Compulsion (standard:drama, 1834 words)
Author: Hulsey	Added: Aug 30 2002	Views/Reads: 4020/2429	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A hen-pecked husband harbours a fantasy, to kill his wife.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

killer on the shelf. He chuckled to himself when he read the warning on 
the box. 

“I hope you used fresh milk, Francis?” 

“Of course, dear.” 

He sat in his armchair and pretended to read the newspaper. His heart
raced when the battleaxe blew on the cocoa. 

“Go on; drink it you witch,” he whispered. 

“Francis! This cocoa is bitter.” 

“I'm sorry luv; I used fresh milk just like you said.” 

He watched as her eyes bulged, her hands reaching for her throat. She
turned her head towards him and made choking noises. He knelt down in 
front of her, his head nodding as he smiled manically. “Yes, I poisoned 
you. I hope the weed killer's to your liking.” 

“What're you doing, you great oaf?” 

Frankie stared into the eyes of his wife and his glee was short lived.
“I'm straightening your pillow, dear.” 

“Get out of my way and make yourself useful. Run my bath.” 

The annoying jingle that heralded the end of Eastenders reached him, as
he tested the bath water with his elbow. 

“Francis! Bath time.” 

“Coming, dear.” 

She stubbed out her Silk Cut, ensuring that she blew the smoke into her
husband's face, something Frankie resented. He was certain that she 
purposely held the smoke in her lungs, just until he reached out to 
pick her up. 

Frankie strained with her ever-increasing bulk. He struggled up the
staircase and entered the steamed up bathroom. The contents of the bath 
stimulated him. The dragon was in for a surprise. 

“The water, Francis, it's bubbling.” 

He threw her with ease into the bath, and heard the scream when the
sulphuric acid ate away at her skin. 

“Help me, Francis! Help me!” 

He covered his mouth, the stench of burning flesh overwhelming. Her body
was dissolving in front of his eyes; a thick layer of body fat floating 
on the surface. 

“You wanted to lose weight didn't you, dear?” 

Her bloated body sank further and further into the depths of the acid,
and he laughed hysterically, as only her head was visible, the eyes 
appearing to pop out of their sockets. Further and further, she sank, 
until only her dentures remained. He stepped back, aghast when the 
dentures opened and nagged, “Francis, open a window; I'm so hot.” 

His fantasy was over when he heard the words, “What are you laughing at?
Scrub my back.” 

He did as he was told, his mind in turmoil. To kill her for real was a
fantasy that he had long considered. Whether he had the courage to go 
through with the action was another thing. 

“Francis! My back.” 

“Yes, dear.” 

He waited until he thought she was asleep upstairs, before changing the
channel. He rubbed his hands in anticipation when the free adult 
preview began. The memories flooded back, as he watched a couple 
writhing on the bed. June had once been a sex kitten, but that all had 
changed, when she discovered that he was shooting blanks. His hand 
reached for his groin and then he heard those immortal words. 

“Francis! Are you watching that porn channel again? Get your arse to
bed, limp dick.” 

He reluctantly turned off the TV and ambled slowly up the staircase. 

“You pervert. Looking at those girls at your age; you ought to be
ashamed of yourself.” 

He climbed into bed, his erection still apparent. He felt so horny when
he snuggled up to June. He hesitantly put an arm around her and there 
was no immediate reaction. He thrust his groin against her enormous 
buttocks. He was so desperate that he would consider screwing his 
pillow if all else failed; in fact, the pillow had more appeal than his 
wife did. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Come on, June; it's been so long.” 

“Get that useless thing away from me! Now go and have a cold shower, do
you hear me?” 

“Yes, luv. I just thought you...” 

“Don't think... Cold shower.” 

After making her breakfast and doing the housework, Frankie wrapped up,
preparing to take June for her daily jaunt to the park. His icy breath 
was evidence of the freezing conditions, as he struggled to push the 
wheelchair across the slippery pavement. 

“Watch the bloody road, idiot.” 

“Of course, dear.” 

The park was quiet. All sensible people were still tucked up in bed at
this early hour. The usual crowd of children frolicked in the snow; 
some of them daring to toss a snowball in the direction of the woman in 
the wheelchair. Frankie smiled when one of the missiles connected with 
her midriff. 

“Make them stop, Francis, the little bastards.” 

“Can you please stop this?” 

His words only stirred the children into a more vicious onslaught.
Frankie grinned gleefully, crouching behind the wheelchair, as some of 
the snowballs homed in on their target. 

“Get me out of here, Francis. I'm hurting so much.” 

He obeyed her instructions, wishing the snowballs were something more
lethal, like hand grenades possibly. 

“Run, Francis run!” 

The children cheered loudly, as Frankie ran the gauntlet blindly, their
onslaught unrelenting. Faster and faster, he sprinted, his numbed feet 
slipping, as he grasped the wheelchair. He fell forward, and watched 
with horror, the wheelchair speeding across the icy ground towards the 
frozen pond. 

“Frankieee!” she screamed. 

“Frankie. She called me Frankie.” 

The loud crack alerted the spectators, and the wheelchair came to a
halt, before sinking slowly into the freezing depths of the pond. Her 
flailing arms were all that was visible, as she attempted to grip the 
ice, only for it to break off. 

The children sprinted past a startled Frankie, and he could no longer
see his wife. The thin ice was cracking, and the children's progress 
was halted when Frankie joined them. 

The panicking children watched with horror and turned towards the
husband. “Sorry mister, we were only having a bit of fun.” 

“Of course you were.” Frankie did all he could to stifle his grin. 

“June, luv, can you hear me?” he shouted, half-heartedly. He followed
the children around the edge of the pond and saw the unmistakable shape 
of June beneath the ice, her eyes pleading with him. He could not help 
but pull his tongue out at her and mouth, “dragon!” 

The children hammered at the ice with rocks until it gave way, and with
Frankie's reluctant help, they managed to drag her lifeless, frozen 
body from the lake. 

“Go on, mister; give her mouth to mouth.” 

Frankie's instinct was to clip the boy around the ear, but he realised
his actions would be recorded. He put his mouth to hers and held his 
breath, feigning his life-saving actions. “It's too late, she's gone.” 

He straightened up and one of the boys pushed on her chest vigorously. 

“You're wasting your time son, she's gone,” insisted Frankie. 

A loud wheeze startled Frankie, and he gazed upon the body, fearing the
worst. His prayers were answered, when he realised that the offending 
gasp was just air escaping. Well, she did have plenty of it to spare. 

The ambulance arrived some ten minutes later and she was pronounced
dead.  A verdict of accidental death was recorded and Frankie was free 
at last. After all of his evil thoughts and wishes, an accident had 
ended her life, or had it? Only Frankie knows. 

He lay beneath the palm tree and tasted the delicious grape offered to
him by the busty, bikini-clad girls. He heard the lapping of the waves, 
and his eyes were attracted to a dark shape protruding from beneath the 
white sand. 

“Francis, who are those floosies; they're much too young for you? Now go
and fetch my cocoa... Ouch! Chase these bastard crabs away will you, 
Francis?” 

His manic loud laughter was out of place in this paradise. Even in
death, he could not erase his memories of June from his existence. 


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