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Kelly Royale was the woman of my dreams.

Her flawless pale skin captivated every guy in my grade at the sight of her image. Even just mentioning her name brought on ravings from each of us in the locker room, bragging on about how much we’d bone her if given the chance. Alas, it was just another dream of your typical hormonal high school boy; to actually meet a celebrity like her was highly unlikely, even if she had grown up in our hometown.

I wasn’t really into her music (pop wasn’t exactly within my realm of taste) but with Kelly, I indulged in her angelic voice and sexy movements on camera. Her baby blue eyes stood out to from the makeup and blush, and her strawberry blonde hair trickled down her perfect shoulders. Each new glamour shoot and music video only made me more delighted to see her. I wasn’t a stalker type, though, let’s make that clear. It’s just, every guy has their ideal woman, and she fit the bill to a T for mine.

When she won the title of Venus of the Year, I was even more ecstatic. Kelly Royale had a following, sure, but with this, she’d be pushed into the spotlight even more. Which meant I’d get to see her around even more. And see her, I did. Playboy, with their last dying breath, managed to bring her on for a couple of photos. I’m sure I wasn’t the only guy in my grade to pop a few boners, though I wasn’t degenerate enough to be looking at her in class. But when I did see her, I was enraptured. That same bright hair, perfect breasts, slim legs, and those arousing eyes - how I prayed for a girl like her to be mine.

The spotlight certainly did wonders for her, and eventually, rumours began to spread about her. On the most positive side of the whispers, it was said that Kelly had accepted an offer from a certain doctor about having a new kind of plastic surgery done. Apparently, there’s not any actual plastic used in most surgeries - the term just meant “reshaping”, from some old Greek term. But if these rumours were true, this doctor had invented a new kind of “artificial skin” - one that would stay moldable thanks to the heat given off by the body or something. I didn’t really understand most of the details, but “eternally preserved beauty” was definitely within my vocabulary.

Sure enough, after a few weeks of silence, Miss Royale made a special appearance on a late night talkshow. They advertised it the whole week prior, so I made damn sure to stay up and see her. She had somehow become even more perfect, and the outfit she wore was barely allowable on live TV. Kelly explained she wanted to show off as much of the surgery’s effects as she could, and she was not holding back. The audience roared and cheered and whistled, and I had to keep my own voice down as to not alert my parents to what I was watching.

When Robert - the show host - asked her about the procedure, Kelly just smiled and held a delicate finger to her lips. She said she couldn’t really talk too in depth about it, other than a few scant facts. Robert was allowed to touch her forearm, and he reported that it felt like “the smoothest skin on earth.” Then Kelly shocked everyone; nearly every inch of her skin had been replaced. There was murmurs in the crowd for a moment, and I swallowed slightly. My imagination had gotten quite good from… practice, but in that moment all I could see was Kelly lying on a surgical table, muscles exposed and blood flowing off the edges in multiple places. Twitching in pain, her eyes stared up at me, pleading for help.

I was snapped back to reality as Kelly reassured everyone that she was totally fine and the procedure was completely painless, and that she could live just as comfortably as before. Robert even joked that she was the world’s first “living Barbie doll”. This worked well to comfort all watching, but I thought that behind those blue eyes, she contained a well of sadness for something else. When I asked the other guys at school the next day, one of them suggested that one of the more sinister rumours might have been true. Apparently, there were reports floating around that a few guys had committed suicide over not being able to be with her. Comparisons were being thrown around with that Bjork stalker from a few years back, but there was no evidence directly indicating that Kelly Royale was the reason they took their lives.

Regardless, you can imagine my utter shock seeing her on my way home one day from school. She was just standing there, gawking at the building. Her forlorn gaze and bitten lip told me she was upset, and that I probably shouldn’t bother the celebrity. But this was Kelly Royale, my idol, the one person I wanted to meet more than any.

“Miss Summers, are you okay…?” was the only thing I say between stutters. She didn’t respond, continuing to stare at the school like a zombie. I decided to take a risk - I reached forward for her arm and tugged softly. Her skin truly was divine - I’d never felt something so soft that wasn’t fur before. If it wouldn’t have been so weird, I’d wish to hold her hand for days on end, enjoying the texture of her palm’s embrace. I tried to memorize the feeling - for personal uses later.

For the first time, her eyes terrified me. They were wide and horrific, piercing through my own and delivering a strange terror to my heart. She looked deathly afraid, but whether of me or something else I couldn’t tell. Their bloodshot nature spoke at lengths of her lack of sleep, and she almost seemed to gasp for breath.

“M-Miss Royale?” I stammered again, trying to break her free of the trance.

Finally, her thousand-yard stare ended, and she began to take notice of my presence. “Oh. My apologies. Do you go here?” She pointed at my bag; I nodded.

“I see. You know, a lot has changed since I used to go here…” She trailed off, biting her lip again before giving me a smile. “You called me Miss Royale. I take it you’re a fan?”

I tried to hide the blush but it was impossible. I nodded quickly.

She grinned, then looked around strangely and reached into her coat for a pen. My heart stopped for a moment, before my body jumped and my arms started scrambling through my book bag for the first piece of paper I could find for her. Quickly, she scratched down an autograph after asking for my name, then handed the paper back: “To Warren, study hard and live a wonderful long life. Miss Royale~”

I went to thank her, but her hand on my cheek put me on pause yet again. Though it was gentle and kind, something about how she grasped my jawline felt forced, almost desperate. I wanted to say something, but she simply giggled and replied to my unspoken gratitude. “You’re welcome.” Then, without another word, she turned and walked away.

I was possibly one of the last few people to see her alive that day. Kelly Royale wandered into oncoming traffic downtown and died at the scene. She was reported to seemed rather distracted, so it was hard to tell if it had been intentional or not. At least she had died in her hometown; it would make the funeral and burial easier. All of my friends were distraught about it. I didn’t dare show them the autograph, not yet at least. It just didn’t seem right. Besides, I was upset too. Seeing her writing would only bring out tears.

About a week after her funeral, I was still depressed about the whole ordeal. The memory of our meeting repeated in my head over and over, causing me to toss and turn in my bed night after night. Lying down one particular night, the images came onto me tenfold. The eyes were what stuck out the most; no matter what I did, all I saw when I tried to rest was her haunting stare.

A foul stench forced me to wake from whatever sleep I was beginning to attain, but the sight to come would not allow me to fall back into slumber. Standing at the edge of my bed was a naked Kelly Royale. Her pristine skin shown in the lights that made their way in through my window, and normally I’d be very excited, but as time passed I began to realize what was wrong with this image.

First, I recalled that Kelly was dead. So the horrible smell only freaked me out even more as I came to the conclusion that a zombie was standing at the foot of my bed. Then I noticed the cracks. All over her body were countless lines and chips, with brown oil slipping out from between their edges to stain her ghastly white skin. Around her major joints, the cracks were far larger, and massive drops of sludge pooled before falling to my bedroom floor with a loud splat. The rubber that had keep her beauty intact had grown cold and hard from lack of human heat, and was now splintering as this corpse moved about.

Her hair, once silky and flowing, was now tangled and stringy, covering half of her disfigured face. Her blue eyes could not be seen, now replaced with empty sockets that seemed to pulse around the exterior. She breathed slowly, with a disgusting gurgle that matched the sound of a sick person vomiting.

I pulled my blanket up to my nose, both to hide from the monster and try to cover the stink. “M-M-M-Miss…?” I stuttered yet again, but this time I could not finish.

I held back a scream as the creature make horrific noises, like it was trying to clear its throat, before it spoke. “Warren…” it croaked. “Forgive me…”

Forgive her? Forgive her for what?

“He… He sent me back… I brushed those boys off… I didn’t know… my ignorance would make them… oh, God… please forgive me…” Kelly’s corpse moaned and wailed, her hands slowly drifting over her body. I could hear one side of her stomach crack and pop, and shortly after a tube of meat slung itself out, dangling from the hole. I swallowed my vomit, too afraid to make any sudden movements, lest this thing attack me.

“Wh-wh-what are you doing h-here…”

“I… I gave you the autograph… I need, to atone… there were many men who wanted me… and now, I must show them… my true self… don’t you love me, Warren? Don’t you all love me?” She began to grapple her breast, unable to squeeze it as it had lost all softness along with her life. I could only stare in disturbed intrigue as she grew desperate and squeezed harder, shattering her skin like a porcelain doll, letting more rotting flesh and coagulated blood ooze from the new exit. The cracks spread as she tried to dance, whispering over and over again, asking for me to want her. A Glasgow smile resulted in her jaw dropping to the floor - quite literally - leaving her undead tongue swinging in the open.

Then she began to crawl onto the bed. I couldn’t hold myself back any longer; I screamed and kicked for her to get off of me, but she would not retreat. The smell only grew stronger, and it clung to my hands as I slapped and punched her repeatedly. My feet pushed my blanket upwards, trying to hit her abdomen, but Kelly’s advance was relentless. Despite not having a mouth, her pleas persisted. She moved her head beside mine as her intestines wormed their way out of her stomach and into my lap. My nose twitched at her filthy hair, and I groaned in immense discomfort as her hanging tongue lapped against my ear. A collection of pus and sludge pooled in my ear canal, and the zombie placed its hand on my stomach, tapping around for something more sensitive.

That was the last straw. Without mercy, I grabbed Kelly Royale by the hair and yanked her back - only to pull a chunk out. The monster growled in anger at this, but I didn’t care anything. I punched my fist up into her stomach, breaking through instantly and leaving my hand to rest in a slithering pile of guts. Kelly brought her face to meet mine, almost as if to ask why I had done so, before the cracks overtook every part of her body. All at once, the greatest model on earth collapsed before my tear flooded eyes, falling into a pile of mushy organs and shards of hard skin.

Now Kelly Royale is the woman of my nightmares.



Written by RedNovaTyrant
Content is available under CC BY-SA


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