The spade bit into the hard earth with a grating sound, disturbing the muffled quiet of the fog- shrouded moors. Dirty Bill flung the shovelful of dank soil over his shoulder, returning the tool's blade to the large mound in front of him before the last pile of dirt hit the ground. He worked as quickly as he could, sweating profusely despite the October night's cold, but far from tired. A large brute of a man, he usually worked as a day laborer, taking odd jobs in counties throughout the North of England. Of course, that was when there was work to be had... recently, even opportunities for manual labor had become few and far between.

No stranger to work, he'd been keeping himself fed as regularly as possible since the age of twelve, when his widowed mother died of lung cancer, leaving him the grand sum of six pounds and forty pence. With no relatives to care for him, young William Sullivan was already an unpleasant and troublesome boy well on his way to a hard life of petty crime, devoid of the love and sympathy of other people. Now a man of thirty looking closer to forty, his existence centered around his never-ending quest for survival, which for him consisted of three things: food to fill his belly, stout to deaden his senses, and once in a while, when his wallet could accommodate his desires, a prostitute to satiate his lustful urges.

In this area, his behavior mirrored his character: rough, almost bestial intercourse with a sad, unpleasant woman wholly devoid of self worth. His predilection was for as buxom a harlot as he could manage to find, usually an aging woman of considerable girth and generally unsavory airs. Dirty Bill didn't much care... no gentleman himself, he felt that things like hygiene and appearance were overrated. As long as the unfortunate woman possessed an ample pair of breasts, preferably at least as large as ripe melons, he was satisfied. Given his animal nature, he rarely had the opportunity to sample the same woman's favors twice... his rough, physically punishing manner often left significant bruises all over female bodies, especially on and around the breasts, where he mauled and twisted the tender flesh while emptying himself inside them. More than once such behavior had gotten him into trouble with the local constabulary, making it necessary for him to move on in a hurry.

Thus his nomadic nature and the present sad state of the economy had conspired to keep gainful employment and Dirty Bill separate for some time. As such, the few meager coins he could manage to earn -- supplemented by the paltry spoils of petty theft -- could barely keep him fed, let alone provide for his baser desires. Months had passed since his last opportunity to quell his urges... since then, he'd had to make do with two sheep and a lame dog that had bitten him as he abused it. After spending himself inside the poor animal, he beat the dog with his bare fists until its whimpers had gone silent. Not much satisfied by these depravities, his desperation had continued to grow, along with his hunger, until he arrived at his current plan of action. Despite the considerable risks involved, he now found himself digging feverishly into one of the ancient barrows comprising the burial complex of Maes Howe on the Orkney Islands.

Dirty Bill had been at his highly illegal task for several hours, having carved an impressively deep meter-wide hole into the side of one of the burial mounds. He'd chosen this mound ostensibly because of its distance from the nearest road, though he felt as if this particular barrow had somehow been calling to him, tempting him with fleeting thoughts of illicit booty that could be pawned for cash to satisfy his hunger and lust. Now deep inside the hill on hands and knees, he paused for a moment and looked back over his shoulder to find that he'd dug a veritable tunnel. His gas lantern hissed beside him, and lacking a watch, he wondered how much time was left till dawn. A cold shiver ran up his spine and across the back of his skull. He shrugged off the uneasy feeling, scratching his filthy, matted hair before resuming his labors anew.

A short while later, his efforts were rewarded when the spade struck something solid. Clawing at the packed earth at the tunnel's end revealed a buried wall made of rough, reddish flagstones. His excitement grew, and using the tip of his shovel, he strained and pried the edge of one stone free of the wall. Grunting with the effort and almost emptying his bowels in the process, he heaved mightily and the stone popped loose, striking him in the face. Cursing, he wiped at his bloodied forehead and thrust the lantern into the dark opening now before him. The sickly light revealed a small chamber, less than four meters in diameter and half as high, fully lined with the reddish stones. In the center stood a roughly circular form built of the same material, perhaps two meters across and one tall. No objects or markings of any sort could be seen, though the flat stones atop the central structure appeared to be a bit more damp than those elsewhere in the dank chamber.

His head filling with images of glittering loot, Dirty Bill managed to squeeze his bulk through the small opening and into the chamber, badly scraping both of his knees in the process. Hunched over beneath the low ceiling, he stood before the central structure, breathing harshly. Beyond his own familiar stink, the smell of decay was present, along with a faint, sickly sweetness whose origin he could not identify. Worried about the approaching dawn and a little woozy from the blow to his head, he set his lantern on the floor and proceeded to climb up and pull stones from the top of the structure. Shortly the top was bare, and -- much to his disappointment -- no compartment was revealed... only more of the same cold, hard earth. Straddling the bare soil atop the structure, his back bent to avoid the roof above, he paused, the sound of his own rapid breathing filling the room. Then, without warning, the earth beneath him shifted. Shocked to his core, he sprang up and immediately split his scalp open on the stony ceiling, falling backwards to the floor behind with a feeble cry.

He grasped at consciousness as blood flowed freely from his head, stinging his eyes and making it difficult to see. Backing against the wall, he attempted to push himself up from the floor and onto his knees. As he did so, he peered atop the stone structure and discovered that a depression had formed within, as if a smaller chamber beneath the soil had collapsed under his weight. Cursing aloud for having frightened himself, he pulled himself erect and wiped his eyes. At that moment, the soil in the depression began to slowly rise of it's own accord, and Dirty Bill's bowels emptied themselves into his trousers.

Whimpering with fear, he grasped at the wall behind, eyes fixed on the moving earth before him. With devastating slowness, two sepulchral hands broke free of their earthen tomb and grabbed at the stony edges. Eyes wide with horror, his heartbeat loud in his ears, he watched as grey, claw-like fingers tipped by splintered black nails found firm purchase on the stony rim. Standing frozen in his own feces, he watched the knuckles whiten as whatever it was pulled itself from the grave. Two mounds rose from the center of the tomb, fetid earth falling from them to reveal massive twin orbs of slick grayish flesh, each the size of a large pumpkin and capped with a dark, stiffly erect nipple as large as an infant's fist.

Backed against the wall, both mesmerized and transfixed with abject terror, Bill's overwrought mind struggled to grasp what his eyes beheld. Soil slipping from its body, the form of a cadaverous young woman revealed itself to be in possession of the inhumanly enormous pair of breasts. She pulled herself from the dirt and to her knees atop the tomb, her empty eye sockets seemingly fixed on him. Her thin body was covered with a viscous liquid, like the trail of slime left by a garden snail, and was encrusted here and there with the dark earth that had so recently been her home. Stringy tendrils of black hair framed her gaunt, expressionless face, and dank, filthy curls of the same color flared out from between her skeletal legs. In several places, the bones just beneath her skin appeared to have actually broken through... a rib protruding bloodlessly here, a kneecap there. Dirty Bill was oblivious to all of these grotesque details as his horror was gradually overcome by a potent mix of arousal and anger. His gaze shifted, fixing on the wraith's impossibly large breasts, each massive sphere hanging down to her bony pelvis. It looked as if the two ridiculously swollen orbs of flesh had been spared the ravages of her undeath, and now must surely outweigh the rest of her wasted form.

He felt his phallus stir within his soiled pants, and watched as the figure of the corpse-like young woman spread her knees, leaned back and reached beneath her elephantine mammaries to spread her pubic thatch apart with her hands. Doing so revealed her interior not to be sweetly pink and moist, as in life, but rather a darkish, nauseating grey. The folds of her womanhood emitted a horrid, fleshy sound as she pulled them open, and a fetid stream of black liquid trickled from within. As it did so, a ghoulish smile came upon her face. He felt his rage welling up inside him, furious with this accursed creature for all of the fear and pain he had been made to suffer during this night, and throughout his entire miserable life. He reached down into his pants and withdrew his turgid member, his bloody hand now covered with his own stinking filth. Angrily erect, his penis bobbed as he staggered forward, his head reeling with fury, recent impacts and adrenaline.

Seeming to sense his approach, the wraith leaned back even further on her haunches and pulled the lips of her womanhood even further apart, resulting in a sickening, tearing sound. Her massive breasts shuddered of their own volition, almost as if in anticipation of what was to about to come. In one great leap Bill threw himself up onto the tomb and atop the wraith, sinking his cock into her body with a single brutal thrust. His large, filthy hands viscously groped great handfuls of breast flesh as she fell back beneath his weight, each crusted nipple like a walnut within his rough palms. He arched his back, simultaneously forcing his penis deep inside her and grasping at her outsized breasts, squeezing her nipples with all his might. Despite the sound of blood rushing in his ears, he heard and felt a horrid ripping sound beneath him and looked down from her crazed smile. There, actually within her massive breasts were his hands, which had sunk into the mounds of rotting flesh up to the wrists. And beneath, the entire area between her thighs was covered in the nauseating black liquid, as was most of his lower torso. Under the force of his maniacal attack, the wraith's body had begun to liquify, giving off a sulfurous stench that burned his nostrils.

Her bony arms around his back, she pulled him close against her and back into the soil beneath them both. With growing horror he tried to push away, only to have his arms sink to the elbows into her twin mounds of decomposing flesh. Eyes wide with fright, he let out a pitiful scream and summoned what little will was left to him. Wrenching his pelvis back away from hers with a sudden extraordinary effort, an indescribable agony carved its way up from his groin and into his spine. He looked down in time to see the remains of his cock, now torn from his body and spewing gouts of blood among the fetid goo, swallowed by her horrific cunt. Crimson blood gushed freely from the ragged stump of his penis, mixing with her foul eviscera and soaking the earth beneath them.

As the last vestiges of consciousness were abandoning him, Bill surrendered and collapsed into her waiting arms. Feeling nothing but an unparalleled agony and too drained to resist any further, he looked into her cavernous eye sockets, seeking some clue to his fate. No eyes gazed back, no answers revealed.

Now sodden with the fluids of her liquefying corpse and his life blood, the soil beneath them subsided, absorbing their twined bodies as it had their juices. His torso literally enmeshed with hers, vast quantities of putrid, gelatinous flesh from her decomposed bosom covered his lowering face, filling his mouth, nose and throat. Moments from death, he shuddered and gagged as his lungs took in the horrid substance.

Blind, immobile and rapidly asphyxiating, Dirty Bill expired shortly before dawn, never understanding why he had come to such an unfortunate end.