does it still work?”
“I think so. We checked the house to make sure we didn’t sell it.” Beth tapped a spout. “I wish I could try it.”
“Jump in. There’s plenty of room.” The words slipped out of his mouth before his mind could stop him. He looked away and pretended to turn on the tap.
Beth smiled. “I’m afraid I’m very busy right now.” She extended her hand and helped Mike stand up. He had to lift his legs high to get out of the pool. “Maybe I’ll be able to sit down at home sometime.”
“I’ll leave you some bath pearls.” Mike stepped back to admire the tub. “I’ve never been a fan of baths, but this might be enough to change my mind.”
Mike tidied around the bedroom rug and followed Beth around the rest of the house. Beth made a few notes in a scrapbook pointing out needed adjustments. Mike’s aunt left a large sum of money, and her will stipulated that her oldest living relative should have every opportunity to make the house livable before selling it. It was clear to Mike that a purchase offer was on the table for a group of women who wanted to turn the place into a local museum. He’d never been able to put down roots and rarely lived anywhere for more than six months.
Beth stood at the front door checking her list. Mike stared out the front window and saw the chair move. He said her name twice before coming back to reality.
“Sorry, I was thinking,” he apologized. “What did you say?”
“I said I could take you shopping tomorrow. Your aunt has a car, but I don’t recommend you go anywhere. If you’re going to this place, you need to prepare a few essentials.” Beth tells the scrapbook to rest. “I hope you will. Her greatest wish is to keep the house in the family. I know you’ve expressed some concerns about maintaining the property, but I really think you should give this place a try.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Mike smiled at her. “This is a rare opportunity, after all.”
“Okay, you have my business card, please contact me if you need anything.” Beth picked up her wallet from the coffee table.
“Actually, there is something.” Beth waited patiently for Mike to go to the fireplace and pull out the porcelain doll. “I don’t care how, just get rid of it.”
Beth looked at the doll and smiled. “I’m working on it. Good night, Mike.” She walked out the door and down the stairs. Mike watched her walk, the click of her heels on the pavement echoing off the deck. He waved to her as she got into her car and pulled into the street.
The rocking chair creaked softly. Mike stepped onto the deck and stared at the offending piece of furniture. He undid the chain and lowered the seat from the deck. He let the front door close softly behind him.
–
Night falls as Mike spends the evening on his laptop. He took advantage of his neighbor’s unsecured Wi-Fi, checked some websites he was maintaining, answered a few emails and opened his bank statement. The money his aunt had left him had not yet been transferred, but he imagined the new amount that would replace the current one and became curious.
What will he do with the cash? If he sells the house, he’s walking around with millions and nothing to spend. He was poor as a child, so poor that by the time he got to college, he was accustomed to a survivor’s lifestyle. All the clothes he owns easily fit into two suitcases, and most of his belongings are a few desktop computers and a tablet in the apartment.
Eventually he looked at the time at the bottom of the screen and closed the shop for the night. It was almost eleven o’clock and he hadn’t eaten yet. A quick search on his phone revealed a nearby pizza place, and he ordered himself a medium sausage and a 2-liter Sprite. He walked around the room alone and eventually dumped the bag in his aunt’s bedroom. He walked around the house, picking up random objects and trying to imagine what kind of woman his great aunt was.
She checked it out online. As a young woman she had inherited the house from her aunt, a notorious spinster, and lived off her own many railroad bonds, which paid off well into the 1940s. In the fifties, a job as a librarian supplemented her income, and then she shut herself out.
But not entirely. Mike noted that some shopping had definitely been done in the house over the years. He learned this from several books in the library. She definitely goes out occasionally, or at least hires someone to shop for her. Frankly, the idea was very appealing to him.
The doorbell pulled him out of his reverie, and he nearly fell off the clown figurine he’d pulled out of the shelf in front of him. He put it back and walked toward the front door.
“Hello!” In fact, the pizza delivery boy was a pretty blonde, probably a college student. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail and she wore stylish black-rimmed glasses. The name tag on her jacket said “Dana.” “Your house is so pretty!” He handed her a soda.
“Uh, yes.” He leaned forward to help her take out food from the special refrigerator, and accidentally rubbed his hand on her chest through her coat.
“I don’t think I’ve ever delivered here before,” she said, looking across the house at him. “Are you new here?”
“The first day.” She handed him a pair of ten. As he took the money out of his bag, he smelled her perfume. His world began to shut down.
“Really?” Her eyes widened as she nodded.
“Yeah, no problem.” She closed the door after she thanked him. He placed the pizza on the coffee table and took a few deep breaths. The feel of her breasts on the back of his hand, absolutely firm, along with the smell of her perfume, made his erection surprisingly hard.
He ran into the house and turned on all the lights. His mother’s voice tried to echo in his head, but he shut it out. Years of sleeping with her inevitably lead to an accident when, shortly before his eleventh birthday, he is suddenly slapped awake. In his sleep he rises and rolls over to his mother.
The physical abuse stopped immediately, but the verbal abuse continued. Whenever he awoke from sleep his mother would beat him awake or call others to tease him. Often, this would result in a sudden change of address as most normal people found his behavior shocking. He had to live a largely celibate life as a result of her constant teasing in front of anyone who would listen. The few women he was with were not sympathetic to his sexual panic attacks, or “mommy issues” as they were called. Now, in an unfamiliar environment, he finds those old feelings resurfacing in an attempt to break through the protective shield he had set up for himself.
His imagination is his worst enemy. Just imagine his ghost hiding in the shadows, waiting for the verdict, the deal to be sealed. But now, with all the lights on, she couldn’t come forward. Panic subsided, he picked up his food and headed towards the kitchen.
Mike ate and watched movies on the computer, saving the last five for tomorrow. The refrigerator looked empty except for a pizza box and a bottle of soda. Mike returned to the table and watched for the next half hour, watching the average action star do something that confused the villain. His mind flitted back and forth between the feel of the pizza girl’s breasts and the demonic memories of his mother.
He pulled out his phone and looked up Dr. Gorman in his address book. He hadn’t sat down with a doctor in over three years, but the urge to reach out had surfaced. His hands were shaking, his thumb hovering over the call button.
“Fuck.” She closed the contact list. Her mother died, the past was past, and she needed to get over it. For years, people have been told that sexual arousal is natural, everyone does it, and fantasies are okay. She closed her eyes and remembered the sweet face of Dana, the pizza girl. She brought back memories of her scent, her firm breasts, her expression of surprise when he tipped her an extra eight dollars. It might be the expression on her face when she orgasms for the first time, it might be the expression on her face when her lover’s lips first touch the nipples of her firm breasts…
That’s it. His body has come alive again and he’s regained control. Well, almost that. The urge to watch porn as a way to escape is strong, but Dr. Gorman reminds him that porn can very much be an escapist fantasy. He’d be better off thinking for himself; he’d be less likely to panic in bed with a real woman. However, it’s not the porn that’s the problem, it’s the location.
He was studying for his major in a stranger’s house. Technically he can masturbate in the hallway, who cares, but just because the house is his now, doesn’t mean it’s a home. There’s no sense of security.
Mike shut off the computer and went into the bedroom. He could take care of his needs there. It really was no different than a hotel room or a new apartment. The more he told himself these things, the more he was ready to go. As he entered the room he couldn’t help but shiver when he saw the state of the bed. Beds can be horrible sometimes and today was no exception.
