The house mouse (standard:horror, 5172 words)
Author: Lev821	Added: Feb 24 2011	Views/Reads: 2993/1981	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
(ADULT CONTENT) Why has Allan suddenly got a sexual urge to use a razor blade and a live mouse?

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story


It was rodents in tanks like that of the fish that made him stop. He was
breathing heavily, and walked over and stood by a tank containing mice. 
He rubbed his crotch again, caught himself, swiftly looked in the 
direction of the cashier, but the young goth girl was busy texting on 
her mobile phone to notice anything happening around her. In the corner 
of the carpet of straw was a huddle of around eight mice. One of them 
detached itself and slowly walked across to him. It was the only black 
mouse. The others were brown. It put it paws against the glass and 
watched Allan with interest. “I...I'd like to buy a mouse please,” he 
said, rather loudly. “Wha...?” said the goth, appearing at his side. 
“I'd like to buy a mouse, and I want that one,” he said, pointing at 
the three-inch rodent. 

With the box in one hand, containing the pet, Allan's erection showed no
signs of abating, and breathing heavily at the doorway, he turned and 
pointed at the birds, then shouted: “Birds have got wings. They're not 
meant to be fuckin' caged”. He then swiped a small display of dog-bone 
keyrings on the counter, sending them crashing to the floor. He turned 
and left quickly, heading for his car. 

Getting in, he put the box on the passenger seat and drove towards his
home. Throughout the journey, he kept glancing at the box, the mouse 
scuffling and scratching. He unzipped his trousers and released his 
veiny penis, as erect as it could get. He gripped it in his right fist 
as he drove, slowly masturbating it, breathing heavily as he did. 

He stopped at red lights and a woman biker slowly rode by, seeing him
and stopping. Allan looked up and grinned, licking his lips with wide 
eyes. The woman grimaced then sped away, narrowly avoiding a van which 
braked hard and sounded the horn. 

“What am I doing” he asked, letting go of his penis. He put it away, and
drove the rest of the way home fearing for his sanity. 

At the mid-terraced house which was soon no longer to be his home
because Isabel had moved out, taking her share of the rent and putting 
it into half of a penthouse with Timbo, Allan found himself hungry and 
put the box in the living room on the mantle-piece. He went into the 
kitchen and was soon rustling up some beef stir fry, and all the while 
thinking of the mouse, his erection coming back. He stood there for a 
while, confused. “What the fuck's come over me? Why have I bought a 
mouse? Why am I getting aroused?” 

Allan was never really one for sexual practices. He hardly ever looked
at women amorously, and was just as happy watching crime dramas with a 
cup of tea and digestives. To find himself sexually aroused by a mouse 
was something he had never contemplated. Anything other than normal, 
pro-creative sex had not occurred to him. He only went as far as to 
know what the word ‘bondage' meant, and even then his answer would have 
been: ‘Something sexual'. 

In the quietness of the living room, eating his bowl of stir fry,
sitting on the left side of the sofa, he heard the scuffling mouse and 
smiled. He unzipped his trousers and released his five-inch penis. He 
gripped it. “Can you smell the food, eh? Or can you smell my dick?” he 
said, then laughed loudly, and began to masturbate furiously, staring 
at the box. 

Then he stopped, realising what he was doing and threw the half full
bowl to the floor. He stood up and stormed out into the hallway where 
there was a large oval mirror on the wall. “What are you doing? What 
are you fucking doing eh? Are you mental?” He tapped the side of his 
head, but his refection had no answers. He stared at his red face, ran 
his hand through his hair, put away his penis, and closed his eyes for 
a moment. Upon opening them, he found himself exactly the same, and 
turned and walked back into the kitchen where he retrieved a needle and 
thread from a drawer. 

Returning to the living-room and crossing to the sideboard beneath the
windows, upon which were several cheap ornaments of stags and deer, he 
opened the middle drawer and rummaged around the useless papers, the 
letters, the bank statements, the unopened packet of envelopes, and 
found his hardly used Stanley knife. He had thought at one point that 
he would get himself involved in doing some basic DIY, but that phase 
soon passed, and the few tools he had bought were virtually as new. 
There were a few spare blades inside the knife, and he opened it out 
and took one out, looked at it in fascination, then at the box on the 
mantle-piece. 

He soon found himself standing before the plain white box, listening to
the snuffling rodent. His erection pushed at his zip again. He looked 
at the shiny blade, and smiled, and was soon slowly walking up the 
stairs to the bathroom with the mouse. 

Standing there with his eyes closed, the only sound the sniffling
rodent, seemingly eager to escape the container's confines, Allan was 
breathing slowly, his face still tinged slightly red, as though he was 
coming down from a burst of anger. “What am I doing?” he said, opening 
his eyes. 

The bathroom was fairly small, was mostly white, except for the light
blue flooring and yellow shower curtain. Enviro powder tiles covered 
the walls, and weak light came from the frosted window, sunlight 
shining directly when it was summer. He switched the light on and put 
the box and items next to the bath taps, then began to remove his 
clothes. He threw them on the floor, and was soon standing naked, his 
penis gripped in one hand. 

Stepping into the bath and putting in the plug, he then picked up the
box, opened it and let the mouse out. It ran out as though excited to 
be free, running around the bath, scrambling and falling, running 
around, scrambling and falling, running around, seemingly with 
limitless energy. Allan sat down, throwing the box aside, his erection 
throbbing, and with wide eyes and a slight grin, he began to 
masturbate, staring at the rodent. “This is for you my little one. I do 
this for you”. He began to lick his lips, then ease up on his 
exertions. “I don't want to cum just yet”. He retrieved the razor-blade 
and the needle and thread. The mouse had stopped by the plug-hole, then 
ran beside his leg. He picked it up in his left hand. It did not 
struggle, but seemed passive, as though it knew what Allan was doing, 
but didn't care. 

He smiled at it with genuine affection, and with his other hand he
continued to masturbate. “Come on now, little mouse, you're gonna make 
me cum”. He opened his hand out, and gripped it by its tail, dangling 
it inches above his penis. He continued to lick his lips and stare at 
the rodent. “Look, I'm wanking for you. But I cannot cum yet, I 
musn't”. He lifted the mouse up to his lips, and licked its wet snout. 
It tried to get away, but it was useless. Allan eased from 
masturbating, breathing heavily. “You turn me on, you cheeky little 
fucker, don't you, eh?” he said, smiling. He put it down on his left 
thigh, then began to fondle his testicles. The mouse didn't move, 
simply gripping onto his skin and staring at his genitals. Allan began 
to laugh. “Look at you,” he said, “Lookin' at me knob”. He angled his 
penis so that it was pointing at the rodent. “Ha, jump on, have a 
lick”. He laughed even louder, but the mouse simply turned and ran down 
his leg. Allan retrieved the razor-blade. He let go of his genitalia 
and ceased laughing. 

He stared at the sharp-edge, then pressed his hand on the skin below his
left rib-cage, rubbing it as though smearing in cream. “You turn me on, 
little mouse” he said, looking at the blade, then bringing it to his 
skin and pressing hard. The edge easily ripped into his flesh. Pain 
tore through him and he cried out, pausing for two seconds before he 
tore the blade down to around six inches, blood spilling out over his 
hip and into the bath. The pain was more intense and he dropped the 
razor, tears streaming down his face. With his left hand, he held open 
the wound, breathing heavily. With his other, he reached for the mouse, 
but it was out of reach, by the plug-hole. “Little mouse!” he yelled, 
“Come here,” and it did, walking across to his hand, he picked it up 
and put it into his wound. It did not struggle, but seemed curious as 
it forced its way into him. He did not want to swallow it because of 
the fear of his stomach juices killing it, and it may also have lodged 
in his throat, choking him. Allan smiled through the pain, closed the 
wound, blood still spilling into the bath. He reached for the needle 
and thread, and the pain continued. 

After around ten minutes, the wound had been amateurishly sewn, but
still blood trickled out. He threw the needle aside and gripped his 
throbbing penis. 

There was something about the feel of a mouse eating its way through him
that gave him sexual pleasure. He wanted to know what it was like, and 
guessed that it would give him lustful feelings, which it did as he 
could feel it slowly making its way through into his stomach where it 
stopped, perhaps eating the beef stir fry. “How'd you like your new 
house?” he asked, looking towards his navel, not expecting an answer. 
“You've got warmth, and plenty of food. I know you'll be happy there. 
Just don't go near my heart or come up to my brain, ok? thank-you”. He 
began to masturbate, the feeling of the mouse making him amorous and 
passionate. 

Beads of sweat from his brow hit the tiles and floor of the bathroom as
he furiously headed to climax. It didn't take long. He yelled in 
ecstasy as he ejaculated over his stomach and on the side of the bath, 
“Fuckin'... horny, little mouse” he said, breathing heavily, smiling. 

Soon, he was standing before the mirror above the sink, looking at the
hastily sewn wound in his side, the pain still intense, but bearable, 
countered by the pleasurable feeling he was getting from the rodent as 
it continued on its journey, chewing on his gallbladder. As it did, his 
penis became erect again. “Honestly,” he said, to his stomach's 
reflection. “You're so cheeky, but you turn me on”. He set about 
getting dressed as he was due in work in two hours. 

Even though he was all ready to leave, with the sky outside bringing
darkness, he sat on the living-room sofa in silence, huddled up on the 
left side, his erection gone, but still with a content smile on his 
face as he felt the rodent chew its way through him, from his kidneys 
to his spleen, to a spinal thoracic vertebrae bone where it stayed for 
a while, gnawing away. 

After half an hour, Allan saw it was time to leave for work. The mouse
chewed its way up to his lungs, seemingly climbing up his spine. As he 
stood, he swayed slightly, a slight faint feeling passing through him. 
“Don't hurt me, little mouse. You wouldn't do that, would you? I'm sure 
you wouldn't”. 

He was soon driving to his work at the pizza take-away, and despite a
few questions about his pallor, and whether or not he was alright, he 
was soon driving a ‘Kenicke crew cut' fourteen inch pizza to a house in 
an estate, three miles away. 

After some erratic driving, he pulled up outside a grey, scruffy looking
house which looked like was in the midst of some sort of party. He 
could see flashing lights in the living room window and could hear the 
thumping of ‘RnB'. The mouse was still scrabbling around. It had left a 
hole in his lungs and was now journeying down to his intestines. 

He was breathing heavily, not all of it because of lust. He rubbed his
crotch again, his erection throbbing, and left the vehicle with the 
pizza. He opened the box, the food looking inviting and hot. He tore a 
piece off and stuffed it into his mouth, walking up the pathway to the 
door which was already ajar. He could hear laughter and shouting from 
within. The door was opened before he got there by a youth who looked 
to be in his mid-teens, sporting a skin-head, baggy jeans, and no top. 
He wore a ‘horn of life' gold pendant, and looked to be the type of 
person who liked to display his physique, showing people that he ‘does 
the weights' and was not to be ‘fucked with'. 

Allan simply stood there, eating the pizza, grinning, licking his lips.
“Oi, that's mine, I'm fuckin' starvin' ere'. I ordered that ages ago” 
said the youth. Allan dropped the pizza box, released his penis, and 
smeared the rest of what he had on his hand over it. “Eat that, you 
little cunt-head”. He began to masturbate it, his eyes wide and 
staring. “I've got a mouse inside me, ok, so fuck-you” he continued. 
With his free-hand, he pulled away his clothes to show him the scar. 
“There you go, ok,” he stopped his exertions and walked back to the 
rickety wooden gate. He extended his left middle finger, licking his 
lips again. “Fuck-you. I've got a mouse in me, and it's fucking mine”. 
Just then, a sharp pain shot through him, the mouse having bitten 
through a lumbar nerve. He cried in pain, and angrily banged his fists 
against his stomach. “Stop that,” he yelled, “Stop that, naughty 
fucking mouse”. The youth simply stood there, staring. A girl appeared 
at his side. “You comin' back in or wha'?”. Allan turned and staggered 
back to his car, and within a few seconds was driving away. The youth 
did nothing but simply look down at his pizza. 

As he drove, tears began streaming down his face. “I'm sorry,” he
yelled, “I'm sorry, ok. I shouldn't have shouted at you”. He also 
regretted hitting himself incase he hurt the pet. The mouse simply 
continued to explore its new home, chewing his bladder and ureter. More 
waves of faintness swept over him and he found himself swerving the car 
a few times, and when he regained as much composure as he could, with 
all the internal bleeding and lust in him, he found himself on the M4 
“Yes,” he said, “Who is he to take from me?”. He pressed his foot down 
on the accelerator, and was soon breaking the speed limit on his way to 
Winterbourne. 

He did not notice that a few speed cameras had caught him, and if he
did, he would not have cared. Several vehicles blared their horns, but 
they went unheard. Blood trickled from his left ear, but he maintained 
cohesion. The mouse chewed its way back up to his lungs, forced its way 
past them and bit into his oesophagus inside his throat. Allan struck 
his ‘Adam's apple'. “Stop it!” he shouted, but the mouse entered the 
windpipe and eased its way back into his stomach where it ate its way 
downward. He coughed and swerved the car, breathing heavily, but soon 
regained composure and was soon entering the sliproad, driving through 
an industrial estate, past a train station, parking awkwardly outside 
‘Timbo's' house. He had tears in his eyes. “I'm sorry,” he whispered to 
the mouse, chewing its way down into his left thigh. “Forgive me”. He 
released his erection and slowly began to masturbate, rubbing his thigh 
as he felt the mouse gnawing on his femur, the tingling feeling sexual. 
He licked his lips and brought himself to ejaculation. “That was for 
you, little one” he said, smiling down. He left the car, still exposed, 
looking a lot whiter as the internal bleeding showed more of a physical 
effect. Both nostrils, both ears and his anus all had blood flowing 
freely from them. 

Timbo's ex-girlfriend had left the house to move in with her Father for
a few days, giving him and Isabel time to clear out into their 
penthouse, and to calm down as she did not wish to lay eyes on either 
of them. Either way, she wanted them gone upon her return, and had 
indicated that there were certain people she knew who would turf them 
out without having to involve the police, whom she had also threatened 
to have brought in, should she not get her way. 

He stood there in the road, staring at the house. “Fuck you Timbo,” he
said “Think you can close the curtains on me, eh?” He staggered across 
the road, “Think-you can take my Isabel, think you can fucking walk 
into my life and take her, well fuck-you Tim, come out and face me”. 
The house looked empty, and as he put his hand on the gate, something 
in the back of his mind tried to form itself into a memory, and he 
paused, trying to clarify it. “It's Tuesday night,” he said, “She goes 
to a Greek restaurant for a meal. It's not far away. Fuck it I'll walk 
there”. He noticed a few people in the houses around him with the 
curtains pulled back. When they saw he had seen them they quickly 
closed them. He spread his arms. “She's mine. Not fucking Timbo's, and 
if any of you have got a problem with that then you can come out and 
suck my fucking cock”. He stumbled forward and fell to his knees, 
breathing heavily. When he opened them a few seconds later, he stared 
at his thigh in fear, then struck at it. “Mousey bastard fucker,” he 
said, and finding a surge of strength, got to his feet and strode 
purposefully along the pavement, where an elderly white haired man was 
walking a Cavalier King Charles pup which began yapping at Allan's 
approach. The man's eyes widened in disapproval at the sight of his 
semi-erect penis poking out. It soon turned to anger. “What on earth? 
Are you mental?” “I've got a fucking mouse inside me, and its turning 
me on. What do you think? cheeky bastard”. He stepped forward quickly 
and kicked the puppy hard, knocking it against the wheel of a Chrysler 
voyager.  He pushed past the man who shouted in protest, and soon 
turned a corner and continued to walk towards the Greek restaurant. He 
passed by a few closed shops, an NHS walk-in centre where a few smokers 
outside stared at him as he passed. Allan grinned at them, licked his 
bloodied lips and began to slowly masturbate. He was soon rounding a 
bend, and found himself outside a sports centre, the type of place with 
large windows for anybody to see what was going on inside. There were a 
few swimmers lazily making their way to nowhere in particular and some 
people sitting on the side. He staggered across a small grass verge and 
banged on the window, breathing heavily. All faces looked in his 
direction. One of those sitting on the side fell in. Allan began 
masturbating furiously and laughing loudly, his other hand banging on 
the glass. 

The people didn't know what to do, and clamoured around, mostly heading
in the general direction of the exit. “Mouse,” Allan yelled, “I've got 
a mouse, ok?” He then stopped and turned, heading back in the direction 
of the restaurant. A few people who were standing outside the centre 
simply stared at him. He raised his middle finger to all of them as he 
passed. “Fuck you all, I've got a mouse”. Nobody did anything, and they 
watched him as he rounded another bend where he saw up ahead, the cheap 
neon lights of ‘Rizo's restaurant'. 

It wasn't long before he was looking in through the window at the gloomy
interior where there seemed to be more staff than customers, one 
half-heartedly wiping a table, even though it probably didn't need it. 
It was the type of place that always seemed open for business, but 
hardly any customers were seen there. 

Timbo, with his long pony-tail and silver hoop earrings was nodding as
he listened to Isabel. They were sat at the window. Allan slammed 
against it. “Timbo, you cunt. Suck on this”. He rubbed his penis 
against the glass, leaving a glistening smear. Isabel and her new lover 
jumped up from their seats, and the staff and three other customers 
looked in Allan's direction. He licked the glass, staring at Timbo with 
wide eyes. “C'mon Timbo, dirty little thief. Why'd you close the 
curtains. I was fucking cold out there”. He then made his way inside, 
two of the staff plucking up courage to ask him to leave. “Don't tell 
me what to fucking do, ok? Don't screw with me or my mouse, got it?” he 
revealed his scar to the employees who then backed away towards the 
kitchens. He stepped towards Isabel and tried to grab her arm. “Don't 
you come near me,” she shouted, stepping away. Allan collapsed to his 
knees, the internal bleeding making him nausous, his face white with 
streaks of blood. Timbo and Isabel stepped past towards the exit. “Do I 
love you?” he asked Isabel. “What...?” “Come on, let's go and call the 
police,” said Timbo. “Do I love you, or my mouse? I've got a mouse 
inside me. Didn't you know?” he laughed. “You never knew for fuck's 
sake. Well, it's between you and...” he looked down towards where the 
mouse now was beside his hip-bone. “You and ....I've not given you a 
name, how stupid of me. The mouse has got no name”. The other customers 
and staff all headed for the exit, some of them on mobile phones. 
“Let's go,” said Isabel, and she and Timbo left Allan to a quiet 
restaurant, where he ran his hands through his hair, staring with wide, 
fearful eyes at his hip. “Fuck...fuck....fuck.........your name is 
cunt”. He undid his trousers and saw a moving bulge beside his groin. 
He clenched his fists and bashed at it. “Out!” he screamed. “What the 
fuck have I done?” He bashed away, and the bulge vanished, but he could 
feel it eating its way through him again, chewing through his femoral 
artery into his small intestine. He continued to strike himself. 
“Bastard stupid mouse” he screamed, tearing at his wound, ripping apart 
the stitches. He plunged in his left hand, more agony adding to the 
pain and pleasure already coursing through him, and felt around, 
feeling his spleen and intestines, but no rodent. He took his hand out 
and fell forward, tired, the internal bleeding clogging him up, the red 
fluid oozing from every orifice, including his eyes. He slowly crawled 
towards the kitchen. “Get out of me, you little cunt” he said as he 
made his way there, leaving behind a glistening trail of crimson. He 
was breathing heavily as best he could, and managed to push open the 
door into the small, tiled kitchen. “I'm sorry mousy, cunt, please 
forgive me. I choose you over Isabel. You're the one for me. I 
understand that. I'm sorry if I hurt you. I'm sorry... I fucking love 
you”. He collapsed to the floor. “My little cunt,” he whispered, as 
blood spread on the tiles. He reached up to a steel table where the 
chef had been cutting vegetables, the handle of a steak knife 
protruding over slightly, and his fingers moved it enough for it to 
clatter to the floor. He picked it up and rolled onto his back, panting 
and staring up at a bright flush ceiling lights, the knife in his right 
hand. “I've got a mouse inside me,” he said, “A fucking mouse,” and 
then suddenly a pain shot through him, burning his nerves, but it 
didn't stop, the skin of his perineum began to tear as claws and 
incisors emerged. It ripped at his testicle skin, and Allan screamed in 
agony. “Get out!” he yelled, and sent the knife into his genitals. As 
he screamed, he carved away, stabbing and stabbing at the delicate 
skin, blood pumping out, splattering the tiles. The blade sliced his 
testicles apart, and unejaculated semen mixed with the blood to ooze 
out over his thighs. His penis was carved in several places, his 
‘bell-end' split open, but it was not severed, and the mouse ate its 
way out of him, seemingly not harmed at all by the blade. When Allan 
saw it clamber its way up through the bloody mess of his genitals, the 
black fur matted with blood, it stopped in his pubic hair, claws 
digging in so it didn't fall off. Its face simply stared at Allan, who 
dropped the blade. 

The mouse opened its mouth and hissed like a snake, then licked its
lips. Through the pain, Allan saw it start to crawl towards him, and he 
simply whispered: “Cunt”. 

Most of his chest had been exposed, his shirt virtually no more than a
bloodied rag, and the mouse stopped in the middle, then rolled onto its 
back, and looked up to stare at him. It then proceeded to rip and tear 
at its own bloated little stomach, becoming more and more frenzied. Its 
stomach, pancreas and intestines spilled out, blood spreading and 
trickling across Allan who saw something glinting inside. It then oozed 
out and he saw it was a wedding ring. It rolled for a few inches before 
settling on his chest. Blood virtually carpeted the whole kitchen, and 
still it flowed out. Before Allan and the mouse died of bloodloss, he 
read the inscription on the side of the golden ring, and understood. It 
simply said: ‘Together forever'. 


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