The thin man

Lucille is practically convulsing, her thighs slapping against the hard wood of her chair. "Oh, this is absolutely delicious! The smart, studious nerd the one who probably has color coded notes and cites her sources on a desperate, terrified quest to save her sweet little girlfriend! And the cruel, spindly horror the Thin Man he doesn't just kill her, he hollows out her mind through the very nostril holes! The most invasive, disgusting, brain sucking violation imaginable! From a clever, caring girl to a drooling, slutty, brainless puppet!" She licks her lips, leaving a faint trail of saliva. "And the best part? He does it to both of them!"

The setting is a crumbling, abandoned tenement building a place where the wallpaper is peeling like diseased skin, the floorboards are rotting and treacherous, and the shadows seem to have fingers. The air is stale, dusty, and carries the copper tang of dried blood.

Chloe is terrified, but her nerd brain is firing in what she thinks are "logical" patterns. She has mapped out the layout of the building based on the blueprints she obsessively memorized from the city archives. She is thin, lanky, and wearing oversized glasses that keep slipping down her her nose glasses that make her look painfully earnest and vulnerable. Every thought she has is: Where is Maya? What did that horrible, skinny man do to her? I have to find her.

She creeps up the debris strewn stairwell, the wood creaking ominously under her sneakers. Her heart is hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. For months, Maya her brilliant, pretty, sweet girlfriend has been missing. The rumors about the "Thin Man" that unnaturally lanky, pale figure who lurks in the dark have chilled her to the bone and she is certain he is the one.

She reaches the third floor, the section where she last saw Maya's discarded phone smashed and dirty on a blood speckled linoleum.

The Thin Man has already visited this spot. He is patient, cruel, and methodical. He found Maya, pinned her down, and inserted one of his impossibly long, needle thin fingers directly into her nostril. He sucked every single thread of her intelligence, her memories, her personality, and her resistance right out of her nasal cavity leaving her brain like a deflated, slimy husk a mindless, slutty zombie who only responds to cock.

Maya is just ahead, in what looks like the remains of a kitchenette. She is slumped against the grimy refrigerator, her legs splayed wide, her clothes torn and filthy. The transformation is obvious: her eyes are unfocused and glassy, her mouth is hanging open, dripping a thin string of clear, viscous saliva, and she is shamelessly rubbing her dripping pussy against the sharp edge of the metal fridge. She looks like a complete, brainless slut the kind of thing a person who used to be "smart" would be horrified to see.

Maya doesn't seem to recognize Chloe. When she hears Chloe's panicked breathing, she doesn't cry out "Chloe, help me!" Instead, she just arches her spine, thrusting her messy pussy toward the sound, seeking whatever hard thing might come.

Chloe rounds the corner, her breath hitching when she sees Maya. The sight of her sweet, nerdy girlfriend the girl who loved poetry and trivia looking like a drooling, horny, brain empty slut is like being struck by a hammer. The horror and the perverse fascination hit her all at once.

"Maya?" she gasps, her voice unsteady and breaking. "Maya, what happened to you?"

Maya just hums, a breathy, stupid sound, her toes curling against the sticky linoleum. She shifts her hips more aggressively against the dented edge of the fridge, trying to scratch the wetness between her thighs.

The Thin Man is still in the shadows, just behind Chloe, watching the reunion. He likes that she is reacting with such obvious distress it makes the thought of doing the same to her even sweeter. He begins to slink around the corner, his long, bony limbs making almost no sound, the fingers at the end of his arms already twitching, eager to find Chloe's pretty little nostrils.

Chloe has barely processed the horror of seeing Maya the girl she loves reduced to such a shameless, brainless state. The cognitive dissonance is agonizing: the part of her mind that says this is evil is screaming, but the part of her that is terrified and attracted to the thought of being "taken" like Maya is thrumming. She wants to grab Maya, to comfort her, to ask what happened but she is frozen.

The Thin Man senses that delicious moment: the rescuer has arrived, the intellect is fresh, the fear is sharp. Fresh brains the kind that have actually done thinking are the sweetest, most satisfying treat he has had in a long, spindly lifetime.

He emerges from the shadow cast by the grimy refrigerator, right behind Chloe. He is unnaturally tall, his limbs like peeled branches, way too long and way too bony, ending in those terrible, needle precise fingers. He moves with that creepy, fluid grace, making almost no sound on the blood and linoleum.

Before Chloe can scream or turn to flee, he is on her. One of his long arms wraps around her thin waist, the bony elbow digging into her hip hard enough to leave a faint bruise, pinning her back into the sharp, dented corner of the metal fridge the same way he did to Maya.

Chloe gasps, the breath catching in her throat, but the arm is too fast. His other hand comes up, the long index finger slender, dirty, and wet with the leftover brain slime he picked out of Maya pointing directly at Chloe's nose.

He presses that slick, brainy fingertip into her left nostril.

The intrusion is immediate and revolting. The finger is thin enough to slide in effortlessly, bying the nasal septum, tunneling up into the dark, complex architecture of her sinuses. Chloe's head lolls back against the hard edge of the fridge, the metal leaving a red mark on her spine, as she feels that cold, wet thing probing upward, seeking the juicy, thinking matter that makes her "smart."

He pushes deeper, the tip hooking around the delicate structures of her nasal cavity, sucking. He inhales through the tip of his finger, creating that horrible, wet sucking sound shllluuuuup drawing out the thoughts, the memories of her books, her theories, her plans, her fears, her very self.

Chloe's eyes go wide, rolling back in her head. The feeling is obscene the sensation of her mind being physically scooped out through the inside of her nose but her body, traitorously, responds. Her knees buckle, her thighs clamping down on the sticky linoleum where Maya is still humming and rubbing her pussy against the fridge, and her hips begin to jerk in a stupid, repetitive way, seeking the comfort of the thing that is destroying her.

The thoughts drain out of her like warm liquid. The vocabulary she worked so hard to learn, the logic she prided herself on, the comforts of her nerdy life they are all slurped up by that long, bony finger, leaving behind nothing but a pleasant, empty, horny void.

The Thin Man is thorough. He twists the finger just enough to scrape the inner walls of her nasal ages, making sure every single thread of her intelligence is harvested. Once he has the last bit of the "smart girl" that delicious, complex brain he withdraws the finger, leaving a tiny trail of pinkish brain slop dripping down from her nostril.

Chloe slumps against the fridge, just like Maya. Her glasses have slipped down the bridge of her nose, crooked and slightly smudged, but she doesn't bother to fix them. Her eyes are unfocused, glassy, and vacant, fixed on the back of Maya's messy hair. Her mouth is hanging open, a thin string of clear drool beginning to drip onto the dirty tile, and her thighs are twitching, rubbing their wetness against the cold metal of the fridge.