Black Petals Issue #96, Summer, 2021

Sex Fiend
Editor's Page
BP Artists' Page
BP Guidelines
Mars-News, Views and Commentary
Dark Resurrection-Fiction by Michael Hopkins
A Dip in the Pool-Fiction by Hillary Lyon
Far Down in the Credits-Fiction by Roy Dorman
Guilt Trip-Fiction by James Flynn
Ky'thagra's Big Day-Fiction by Devin Marcus
Larger Prey-Fiction by Richard Brown
Lover-Fiction by N. G. Leonetti
Sail Away-Fiction by Chris Allyne
Sleeping Again-Fiction by Russ Bickerstaff
The Poison Doorway-Fiction by Dionosio Traverso Jr.
The Tick Bite-Fiction by Robb T. White
Bake Sale Inspiration-Flash Fiction by Samantha Carr
Hotel with Full Amenities-Flash Fiction by William Kitcher
Reincarnation Jeopardy-Flash Fiction by Kenneth James Crist
Sex Fiend-Flash Fiction by Karen Bayly
Witches' Sabbath-Poem by Mike Collins
Blood-Poem by Mike Collins
Death's Pornography-Poem by Mike Collins
Temptation-Poem by Mike Collins
Painting Light-Poem by Mike Collins
Dark Waltz-Poem by Marilyn Lou Berry
The Last Victim of Vlad the Impaler-Poem by Mehmet Akgonul
The Bravest Ant-Poem by Mehmet Akgonul
Ain't Alien Spores-Poem by Richard Stevenson
Giant Goldfish-Poem by Richard Stevenson
Igopogo-Poem by Richard Stevenson
Megamouth Has Cavities-Poem by Richard Stevenson

Art by Hillary Lyon 2021

Sex Fiend


by Karen Bayly


The fiend slipped from its dimension onto the tarmac, then paused, sensing for prey. This was a new hunting ground, unfamiliar, but ripe with possibility. It slithered, almost invisible, toward an old red Ford Falcon. The vehicle crackled with the type of energy generated by two hormonally charged teenage bodies. It tested the edges of the doors until it discovered a miniscule gap. It oozed inside, then crawled under the passenger seat. And waited.


Dean eyed Jenny as she drank her bottle of Coke. Like a snake charmer, she hypnotised him, teasing the straw with her tongue, then wrapping her lip around the end. He loved the way her jaw and throat moved as she sucked. He wondered what that mouth of hers could give him.

He eased closer and laid his hand on her knee. She stopped drinking and smiled at him.


He walked his fingers to her mid-thigh. “Who, me? Never!”

She giggled and shifted her weight so that her knees parted. Dean’s heartbeat ramped up. He leaned over and kissed her. She moaned.

“Oh, that’s so good. Don’t stop.”

He kissed her again.

“Not that you idiot, the other thing.”

She slid down the seat, eyes half-closed.

“Yes, that.”

Dean sat back and stared at her. He wasn’t even touching her.

She moaned louder. His fingers probing between her thighs was exquisitely unbearable. Usually, he fumbled at her clothes like a schoolboy. This time he was getting to her. She wanted to go all the way.

“Come on, baby. Let’s do it,” she groaned.

She grabbed him by the neck and pulled him toward her. Her tongue invaded his mouth, her teeth grazing his gums.

He shivered as her hand slipped into his jeans. Something was off. He felt sick, not aroused.

“C’mon, Jen. Not where everyone can watch.”

‘‘No-one is here, baby. We’re in our own little world. See?”

Dean stared out into darkness. No movie screen, no vehicles, only utter blackness stretching into the distance. His panic rose like bile as he grabbed the door handle. She seized his hand and yanked it away so hard, he heard the bones crack.

“Ow, Jenny!”

She licked her lips. “Jenny,” she said, tasting the word. “Yummy name.”

She leaned over, flicked a lever. Dean’s seat fell back with a thump. He struggled to sit upright, but she straddled him, pinned his arms over his head.

“Mmm, time for consummation,” she purred.

She lay her body on his, her strength overwhelming, the feel of her irresistible. His resistance ebbed, and the fiend lapped at him, sending his senses spinning into overload. He realised he was dying, but he didn’t care. Instead, he marvelled at his demise, in thrall to an unimaginable ecstasy. Somewhere in the distance, Jenny screamed in blood-curdling terror.


The movie credits rolled across the screen. People roused, started their cars, drove off. An ancient Holden pulled up beside the Ford.

“Hey Deano! We’re heading to Tony’s for burgers. Wanna come?”

Dean’s best friend, Tom, pressed his nose to the misted glass of the driver’s window, hands on either side of his face. Kylie, his girlfriend, appeared beside him.

“What’s up?”

“Dunno. Deano’s missing. Jen’s fast asleep. Should we wake her?”

“I’ll do it.”

She sauntered round to the other side and rattled the door handle. Locked. No problem. She hadn’t spent a few months in juvie for nothing. A few seconds with a bobby pin and…

Jen’s mutilated body fell at her feet. Stomach ripped open, breasts missing, claw marks and blood everywhere.

Something crawled from the carnage, freezing Kylie’s scream mid-throat. She could feel Tom beside her, both of them paralysed with fear as it sniffed her foot, her bare leg, her groin. Snarling, it slid away into thin air.


Kylie paused outside the padlocked gates. She’d spent years at this drive-in trying to find the thing that killed her friends. It should have closed that night, but the owner had friends in high places. Three more couples had to die.

Now, there was talk of it opening again. Not on her watch. Not while she could pick a lock or light a fire.


Karen Bayly is a writer and software tester. Her passion for writing began as a child when she wrote soap operas for Barbie, Ken, and a host of other dollies to perform. These days it’s her PhD in biology and her research background that inform her writing, a fusion of science fiction, horror, and fantasy.

Her short stories and poems have appeared in journals such as Black Hare Press, Toasted Cheese, Overland, Yellow Mama Webzine, Skive Magazine, Voluted Tales, and Every Day Fiction. Her steampunk novel, Fortitude, was published by Mary Celeste Press. She lives in Sydney, Australia with two indoor cats, a guitar, and a ukulele.

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