Autumn Fiction Special: Mistress of the Kefir (warning: adult themes)

This week The AmOb is delighted to present an exclusive extract from Carinthia Hart’s forthcoming novel, Mistress of the Kefir. It is a unique literary collaboration between Carinthia, queen of the bonkbuster, and her nephew Dale, master of horror. The result is compelling…

Chapter One

Susan Carter cowered behind the kitchen door, numb with fear. What had she done? The ‘thing’ she had created was growing ever more powerful; there was no stopping it now. The vile mass had coagulated from its separate pods – coconut, blueberry, natural – and slithered across her worktop, clasping its doughy, sticky limbs round the toaster, spitting out foul bubbles of stinking gas like a demonic geyser. Now she knew: the culture didn’t just look like brains in milk. Somehow it had acquired consciousness. The Kefir had woken. And who knew what horrors it was fermenting in its twisted mind?

‘Brace yourself Susan. Hope that’s chilli I can smell!’ Neil strode in, swinging his Thermos. Normally the sight of his masterful body, damp overalls clinging to every muscle and the whiff of something carnal and primitive about his manly form, would have her melting with desire faster than ice in a Dirty Banana. She could tell he was hot for her, as, pausing only to discard his boots as house rules required, he flung off his fleece and reached for her, nostrils flaring… ‘Oh my good Lord, what is that stink!’

‘It’s only.. oh Neil, I never meant – it’s the Kefir. It’s going to kill us all!’ She clutched her husband’s arms but he shook her off. ‘Cor blimey, certainly smells like it. Sorry Susan, that’s put me right off. Mr Hogg is staying in his ark tonight. And I’m off to the pigs – for some fresh air!’ And with that he was gone. She slumped, weeping, against the kitchen door…

Chapter Two

To a man like Toby Fairbrother, every encounter with a woman was a potential sexual opportunity. It was just the way he was made – and by God, didn’t women love it? But even his magnificent libido was taking a back seat this morning. He was waist-deep in the Am, struggling to herd the goslings his stupid brother Rex had let out.

‘Hey, Tobes!’ Yes! It was his lucky day after all. Pip Archer had roared up on her quad bike. She looked hot – thighs in tight jeans, stradding the saddle, her shape barely concealed in one of his old rugby shirts, drenched in sweat. Two birds with one stone, Tobes, he thought to himself. Or more like, hundreds! ‘Pip, you’ve saved my life. Come and help with this lot.’

Within seconds her feet were naked and she’d waded in. He smiled and stripped off his own shirt. The Pipster never could resist the rippling Toby bod, honed in the scrum. Soon, it would be like old times, with maybe some sexy mud-wrestling thrown in….

Already half-aroused, he’d forgotten the geese. He turned round – and his face became a mask of terror. The goslings were waddling towards him, a hideous feathered army with destruction as their only aim. As if by some secret signal, they took off and went straight for him. He could see the glint of hatred in their eyes as they surrounded him in an evil-smelling  cloud, beating their wings in his face, ripping his flesh with sharp beaks, scratching and gouging until his face and arms were running with blood… Then, oh God -  ‘No, no! Not the crown jewels!’ His screams mixed with the birds’ harsh, guttural cackles as they tore through his jeans and attacked his manhood. ‘Pip! Pip! Save me!’ But all he could hear as he sank weakly into the mud was the sound of his ex-girlfriend laughing…

Chapter Three

‘We’re cut from the same cloth, you and I, Adam.’ His aunt Lilian fondled the ears of her puppy, Ruby, sensuously betraying the practised skill that had made her a byword in Borsetshire boudoirs. ‘We both have loving, faithful partners but…’ ‘I know, it’s the forbidden fruit.’ Adam smiled ruefully, remembering the heady scent of strawberries and plastic sheeting in the polytunnels, Pawel’s hard, sinewy body against his…

‘Ian loves you. Do something special to remind him of how good you used to be together. I can give you a few tips if you like.. there was one thing Matt used to go wild for…’ Adam got up hastily. ‘Um, no thanks Lilian. You’re right, but I know what gets Ian going. I should do. He’s my husband after all…’ Adam had an idea.

Later that evening, he and Ian were lounging in the hot tub, replete and completely satisfied. ‘Good, wasn’t it?’ Adam said lazily. ‘Yeah, fantastic right enough. Best ever.’ Ian smiled irresistibly. ‘Don’t say you want more? I’m done!’ Adam laughed indulgently. ‘Come on old man,’ Ian grinned. ‘Just one more.’ He leaned through the warm bubbles towards Adam. ‘Onion bhaji or prawn pakora?’

But his question went unanswered. ‘God, Ian, what’s that?’ Adam pointed into the foaming water. Under the surface, something was stirring. ‘Well, you can’t blame a man for…’ Ian smiled, but his expression froze as he followed Adam’s finger. A milky, glutinous ectoplasm was slithering out from the water jet, spreading through the hot tub and forming hideous, ghostly limbs that grasped at their naked legs. Both men covered their faces as an evil miasma rose through the water, filling the air with a terrible stink.

‘What… what the?’ Ian gasped, even as the thing reached up a skeletal arm and dragged him down. ‘It’s…. it’s the Kefir!’ Adam screamed in horror. ‘I warned Susan she’d never control it, but she insisted on meddling. We’re all doomed!’

To be continued…..