This is a work of fiction set in the world of the film 'The Grudge' and features explicit behaviour between men. Consider donating to Nifty to encourage stories like these.
If you enjoy this tale, drop me a line at mhejls@gmail.com
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Three drunk Americans, exchange students living and going to school in Japan, stumble through the Nermina district in Tokyo. Their names are Adam, Bobby, and Carl, high school buddies, and now college buddies. Adam and Bobby have girlfriends back in Ohio. Carl's is staying with him in an apartment not too far from where the trio of young men were walking now.
Rather quickly they approach the famous Saeki House - where illustrator Takeo Saeki murdered his family - intending to pass, but Carl stops and hits Bobby in the shoulder.
"Hey, this is that house," Carl says.
Bobby turns to look. It looks like a normal house, albeit abandoned and a bit worse for wear. "What house?"
"The haunted house," Carl says. He sticks his hands in the air and wiggles his fingers. "Ooo-ooooh."
Adam, far ahead now, stops and turns around. "What are you doing?"
"We're going to go in this haunted house," Carl says, laughing.
Bobby shrugs. Seems like as good an idea as any. He and Carl start walking to the gate.
Adam jogs back to get a little closer to his friends. "No, dude. This is where that guy murdered his wife and kid. Everyone knows about it."
Carl looks to Bobby. "Well I doubt they're still lying there on the floor, right?"
Bobby looks at Adam. "Yeah they would've cleaned them up by now, for sure
Carl unlatches the gate and steps into the yard, Bobby following close behind. Adam refuses to move from the spot he's at. He'll just wait for them here, thanks, away from the crime scene.
Moments later, Carl tries the door to the house and miraculously it opens. He and Bobby creep in. All the lights are off, probably disconnected long ago, but parts of the house are illuminated in a light blue thanks to the many windows and a bright full moon in the nighttime sky.
"I forget," Bobby says. "What are we looking for again?"
Carl shrugs. "Ghosts, I guess?" He starts climbing the stairs.
When he gets to the second-floor landing he can see at the end of the hall there is, indeed, an orange glow emanating from one of the rooms. A candle maybe? Squatters, he thinks, or maybe it's some weird place teenagers go to drink beer and nail each other.
"Whoa," Bobby says, tugging on Carl's sleeve. "Someone's here."
"So be quiet," Carl says, tiptoeing as much as he can in sneakers, forging ahead down the hall. Bobby follows.
They both stop outside the doorway to the room with the light inside - clearly a candle and not an overhead light. Carl raises his eyebrows at Bobby, asking with his expression: shall we? Bobby shrugs nervously. They stick their heads around the corner of the door to peer in and see:
Two men fucking in complete silence. A man on all fours on the ground, and another man kneeling behind him, his ass dimpling as he thrusts his hips forward and back. Doggy style. In the split second in which Carl and Bobby spend trying to figure out what, exactly, is going on here, the kneeling man senses their presence, stops what he's doing, and turns to look at them. He's Japanese, clearly, in his early-to-mid-forties. The man on all fours turns as well. He's American, about the same age as the Japanese man.
"Uh, sorry," Carl says, stunned and stumbling backwards. He and Bobby awkwardly race down the stairs and run out the door.
"What happened?" Adam asks as his two friends hurry past him.
"It's being rented out as like a weird gay fuck den," Carl explains.
The next day at school, battling a hangover and wishing he hadn't gone in that house, if only to spare himself the embarrassment, Carl makes his way to the bathroom to take a leak.
The bathroom is empty except for him. He steps up to a urinal, unzips, pees. After a moment he casually glances to his right and sees - holy shit! - the Japanese man from the previous evening, standing at the urinal next to him. Except...he's not peeing, like Carl. He's holding his own massive erection and staring intensely at Carl.
Carl quickly turns to look in the other direction, facing the door to the washroom. Maybe he's a professor here, he thinks to himself, one he never noticed before? This might get awkward. Congrats on having a big dick, though. Good job. At least you have that going for you, weird old Japanese dude.
How big? The thought is fleeting - almost darting through Carl's brain, and as he turns to take a quick glance at it - the Japanese man is gone.
Weird. Carl was looking at the door the whole time, so he couldn't have gone past him. Carl finishes relieving himself and walks around the washroom, confused. He opens all the stall doors - empty. No windows. The guy just disappeared.
Carl washes his hands, shakes his head - maybe he was never there, just a blip of hangover-related memory weirdness. A flashback.
Carl sits in class, listening to the Economics prof drone on and on, fighting the urge to fall asleep. A nice hamburger would be a good hangover recipe, perhaps. Maybe when he's done here. Mmm.
Then the door to the lecture hall opened and in walked - the Japanese man. He was wearing a plaid shirt, khakis. A guest lecturer? That'd be a relief, it meant he wouldn't be wandering around campus and Carl wouldn't have to run into him in the future.
The Japanese man stands next to the lecturer and starts unbuttong his shirt. What the fuck? Carl looks around to see what the other students' reactions are, but none of them seem to register the Japanese man, who is now shirtless and unzipping his pants, which he pulls to his ankles and steps out of, completely naked.
Carl looks around again. Nobody seems to notice the man, or they're all doing an insanely good job of pretending not to notice him. The Japanese man leans back against the desk and starts stroking his cock, staring right at Carl as he does it.
Carl, to his own horror, feels his own dick getting harder in his jeans. How? He's not interested in this middle aged Japanese pervert, or guys in general. Regardless, after a few moments of watching the man stroke his hard-on, Carl's own erection is struggling to be contained by his jeans.
Carl covers his face with his hands, in embarrassment, in frustration, in confusion, and when he takes them away, the Japanese man is gone.
Thank God, Carl thinks. Another weird fleeting daydream.
Carl gets very horny when he's hungover. He knows this about himself. And somewhere, he decides, some wires got crossed. When he gets home that evening, he makes love to his girlfriend, asserting his heterosexuality once and for all.
He closes his eyes as he's fucking her and when he opens them, he's looking into the face of the American man that the Japanese man was fucking in that house last night. Brown eyes, brown hair, some lines but an otherwise handsome face - wait, what? Handsome?
Carl realizes he's thrusting his own cock into the man's asshole, and that legs wrapped around his hips are hairy and middle-aged. Darla's been replaced by this man. Carl leans down and kisses him as the thrusts, closing his eyes as their tongues meet. The man's asshole much tighter than Darla's pussy. He thrusts harder, aggressively.
When he opens his eyes, the man is gone. It's just Darla.
Carl stands outside the house in the Nermina district. It's the middle of the day and bright out.
He walks through the gate and up to the front door. He turns the handle and walks inside. The house is a lot dustier with sunlight shining in, but feels just as empty as before.
Except it wasn't empty before...was it? He climbs the staircase. When he gets to the landing, he looks at the doorway where he witnessed the two men fucking. His dick starts to swell in his pants. He continues forward.
When he gets to the doorway he can't believe his eyes - the Japanese man is standing in the middle of the room, naked, his hard dick pointed right at Carl.
"Welcome" he says in a thick Japanese accent.
Without saying anything, Carl enters the room and walks over to the man.
"Take off your clothes, Carl," he says. Carl doesn't question how the man knows his name.
Carl peels off his shirt and throws it on the floor, then pulls down his pants and steps out of them. He hesitates for a moment, and then pulls down his boxers, stepping out of those too.
His erection hangs in the air.
"Now on your knees," the Japanese man instructs. Carl kneels.
The man walks his erection over to Carl and Carl instinctually opens his mouth to receive it.
As the Japanese man face-fucks Carl, his balls slapping against Carl's chin, Carl's nose repeatedly being plunged into the man's pubes, Carl realizes there's nowhere he'd rather be than sucking this man's dick.
Carl runs his hands up and down the man's thighs, grips the man's ass in his hands, reaches up and runs his hands across the man's chest and stomach. The Japanese man smiles down at him.
"Cocksucker," the Japanese man says.
Carl nods, the man's dick hitting the back of his throat. Cocksucker, indeed.
A moment later, the Japanese man pulls his dick out of Carl's mouth and points to the opposite side of the room.
Carl didn't notice him when he walked in, but there stood the American man, also naked, also with a hard-on pointed directly at Carl.
He walks it over to Carl and once again Carl opens his mouth to receive it. Mmm.
As he sucks the American man's dick, Carl feels the Japanese man crouch down behind him, kissing his neck and, after a moment, inserting a finger into Carl's ass. Then a second finger.
Carl continues to suck the American man as the Japanese man fingers his asshole. Carl knows what's coming but he still gets a little faint when the man finally says: "And now we fuck you."
He feels the head of the Japanese man's cock press against his asshole and a moment later, the feeling of his dick sliding all the way in.
Bobby sits in his tiny Tokyo apartment, at a loss for words.
Carl's been missing for a week, Darla and Adam were frantic to find him, and yet all Bobby could think about was what they'd seen in that house: those men, mid-fuck, turning around to look at him and Carl.
Over the past week, the two men had been following Bobby, showing up to his classes, in public parks, grocery stores, everywhere he went. Clearly these were the guys who took Carl or did something to Carl or at the very least knew where Carl was. He would've asked them except they always disappeared before Bobby could talk to them.
They were often nude in public, stroking their dicks. One time, at the gym, Bobby had seen them kissing in the shower, naked, their hands gripping each other's ass cheeks. He'd turned away in embarrassment but when he turned back they were gone.
Bobby's intrigued by these men. Not only because of what they might know about Carl but also what they might teach Bobby about himself. They might be weird kidnapper public-sex freaks but Bobby can't stop wondering what their dicks taste like.
Bobby sits in his tiny Tokyo apartment, at a loss for words, because currently the Japanese man is lying on Bobby's bed, his dick standing straight up in the air, and Bobby wants nothing more than to walk over and sit on it. Ride it like it was a pony.
But he doesn't because he knows the moment he takes a step, the man will disappear.
So Bobby stays where he is, pulls down his pants, and starts jerking his own cock, making sure not to blink because he doesn't want the man to disappear. Bobby jerks and imagines the man's cock filling his ass, bouncing up and down on him on that bed. Bobby closes his eyes when he cums, only for a split second, but when he opens them, the man is gone, and Bobby is sad that he's gone.
One day Bobby sees the American man walking down the street and follows him at a safe distance. He doesn't want the American man to disappear either.
The American man leads Bobby to the Nermina district. And that house.
The American man enters the home and leaves the door slightly ajar behind him. An invitation.
Bobby walks through the gate, into the yard, and through the door into the house itself.
The American man climbs the stairs to the landing and walks into the hall. Bobby follows him.
When he gets to the landing he sees the American man go into the same room from before.
Bobby approaches the doorway and stops. Wait, what was he doing? He's not gay. His friend is missing. For all he knows, the American guy murdered Carl and is now planning to do the same to him.
And yet.
Bobby peeks into the room.
It's the same as it was the night he and Carl first came in here - the American man is on all fours, getting fucked by the Japanese man. The Japanese man, sensing Bobby is there, turns to look at him, and then the American man does the same, except...
...it's not the American man. It's Carl.
Carl smiles at Bobby as the Japanese man resumes fucking him.
Carl's alive! Bobby steps into the room, as if in a trance. The American man, completely nude, appears from Bobby's right and ushers him over to where the Japanese man is fucking Carl. The American lifts Bobby's shirt and pulls it off his head. Then he pulls down Bobby's pants and underwear and suddenly Bobby is naked, unsure of what to do next.
The American man motions to the empty floor next to Carl and Bobby immediately knows what he means.
Bobby lowers himself into a kneeling position beside his friend, his ass in the air. And as the American man pushes his dick into Bobby and starts fucking Bobby's ass, Bobby smiles at his friend, who's also getting fucked. Carl smiles back.
As Bobby gets pounded by the American man and Carl gets pounded by the Japanese man, they lean toward each other and Bobby puts his tongue in Carl's mouth.
Adam stands in the Nermina district and watches from across the street.
Two ambulance drivers carry two bodies out on stretchers and as he watches Darla crumple to the ground, surrounded by police officers, it's obvious the bodies belong to Bobby and Carl.
What happened in that house, he wonders.
He sits in a library looking at old news articles on a library computer. Takeo Saeki, an illustrator, murdered his wife and child and even a cat in that house. Then his wife's lover, Peter Kirk, mysteriously killed himself shortly afterward.
There were rumours of a curse. That the murders left something lingering in the house. But nobody could say what. Just a string of mysterious related deaths.
Had a curse gotten Bobby and Carl? How ridiculous. Might as well say Santa Claus did it.
Adam stands outside the house, now covered in police tape, looking like a proper crime scene. The cops had no idea, the officers unable or unwilling to speak about it.
It just looked like a normal, abandoned, semi-decrepit-from-age house. What could've happened in there?
He heard someone say his name: "Adam."
He turns around to see who it was and somehow, mid-spin, finds himself standing in the entrance of the house itself. How the hell did he get in here? It was like someone spun him around and suddenly the house appeared all around him.
He sees the man - Peter Kirk - the very dead man standing in the entranceway too, looking up the staircase. What the fuck? Peter Kirk starts to climb the stairs. Adam can't figure out what is happening. He must be dreaming. He must be at home, in bed, asleep, having a terrible nightmare.
He follows Peter Kirk up the stairs, to the landing, and then watches as Peter Kirk steps into a room off the hall to the right. A room that emanates an odd soft glow, like from a candle.
Adam takes a breath and follows. It's just a dream, right? The floorboards feel real underneath his feet but his eyes are telling him something that is impossible. Just like a dream.
He walks to the doorway and then continues past it, leaving it for later. The house is otherwise empty. No furniture. Just cobwebs and dust and another staircase leading to the attic, which Adam ignores. He walks back to the room and looks inside.
Standing inside is - inexplicably, impossibly - Takeo Saeki, completely nude, and an equally nude Peter Kirk kneeling in front of him, Takeo's dick in his mouth. How could this be?
The creak of a floorboard causes Adam to look back down the hall and he sees - no, it can't be - Carl creeping toward the room. Just a dream, just a dream, Adam tells himself.
"Carl," he says, as Carl gets closer. But Carl doesn't see him, doesn't even register that he's there. Carl simply looks into the room, then enters it, stripping all his clothes off and kneeling in front of Takeo, who jams his dick in Carl's mouth.
"What the fuck," Adam says. He wants to wake up but can't. He must be deep asleep. And then another creak of the floorboards causes him to turn his head. This time it's Bobby quietly creeping down the hall toward him.
"Bobby," he says, "don't go in there."
But Bobby ignores him, like Bobby's hypnotized. He enters the room too, and when Adam looks in, Carl is on his hands and knees, getting fucked by the murderer Takeo Saeki.
Adam wants to leave, wants to run from the house. He looks toward the landing and thinks about running down those stairs to freedom, but he stays. He has to know what happened to his friends.
When he looks back in the room, Bobby is on his hands and knees next to Carl, except Bobby's getting fucked by Peter Kirk, and Bobby and Carl are kissing as they get fucked.
"Adam," someone says, and when Adam looks up, Takeo Saeki is looking at him, still fucking Carl's ass, but looking at Adam in the doorway.
"You want to join your friends," Takeo says in a thick Japanese accent.
"No," Adam says. He isn't gay and he isn't sure what's happening here but he wants no part of it.
"Yes you do," Takeo says. "You want to be just like your friends."
Carl and Bobby are still kissing, still getting fucked.
"Admit it," Takeo says. "You want to be my fuck toy forever, Adam, don't you."
Adam shakes his head, but without even realizing it was happening, his hands have unbuttoned his shirt and he's pulling it off of himself. "No" he says, as he unbuttons his jeans and pulls them down to his ankles, then steps out of them. "No," he says, pulling his underwear down and off, his own erection guiding him into the room towards his friends.
"Here, Bobby is waiting for you," he says, and Peter Kirk steps aside to reveal Bobby with his ass in the air, his hole looking for a dick to fill it.
Bobby turned, excited, and looked at Adam, beckoning him.
"You want to fuck your friend, don't you?" Takeo says.
Adam takes a deep breath and nods his head, hypnotized by the sight of Bobby's hole, by the thought of his dick going into it.
"And once you do," Takeo says, grinning, "you will never, ever leave this place."
Adam doesn't care. He's never wanted anything so badly and almost without thinking he's kneeling behind Bobby and pushing his dick into Bobby's asshole, his hands on Bobby's hips as he fucks him, Bobby loving every second of it. Adam loving it too.
Adam watches as Takeo stops fucking Carl and Carl gets up off the floor. Carl walks over to Adam and crouches down behind him, teasing Adam's hole with the head of his cock, then jamming it all the way up Adam's rectum. Adam fucking Bobby, Carl fucking Adam. Three college buddies, together again.
Takeo walked over and held his dick in front of Adam's mouth. "Mine now," he said, as Adam eagerly wrapped his lips around it, "forever."