Clarice's Nightmare
My first horror that I'm publishing, please tell me what you think of it! I don't own anything but this one fanfic. And please be aware, content may be disturbing to some people.
As with most dreams, Clarice Starling just so much as randomly 'poofed' into her scenario.
Her gaze scooped the smallest details- her stomach cramping, the shadows blending, the digital clock reading 2:36.
Goosebumps already blazed over her arms. Naked arms. Starling's dream had stripped her of any garments. The air wrapped around her slender body and shook it. An undefined hiss was scraping in her ears- it was ever so slightly familiar. The air had a slow, surreal feel, her eyes sweeping over her closet, window, door, desk, and bed in slow motion. She was standing in her room and her belly was swollen.
Clarice lurched forward at the sudden weight in her gut, feeling what felt like giant maggots swimming inside of her. She blindly grabbed at her desk beside her, but it was gone. She fell to the ground and clutched her stomach. It felt like a boulder. It was larger than the average nine-months-pregnant stomach.
She groaned at the intense cramping in her gut. The occasional thump from inside jarred her aching skin and made her feel like she was indeed in labor. The things inside her seemed to be squirming in her lower abdomen and she felt a horrible, swelling pressure burn inside her... birthing canal?
'What the fuck is going on?!' The sour taste of icy confusion and terror battered her. She rubbed her tummy and felt the vibrations. Her muscles were beginning to contract and push; rubbing her stomach didn't soothe the pain inside.
The sound got louder, a hot, hissing sound. Something was outside her door.
Clarice squeezed her eyes shut and screamed, blocking out the sound. It escalated to a cry of agony. Her legs flopped and kicked against the pushing feeling inside of her.
A warm, wet feeling released from between her legs. It felt like a gush of menstrual blood. Her labia flexed agonizingly. The 'things' wanted out.
Clarice arched her back like a dead frog's leg hooked to electricity. She was writhing on her back as the fluids oozed from her pubic area, onto the soaked floor and lapped at her thighs. Her vagina was expanding and it was Hell burning through her abdomen.
The woman shredded her vocal cords in her wailings. She clamped her mouth shut and sliced her lip with her front teeth. Thick blood slithered down her chin. Clarice was crying, she was clawing trenches in the carpet, and her heels drummed on the bloody floor. They were in time with the hissing outside her door.
She could barely breathe from the pain. The muscles in her lower half were furiously trying to expel the parasitic prisoners that made her stomach swell. She sobbed and raised her head, only to slam it back down onto the floor. She had never felt so much agony before in her life.
The pain was surreal, so it was almost dulled, but not quite. She could feel the sting on her bottom lip, and the torturing waves of terror and pain crashing through her. She could feel the creatures inside her fighting through the fleshy tunnel, punching through, sending out slimy bursts of crimson fluid out before them.
Clarice's throat convulsed in terror when the door creaked open.
Dr. Hannibal Lecter stepped inside.
He wasn't the quiet, smooth-talking character that she knew. This was a horrible, snarling monster and it stood in the doorway with prison garments stained with fresh blood. Red foam gathered at his gray lips and his eyes... his eyes... the whites were as bright as maggots and the pupils were deranged. Two dots of black blood on newly fallen snow. The irises were nearly invisible, but Clarice's jaded mind fancied that the dark gray-ish maroon shadows ringing his pupils could have been the irises.
'Clarice,' it was the same voice and it sounded viciously wrong coming from the beast standing before her. 'You're in quite the situation, aren't you?' Slightly amused, condescending, a grin masked behind the sharp blades of teeth.
The rockets of pain and pressure forcing her opening vagina amplified suddenly, causing her eyes to bug like a fish's. She screamed and drove her fingernails farther into the scatchy fabric, which felt like a bed of needles.
Clarice felt sick and vulnerable lying in a puddle of sweat and blood, naked, displaying herself like a whore would. The tears blurred her eyes and clogged her throat, but she managed to rasp, 'D-doc...hel...'
He snapped at her, clashing his monstrous jaws together with an ugly clack. 'Who's are they?!' he roared, balling his hands into fists. 'What happened?!'
'I don't know!' the woman sobbed. 'Oh God, oh God!' Clarice desperately tried to squeeze her legs together to shield the mess of her pelvis, but her muscles flamed like the wave of heat that slaps ones eyes when they get too close to a fire. She attempted to raise her arms over her chest. The carpet, however, stuck to her arms and it dawned on her like acid rain that she was indeed immobolized.
Hannibal grinned down at the distressed girl, but his eyes glared brambles. 'I can see one,' he said.
Clarice's high-pitched gasp quickly followed. She moaned in relief as the pressure in her vagina released one of the infants. She felt the gooey creature squirm between her thighs. It felt like a large, cold slug.
Another one popped out soon after, wailing. The sounds of two crying infants sounded bells in the woman's mind, who raised her head to see them. She only managed a glimpse of bloody white blobs before the final child forced itself through her birthing canal. Clarice howled and slammed her head back into the carpet. The pain had blared one last time.
Crying was all she could hear. Her loins were beginning to slowly relax and her body had stopped contracting and jerking. She could see her chest's heaving beginning to slow down.
Dr. Lecter came forward. His face appeared to be a mask, one emotional expression pasted on. Emotional to a fault, so much emotion that it appeared emotionless. The blatant, fiery stare of an owl is what came to her mind.
His pale red eyes slithered over her body. The splayed, damp hair to her aghast face, over her breasts and down to all the blood and slime, resting upon her children which curled in her frozen, pale legs.
'It's cliche, Clarice. I was hoping that we would avoid this. Children? Tsk, it's dull and to be frank, I cannot think of any reason why anyone would want to see you like this. Why are you letting me here, why haven't you sent me away? Oh, and close your legs, darling.'
She couldn't. Starling physically could not move. She cowered as best she could when he bent down and touched the infants. Her skin crawled.
He lifted one. 'Handsome fellow. He looks a lot like you.'
It was wriggling and mewling in Dr. Lecter's cold fist. Shreds of placenta and blobs of gore oozed off and landed on her legs with a plop.
No bigger than a kitten, Clarice's first child was a lamb.
Clarice was simply stunned at her fleecy-white, cloven-hoofed, cotton-tailed baby. It was wailing like a loon.
Hannibal's eyes sparked like flint as his jaws closed around the lamb's skull and crushed it, severing bone and spraying scarlet. The limbs of the lamb still twisted and writhed as the creature's nervous system fought for life. Even without its head.
Hannibal gently tossed the corpse to Clarice and it landed on her breast. Blood gushed like floodwater down onto her throat from it's gaping neck.
Clarice was hyperventilating. A part of her desperately wanted her overworking heart to stop, to give up, to die. She couldn't comprehend what was happening.
'You are silent,' Hannibal pointed out unnecessarily. 'Do you not feel grief for your dead son? Aren't you confused, or curious-'
Clarice was screaming again.
Her second child was a lamb with six spindly legs. It scuttled up her body and gazed at her with empty black eyes. They were huge on its tiny face.
Clarice stared back in terror. It was at her other breast. Its fore-hooves prodded the quivering teat.
'You still have not closed your legs, ex-Special Agent Starling. Do not worry about hurting the one left. I have got the last of them in my arms. I am not killing her like I killed the first one. I couldn't resist, I needed to taste flesh crafted by your blood. It was exquisite, by the way. But you need this last one. Look deep inside yourself, Clarice.' Hannibal's tone got more and more urgent and unnatural.
The insectoid lamb had started breastfeeding, but it didn't feel like breastfeeding to the mother. It felt so, so wrong. She squirmed with her paralzyed arms and bloodied face glaringly obvious. The lamb appeared to have locked itself on to her and as it suckled, trickles of blood and foamy milk bubbles ran down the sides of her soft breast.
Clarice managed to tear her eyes away from the perversion and look at her last child. Hannibal's lips were drooling lamb's blood, blood of her blood. The tiny lamb in his arms looked at her mother.
No, looked like her mother. The lamb had the face and hair of an exhausted, strong, but disturbed woman.
When Clarice comprehended this, she screamed. It was her loudest one yet and it crackled with panic.
The little lamb flexed its jaw and screamed right back.
The two sounded exactly the same.
Clarice woke in an icy sweat. She burst into tears and shoved her face in her pillow, whilst rubbing her tiny baby bump.
So that's it. That's my first shot at making a horrofic decent enough to be published. What do you think of it? Any reviews are appreciated! Thank you for reading, and hav a nice day!