Sweet Flesh

Pressing his scarred, unshaven face up against the hole in the wall, Herbert’s breathing was fast and loud, catching in his throat in anticipation. Behind him the school was dark and silent, the corridor stretching long and empty behind him. If anyone came he’d have plenty of time to back away and hide his open trousers behind his janitor’s trolley. He knew what he was doing.

And so he relaxed. This was Herbert’s favourite time - the girls had finished netball club five minutes ago - he’d watched them cluster and head towards the changing room; a herd of silky soft hair and impossibly smooth skin. Soon the door would open and the girls would pour in like bubbles in an overflowing glass of champagne.

Herbert waited eagerly for it to begin: the squeak of the shower tap, the rush of soap-scented steam, the rustle of clothes, the sweet voices and sweeter flesh slowly uncovered.

But tonight was different, tonight the air seemed charged with a different kind of excitement.

It began as usual; laughter, undressing, chatting. Herbert pressed himself hard into the wall, ready. And then it was if all of his dreams had come true - that perky little brunette and the adorable blond were suddenly kissing each other - right there by his spy hole as all their classmates stared, fascinated.

A hushed silence fell over the changing room and Herbert held his breath, still as a statue, not wanting to peak too soon. Gymslips dropped to the floor, hair swished, fingertips caressed flesh. It could have been lifted straight from one of his videotapes. It was almost too much.

Only then Herbert hearing a creak, noticed the toilet door creeping slowly, slowly open, a large, dark figure emerging - it wasn’t a teenage girl, that was obvious. Something about the awkward, lumbering way it moved was horribly wrong, somehow...

And then the door banged open and an enormous shape appeared. Herbert flung himself back from his spyhole appalled, certain he’d seen - but surely not - tentacles?

Their screams rang out high, terrified and he bolted. He ran, trousers unbuttoned, forgetting his trolley, straight out into the schoolyard, straight into the deputy head.

“Mr Travers, what is going on?” she asked, astonished

“”The girls - something… in the changing room” he gasped “you have to help them.”

“Well they look fine to me” she said, as a troupe of girls tumbled happily out into the yard.

“Everything alright girls?”

“Yes Mrs Jeffries”

“But, I saw...” he sputtered.

“What, exactly did you see? And how, exactly, were you seeing anything inside the girls changing room, Mr Travers?”

Her eyes dropped to his gaping trousers and her face screwed up, disgusted “girls, go home. I need to talk to Mr Travers”

The girls bundled off together, a picture of innocence. Except for one pretty blond girl, who turned to tip Herbert a long, slow wink before skipping off with her friends. Poking from her backpack Herbert noticed the end of what looked like a long, rubber tentacle.