Among the Stars

I’m shoulder to shoulder with murderers and pedophiles knee-deep in pig guts. I stuff another heaping handful of intestines into the sack tied to my waist wondering when they’ll open the doors so I can finally take a shit or if I’ll have to do that business right here and now. I notice Charlie collapse into the stinking pool of gore, exhaustion-induced unconsciousness. I wade over to his side as fast as I can before any Fabricants spot him. Pulling him out of the pool took nearly all my strength and I could feel my muscles tear and pain firing from every neuron. “Come on, buddy. On your feet.” I felt a stream of shit fall down my leg. Relief.

Charlie’s head surfaced, eyes still closed. I smacked him twice before he flinched and stared at me with wild eyes. “Put the puppies in the fire!” Charlie said.

He struggled to his feet while grabbing for my neck. I was too tired to defend myself and allowed his hands to close around my neck and shove me down. I was on my knees while Charlie strangled me and I could feel his nails digging deeper into my throat and wondered how bad the wounds would get infected.

“Charles, my lovely boy! Put those puppies in the goddamn fire before I tan your hide!” he said.

“Charlie,” I whispered.

Just as I feel myself slipping, his hands leave my neck and I fall face first into the pig guts. I look up, gag, see the back of someones jumpsuit and another man, presumably Charlie, thrashing wildly before him.

Don’t kill the poor bastard, I thought. Charlie had it worse than all of us in terms of sentencing. At least we got 3 meals and a bedroll while he was on the receiving end of countless torture devices and biological experiments conducted by Fabricants. It’s funny, though. They could be torturing any of us, and in a sense they do, but not the way they do Charlie. Whatever he did must’ve been real bad. Bad enough that they drill holes in his head every night and his screams fill the prison and they echo through your dreams and you wake up with this lingering sadness, this sense of disaster that you can’t quite understand until you see that look in Charlies eyes. That blank stare and crooked smile. The shaved off eyebrows, dimpled chin, hollow cheeks, long, thin black hair. I watch him at breakfast shovel gruel into his mouth with trembling lips but a steady hand. His actions are cold and calculated, an automation. I remember the look on his face when we were in processing and he asked me what I was in for.

“Child prostitution, first-degree murder, necrophilia, cannibalism, trespassing. You?”

He couldn’t even answer, he just stopped breathing and looked at me. I asked him if there was a problem and he just kept staring. I grabbed him by the shirt and shoved him up against the wall and told him I’d take pleasure in fucking him after I kill him that night. It wasn’t until later at dinner that he sat with me and apologized and asked if there was anything he could do to avoid becoming a dead man and naturally I made him my wife up until the Fabricants took him away. I guess I loved him, because when they took him I cried and I screamed and tried to kill myself by jumping off the second floor but got two broken legs and 5 months in solitary for that. When I was put back into general population I asked around for Charlie and was told to wait until nighttime and I’d hear him. I’ve listened to his screams for the past 6 years. When he was finally put back on work duty in the slaughterhouse I tried talking to him but he was already gone, mentally on another planet. It didn’t matter, I still tried talking to him everyday, and everyday he would have psychotic breaks and tried killing me more times than I can count. He successfully killed 14 other inmates but received no punishment because the Fabricants look at is as a natural way of cleaning up the prison population. And if I ever heard even the slightest plan of someone offing Charlie, I killed them. He needs me.

I told him this one day and for the briefest moment, I felt like he was back again. He looked at me strangely and said, “I ran a bookstore. That’s all I ever did”

I know I could get up and save Charlie, pull this mother fucker off him and save him from being murdered. But something kept me still, something convinced me it was his time to go and I watched him stop struggling and the man in the jumpsuit stand up and walk away like nothing ever happened. Charlie was gone,

I’ll miss him.

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Taint Love

Wakeup 5:06 in a pool of

my own vomit and piss

Roll over on my side

give the blonde corpse a kiss

Then I seduce her

Clit feels like a frozen pea between two ice packs and me

She’s not a ginger but her pussy’s red

fuck her ass, rotten and dead

Pull out and look at my dick

shriveled and stinking

I’m gonna be sick

Wrap my hands around her neck

pucker my lips and give her a peck

thanks for the sex

Sucker Punched

The following short story is brand new as of today. I refrained from posting what I wrote yesterday because I think it was more of a brainstorming activity. 

Sucker Punched

It was December.

I stood there staring at the shed door. It was almost 5 Am. My legs began to tremble so violently I thought I might fall, but I didn’t. Instead, I held my breath to avoid sucking in the sharp winter air and prayed Emily didn’t wake up early. I’d have to drive her to school in two hours so I had to work fast.

I reached into my fur-lined bomber jacket and grabbed the key. It felt like ice. I took a step forward and played with the lock, working the cold metals together hoping to create enough friction to melt the sliver of ice packed inside. I had nearly rendered the key useless before it slid home. After freeing the lock, I opened the door to find my beauty exactly as I left him. He was sleeping now, maybe even dead. I wasn’t sure nor did I care. All I knew was his body would still be warm from the heat lamps.

I shucked off my pants and peeled off my shirt. My balls shrunk up into my belly, but my cock was already getting hard. I gave the boy a light smack, “wake up.”

He didn’t move. I brought my fist above my head and landed it on his cheekbone. He flinched back and grimaced.

“Hey! There’s my sweet boy. For a second I thought you expired.” I lifted his head up by his hair and brought my shaft against his lips. “Suck,” I said.

“Please,” the boy whispered.

“I can’t hear you? Speak up!”

“I can’t. I feel so sick.”

I laughed before knocking out another one of his teeth. “Watch those teeth. Now get to it, we don’t have much time.”

The boy just hung from his chains, face-to-face with my throbbing member. He was starting to fall back asleep.

“I swear to god,” I said, “If you keep me waiting one more second I’ll kill your entire family.”

The boy did was he was told. I closed my eyes and thought about the trouble I’d be in when I got to work. I was supposed to set up a meeting between the partners and our newest client. It was a big case and we had a chance of winning if the client was willing to spend lots of money, which she had.

After I finished, I put my clothes back on and turned up the heat lamps. The boy wasn’t blistering enough. However, his lips were chapped enough to add more pleasure.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” I said.

“Could I have some water?”

“I can’t hear you. What’d I tell you about speaking up?”

The boy swallowed. “Can I please…. have just one drink of water.”

“Of course!” I said.

I unzipped my pants once again and shot a stream of piss at his face.  The boy writhed and spit the urine all over the place. I said, “You should probably swallow some of that. It’s good for ya.”

When I finally stepped out and locked the shed, I noticed Emily’s bedroom light was one. Perfect timing. I walked around the side of the house to the mailbox to get the paper, until I saw red and blue lights. I froze. They weren’t turned on, but they didn’t have to be. Anyone in their right mind could tell it was a cop car.

It was Desmond, one of the local sheriffs.

“Mornin’,” he said.

I smiled. “It’s too damn cold if you ask me. I been living here 35 years and still can’t stand this weather.”

“Well why don’t you do us both a favor and move?” Desmond said.

I laughed. “But if I leave, who’ll fuck your wife?”

Desmond laughed even harder and said, “Watch yourself you sly bastard. I could beat the shit out of you with my night stick and still have my job in the morning!”

“Ain’t that the truth you fucking pig.” I grabbed the paper and began scanning the front page. “Any suspects yet for the Omaha kid?”

Desmond cocked an eyebrow. “Why else do you think I’m here?”

I could feel the slightest tremble travel from my toes to the tips of my fingers. My balls shrunk further into my belly. “What’re you saying, Des?”

Desmond unclipped the holster of his gun. “How long have I known you, Mitch?”

I blinked several times before I could answer. “We grew up together. ‘Bout 30 years I’d say.”

“You’re damn right.” Desmond took a few steps towards me and got so close I could smell the strawberry danish on his breath. “30 years I known you and in 30 years I got to know you pretty damn well.”

I couldn’t breathe. “You got something to tell me? Tell me now goddammit.”

Desmond unholstered his  .40 cal S&W and pressed the tip of the barrel under my chin. “I woke up this morning thinkin’ it was gonna be a pretty shitty day after I knew I had to roll up to your place and see your ugly mug.”

He turned the safety off. “Are you outta your god damn mind?” I said.

Desmond smiled, the bottoms of his teeth black from years of chewing tobacco. “That makes two of us, don’t it? Of course we don’t have a fuckin’ suspect,” he said putting his gun back in its holster. “If we did, I wouldn’t be here.”

“You’re just tryin’ to get your fuck on?” I asked.

“Like I said, I woke up thinkin’ it was gonna be a shitty day. Make it better for me. Where’s that little pretty boy? Still out back?”

“Yeah.”

Desmond made his way to the shed.

“Hang on a sec,” I said.

Desmond stopped and turned towards me. I tossed him the key. “The padlock’s tricky, gotta give it some muscle.” I gave him a wink.

I went into the house and started a pot of coffee. I went upstairs to find Emily brushing her teeth. “Good morning, sweetie,” I said kissing her head.

“Daddy, why do your friends keep going into our shed?”

I laughed and shook my head. “Baby girl, I’ll tell you when you’re older.”