thatweirdmod

[thatweirdmod]

Windowless Moviemaker Chapter 6: Race

Windowless Moviemaker

Chapter 6: Race

Kidney turns and leaves me sitting against the wall-- speechless.

My eyes slowly move over to Mitchol, whose slouching form is now cast in darkness by Kidney's shadow. I think, hollowly, that the blood drying on his face probably itches a little. Mitchol manages a small squirm in his ropes.

"Well?" Kidney demands irritably.

Mitchol's swelling, battered face jerks up to attention at Kidney. "W-what?" He dares to ask.

"You're up. Give me a plan."

"Oh," Mitchol says. "Er, I just expected-"

"Is there something you don't understand about your situation?" Kidney interrupts. "You don't get to expect anything. Now, the plan."

"Uh, well, I guess we need to get to their computers somehow. They probably ripped DVDs too. Redhand's a little old fashioned. We might also have to look out for tapes..."

Kidney crosses his arms, scowling. "If I kill these guys, then wipe their houses, am I gonna have to worry that I missed a spot because you couldn't point me in the right direction?"

Mitchol attempts to splay his hands. "Look, I know where my stuff is, but how am I supposed to know exactly where their stuff is?"

Kidney chews at the inside of his cheek angrily and walks over to the table to grab a notebook and pen. "Let's just start with addresses," he says, poising to write. "Redhand."

"He lives up in Tindle in those stained up white apartments. Er, I think the number's 46."

"Costriel." Kidney demands, looking up from his scribbling.

"He lives in an apartment too, and he's actually rooming with Nethandre." Mitchol says. "316, in the Fortitude Apartments."

Kidney nods his head.

"So, er," Mitchol begins. "What are you planning to do now that you know where these guys are?"

"You remember how I said you don't get to expect anything?" Kidney says patronizingly. "The same applies to asking. I, the one who is allowed to expect and ask, do not expect you to open your mouth unless I ask you something."

Mitchol swallows and shifts in his blood-stained bindings.

Then Kidney turns to one of the concrete walls, as if it called his name. He stands, staring at it silently, before asking another question.

"Did you... Did you give those videos to my uncle too?"

Mitchol's mouth quivers. "H-he, uh... he was the one who suggested that, you know, we needed some extra insurance on you in the first place. So yeah."

Kidney stands still, unanswering and unmoving, but I can see his jaw working slightly.

"But please!" Mitchol sputters. "Dude, I-I.. I totally forgot about that earlier-- when you asked who had the videos." His arms press up against the ropes, trying to shield his body. Kidney walks in front of him. "I wasn't holdin' out on purpose or anyth-" Mitchol is cut off by Kidney smacking him over the head with a closed palm.

"Just out of curiosity, Mitchol," Kidney says. "If I hadn't asked about Uncle Stoulfer just now, would you ever have "remembered" to tell me?"

"We-w-w-well I don't know." Mitchol trembles with his hands splayed open and his eyes wide. "Guess it's a good thing you jogged my memory man, ha..."

Kidney turns and paces slowly, shaking his head. "I never liked the way that old, crusty loaf looked at Krin, even at me. But for my own selfish reasons, I ignored it all this time." He scoffs lightly. "Just one more reason to be glad I'm out." He turns back and looks Mitchol dead in the face. "The blinders are off."

"So you're aaalll alone," I say from the corner.

Kidney's eyes shoot to me, surprised.

"What? You thought I'd be totally traumatized just from that?"

His gaze narrows hatefully.

"So some weird shit happened and you saw my dream. It prompted you to get the jump on us, but that was mostly luck. And that's probably as far as your luck will go in regards to picking useful kernels of information outta piles of brain vomit." I snort. "Even my thing was more useful, because I saw you in real time."

Kidney smiles. "Where did I see your dream?"

"Huh?"

"It was inside your mind. It had to have been, 'cause that's where they're all cooked up." Kidney says, tapping the side of his head. "The moon is almost full again. That has to count for something." He breathes in. "I can go further with this. But I'll make sure you stay at your current level. You'll be underground here where you can't touch the moonlight."

"You don't even know what the hell 'this' is." I say.

"Pretty smug talk for a guy who's about to lose everything," Kidney says, with his mouth turned upwards in a smirk that doesn't reach his stony eyes.

"What better time to be smug than when you're about to lose everything?"

His face contorts with all the nasty feelings that must be roiling around inside of him. "I told you I'd take everything from you, and this bullshit positive nihilism of yours will be one of the things. I'll make you understand how bad playing as the loser really is, even if the game has the same black ending for everyone."

He takes Mitchol's phone out of his pocket, then says, "Mitchol, you told me you could set Redhand up."

Mitchol breathes in. "Redhand's looking for a new place to do his snuff movies, so I'm thinking maybe I can tell him I found a good place, and you can catch him there?"

"Hmm," Kidney says, folding his arms. "Why does he happen to need a new location now?"

Mitchol explains, "He's been under some suspicion lately. His neighbors've been complaining about a smell, like rotten something, coming from his apartment."

I don't need to wonder what that smell could be. I watched a video where Redhand Heriolt cut a girl open with a sharpened can top. It'd probably taken a fair amount of practice to learn how to do, but he'd managed to keep his subject awake and alive while he pulled out part of her intestines, smeared the pungent brown contents over both of them, and pleasured himself.

I had thought, while clicking through Redhand's contributions, that cleaning up set after filming that kinda stuff would be way too much of a pain. Looks like Redhand thought so too. That filth and gore in the background really had been as caked-on as it looked.

Mitchol continues, "He even got, you know, reported to the cops 'cause someone heard screams. Redhand laughed it off, sayin' it was slasher flicks playing on the TV. They left after he promised to turn the volume down, and they never got a search warrant or nothin'. Still, better not push it, right?"

I nearly snort. Well no shit someone heard screams if he was doing that stuff in an apartment.

Kidney asks, "Where do you plan on telling him to go?"

Mitchol swallows weirdly, with something about him quivering. "That ghost town 40 minutes southeast of Grishee, the neighborhood has a bunch of abandoned old houses. I know a little white one has a basement too. I think I could convince him it's ideal."

A frown of skepticism sends Kidney's lips pointing downwards, but then he walks closer to Mitchol and loosens some of the bindings so he can move one of his hands. Just as soon, however, Kidney slips a pocket knife out of his back pocket and pops the blade out against Mitchol's neck.

Mitchol gasps sharply, but Kidney just places the previously confiscated cell phone into his newly freed hand. "Text him," Kidney says into Mitchol's ear, adjusting the angle of the knife. "Make it sound natural, and make sure he goes to that little white one."

Mitchol's throat bobs, as much of a nod as there was going to be. He goes to work on the keys:

"sup dood. te ghosted out hood in Caplum has som gud spots. white house wit te green dor has a cool basement."

And "SEND".

Kidney's mouth quirks to the side. "I know I said to make it natural, but are you sure he'll get that?"

Mitchol chokes, "Yeah, I mean, I text him like that often enough."

"I see," Kidney says. Then, the phone buzzes.

"R U THERE NOW?"

"Eh, what should I say?" Mitchol asks.

"If this is a test, you might not be able to answer follow-up questions confirming that you're there. You're at home, got it?"

"nah im chillin in my plce. u out?"

"NO. HOME RUBING1 IN BEEFSLAB+blood I BAWT.CANT HUNT BUT NEed it bad."

"lol. tis Caplum spot wil fix u up. no 1 evr gos der. wnna chekit out togetrr?? jst gimme a time bro."

"nightS YUNG.TERES TIME TO CATCHA WOMAN I LEAVE RN. BETHERE 1HR???"

"frige lvl cool dood XD"

"I didn't say you were supposed to go too," Kidney purrs lowly over Mitchols shoulder. "But, I suppose you can just be 'late.'"

He takes the phone out of Mitchol's hand and re-tightens the ropes. "I can handle Redhand Heriolt from here."

With that, he turns on his heels, clops up the concrete stairs, and leaves me and Mitchol to rot in the bunker.

I look at Mitchol. "Please tell me you just tricked him somehow," I say.

"Shh," Mitchol replies quietly.

A couple of little sparks flare up in my chest and head. If I had the energy, I'd click my tongue. Don't you shush me, bitch. I whispered anyway.

Black silence begins settling down between us, and I close my eyes. The concrete is hard against my body, and I can feel us becoming one via temperature as my warmth seeps away into its cold. I move my lips, and a barely audible, hoarse series of whispers spills from them.

"Mother Earth, Mother Earth, once again to us give birth."

Suddenly, a violent roiling upheaves my stomach, like Poseidon's stormy fist punching the sea in wrath and sending the waters booming and swashing. I projectile vomit all over myself and the floor. The deja vu from my dream hits me first, and then the disgust and embarrassment of real life.

Mitchol jumps, as much as he can tied up anyway. His face is tense with that look of distubia, shock, fear, and concern that I hate directed

at me. "Wha.. are you okay man?"

A suck in a stinging, bile stained breath and respond to him in stench coated words. "No. Fuck... we just... we need to get the fuck out of here."

I lick my lips, and regret pools inside my mouth as my tongue pulls foul bits and cooling, sour fluid back into it.

There's a book of religion that says god will not be mocked and is not to be tested. I suppose I couldn't rightly be of the wombs and births of two different mothers at my own convenience. I never considered myself a man of faith, but this stuff I've been touching-- it seems to be some part of a sprawling realm beyond scientific knowledge.

I look down at myself. The sight of me must be making Mitchol sick, but since I'm already like this... I allow the muscles in my bowels to unfurl like a relaxing kitty, and warm liquid soon soaks my jeans and forms a pool around me.

Yep, this is one thing they don't tell you, at least not often, about being kidnapped. I was living freely up until however many hours ago I was taken, and that meant that I drank coffee and expected to be able to reach a toilet when it made its way through me.

I sigh, and lean over to inhale the merging smells that had all been inside my body. Amazing, how humans are all so disgusting inside, but we act as if we're clean until it comes out. I don't bother to look up at my roommate as I contemplate going number two.

But then I catch my reflection in the puddle of urine, and decide that I have to cancel my reservations with Mr. Brown, because the Train of Thought just arrived, and it only stops at the station for 3 seconds.

The first thing I thought, or perhaps, was told, about Mother Moon was that she was a relayer of the sun's message. And gods... gods... I was just thinking about them. But what do I do about them-- what do humans do about gods? They... sacrifice and serve. Blood, lives... offerings.

"Angel of The Great Star, to you, I unbar. Birth me into the spacial assemblage. Through me, relay the message," I say.

Mitchol again looks at me like I'm insane. Indeed, I've done it incorrectly. If her light cannot touch me, it is pointless. I take in a deep breath, and begin fighting against the ropes around my body harder than I ever fought before. Just a bit, perhaps they're loosening.

If I can just get out of these, I might be able to find a way to force the bunker door open and get outside. And if Mother Moon accepts me, I will be raised above Earth and the Earthlings. I will be 3rd, and they will all be 4th.

In the clearing outside the bunker, Kidney faces the moon and spreads out his arms, letting the glow bathe his body. This pale light can be so many things: ethereal, comforting, serene, eerie... He'd never questioned whose mood it really depended on until recently.

"Mother Moon, Mother Moon..." Kidney trails off, his eyes closed in concentration. But concentration isn't quite right. The chant... the feeling isn't coming over him.

"Mother Moon." He says, more of a plain address than a mystical prayer. "I can see you here tonight, as always. Does it not please you to commune with me right now?"

Gazing up at the white ball suspended in the infinite black cosmos, he ever so slightly feels her grow closer for a moment. However, she remains silent and far.

"On your own terms, Mother Moon." Kidney submits, inclining his head in reverence. Despite everything that has happened, he still feels a little crazy as he walks back to his rental car. He might fit the definition of "lunatic" now.

Kidney drives down the rural road to Caplum. Thousands of spindly, bent trees slash endless shadows through the yellow glow from his headlights. If he were taking the Passage to Hell of the South and met Satan at the end, it might not surprise him. Fitting though, that such a road would be irritatingly monotonous. Bored despite his mission, he flips the radio on.

Unintelligible words and tunes grate through static on most of the channels. Then there's the twang of guitar and a longing voice that reminds Kidney of grass fields swaying under a golden sunset in the middle of a heaven set in nowhere. He never did like country music, so he twists the knob one more click.

A bold, smooth, male voice butters the speakers. "The quiet neighborhood of Green Shade has been shaken by the story of a local housewife. According to her, she was drugged and kidnapped from her home by two masked men, who broke in late at night."

Kidney's heart lurches inside of his torso, along with the food in his stomach. He gags, swerving into the wrong lane for a second. After everything they-- Jeeto-- had told her, Mrs. Horatay was still talking?

The deep voice coming through the speakers crinkles with static. "...underground bunker. They then proceeded to film themselves sexually and physically assaulting her. The woman reports that at various points during the hours-long ordeal, both of her assailants lifted the masks away from their mouths and exposed the bottom portions of their faces."

Kidney's head swims with nausea. He never saw so much as a coin for getting that damnable spasm closeup. The footage of the actual stimulation was cut, he was sure. He'd been the one to edit Mrs. Horatay's movie. But somehow it had escaped his mind that Mrs. Horatay could be looking down, drawing a sketch in her mind for the cops.

"Both attackers appeared to be young males, in their late teens or early twenties. She describes them to be of average height, the shorter of the two having a round face and lightly tanned complexion, while the taller male's face was square shaped. She noted no hair or distinguishing blemishes on either of their faces, however..."

Kidney's hands tremble on the steering wheel, but he forces himself to focus on driving. "Relax. There's gotta be a hundred guys that fit those descriptions around here," he mutters to himself.

After a small eternity, Kidney spots a sign that humanity had come here ahead of him. "SPEED LIMIT 45" in faded black over rusted white. He slows down, guides his rental car into the overgrown brush on the side of the road, then takes the key out of the ignition.

With the engine dead, it's so quiet out here. Kidney pulls on his new black burglar's mask before getting out, just in case. He gently pushes the door closed behind himself, then goes around to the trunk.

A bag of supplies he packed from Jeeto's house is inside, and he unzips it and pockets from it a syringe of animal tranquilizer and a switchblade. The weapon he chooses to keep equipped in hand, however, is the 16-inch machete he brought himself.

Kidney begins his stalk up the road. Even in this dark place with the shadows of the bushes staring at his exposed back, he can feel Mother Moon's light clothing him and guiding his footsteps. Krin's innocently smiling face in the sunset of his room... such a distant memory kept so close to his heart. He clenches the hilt of his machete. He will not be afraid.

Mother Moon's warmth and comfort begins to seep all through him, and he senses her closer than before. The neighborhood comes into view. So he stays low and hidden as he makes his way to the west-most side where that white house is supposed to be. He sees the car before the house. It's a van that only breaks creep convention for its having a green paintjob instead of a white one.

Suddenly, a something like a living memory possesses his mind, only, something is not right. He finds himself looking at himself from behind, his black, hooded form crouching down behind bushes. One of his meaty arms is outstretched, and the hand is holding something, shiny, cold, and heavy. It's a gun-- pointing.

The head that he has an intimate awareness of, but not a oneness with, turns furthur downward without command. He sees white hairs in the bottom of his vision, and the stomach below protrudes too far forward. It is covered with a green Hawaiian shirt.

Kidney gasps, and seems to be sucked back into his own mind again. "Stoulfer," he breathes. Instinctively, Kidney whirls around on his ankles and spins up from the ground. The blast of the bullet rings the air, and Kidney feels it whip past his head and break through the dry shubbery behind him.

The moonlight makes depthless pits of the bags under Uncle Stoulfer's eyes, and carves darkness into every wrinkle and pockmark on his skin. The hairs of his white mustache and goatee twitch.

The old man's deep, raspy laugh mocks him. "I always knew you'd end up givin' me trouble."

Kidney runs for one of the houses. He can hear the many voices of his uncle's mind echoing. The thoughts are so muddled, though, and examined all at once, they're like a wild drove. Irritation. Lust. Smugness.

But the foremost thoughts-- those are the thoughts of action. That is where Kidney puts his focus. The gun fires again, but Kidney knows where it has made its path, and dashes out of its aim just as the trigger is being pulled.

"Shit! Pretty quick on his toes," Kidney hears.

"Got lucky there," Uncle Stoulfer hollers.

Kidney crashes through the rotting, wooden front door of a house, and runs into a bedroom in the back. He stands to the side of the doorway and listens to the floorboards at the entrance creak. Inside, Stoulfer's thoughts sound like mumbling, for only weak, pale streaks of moonlight penetrate the dark building through broken windows and cracked roofing.

Kidney can sense with the stronger rays of light touch the old man's balding head, because those are the moments he can hear more clearly.

Uncle Stoulfer plans to check behind the kitchen counters first, then... Kidney clenches the machete handle and raises the weapon. When Stoulfer comes here, he will strike.

#criminal #fantasy #disturbing #gross

[thatweirdmod]

Windowless Moviemaker Chapter 5: Onus

Windowless Moviemaker

Chapter 5: Onus

A few weeks have passed since I had that vivid dream, and today is Sunday.

I'm off from both work and school, and Kidney called me out for an afternoon stroll around the park, saying that he wanted to talk.

So, here we are now, walking under the shade of overhanging branches with birds chirping the day along.

"Jeeto," Kidney starts. "We've become people with very different priorities. Right now, I'm keeping my nose clean, and thinking about my family and future. Sounds responsible, but you know something? I haven't felt this free in ages."

I just keep walking beside him and listening with my head down, waiting for the punch.

"I burned the bag and clothes I wore on those nights. I wiped my hard drive of all the movies and destroyed the DVDs.

I dumped all my tools and supplies. Now the only relics tying me to that dark past now are my own memories... and you, Jeeto."

"So," I say plainly, "You wanna throw me away too."

Kidney opens his mouth to speak again, but I cut him off.

"It makes sense. I'm a liability to you now. Besides," I add, "we can't even pleasantly reminisce as friends anymore. All that'd do is drag you back to places you'd rather forget."

"You're right," Kidney agrees solemnly. "But there's another thing I need to tell you." He stops walking and turns to me, so I stop with him. Resolve burns in his gold hazel eyes.

"Stay away from Krin and my mother," he tells me in no uncertain terms.

I blink at him.

"I told Mitchol the same thing," Kidney continues. "If any of you touch them, you won't get away with it. That is a guarantee, even if I have to blow the roof off of your whole schtick and expose myself in the process."

I scoff aloud. "Heh, you're a big man now, ain't 'cha?"

Kidney narrows his eyes at me, his frown warning me.

I go on anyway. "From the day you backed out on the school roof, I knew we couldn't really be friends anymore. We had fallen out, but I tried to pretend that things were okay. And do you know why?" I ask.

He stares at me without wording a guess, hints of disgust and dread on his face.

"Because I thought it might come in handy to preserve our relationship. And it has. You see," I elaborate. "You've let me into your house a few times recently.

You were cautious, 'casually' hanging around the bathroom when I went to make sure I didn't snoop around, and walking me to the door when it was time to leave.

You always kept a careful eye on me-- except when we were playing video games in your closed bedroom. For there, I surely couldn't touch Krin.

But, that bedroom just so happens to be the place where you sleep with her."

His face pales as he helplessly waits for me to finish.

"You like to say you don't need a bitch to take care you, but you can't even clean that cluttered room of yours. It's no wonder you never noticed the mini camera hidden between all that junk."

“So you really...?” Kidney says breathlessly.

I laugh in satisfaction. "You're so good and gentle with Krin, little Kidney bean. So different from how you usually were with the women we'd take. She really must be 'something' to you."

My second fit of laughter gets cut short by Kidney grabbing me by the collar. "You son of bitch!" He yells, balling his fist to deck me.

"Hey, easy there." I say calmly. "You're in no position to be threatening me, or any of the other members."

We stay in a standoff for a while, until Kidney begrudgingly releases his grip on my shirt.

"Your willingness to throw yourself to the dogs in order to protect Krin was noble. However, now you see that if you expose us, we'll throw both of you to the dogs.

I probably don't have to explain this to you, but on top of the shame, stigma, and ostracization it brings, incest is illegal here.

If the videos I took got into the hands of law enforcement, it could mean jail time and criminal records for both you and Krin. How's that for 'family and future'?"

Kidney stumbles off the path and backs into a tree. He buries his face in his hands, groaning miserably.

I chuckle, watching him. After a while, he lowers his hands and looks up at me with quivering eyes.

"I'll kill you," he states. "I'll kill each and every one of you."

"Really? Good luck with that." I say nonchalantly. "A physical fight doesn't worry us, even on the off chance that your uncle Stoulfer stands with you.

We have Mitchol's friends, including Redhand Heriolt. It's an easy guess why they call him 'Redhand.'

"Before I kill you," Kidney says, unwavered. "I want to know: is it just my sister, or do you bastards want something else from me?"

"Mitchol and the others wanted you blackmailed for extra insurance. Since you wore a mask while filming, they weren't confident that the website videos would be enough to ensure your silence.

But me? I never fretted about that. The pursuit of a better life and the pursuit of justice are two opposite things in your case."

"So all you yourself really want is Krin, then?" Kidney asks.

"Bingo badaboomgo."

"Why?" He demands, shaking his head in frustration. "Why does it have to be her?"

"Oooohhh, are you dissing your own sister, Kidney?" I tease. "Come on, she's a beautiful girl."

"I know there's more to it than that." He insists. "Do you want to hurt me? Is that it? If so, then come here and hit me in my face like a man, instead of using my little sister to get at me!"

"Wow, look at what an assumption you've jumped to," I say airily, then resume my walk down the path.

"Come back here!" Kidney shouts after me.

I wave goodbye without bothering to look back.

"Just remember," he says. "I have something you don't. You're nothing but an empty coward. And that's what you'll always be, Jeeto."

I wrinkle my nose in disgust at the whole event. Since when did Kidney turn into such a shounen protagonist? To think we used to be friends.

Well anyway, I've got the rest of the day ahead of me, and there is some shopping I need to do.

Man, I feel like a woman, looking through items for self defense like this, but I pick up the pepper spray anyway.

Next I need to get some batteries for my new taser. I push my cart down the aisles, avoiding eye contact with shoppers in the other "lane."

Despite my cool demeanor, Kidney's claim that he would kill me concerned me. It seemed genuine. I could backtrack, apologizing and promising to leave him and Krin alone.

However, he knows me well enough to never believe me. I would pounce when he let his guard down, because that's the way I am.

Have you ever tried to catch an unfriendly animal? I have. With every step closer, the animal's decision making process grows more frantic. When I'm close, backing it into the corner, I can read in the fearful verdict in its eyes:

"The only way out of this is to do something extreme."

What follows is an action with all the force of the animal's existence behind it.

It can be a mad dash, where the animal takes a daunting risk, such as cutting close past the threat or jumping a wide gap. It could also be violently lashing out and tearing into the offender.

"Flight or fight." I muse to myself.

It's also worth noting that in the most pathetic of animals, there is no verdict in the eyes. There is only the fear at imminent death. Those are the ones that freeze.

I've backed Kidney into a corner and given him all terrible options. That's a risky thing to do with a person. In such an arrangement, the best you can hope for is to short circuit the person and cause them to shut down and submit.

Problem is, Kidney isn't one to freeze. This kind of iron maiden-esque situation doesn't foster, in flighters or fighters, the long-suffering complacency that's ideal for long-term control.

Hmm, I realize I need to revise my plan.

What am I getting self-defense stuff for? Do I intend to wait until he comes after me to do anything? Even if I fight him off, what then? Get him arrested for assault? Let him go home, so as not to push him over the edge?

Even though I have more nukes in this cold war, I may be in a standoff with a loose cannon. To what extremes would Kidney go?

Argghhh! This is such pain. That does it; I'll convene with Mitchol about what to do with our turncoat. I get my phone out and text him.

"Can you get Redhand Heriolt, Costriel, and Nethandre together for an online chat meeting with us tonight?"

When Mitchol doesn't respond, I decide finish up shopping. An hour passes and I'm at home, munching on a BLT at my computer.

A reply finally comes. I dive for my phone and confirm that it's him.

The message reads: "wat 4? and no."

I frown and text back: "It's about Kidney. He told me was gonna kill all of us. We should do something."

I use the time while Mitchol is typing to peer through my blinds. Whew. He's not there.

My phone buzzes again.

"lol XD. im busy so mayb nxt week"

I go back and forth with Mitchol, trying to get him to see how dangerous Kidney is right now. At the end of it, he says,

"lemme repeat. NO. just chill. we got K by da balls. ur bein such a lil bich jee"

"At least meet me during lunch at school tomorrow," I insist.

"fine"

I end up showing up early to school on Monday, and I'm antsy all throughout the morning. During math, I noticed that Kidney's desk was empty. What could he be absent for? He looked healthy enough yesterday.

As soon as the final bell to lunch rings, I rush out of class and charge up to the roof. I throw the door open, gasping. Fuck. Mitchol isn't here yet. I grind my teeth as I picture him dragging his feet on the way here.

I'm checking my watch every few seconds. Once 3 rage inducing minutes have passed, the roof door swings open. Kidney pulls a cigarette out of his pocket, leans against the fence, and lights up.

"Well?" He says, puffing smoke.

I can't tell whether it's the smoke or the words causing me to choke. I finally manage to speak in a very low voice.

"I've decided that we need to get Kidney off our backs, in a permanent kind of way."

"Huh? Are you saying what I think you're saying?" Mitchol inquires, straightening up.

"Yes."

He quirks his mouth in displeasure. "That's something I'd rather avoid doing. There's no blackmailing a dead guy into denying that he was the victim of a crime. If they were to get even a shred of evidence on us for murder..."

"That's why I wanna make it look like there was no crime in the first place."

"You mean stage an accident or a suicide?" Mitchol scoffs. "I know you're thinking Redhand will be able to work that out, but not on your life.

There'll be trained pros examining that body and scene. Their attention to detail is so crazy good it's like they've got magic eyes that show them every little mistake killers make."

"We'll just have to find out exactly what type of mistakes they are picking up on, and make sure we don't make them. Besides," I add, "you're acting like Redhand's never gotten away with this."

"Dumb luck and dumb cops." Mitchol dismisses me.

I sigh. "What about a disappearance then? We won't have to worry about any examiners with 'magic eyes' that way."

"More reasonable than your last pitch," Mitchol allows. "It gives the pigs less to work with. But, you've gotta be thorough. If anyone knows you've fallen out with Kidney, don't get anything suspicious in your recent purchase history.

Leave no sign of a struggle. Let 'em take it lightly, thinking he ran away. Get rid of the body. And I don't mean dump it into some water and hope it sinks.

I mean obliterate it. Feed it to dogs. Burn it to char and crush it, then sprinkle it in remote woods. That kinda thing."

I nod approvingly.

"But you know what the clincher is?" Mitchol says. "After you've done all you know to do, detectives still might find that little pesky thing you didn't. I'm just not convinced Kidney's enough of a threat to take that risk for."

"Well I am," I say in a biting tone.

"If you wanna dance the robot with the death row you can suit yourself." Mitchol says. "But I want nothing to do with it, you hear?"

A few days of anxious stagnancy pass, and now I'm at work, sourly stocking shelves.

The only way I knew how to contact Redhand without Mitchol's help was to leave comments on adesireisfulfilled, requesting that he email me. He's the 2nd high moderator, so it was likely he'd see them.

However, my comments kept getting deleted shortly after being made. When I didn't give up, I got sent a message saying:

"Recent comments posted by you have been removed by moderation. Continued harassment and spamming on the website will result in the suspension of your account."

I click my tongue as I arrange the SpaghettiOs. The convenience store is empty, so Roodle approaches and talks to me.

"Your friend Kidney hasn't stopped by for while."

"Oh," I respond, not sure what else can be said.

Her milky eyes analyze me. "Is he a touchy subject for you right now?" She asks with concern.

"We just can't get along anymore," I explain without explaining.

"Oh, I know how it can be with friends sometimes, but I don't know about that," Roodle says, well meaning but unknowing.

"I've found that if you just sit down and talk out your differences, you can get through most spats. The main thing is, you gotta be willin' to listen."

"It would be nice if that worked with Kidney. That way, he'd come back and start buying Creamtastical Bars everyday like he used to."

"Mm-hmm!" Roodle concurs with a big smile. "He was good business. So, consider it your job as part-time associate to get back to chummin' and get him back in our store."

It's harder to force than usual, but I smile back at her. "Thank you, Roodle." I say with just the right amount of sentimentality.

I know I've done it right when she gets that brief expression on her face. It's that mixture of melancholy and happiness, that gold plating of subtle, wholehearted seriousness that turns simple, wooden moments into small memories.

I've touched her heart, and deceived it seamlessly. What an ego booster.

I push the raw, predatory pleasure that I feel inside out through a mold, which makes it take shape on my face as a warm pleasure of gratitude and comradery.

Looking at her, however, I accidentally let an inappropriate bit of wonder creep onto my sweet face. Goodness, she actually cares about me.

Is there a difference between playing the role of a good person all the time, and actually being a good person?

Maybe the 1st category has to think deliberately to make moral choices, and it comes to the 2nd category naturally. I was sure that the 2nd group was a myth, until the face of this naive angel was unveiled to me.

And then, the glass doors part like servants for their king, and Kidney steps through. Roodle turns her head, and says, "Welcome back!" Then she winks at me and returns to the register.

He nods to her in greeting. My breath catches thickly in my throat when he turns and looks down at me, kneeling with canned goods in my hands.

Kidney's face is coldly blank, but his eyes hold a promise. I stare, unable to do anything else. He passes me, saying nothing, and goes to the back-- to the freezers.

He buys several types of ice cream, but leaves with the crinkle of a devil in his pocket that only I notice. Badump. Bump bump badump bump! My heart makes my body shake.

I go through the rest of my shift doing everything as diligently and thoroughly as I can, as if that will make it last longer.

As night draws closer, I curse Mitchol viciously in my mind. And if Redhand saw my comments and ignored me, fuck him too.

Adesireisfulfilled wouldn't be half of what it is now without me, and yet they're gonna stand by and let me be killed?

At last, the glass doors part for me, like a shield-wall of traitors. I poke my head out and look either way before stepping out onto the concrete.

There's no one around except the bugs buzzing around the dim streetlights. I begin walking, tense and snapping my head around at every new sound.

When my house appears before me, I almost don't believe it. When the relief starts to wash over me, I whirl around, thinking that's just how Kidney would want me to feel before he struck.

My voice comes out quieter and more rapidly than I mean for it to. "I know you're there," I say, feeling slightly crazy.

With wide eyes and sensilla lined ears, I examine all 360 degrees within my radius. Nothing? I retreat up my driveway walking backwards, only turning to open the door.

My shakiness must be visible, because my little sister Sota scoffs when she sees me. "What's up with you?"

"Nothing." I say firmly.

She shrugs. "Somehow, you seem even weirder than usual."

I tune out her words, instead choosing to observe her smooth legs and round bottom when she turns and jogs up the stairs in her green short shorts.

My mother comes around to greet me. "Sota has a point," she says, scrutinizing me. "Did something happen at work today?"

"No," I state. "I don't know what you guys are talking about."

I notice the weight that's melded into my hand. I'd forgotten about it until now. I thrust the grocery bag towards my mother. "Here. It's the stuff you asked for. Don't worry about paying me back."

"Well okay..." My mother says.

As soon as she takes the bag, I run up to my room and close the door behind me. I lean against it, gasping and trembling. Tears well in the corners of my eyes, and a small, sighing whimper is squeezed from my throat.

I've gotta get it together. I can't be acting like this.

I push off the door and make to collapse into my computer chair, but something on the floor in front of my closet catches my attention.

It's an empty syringe. Fuck. I thought I made sure to keep all my tools put away. Don't tell me I've been getting sloppy with things like this too.

I pick it up and open the closet to pull down the box and hide it where it belongs. A dark figure is in front of me. The gasp is cut off in my throat, my air blocked. A bitter sting stabs my neck, and I fall into darkness.

I peel my eyes open, unnaturally lethargic. The sight before me seems familiar-- a grey ceiling and white lights.

I roll my stiff neck down, and see Kidney sitting on the bed in front of me. I jump weakly, but find that I don't move at all.

Many ropes are snaked tightly around my body, binding me to a heavy chair. It's a terrible thing, being trapped in a hard chair with a sore ass, your future murderer in front of you.

"Can you hear me, Jeeto?" Kidney asks. His voice is calm like in my dream, but not pleasant.

I reluctantly respond in hoarse words. "I can hear you."

"You know what I said the other day."

I listen with baited breath.

"I spoke with an overheated head." Kidney says.

If this is a ploy to get me to open up, I'm afraid it's working.

"I've decided that whether or not that has to happen depends on you, Jeeto. To start, do other members have the videos you took of me and Krin?"

I open my mouth to reply, but he stops me to make a qualification.

"If you lie, I'll find out about it. You won't be leaving this bunker until I've confirmed the truth of every answer you give me."

"I understand," I rasp obediently. "I gave them to Mitchol, but I don't know if he gave them to anyone else."

"Do you wanna give a guess as to whether or not he did?"

I respond honestly. "He probably distributed them around his inner circle. Not only for safe keeping and power over you, but also because of the sheer drama of it.

Sex between a brother and sister is something his friends would naturally be curious to see."

Kidney's face twitches in anger. "Is that what you thought too, when you were spying on us?" He speaks in an acerbic, low tone. "Were we just some morbid, 1800s circus spectacle to your perverted, judging eyes?"

If I weren't in this position, I would laugh at Kidney's delusional umbrage about the way his incestuous relationship is viewed by others. "Of course that's what you were," I think, but I don't dare say it.

"I was intrigued," I say. Hopefully it comes across as honest, but not too insulting or patronizing. "I thought, 'So this is what was so precious to Kidney.'"

"Nevermind," Kidney says abruptly. "How do you usually contact Mitchol? Are you in communication with any of the other members? How do you talk to them?"

"I usually just text Mitchol, though if it's something long, I'll email him. I'm not in contact with any of the others."

Kidney pulls my phone out of his pocket. I instinctively bristle at seeing another person handling it.

"I appreciate that you've told me the truth," he says, sneering. "None of the members, save for Mitchol, are in your contacts list. Now, let me give you another chance to earn some more brownie points with me."

I peer at him through my brown bangs, wondering what shitty thing he's going to ask me to do.

"Tell me, what interests Mitchol? What could you say to him to get him to meet you in a secluded place at night?"

I think for a while, mumbling to myself, "Uhm... erm..."

Kidney slams his fist against the bed's head board. "Rack your fucking brain!"

"Um.. I could invite him out to go hunting. No... tell him I'd brought a top quality subject to the bunker. It'd be for business too, so it doesn't totally contradict what I said about us not being friends anymore."

"What kind of 'top quality subject'," Kidney inquires. "Does he have a girl he wants?"

"I remember him talking about one named Phoebe he takes English class with. She's kind of a loner, has long, reddish-brown hair, and works weekends at the arcade."

"Interesting. And if he asks how you got her, what would you say?"

"Mitchol's tailed her before, and he said she'll sometimes go out late. Phoebe likes to pick up fast food milkshakes and sip them on park benches at night, gazing up at the stars. So, I'd say I took her then."

Kidney nods tersely and makes to text Mitchol with my phone, but before he sends the message he asks once again, "You're sure he'll come for this?"

"Mitchol believes she's a virgin, and he told me he'd prefer to eat her before she "spoils."

With that, Kidney sends it off, and we wait.

Eventually, Mitchol responds. "He's mad," Kidney says, showing me the reply:

"DUMFUCK y wud u take my grl b4 i was rdy? now i gotta drive far or she'll b wasted."

"But, nicely done." Kidney finishes. He flips the phone closed and tosses it onto the bed. Then he takes something out of his pocket.

I squint at the object. "Is that...?"

"Oh this?" Kidney says. "I hope you don't mind that I borrowed your new taser. It was for me after all, wasn't it? But I guess I was supposed to be on the other side."

Shit. If Mitchol isn't careful...

"Anyway," Kidney says. "Since we're going to be waiting for awhile, we might as well chat to pass the time."

"That'd be fine, if your idea of chatting wasn't just more interrogation."

Kidney raises his eyebrows. "You're getting uppity with me now? Don't forget you're tied to a chair, completely at my mercy. All things considered, I'm being pretty nice to you."

"Hmph," I say. "Your niceties have only been performed out of necessity, necessity which ceased to exist the moment Mitchol agreed to come here."

I observe the furnishings of the room. "It appears I'm occupying the only un-tippable chair here. Guess I'll have to give up my seat once your guest arrives."

"Fine, so it's more interrogation, Kidney admits. "Just tell me this time, why did it have to be Krin? Why did you want her so badly?"

"Because you wanted her so badly." I confess. "You proudly hoarded Krin all to yourself, taunting me and barring me from pleasure."

I sigh. "You had a point the other day, you know. Because the way you insulted me before... it made me feel like I had to put you in your place."

"Yes," Kidney says gravely. "I never should've said so much." He lowers his head moves his lips silently. It looks like he's breathing a prayer or an apology.

He walks behind me, and then that acrid prick finds my neck again. I sink down under. A long and short while of nothing passes, until the oblivion begins to part again.

I open my eyes slowly, disorientated and sore. I find that I'm sitting on the floor, bound in ropes and propped up against a cold wall. I hear screams and curses, so I laboriously turn my head to see what's going on.

"Tell me!" Kidney yells, punching Mitchol in the face. He's really in my chair now, and I lived to see it.

When my eyes adjust more and focus on Kidney's face, I see that it's bloodied and bruised. Even with the taser, he had some trouble getting Mitchol.

Blood dribbles from Mitchol's mouth as he says, "Just calm down, man." He groans in pain. "Look, whatever you think I did, it's not what you think."

Kidney growls, but decides to leave it at that for now. "Jeeto," he says, pointing a red smeared finger at me. "You're awake. I'll get back to you in a minute."

He turns back to Mitchol, "Tell me who you gave the videos to."

"I already told you," Mitchol responds. "I didn't send 'em to anybody."

"Why not?" Kidney demands."I... I just didn't get around to it."

"Liar," Kidney hisses. He storms over to his bag and yanks out a leather whip. It snaps as he flails it out at Mitchol.

"Liar, liar, liar!" Kidney chants the word over and over again as he thrashes the shrieking young man's clothes and skin to ribbons.

Despite myself, I loose a boistrous laugh and heckle Mitchol. "I told ya so, aye?"

Mitchol's gritted teeth tremble as hot tears stream through the blood on his face. "Okay..." He mewls, almost inaudibly.

"Huh, what was that?" Kidney asks.

Mitchol bursts out in a fit of crying. "I said 'okay!' Man... shit. I thought you'd get madder if I told the truth *sniffle*, but I actually gave the vids of you and your sister to Costriel and Nethandre." Repressed whimpers rack his body.

Kidney's lips are tightly pursed, and his face is wrinkled in intense disgust as his eyes bear down on Mitchol. "Those two, they're your mutual friends with Redhand Heriolt."

"Ye-yeah," Mitchol says.

"So it's perfectly plausible, then," Kidney continues, "that Redhand has the videos as well."

Mitchol perks up a bit. "Look... I can set him up for you if that's what you want."

Kidney sneers. "As a matter of fact, that is what I want. And I want all the others too, so I'll offer you a deal, Mitchol.

You work with me to erase every copy of those videos, and help me take down everyone who has them. Then, I'll let you go."

"Really? Thank you!" Mitchol breathes.

"There is a prerequisite, though." Kidney says. "Swear on your life that you won't bother me or my family again after I free you."

"I swear, I swear." Mitchol says. "I won't bother you, your sister, or anybody ever again."

"Very good." Kidney says, then turns back to me. Once he's close, he kneels down and leans in so we're at eye level. My breaths shiver in and out as his gold-streaked eyes bore into my face.

"Listen to me." He says. "You might think this is going to end tonight, but it won't. You will watch and live as I take everything away from you that you took from me and Krin."

My eyes widen as I realize where I heard him say those words before.

"I will destroy the most precious thing to you-- your films. I will take your dignity. I will grind you into nothing, until you lose even your will to live."

My stomach turns. Kidney lips twist upwards wryly when he finishes repeating the curse from my nightmare. Chills crawl along my skin.

"How?" I ask with barely a voice.

"'Luna of Night, eyes of borrowed light, make my own so very bright. Sands sublime, recorder of the subterranean mind, with you, let me intertwine.'" He says.

"It's like what I said that night, when I was in bed..."

"A chant, it just came over you, didn't it?" Kidney says. "You don't know why, but you repeated words you'd never heard."

"I saw the cosmos, and then I saw you." I say.

"Just before I invited you to the park to talk that Sunday afternoon, Kidney says. "I was taken through space to Mother Moon as well. At some point, I scooped up a handful of her white sand.

In each grain was a dream, and I found yours. Once I saw the manifestation of your subconscious, of your malice and lust, I knew that I had to stop you somehow."

"Ahahaa..." I laugh just like I did in the dream, and Kidney tenses. "What the hell is going on?" I weakly ask both him and the universe.

"Maybe you'll find out once this is over." He answers.

#crime #kidnapping #paranormal #fued #betrayal #violence

[thatweirdmod]

Windowless Moviemaker Chapter 3: Division

Windowless Moviemaker

Chapter 3: Division

I yawn deeply as I try to keep from slouching over my desk. The afternoon sun beams in the window next to me.

I'm in such a state of laze and lethargy that its warmth is comforting rather than stifling or draining. I feel like a green plant, soaking in the sun's energy to fill myself with soft, floating life.

I've touched the zen sweet spot that allows me to be at peace with even the noise of the teacher's yapping. I look through the glass and past the rays, and I smile.

Down on the soccer field, I watch Krin do PE with some other kids in her year. The sandy brown hair she shares with Kidney is tied in a ponytail, with her bangs and some from the sides out.

I'm admiring her in her red shorts and black knee-high socks, when I hear an irritating and startling throat clear beside me.

My head whips around to see Mrs. Wronger standing over my desk, peering down at me through her glasses.

"Mr. Fuma," she enunciates severely. "Focus on your own class. We are learning about ancient Egyptian culture, not how to kick synthetic leather balls."

I barely resist clicking my tongue at her. She speaks in this presiding way, putting a condescending drawl on every word like I'm deaf and dumbass and need to glean her lips for every syllable.

"Yes maam," I say with minimal bitterness.

"Hmph," she says, and clips back up to the front, unimpressed.

For this, I don't blame her. This happens all the time, and every time, the class gets a kick out of it. Kids chuckle around me.

I make an act of paying attention, but steal glances back down at Krin when the teacher's back is turned. I have to be careful doing this for a second reason, though.

Boners aren't fun or cool to have in class anymore, because the girls aren't as curious now as they were before. In middle school, the girls I ended up next to would sneak quiet, surreptitious peaks at my erections.

Now, I'd just be laughed by front of everyone for being hard in class. Even if you cover up with a long strap bag, tuck it into your waistband, or wear a baggy, un-tucked shirt like a delinquent, you know people can tell what you're doing.

The bell rings, snapping my wandering mind back into my body. Finally. I walk up to the roof, PBnJ sandwich in my bag. When I get there, I'm a little surprised to see Kidney and Mitchol. They pause when they notice me.

"Yo, Jeeto!" Mitchol greets me, waving.

I approach and ask, "What's up?"

"Kidney here was just asking me for money."

"That's right," Kidney agrees with a tinge of aggression. "But," he says turning to me, "He's claiming that he doesn't make any profits from the site."

"As I've already explained," Mitchol says, "The first guys I gave the password to were my own personal friends and online acquaintances. Then, they started wanting to let friends of their own in, and I figured, 'What the hell?'

I just asked the original guys not to tell anyone about who was running the site, gave the okay for the mutual contacts, and the numbers kinda blew up."

"How do you pay to keep the site online, then?" I ask Mitchol.

"Some of it comes out of my own pocket, but the rest is donations from my friends."

"You've never asked us for donations," Kidney states.

"Well come on," Mitchol replies in a light, defusing tone. "You're guys are already giving donations- the most important kind. Hell, if anything, I should be donating to you."

Kidney scoffs out a small laugh, and slips off his bag.

Mitchol continues anyway, "And, if I was getting all this money like you think, I'd pay you your due cut. Definitely."

Kidney digs around in his school backpack for a bit, then pulls out a few pieces of paper. He shoves them in Mitchol's face.

"What's this then?" He asks bruskly.

"Huh?" Mitchol says curiously, taking the paper. His eyes widen as he looks over the sheets.

I feel lost, like a third wheel on a bicycle. "What are those, Kidney?"

"Copies of his e-mails and messages."

"What?" I say, shocked. "How and why did you get something like that?" I look back over at Mitchol and see that his expression is dark.

Kidney snatches the papers out of his hands and passes them to me. "See for yourself."

Mitchol is silent as I squint down and skim over the e-mails sent by him:

"Thank you for completing the password step to becoming a member of adesireisfulfilled. You have won a free video link! ↓↓↓ To gain access to all of our content, please pay the 50 buckaroo entrance fee."

"Hello, yellowcabbie1978. Your 2-month subscription to adesireisfulfilled has run out. To regain access to your account and the site's content, please pay a membership fee."

I pause after reading through the pages. "What's going on?" I ask Mitchol. "'The password step'? I thought all you needed to access the site was the password?"

He sighs. "There have been a few changes since you guys joined all that time ago.

Back then, you remember, all you had to do was enter the site's password, sign up with an e-mail and username, and then boom, you'd be a full-fledged member.

Well, I didn't like how so many people knew the website password, and they could just pass it around for any random to join as they pleased.

So, I made it so all accounts had to be manually approved before the new users could see anything.

Before approving anyone, I'd check with my circle of friends, like, 'Do you know who's coming in under this username?' I had to make sure all these people were cool."

"And then," Kidney interjects, "You figured you'd might as well start making people pay you to get their accounts approved."

"Well, yeah," Mitchol admits. "But I'm not the only one who approves accounts. Redhand Heriolt is the other high level moderator."

"What the hell does that have to do with the fact that you lied to us?" Kidney demands, his umbrage rising.

Mitchol just asks, "How did you get into my e-mails anyway? Did you break into my house? Hack my computer?"

"I did what I had to do to get to the truth of the situation," Kidney defends. "And you know what that truth is?"

"What?" Mitchol asks cavalierly.

"That you're a liar, a cheat, and a traitor." The words are soaked with venom.

"Seriously?" Mitchol scoffs.

"Seriously!" Kidney affirms.

"I don't know if you remember," Mitchol says. "But we never made any agreement about you getting paid for uploading. I never had to tell you a damn thing about the site's profits."

"Sure, you may not have been obligated to tell me anything before today, but after I asked, and you lied, my mind was made up. I'll be damned if I post one more video to your website."

Mitchol just leans back on the fence and chuckles. "You're so dramatic, man." Then he looks over at me. "Jeeto, where do you stand on this? I hope you're not a loser who'd bail over something this silly."

"Erm..." I glance between the dismissive Mitchol, and Kidney, who's glaring at him with fuming eyes.

"Money never factored into the movie making for me, so technically, this doesn't really matter," I say. "But," I qualify, "We're not friends anymore, I mean, if we ever were."

"Fair enough," Mitchol says, then starts walking away. But before he opens the roof door, he turns around and says, "I'll let you stay for free, Jeeto, as long as you keep uploading. But Kidney, you're out for good."

When Mitchol leaves I turn to Kidney. "Don't worry about that. I'll just give you the password to my account."

"Thanks, but no thanks," he says. "Even thinking about going to his website turns me off now. I don't want anything to do with that piece of shit."

"Okay, whatever. But... does this mean you're going straight now?"

"Yeah, I think so. Truth be told, part of me was getting tired of doing it anyway. I'm sick of the stress, always having to wonder if this is going to be the time I get caught."

Kidney's cowardice irritates me, and now procuring women will be even more work for me. I choose to respect his decision, but I find myself saying anyway,

"I guess it would be over with you and Krin if that happened, right? You told me before how important that relationship is to you."

"Right..." Kidney says quietly.

"I guess we missed lunch," I say, heading for the exit. "It's about time for our next class."

It sucks that Krin and I are a year apart. Different lunch times. No classes together. We barely see each other in school. That only makes it harder for me to do this the nice way. No... what am I going on about? That's not for me.

Then, I remember something that makes me go, "Tch," both from annoyance and amusement. Kidney was talking the other day about doing things with Rilla the nice way too.

But while he was trying to get involved with her, he was in a romantic relationship with his sister? You've gotta be kidding me.

I guess it makes no difference to me what Kidney does with Rilla, because after I get to her, she probably won't want anything to do with men for a long time.

On the walk home from school, I find myself thinking of moving on in my own way. When I stop in the convenience store,  instead of going to the chips or to the fridges in the back to shoplift beer, I go straight up to the counter.

"Evening, Roodle."

"Oh, hey Jeeto. How's it kickin'?" Roodle asks me, smiling with that little worn face.

"I'm doing alright," I say. "I actually came in today to ask you if there's a job opening here."

"There sure is," Roodle replies. "Always somethin' that needs doing. Stockin' shelves, unloading the truck, sweepin' up... we'll just call you 'part-time associate.' How 'bout that?"

I laugh lightly. "That sounds perfect. When can I start?"

"Well you can start tomorrow if you'd like. You're a student, so I guess I'll have to set you up with mostly evening-night shifts huh?

"Yes maam."

Roodle coos out a little chuckle. "Okay then, Jeeto. Welcome to the grind."

And with that, I am enveloped by a blanket of security. I walk leisurely around the neighborhood, feeling warm.

But approaching Kidney's house, I decide I shouldn't be seen there by him. I don't know how much he suspects me in regards to Krin.

The fact that he knows what I am and that I have an interest in her might be enough to have him on guard.

We're no longer partners. And as far as being friends goes, our greatest common denominator has disappeared. We shouldn't be on bad terms, but I feel that I'm standing on unsure, thin ground now.

I'm about to fall through. Though I seal her lips with record tape, Kidney will be able to see the subtle things in her that we've observed in the many victims under our watch.

I turn back to my house to prepare.

#ex-friend #drama #lying #crime

[thatweirdmod]

Windowless Moviemaker Chapter 4: Parted Eyelid Curtains

Windowless Moviemaker

Chapter 4: Parted Eyelid Curtains

The chirping of the crickets outside my bedroom sounds more stark today, somehow. With Sota on the computer in her room and mom sleeping downstairs, the house is quiet and empty-feeling.

Usually this wouldn't bother me at all, but for some reason, it's bugging me a bit now, even though I'm busy packing my backpack. With no banter between Kidney and me about this, most of the humor is gone from it.

I suppose I feel like what other people would see me as-- a disturbing and dark individual performing forbodding actions. Still, my heart pulsates at the thought of Krin, the forbidden fruit.

I scope out around Kidney's house, careful to avoid passing too close by his window. All the lights are out.

That doesn't guarantee everyone's asleep though, especially not Krin and Kidney, who might've just turned off their lights to make their parents think they'd gone to bed.

 I cautiously peak through the cracks in Krin's blinds, grateful that the Bellourds live in a one-story house. I think I see her in bed. The lulling orange glow of a little nightlight coaxes my gaze.

I watch her to see if she moves in a way that suggests she's awake. Nothing alarming. I gently try her window, and to my surprise, it slides up smoothly with no resistance. My heart thumps again.

I climb in on suddenly rubbery legs. My eyes travel across her sleeping features. God, she's beautiful. My stunned mind thinks I could stand here looking at her forever, but my body moves to the beat of my pounding heart.

I pounce on her with the primordial efficiency buried within every apex predator, and pierce her neck with the sharp needle of my syringe.

As soon as she starts to wake, groaning a muffled sound of confusion and discomfort into the hand covering her mouth, she falls asleep again.

I consider taking her in this state, and letting her think it was all just a bad dream. Kidney might not find out that way. But... I'm dying to see the bright life in Krin's hazel eyes morph into beautiful shapes that I've never seen before.

I put her limp form into the black bag and carry her out of the open window, a breeze lightly blowing her green curtains. I place Krin in the trunk of the red car I rented for this, glance around one more time, and drive away.

I drive at that low speed limit, barely minding it. This feeling coursing through me from head to toe... It's like I'm high, but there's little sugar and no drugs in my system.  This is what they call "elation" I think to myself.

I arrive at the bunker, unzip Krin from the bag, and lay her on the freshly-sheeted bed. I pull up a chair and sit down beside her, patiently watching and waiting.

Butterflies hatch and tear through the flesh of my heart when I see her eyes begin to twitch.

"Krin," I purr softly.

They open more.

"Krin," I repeat again.

She blinks me into focus.

"Ahh!" She screams. Her attempt to jump up from the bed only results in her flopping onto the floor.

"You're still weak from the drugs," I tell her plainly.

She shoots off questions in quick succession. "What drugs?! Where am I? Who are you?" Krin pants shakily.

I laugh lightly. "This is probably what you think it is. So, it follows that I'm not going to answer any of those inquiries of yours."

She looses something between a huff and a scream and scrambles up weakly, while I remain sitting calmly.

"There's no way for you to get out," I state, knowingly.

She ignores what I tell her and continues to search, throwing fearful glances back at me to make sure I'm still in the chair. She mutters words of panic and frantic prayer under her breath.

"Hmm, this is kind of bizarre." I observe. "This isn't quite how it usually goes."

"Damn it! Heeellllppp!!!" The tearful screams fly up from her throat, echo around the concrete, and fall-- buried.

I chuckle a little. "Were you praying just now, miss?"

Krin collapses to her knees in the corner, crying. "What're you gonna do to me?" Her voice, fractured and terrified, practically describes all the horror on its own.

I ignore her question just like she ignored mine. "Do you expect god to reach his holy hand down into this filth, only to drag up filth?" I ask her.

"Huh?" She asks, perplexed.

I turn around in the chair so I can face her, spreading my legs around the back. "Perhaps this is your punishment. You know what he thinks about people like you."

"I don't know.. I don't know..." Krin murmurs with more tears dribbling down her smooth skin.

"I have something that I want you to see, but before that," I say, standing up. "We have to prepare."

She turns her head up to peer at my mask.

"Stand up," I order firmly.

Krin jumps a little at my tone, rises to her feet, and then crosses her arms tightly. Classic defensive body language.

"Hmm, you appear to be over-dressed. Take off your t-shirt."

"W-wh what?" Krin sputters. She looks near ready to faint. Her breathing is irregular and her face is flushed.

"You heard me," I say. "Take off your shirt."

She clutches the shirt, and reluctantly begins pulling one of her slender arms out of the sleeve. I notice her sweep around room- her horror at the cameras.

"Don't worry about those. The masterpiece that you and I are about to create is for my eyes only."

Krin sniffles, but pulls the shirt off a little faster. My head throbs. No bra to sleep, eh? My eyes rove over her deliciously perky tits and gorgeous, shapely body.

"Now..." I say, breathless. "Take off the bottoms. I want to see it all."

I can barely believe this is real. The girl I've been watching for all this time is naked right before me, and prepared to be violated.

I throw all the clothes off of my body like there's a bomb hidden in them. Krin's nervous eyes can't help but be drawn down to my erection.

"It's big isn't it? Look more." I tell her lustfully. "See how hard I've gotten for you." My engorged penis points up stiffly towards my belly button, and it's already leaking pre-ejaculate.

"Jeeto?"

I pause at that almost inaudible question.

"What?"

"It's you, isn't it?" Krin asks with an odd mixture of dismay and hope.

"No..."

"But that body, and that scar on your stomach..." She says, covering her breasts with her arms and standing tautly.

I look down at it. Of course, the scar from when I got my appendix removed a while ago. I was showing it to Kidney, and Krin came over asking if she could see too. I didn't think anything of it.

"I'm an average guy with an average body. What about it? Just go over and lie on the bed."

When she stalls, I dig the pocket knife out of my discarded pants. I walk to her, and she backs away, and away, until her back is to the wall.

Krin steels herself. "I don't know what's gotten into you, but please don't do this. I know this is not you, Jeeto."

I burst forth with laughter, and the blade comes out. "That's something I've always liked about you; you're pretty funny."

"No," she whimpers as I hold the knife up to her throat.

"If you don't play along and pretend that what you said was a joke, I might get mad at you."

I'm close enough to sense her breath catch in her throat.

"Because," I explain, "It's always annoyed me when people do things like jump to assumptions and form conclusions based on shallow observations and biases.

And the way that they so often think they're clever for practicing that stupidity only exacerbates my irritation."

My voice drops lower. "But all that aside, when I take this blade off of your neck, I expect you to go kneel over the bed, understood?"

"Mm-hmm," Krin agrees, afraid to move even a mite against the sharp knife.

I walk to the table across the room while she goes over to the bed. I open up a video on the laptop that's on it, carry the device over, and place it on the bed in front Krin. I lean past her and press "Play".

She gasps when she sees what's on the screen.

"I want us to watch this while we do it," I say, chuckling and forming a vice around her slim waist with my arms.

"No!" She screams, shoving me away.

Krin lunges for the laptop, but I regain my footing and trap her in a crushing bear hug. She groans in pain as her joints crack. The video keeps on playing as she squirms in my arms.

"This feels so good." I hear Kidney moaning through the speakers. "Yes.. yes. Me too." Krin replies amidst the impure slapping of wet body parts.

Her tears drip onto my arms as we listen to the video.

"Why are you doing this to me? Just please.. stop it," Krin begs feebly. I pull her tighter to me and thrust my penis in between her supple ass cheeks.

I moan and whisper into her ear, "I have you now." I walk her over to the bed, and she collapses over it. I throw her onto her back and climb on top of her.

Her eyes look off somewhere into the distance as I spread her legs wide apart. "Your pussy is beautiful," I whisper. I usually don't feel like doing this, but I lean down to taste her.

My tongue laves over her labia and clitoris, then dives and twirls around as deep inside of her slit as I can get it.

For some reason, I'm enjoying this. A glance up shows that Krin is biting her lip with a strained expression. I continue alternating these movements until my cock's demands can no longer wait.

The video is still playing in the background. The room is filled with her and her brother's moaning and heavy breathing, and the sounds of her debauched pussy.

I plunge my cock into Krin's tight hole, eliciting a gasp of discomfort. Fucking her, I say, "Your brother was right. This is "heavenly."

Krin's hazel eyes flicker back to me. Her pretty face is twisted in pain and humiliation.

"He told me," I continue, thrusting, "All about how "precious" you are to him. All about the things you did as kids."

"That's a lie," she chokes out.

"No, it's true. But, he wouldn't let me have you when I asked."

Confusion joins the awful waltz of emotions on her face. "You might be wondering why I'd ask him. After all, he ain't your pimp."

I move slowly inside her, savoring the ride. "It would've been easy for him to slip some roofies into your food, though."

"Stop it," Krin tells me helplessly. Tears slip down from her eyes and into her sandy brown hair.

"Stop telling you the truth? Only a fool would ask for that. Anyway, before he ran his mouth about all that, I didn't want to fuck you this badly. But that damned brother of yours hyped you up so much... it possessed me."

She swallows painfully, her brow furrowed in distress as I leisurely rape her.

"IT'S ALL HIS FAULT, ISN'T IT!?!?!" I scream so loudly that it shatters the bunker air. Krin jumps underneath me, startled and deeply disturbed.

I cackle and caw out a cacophony of laughter. My hips abruptly start jackhammering my member into her. The bed quakes violently, causing the laptop to bounce off onto the floor.

"I'm gonna come!" I shout ferally. "I'm gonna fill up the inside of you, and I'm gonna show it to him!" I gurgle and yell. "I'm gonna make you come!!! Krin!"

She's bawling and struggling under me now. She's surely been awakened from whatever depressed stupor she fell into.

I wrestle her down onto the concrete, and push her legs back as far as I can. "RRAAAHHHH!" I groan in effort, bending the girl in half. She screams in agony, and I pound into her with vicious abandon.

"Spread your legs you rotten forbidden fruit!" I screech at her manically. "Spread them! Let me see your sinful cunt spasm around my righteous cock as I make you come! I'll never stop reaming your holes until you give in!"

My head shoots up to the cameras, to their wide-eyed, unforgetting faces. "BURN IT! Burn it... BUUURRRRRNNNN IIIIIIITTTT!!!"

I bellow at them. "Burn it inside for me to rip off and clench forever. Burn it inside so you'll be speecciiiaaaalll!!"

My dick explodes inside of her. White cum spills over her lower lips. Over-stuffed.

I rise off of the traumatized girl and stagger into a wall.

"None of this went as planned. None of it," I mutter. "What will I do now?" I ask softly.

I look like a dashingly sexy heart-throb of a young man when I inquire that. I know that Krin is shy around me, but I'll convince her that it's okay, somehow.

Krin hics and sobs on the ground, clutching her head inside her hands.

Frustration seizes me, and I rush back over to her. "Kriiinnn!!!" I growl, pulling her up by her neck. I wind my fist back and deck her in the face. The girl crumples to the floor.

"Hahahaha! Ahahaa! Guess I oneshot-ted you, eh? Flawless victoryyyyy! Fatalityyyyyy!"

I join her on the ground, and wrap my legs around her throat. I squeeze and squeeze, but there's not enough strain in my muscles. Tighter.. tighter. Come on... It's still not enough. A voice tells me several minutes have passed.

"Oh. Hey." I say once I see her again. "Your face is blue now. I liked the light tan you had before more than this. Go back." I say numbly.

I climb on top of her and punch her in the face again. "Go back." I repeat. My fists keep crunching and mashing against her face, over and over.

"Oh no, it's even worse now. You don't look like you did before. WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU!?!?" I demand from her lifeless body, shaking it roughly.

I crawl down and spread her legs. I smile unstably. "There it is, that beautiful pink pussy perfumed with blood."

I reach up and rub circles on her clit with my thumb. "Does that make it throb down here? Are you feeling good? Ahahaha. I knew you were still here, Kri-,"

Something roils inside of me, and I spew vomit all over her and the floor. When I think I'm done, I vomit again, even harder.

"Look at the mess I've made all over your ass and pussy, you thing. Now I won't be able to fuck you."

I crawl up and squeeze her breasts in my hands, trying to make them ooze through my fingers like goo.

No matter how hard I squeeze, though, it doesn't happen. I rub the tip of my erection against her nipples. They feel like ice blocks.

"This isn't satisfying me..." I say, dejected. "I want your hot pussy. I want you to squeal through your teeth when I force my penis into your anus..."

Creaking above me catches my attention. I rasp out several giggles. "Heeheehee. Looks like it's over."

Feet step down into the bunker, and I keep that low laugh going. It's the hum of my generator. Kidney appears before me, his eyes like dark pools.

"Ahahahaa..." I laugh nervously. "I guess you caught me. A little sooner than I expected, but that's fine." I scratch the back of my head abashedly.

He falls to his hands and knees, a sad howl seeps from his throat. Tears pour from his eyes and make dark gray splotches on the concrete floor.

I stand there, between reality and the other dimensional dreamworld, distantly listening to Kidney wail. My heart, wherever did it go?

Breathless laughs force themselves from the hollow of my chest. The sandy brown haired thing finally looks back up at me. The water has been burned away by fire, I can see.

"You took it all it away," Kidney says. His voice swirls with rage, hurt, and passion. I look around. Yes. Yes. The cameras are capturing this-- the movie of a lifetime in a very literal sense.

"This masterpiece is one of a kind." I speak with my eyes stretched open impossibly wide. I suddenly get a top-down, third-person view and see that I'm like a fish.

"Not even its creator and director knows how it will end," I say.

"What?" Kidney asks incredulously. "What the fuck are you babbling about?"

I open my hugely smiling, monstrous mouth. It's a cavernous vortex of dark purple, pink, blue, and red, and it's full of gapped, sharp little teeth. I intend to explain. However, Kidney cuts me off.

"Forget it," he says, shaking his head. "I don't wanna know. I don't wanna hear it."

As fast, or as slow, as I can blink, he reaches into his waistband and pulls out a revolver. I raise my hands and splay my fingers, humored.

"Ahahaha..."

"Shut up," Kidney barks at me. He pulls the trigger twice. I think my ears and knees should be in excruciating pain, but it's only vague. *Ringinging riiinginging.* A telephone sounds somewhere to compensate for that lack.

I flop down- crippled. I can damply hear the clips of Kidney's shoes on the concrete. He kicks me in the eye, and it feels weird. I think it partially fell out.

"Listen to me." He says with too much calm.

"You might think this is going to end tonight, but it won't. You will watch and live as I take everything away from you that you took from me and Krin.

I will destroy the most precious thing to- your films. I will take your dignity. I will grind you into nothing, until you lose even your will to live."

"My films..." I think. "That is unthinkable, inconceivable. It must be a nightmare....."

My eyes shoot open to a beige ceiling. A dark blue comforter is covering me from the neck down. "Huh?" I mumble to myself as I lean up and look at the clock. 2:17 AM.

That was one messed up dream, even for me. I mean, I was totally crazy. That's not how I act, so what gives?

Amazingly, though, it has given me an idea. Now that I know about Krin and Kidney's activities, I might get some blackmailing material if I set a cam up in Kidney's room. I flop back down onto the bed, and sink in with a sigh.

Amazingly as well, however, this dream has actually given me second thoughts about raping Krin. I turn my head over to the closet.

I fully loaded my black backpack when I got home earlier today, or err, yesterday technically. Maybe I could be satisfied if I could get into her pants the normal way.

I turn over to the window and stare at the pale moonlight filtering through my closed blinds. If this full moon were an eye, would it be able to see everything its rays touched?

Well, they are not the moon's rays anyway. This light is the sun's, as it uses the moon to relay its message to us that it isn't gone, though it may let night fall.

What the hell am I going on about? I've personified the celestial bodies like some superstitious ancient tribe. Thank goodness almost all those sorts have died out.

There are just enough left to provide those of us of the scientific world with entertainment on TV. I bet some people tune in just to see those saggy titted women pounding grain in nothing but beads, oblivious to their own shamefulness.

Then, I decide to play a game. "Mother Moon, Mother Moon. Take me back into your womb."

I chant this 3 times, then close my eyes, breathe out a long breath, and imagine that my body dissolves into the soft light around me. I let my airy form be drawn up to the relayer of light.

I see the cosmos around me.

It's an ethereally black world filled richly with innumerable lights. Stars dazzle in blazing yellow, crystalline blue, and flashing pink.

Sparkling and glowing are gentle purple, bleeding red, and nostalgic orange amongst a magnificent host of colors.

I'm awestruck and overwhelmed. It amazes me that Mother Moon's light even saw and reached me, speck of dust that I am in this vast and immeasurable universe.

She is a bright, welcoming place with glowing blue light around her surface. When I touch her dream-like white sands, what remains of me immediately joins into her. Warm. I'm so warm.

And when I open my eyes and gaze back down the thread of light that guided me here, I find myself back in my town. Only, now I am free to go wherever I wish.

I ride the breeze through Kidney's window, and see that he must be feeling the earthly version of what I'm feeling.

Krin is wrapped in his arms, and he in hers. Their mouths touch and dance together affectionately. I'm probably closer than I should be. I can feel their heat as they press their bodies together in fleshly bliss.

This amazing perspective is like nothing I've experienced before, but with a blink, it's gone. I felt that blink, I realize. I'm back in my bed, seeing everything through such dim eyes.

Some imagination I have. It's like I really wasn't here for the past several minutes.

I sit up and use a finger to lift one of the vinyl blinds. I peer up at the moon, boding over my house. A light chill passes up my skin. I decide to close my blue plaid curtains and lie back down to get some proper shut eye.

#nightmare #crime #imagination #violent #obsession #insanity #film #camera

[thatweirdmod]

Windowless Moviemaker Chapter 2: Subject

Windowless Moviemaker Chapter 2:

Subject

Street lights twitch above me as I walk down the sidewalk, not yet wearing the mask. My black backpack and all my clothes are nondescript, common brands. I wear no watch or jewelry.

This is so that if Mrs. Horatay braves the humiliation and tells someone about tonight, the police won't have good leads to go on. It'd be safer, admittedly, to keep a blindfold on her for the entire time, but that ruins it.

We are making movies here,after all, not just raping. We bring urges and emotions out of our subjects that most humans never get to see in all their lifetimes. The eyes convey a great quantity of that emotion, and I avow to commit as much of it as I can to film.

I gain base sadistic pleasure by doing these things, of course, and I'm able to relive those moments of pleasure by watching the recordings. However, this is also my legacy, and the internet makes it possible for me to share it with the world.

Well, not just the internet. I have a specific person to thank. Mitchol. I was on the school roof, when he showed up.

"You come here too?" And that was how it began. We talked during that lunch break, and many more.

Then one time, he pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, and gave it to me. "I think this is something you'll be interested in, Jeeto. Check it out after school," he'd said.

On the piece of paper was a URL for a private site called "adesireisfulfilled", and a password.

Later, I went there and logged in. I was greeted by a dark page with 3 red boxes. They were marked as, "Local Files", "Files 2", and "Files 3", respectively.

I clicked on "Local Files", and to my surprise saw Nana, my class rep, naked and hogtied on a blue tiled floor. I almost couldn't believe what I was seeing as my eyes traveled over the rest of the thumbnails.

There were picture folders and videos, all of girls from nearby schools being molested, tortured, and raped. I continued to scour the website, getting harder and harder, until it hurt to leave my dick in my pants. I had to take it out and jerk off more vigorously than I ever had before.

The next day, Mitchol met me on the roof. "So, how was it?" He had asked. I knew exactly what he was referring to. I'd responded that it was awesome, and he'd looked pleased at that.

"It might say typical stuff like 'extreme bondage' and 'forced play' for a lose backup cover, but it's all real." He had said with a fiendish smirk.

Then, I remember him chuckling at my agape expression, and saying, "That makes it even hotter, though. Doesn't it?"

He'd then paused and looked at me thoughtfully, before saying the words that changed everything.

"You could do it too, you know."

I'm grateful that Mitchol took the risk of letting me in on this. And he's grateful now too. After all, I contribute just as much as he does.

I begin cutting through some woods that lead to the back of the Horatays' house. I only don my mask once I'm out of view for sure. I don't need anyone associating this thing with me.

I'm almost there when I spot a silhouette crouched down behind a tree. I approach as quietly as I can, but a twig snaps under my foot.

They suck in a quick breath and look back at me. A bit of light from the house catches their face, and I see that it's Kidney, wearing the same kind of mask as I am. I loose a breath, and approach.

"You scared me for a second there," Kidney chuckles.

"You scared the shit out of me too," I say.

He scoffs. "You were careless enough to leave criminal evidence on your shelf, but this scared you? I mean, who would it be other than me anyway?"

"'Who would it be’, eh?" I muse. "That makes me wonder if there are other guys like us around here."

Kidney shrugs. "According to the news, rapes are pretty rare around here. The problems most people worry about are burglaries and drunk driving."

I notice he's holding binoculars. "Were you trying to get a peak through the window?"

"Yeah," he responds. "She's still up in there. It's easier to catch them sleeping, so they won't hear us breaking in as fast and call the cops."

"Did you see if she's in her pajamas or not?"

"Yeah, she's getting ready for bed."

"Good," I say. "Now lets hope she's not an insomniac, or we'll be waiting here for a long time."

"It would've been better not to have to wait at all," Kidney says. "I told you it was kinda early, man. This is so boring. I didn't even bring my Gameboy."

"I guess you were right," I concede. "If you ask me though, it's no shame you didn't bring your Gameboy. Pokemon's like the only thing you have on that. I just can't get how people enjoy that tedium."

"Not 'tedium'. Momemtum," Kidney corrects me. "Sure it takes a lot of hours, but you're always leveling up and getting more Pokemon. It feels like a flow of perpetual progress."

"Boorrring," I drawl. "I'd much rather capture people on film than fake, pixelated animals on a Gameboy."

"Fine, suit yourself," he says, crossing his arms. Just one less asshole I've got to worry about competing with for the latest figures."

"Gimme those for second," I say gesturing towards the binoculars.

"Sure," Kidney responds, and hands them to me.

I squint through a space between the blinds. They've got the big, fancy kind. They're made of wood, and have kind of wide spaces in between them.

I'll take the tight, vinyl mini blinds I have at home over these bloated ass, big money ones, because I can see her sleeping all too well from here.

"Looks like we're in luck," I announce.

"What? She's crashed already?"

"Seems like it," I say, smirking. "Wait here," I tell Kidney as I hand his binoculars back. "And make sure Mrs. Horatay stays in bed while I go in."

He nods and says, "I'll text you pronto if she starts waking up."

With that, I sleuth around the corner to the window of another room. It's still facing the woods, but far enough away to not to wake her if she's an average sleeper.

I push up on the window- locked. No matter. I take the crowbar out of my backpack and, as quietly as possible, use it to pry it open. I flip open my phone.

No text. Jackpot. Screen still bars my entry, but I swiftly and noiselessly dispatch it with a few slices from my pocketknife.

I lift the blinds, thankfully less noisy than vinyl, and look around the room. It appears to be a bedroom that's been designated as an office or study.

What really matters, however, is that the floor is wooden. The open bedroom door is across from me, so I can see that the floor beyond is also wooden.

I click my tongue lightly in annoyance, take off my shoes, and put them in my backpack. I shoot Kidney a text saying, "Window open. Hard floor."

He appears around the corner as I'm climbing inside, and comes in after me. We quietly take out our "capture gear." With me holding the syringe of animal tranquilizer and Kidney holding rope and a gag, we pad down the hallway to Mrs. Horatay's bedroom.

As we approach cautiously, I observe her in peaceful slumber: strands of her mid-length brown hair strewn carelessly and perfectly across her fine features, silky, beige nightclothes covering her hourglass figure, the lines of nipples underneath as her luscious bosom rises and falls slowly.

Once we're close, Kidney pounces. By the time she's seriously started to make a stir, he's already gagged her and roped her wrists. He hops on the bed on top of her, pinning her legs down.

I lean over and plunge the syringe into her neck. I press down with my thumb, and fill her body with the potent chemicals. She only struggles for a few more seconds before falling under and going limp as a corpse.

I heft Mrs. Horatay up, and Kidney helps me stuff her into a large bag with straps. We feed our backpacks and the woman through the forced-open window, exit, and close it behind ourselves. Kidney puts on both of our backpacks, while I carry the woman on my back.

"Where'd you park?" I inquire.

"Just follow me. It's a few blocks down, in a private-ish spot right outside the woods."

We dash through the Horatay's lawn and back under and through the cover of the woods as quickly as we can. Once we reach the end, Kidney holds a hand up to me.

"Wait up. I'm gonna peak out to see if anyone's around."

I stay nervously, my back aching from holding the woman's weight all through the woodland trek. I should probably workout more.

"Okay," Kidney says. He waves me forward, scurries to the rental, gray mini van, and opens its trunk. "Hurry!" He whispers.

I toss Mrs. Horatay in the back, and then hop in the passenger's seat.

He presses moderately on the gas, obeying the low neighborhood speed limit. These speed limits have always annoyed me. You know it's for the dumbass brats running around on the street.

I say let the car engines run, and let natural selection run its course on the crotch goblins that are too stupid to stay off the road. They've all been told before. If they don't listen, why should that be anyone's responsibility except their own?

Once we're out of the bullshit zone, we take off our masks, that way, no one who sees us in the car will pay us any mind.

"This really is a whole lot of work," Kidney says with a sigh, as he presses down on the accelerator.

"I hope you're not thinking of quitting," I say to him.

His response is silence.

"Unlike you," I say. "There's no good sex that exists outside of this for me. Doing it normally over this past month would've been even worse than staying in my room with my hand and porn.

I can't stand either, though. I'd have gone nuts if I had to continue on forever like that."

"All the content on adesireisafulfilled isn't enough to fulfill your desire for this?" Kidney asks.

"That's way different than a real woman," I say. "Besides, I've already watched all the stuff on adesireisfulfilled. I need new content, and the other members need new content too."

"Where there's a demand," Kidney muses. "There's always someone cashing in by supplying. Have you ever wondered how much Mitchol's making off of the members?"

"Huh?" I question. "We don't pay anything."

"Well of course not; we're the suppliers, the content creators. We should be the ones getting paid."

I can sense Kidney's irritation.

"Look," he says. "As far as I know, there are only 5 uploaders on the site. Us, Mitchol, and the other two guys,  Redhand Heriolt and my uncle, Stoulfer. But," he continues,

"Mitchol said before that there are about 600 members. You think they're all friends that he just gave the password out to for free?"

"Probably not," I admit.

"Yeah," Kidney says angrily. "I bet Mitchol's charging registration and membership fees. Maybe he's even charging for access to "premium content."

"But," I argue. "Mitchol's the one who pays the bills to keep the site online. He needs money for that. And for us, well, don't you think the work is its own reward?"

"Maybe for you it is, but that doesn't change the fact that the profits of our labor are being swiped out from under our noses. If I'm gonna keep doing this," he says as he veers onto the obscure dirt road, "It'll be for the full reward."

We put our masks back on and get out of the mini van. Kidney parked in a grassy clearing in the middle of a bunch of wild land. There's a rundown little house here, but the main purpose it serves is to be a distraction.

I go to the edge of the clearing, and move some "fallen" branches and shrubs to uncover the metal door of the underground bunker. I open it, and Kidney carries Mrs. Horatay over from the car.

We walk down the concrete stairs, and I flip on the light. Thanks to the house, it doesn't appear suspicious that electricity is being used in this middle-of-nowhere location. The company and the police would just assume that that's where it's going, I hope.

As Kidney and I set up our filming equipment, he says. "Hey, Jeeto. Check out this new camera and tripod my uncle gave me."

"Wow, it's super tall."

"Yeah, now we can get even better angles. If I set it up here," he says, rolling the tripod in front of the bed, "I can get a top down shot of her tits jiggling and the dick going in and out."

"Top down isn't a favorite of mine," I say. "However, interspersing shots like that would lend a more professional feel to the movies."

"Exactly," Kidney says, then looks over at the bag Mrs. Horatay is in. Moaning comes from it. I can see her weakly squirming around. She's just come to. I rush to grab a camera and start filming.

We leave her in there, allowing her state to progress naturally. Her muffled cries rise from confusion and fear to outright shrieks of panic and terror.

"Heermmmmpphhh!" Mrs. Horatay screams through the loosened gag. She squirms viciously in the bag, rolling and flopping over, her wrists and ankles bound.

Kidney and I both laugh heartily. Upon hearing us, her animalistic flight response slows down somewhat into human diplomacy.

"Hmmm errmm yeourr?" She attempts to speak again through the gag and the bag.

"I think she's asking who we are," I say.

"Well, I guess it's time to get her out of there," Kidney says. He goes over to her, unzips her prison, and pulls it off.

She's shaking violently. Salty tears stream down her face and soak the gag in her mouth as she looks up at the masked Kidney- petrified. I'm reminded of Kidney's earlier comparison of women to rabbits.

I zoom in on her face. Through the window of her eyes, I see the horror of the certainty of doom. Chills prickle up my skin.

"Oh, she looks good," Kidney says, unzipping his pants and freeing his semi-hard dick.

Mrs. Horatay bursts into a noisier fit of tears, pleading incoherently. I put the camera on the tripod, walk over, and finally take the gag off.

"Please, please, please." She says rapidly. "You don't have to do this."

I give her a perplexed look, which she can't see underneath my mask anyway. "I don't know why some of you women say that, like we're doing this out of some solemn sense of duty to you."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" She says, high pitched. "I never... I didn't mean it that way. I'm so sorry."

I laugh. "Looks like we've got an ass kisser over here," I remark to Kidney.

"Even if she wasn't tied up, she might be groveling down there anyway."

"Hmm, I think we can work with this... Hey bitch!" I bark at Mrs. Horatay.

"Ye-yes?" She answers meekly.

I squat down at eye level with her, and pull the knife out of my pocket. When I flip it open, she flinches.

"Hmph," I observe, amused. Then, I grab her by the collar of her silky night shirt, and press the blade up against her neck.

She gasps, and I laugh again. "If you keep shaking like that, I might accidentally cut you." I say this with sarcasm thick enough to let her know that I don't really give an iota of a shit about her well-being.

Then I switch to grave seriousness. "I caught your eyes when they darted around the room a moment ago. It's true-" I dig the knife in, puncturing her skin as I say the next words. "There isn't any way out."

Mrs. Horatay whimpers as tantalizing red blood trickles down her supple neck and stains her beige pajamas. I lick my lips, trying not to pant. She cries out softly as I pull her closer to me by the collar, slicing her skin more.

"And the worst places your mind went, the places it's going now, I could take you there." I feel unbelievable elation from the look on her face, and the fact that the camera behind me is recording it all. I soften my tone a mite.

"You're a smart woman, Mrs. Horatay, so let me do whatever I want to you. It won't even take the whole night."

She nods slowly.

I untie the ropes around her ankles and wrists, and she lies obediently, even once freed of the bindings.

"Stand up," I order her.

She stands nervously.

"Unbutton your shirt."

She swallows, and glances uncomfortably at Kidney, who's lightly stroking his penis.

I wait, a firm object before her. After looking up at my masked face, then back down to my shoes, she begins to undo her buttons. A sheen forms in her eyes.

"Hurry up and take it off," I tell her impatiently.

She pulls the shirt away, exposing her bare body. My eyes feast upon her voluptuous breasts, like ripe fruits hanging heavily on a tree branch. Her eyes widen when she notices my erection, bulging in the front of my black pants.

"Take off your bottoms too."

She slips them off. Pale pick panties with a little red bow in the front. Not very adult-ish, so it's kind of funny.

I step closer to her, and she stays still. I grab and squeeze a handful of her breasts with my left hand, while my right runs down her torso and dives under her panties.

Her pussy lips feel dry under my fingers. I fondle and rub her to my heart's content, then push two fingers inside her. I move them in and out roughly, and she gasps and groans at the painful molestation.

I let up once her body starts reacting, finally making her pussy slick. She looses a breath when I withdraw.

"Go to the bed, take off your panties, and bend over," I tell her.

Mrs. Horatay follows my instructions with a red face. She keeps her legs close together, as if that does anything to preserve her dignity. I can still see her pussy, but I say, "Spread your legs."

Kidney films her face, which must be twisted in shame and frustration.

Her legs open a few inches, and I click my tongue. I slap her on the ass, hard. "Spread them more!"

Tears trickle down her face as she scoots her knees out, splaying her legs enough to make her pussy lips part.

"Yeah," I say, rubbing her cunt and grabbing her ass from behind. "That's what I like to see."

I unzip my pants and whip my cock out. Without warning, I grab her by the waist and line her vagina up with my thrusting dick.

With one fluid motion, I plunge all the way inside her. Mrs. Horatay cries out at the sudden intrusion. Without giving her a moment to adjust, I begin a high tempo pounding rhythm. Kidney fixes the tall camera and tripod to get a better shot of me doing Mrs. Horatay.

I take my left hand off her waist and latch it around her arm. I pull, forcing her back to arch up, and giving the camera a good shot of her bouncing tits.

I lean down slightly while pulling Mrs. Horatay up against myself, then I grab her by her breasts. My nose is inhibited by the mask, but I think her hair smells nice. I would love to get my teeth around her ear or her neck, and bite while I'm thrusting into her.

I increase the force of my movements. The sounds she's making are enough to make me shoot my load all over her back.

"It's my turn," Kidney says. So, gather my bearings and go to man the cameras.

Mrs. Horatay is lying on the bed, shivering in the fetal position.

He climbs on with her, and grabs her by a fistful of hair. She groans sharply as he yanks, twisting her over onto her back.

"Does your husband ever do this with you?" Kidney asks as he sits over Mrs. Horatay's chest and slides his erect penis between her large breasts.

"Hmm?" He pries again as he moves his hips slowly, awaiting an answer.

Her eyes dart down to the head of penis, poking in and out of her cleavage. "N-no..." She says in a soft, broken voice.

"Oh," Kidney says, surprised. He tweaks her pink nipples and squeezes her breasts together around his cock. "That's a shame, because this is great," he tells her, moving faster now.

I make sure one of the cameras is trained on her face. When they talk about rape, they never tell you about the awkward expressions and the not knowing where to look.

The heavier feelings like horror and violation take precedent, but also, being naked in front of and doing sexual things with two complete strangers is uncomfortable, bizarre, and embarrassing for the average woman.

With a satisfied moan, Kidney spurts semen all over her face. Luckily for her, she closes her eyes in time.

While he's recuperating, I make scissors with fingers and put one "blade" in her anus and the other in her vagina. I chuckle when she moans in a whore-like manner.

With a camera zoomed into the action, I thrust my fingers in and out, making sloppy sounds. Once I've filmed enough of that, I lie on the bed on my back.

"Come sit on my lap," I say.

Mrs. Horatay obeys, tired and afraid.

"Show me what you'd do if I was your husband."

She abashedly begins moving her hips, dragging her pussy along my flaccid length to get me hard. Once I'm ready, she lifts herself up, then slowly impales her vagina on my cock. I smirk.

As she rides me, I trail my hands over her thighs and up her tight stomach, to the lovely breasts swaying above me.

I grope them fondly, before leaning up and taking a nipple in my mouth. She moans as my tongue twirls around the soft pink bud.  I suck and clasp her breasts, occasionally nipping with my teeth.

When Kidney comes over, I lie back again and pull her down so that she's lying on my chest. We continue moving together as he spreads her asscheeks.

Mrs. Horatay groans through her teeth, close to my ear, as Kidney pushes his member inside her anus. My dick hardens and twitches inside of her.

"Fuck, she's so tight... and hot," Kidney groans as he struggles to push his cock in and out of her anal cavity. We time our thrusts together. The pressure of his dick on the other side is making her cunt feel even tighter.

"Ahh," I moan. "I'm gonna come again." Mrs. Horatay is whimpering in my ear in pain. There's no way I can hold my come back now that I feel the wetness of her tears on my neck. I cream inside her pussy. Kidney's climax follows soon after.

We put our pants back on. For the final sequence, Kidney gets a vibrator out of his bag.

"Lie back on the edge of the bed and spread your legs," he says to Mrs. Horatay. I lower the height of one of the tripods,  roll it over, and focus the camera on her genitals.

For the next several minutes, Kidney carefully masturbates her. He licks, sucks, and rubs her red little clit while moving the vibrator in and out of her vagina at a steady, moderate pace.

One of the most frequent users on adesireisafulfilled recently left a few comments requesting a "spasm closeup."

So, I guess this is Kidney providing customer satisfaction. Going by what he said earlier, he does plan to get paid, after all.

Kidney finally makes Mrs. Horatay's body climax, forcing a strangled moan from her mouth. I make sure every undulation and twitch of her privates is recorded in perfect focus.

"Alright," he announces once her orgasming has ceased. "That's a rap."

I throw Mrs. Horatay's clothes and a roll of paper towels at her.

"As I'm sure you can tell," I begin as she re-dresses. "Everything that we did has been filmed." She frowns knowingly.

"Can you imagine what would happen if everyone in your life saw this? Your friends, your dad- it could even find the eyes of any future children you might have.

And your husband... some of this looks pretty consensual, you know."

She perks up at that. "Oh yeah," I say, huffing a laugh. "We could only release those parts. Tell me, how good is your relationship with your husband?" I don't wait for an answer before continuing.

"Are you positive he'd take your word that you were forced, against video footage of you on top of me grinding on my dick? Against footage of your pussy spasming in pleasure?"

Her eyebrows are furrowed, and it looks like she's going to be sick. "What do you want me to do?" She questions desperately.

"We want you to keep quiet about this. That's all."

Kidney tosses her the pills and water.

"Is this some kind of birth control?" Mrs. Horatay asks skeptically, examining the bottle.

"Right on. They're good too. Sure to work, with no awful side effects. Take 2 of them," Kidney says.

"No matter how you feel later," I insert, "Be sure to keep on the face you normally wear, and keep up with your usual tasks."

She cautiously twists open the cap and shakes 2 pills into her palm.

"Swig a shot of hard liquor. Sneak a smoke every now and then. Go punch around a bag at the gym. Do whatever you need to do."

Then, I lower my voice. "Just don't let anyone know, or you'll lose everything," I tell her as she swallows thickly.

"Did you know?" I say. "All the cells in our bodies are replaced every 10 years, but we don't say we're new people every 10 years because of that fact.

This is because who we really are is what's inside our hearts. This might sound like bad news for someone like you, so full of pain, shame, and confusion.

But, there are sayings: 'We are who we pretend to be, so we must be very careful what we pretend to be.' And, 'If you gaze into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you.'

If you pretend everything's fine, eventually, it truly will be. The act will transmute from second nature to first before you realize it. And, if you gaze into the abyss of wellness and happiness, those things will reflect back into you."

Mrs. Horatay looks as unconvinced as could be expected, but I go on with the drivel anyway.

"Your heart can be disciplined- molded and changed by your own will. You need only know what your will is. So... do you wish to be a victim?" I ask her.

"Another statistic, a shell being dragged along barren sand through days filled with pity? Do you want to live the rest of your life in the worst moments of your past, with your mind trapped in this bunker forever?"

Her expression is one of disturbance and confusion.

"You might think you have no choice, but that's a lie," I say. "Not everyone who's been belittled must be nothing, and not everyone who's been shoved down must wallow in the mud.

Despite all the media's talk of coming forward and closure, your contentment doesn't have to be chained by being hinged upon things outside of your control. You have the right to live freely from here on out.

You have a right to thrive, to leave the shadows of the past behind in the darkness, and to run straight ahead into the brightness of the future, without inhibition.

Your life is still full of positive possibilities, and the truth is, not a single one can be taken away without your releasing it."

I speak more firmly. "Hanging in the balances now are your marriage, your dignity, and even your identity, because no one would see you the same way if they saw these recordings. You can tip those balances in your favor, easily."

She blinks slowly, clutching her arms with her hands. I let the silence linger for a while until Mrs. Horatay quietly says, "Okay."

I grin, pleased. "I told you didn't I? You're a smart woman."

I actually have no idea what effect these speeches I give have upon the women we rape. They might even be destructive.

All I really need to say is, 'We'll show everyone you know these recordings if you tell anyone about what happened.'

Their minds would do the rest, and do a much better job than I ever could. I guess I just like having someone to rant at for a few minutes.

#kidnapping #crime #filming #movie #homemade movie

[thatweirdmod]

Windowless Moviemaker Chapter 1: Routine

Author: I’m u/thatweirdmod from the explicitliterature subreddit.

STORY:

Windowless Moviemaker Chapter 1: Routine

TWO WEEKS AGO:

I hover behind a nude woman, her head and hands imprisoned inside a pillory. She groans as I stuff a vibrator into her vagina.

"Kidney, are you getting this?" I ask, my voice altered by the voice changing mask over my head.

"Sure thing," he responds with a low chuckle.

He’s standing next to me, naked and fully erect, and holding a video camera. He films me forcing my dick inside the woman’s asshole.

She screams. Must be feeling the skin tearing.

"Oh wow, that's so tight," I moan. I keep going, thrusting in and out as deep and fast as I can manage.

The sensations of the constricting, hot little hole on my dick, combined with the vibrations from the toy on the other side of the flesh wall are arousing beyond belief! I hear her sniffling and crying.

"Quick! Get her face." I tell Kidney, while continuing to anally rape the woman.

"Please, please stop," she begs. In response, I give her cheeks a hard smack and double my efforts of destroying her ass with my cock. "It hurts," she mewls, bursting out in tears.

"Ohhh, that's good. I'm gonna come soon," I grunt. "Shoot her from behind now," I say to Kidney. "Look, her pussy's soaking wet  from the vibrator, and her asshole is all bloody now." Kidney and I both chuckle in satisfaction.

"Damn, that so hot," he says, and zooms in on her privates while they're getting fucked. "I can't help myself," he says, overcome with lust.

Kidney sets the camera up on the tripod, walks to the front of the woman, and grabs a fistful of her hair. "Suck me," he orders, pushing his erection past her lips. "Suck it as far down your throat as it'll go."

She takes him into her mouth, doing her best to service him as her asshole and vagina are ravaged from behind.

"Yeah, there you go," Kidney groans. "Keep your mouth opened wide like that so you don't use your teeth."

He pushes her head further onto his stiff penis. She chokes a bit, but keeps on at the deeper level. "Now that's how a real woman gives head," he says, a smirk in his tone. "This is way better than a school girl."

I rip the vibrator out of the woman's cunt, flinging her juices in the process, then shove my dick inside. "Damn, what a horny bitch," I slap her ass, nice and hard. She cries out, causing her to choke on the dick in her mouth. "I'll cream you nice and good, don’t you worry."

Kidney lets out a high pitched grunt, as he jizzes all over the woman's face. I up my pace, jackhammering in and out of her vagina. On the final thrust, I push my penis in up to my balls release my seed deep inside her.

After Kidney and I have satisfied ourselves, we take the woman out of the pillory, shove her down to the ground, then high five each other.

“Alright!” Kidney says. “We got some great footage tonight.”

"Remember," I tell the woman, smirking under my mask. "We recorded everything on video. Unless you want your friends, family, boyfriend, coworkers, and everyone in between to see it, you'll keep quiet about today."

She nods, sitting limply on the ground with fear quivering in her puffy eyes.

"Just think," I continue for good measure, "Of how humiliating it would be if everyone saw this. You, bent in a pillory, completely exposed with your ass in the air. Pussy drooling all over a vibrator, tits hanging down like cow udders, as you're fucked and molested by two random guys.

That's all anyone would be able to see or think about when they saw you. They'd never forget.

Goodbye friend. Goodbye daughter. Goodbye diligent worker. Goodbye whatever you were before. You'd just be the one that got raped- the victim everyone has to tiptoe around.

I bet you can feel it already, the atmosphere turning heavy, the laughter dying, as soon as you enter the room." The woman stares down blankly as I go on. "Sure, everyone would feel bad for you, but no one would want you.

When you'd be with your man, you'd know what he'd be thinking- that his woman was tainted, covered and smothered by other men. You can feel it, can't you? His fingers holding back, never to truly to embrace you again."

I watch her eyes fill with water. "You're no better than a whore now." I tell her, savoring every word.

The tears stream silently down her face and splatter on the concrete floor of the underground bunker.

"But," Kidney adds in, "No one has to know how dirty and damaged you are. After we let you out, you'll be free. You can return to your life as normal, to the joy and acceptance of your friends and family. So..."

He pauses and tosses a water bottle and a bottle of pills over to her.

"Go ahead and take 2 of those. They'll ensure that you won't have to worry about any pregnancy, and the side effects aren't too bad."

She shakily reaches for them, sniffling.

"Just go about your business as usual," Kidney says to the woman as she swallows the pills. "That way, everything will be alright."

PRESENT:

"'Everything will be alright' huh?" I wonder to myself, as I lean back in my seat and sigh.

Kidney is sitting at desk next to mine. He brushes his sandy brown bangs back from his eyes, as he pretends to focuses intently on the school work before him.

I attempt to begin re-playing another night in my mind, but the teacher's rambling is getting on my nerves. I know it's his job, but I can't concentrate like this. It's so fucking hot too, I think, as I flap my white button up shirt to puff air over myself.

"Jeeto!" The teacher snaps. Finally got enough of my obvious inattention, eh?

"Perhaps you can give us the answer?" He says.

Damn, this is so cliche. I have no idea what he was talking about, besides the basic fact that it must have to do with geometry. There's a triangle on the chalkboard. The annoying, salt 'n pepper haired man in front of me crosses his arms, waiting.

"I... *huge yawn interrupts my sentence* I have no idea, man... sir."

Mr. Simon clicks his tongue, putting his hands on his hips like a sassy bitch.

"Well perhaps you can get an idea in detention, young man."

The students around the classroom chuckle and giggle.

I groan and rake a hand through my mid-length, brown hair. What a waste of my lifespan.

After school finally lets out, a familiar scenario plays out again. It's of me walking slowly, taking in nature under the orange hue of evening, with potato chips and diet soda on my mind. The convenience store close to my house is one of my favorite places in this little secluded town.

Outside, I see Kidney. He's leaning against the brick building eating an ice cream thing from the store. I go over to him.

"Hey," I say.

"Hey yourself," Kidney replies, with the corners of his mouth tugged upwards. "Have you seen the cutie who just moved here yet?"

"Which one?" I ask. "The way I heard it from those gossipy old nags, the new single dad's a pretty fine piece."

"Maybe so. That just explains where she got it from," Kidney says, grinning fiendishly at the thought of the girl as he licks his ice cream.

"You gonna scare 'em off already? They're probably not even done unpacking," I say.

"Hmm, I think I'm gonna do this the nice way," Kidney answers, a plan gleaming in his eye.

He tosses his ice cream stick on the ground, even though there's a bin a few steps away. "You win 2 tickets to Rocket Roller theme park if you're lucky enough to pick the right Creamtastical Pop," he says.

I laugh. "Don't tell me that's actually got you buying 'em everyday."

"Whatever, man."

"You're just part of the 999,999 that beefs up their sales while they give a sliver of that beef to the 1 in 1,000,000 that wins their shitty prize. A literal sucker, 'cause it's ice cream on a stick."

"But," Kidney says as we walk into the store, "I can't help loving consumerist culture. Indulgence is in the air. Besides, Creamtastical Pops really are the bomb."

"Welcome!" The old woman at the counter says. "If it's not our most frequent customers."

I smile back at her and say, "Hey, Roodle."

Yeah, that's her name- Roodle. She's the manager of this permanently under-staffed store. She's here 6 days every week, in a green polo shirt with her gray hair pulled back into a pony tail, running the register and almost every damn thing in between.

Somehow, I imagine myself in her shoes when I'm that age, and I don't have any problem with it.

Even though it's just a convenience store job, I'd say she busts her ass, so I never sneak too much into the pockets of my dress pants when she dashes into the backroom or down an aisle. You could say I've got boundaries with Roodle.

Kidney's over at the freezers, and I see him slip a Creamtastical Pop into his pocket. But he grabs a 2nd one and holds it openly to purchase.

While I peruse the chips selection, he walks behind the counter. He opens the glass door of the cigarette cabinet, takes a carton like it's totally natural, and walks back out, just before Roodle reappears.

I glance between them, a little nervous. I don't want it to get awkward when I come here because my friend got caught stealing, you know? Roodle didn't notice shit, though.

Fucking hell. If I succeed her, I'm gonna install cameras for sure. Corporate would hear a case and a half from me if they protested.

I'm thinking we've mulled around long enough, so I force myself to decide on two bags of chips and go up to pay.

Kidney and I walk together down the sidewalk, as the nostalgic orange glow around us hints at cooling into night. I glance to my left, taking small satisfaction in how the trajectory of my gaze to Kidney's face is at a slight downward angle.

He's double fisting his ice cream bars, biting one then the other. He hums a happy laugh. "The vanilla one is the one I paid for, the angel. And the chocolate one is the devil one, the one I stole."

I watch him devour the two masses of sugar and fat. The Creamtastical Bar is a dessert more multi-faceted than most people. It's an ice cream sandwich coated in fudge, then smothered in whipped cream, then coated in a chocolate, vanilla, or fruit flavored shell, sometimes with a chopped nut finish.

If just one kind wasn't enough to satisfy their loyal customers, the company has made dozens of variations and limited editions. You'd gain a 100 kilos just by trying each of them.

"By the way, when did you start smoking?" I ask Kidney.

"Huh? Never had," he replies. "I just thought I'd try some cigarettes today. I've been pretty stressed out lately. Maybe a nice drag and a hit of nicotine will hit the spot."

"Nicotine's lame," I say. "If you're gonna smoke something, at least go for weed. I hear it comes with less cancer too."

"Well, cigs come with less cops."

"Not necessarily if you steal them."

"Oh please, Jeeto," Kidney says, smiling. "Good ol' Roodle wouldn't call the cops, even if she did catch me. She's a total push-over. A decent apology is all I'd need."

We walk up the incline that goes past the playground. I observe at the worn down swings and other sad looking equipment. Kidney and I used to hang out here a lot as kids.

The place isn't as fun now that the slide is too short to have a real slide down, and the fall from the monkey bars is too low to fear. Though, we still come back to the swings sometimes.

The swings...

I notice a girl sitting on one alone. "Hey, that's her," Kidney whispers, looking past me.

Speak of the devil, we were just going up to her house so I could get my first look around.

"Who's 'her' anyway?" I ask. "You never told me her name."

"Oh yeah. It's Rilla."

I examine her from where I stand, but a ray of sunlight is blocking some important parts of her from view. Thinking, what the hell, I walk off the sidewalk and start across the grass over to her.

Her head is low, auburn bangs hanging over her forehead. She's in thought, maybe, before she notices me and looks up. My heart doesn't skip a beat or anything, but I'm not unhappy.

"Hi," I say cordially.

She stands, giving me a better look at her legs. She's a little short, but they're nicely proportioned. She's in a skirt that stops teasingly just above her knees.

I'm careful to smile with warmth and not pleasure. "My name's Jeeto. I heard you moved into the neighborhood a few days ago."

"That's right," she says, like the kind of person who has to work past their shyness a little for every word. "I'm Rilla... Rilla Arocci."

"Welcome to Grishee Town, Rilla. It's really nice to meet you."

She returns my smile reservedly. "You too, Jeeto."

"I'm from the Fuma household, which I believe is a straight shot down the street from you," I say. "If you ever need anything, I'll be happy help, alright?"

Rilla nods and says, "Thank you."

"Well, I've gotta go now. See you around."

She says goodbye and we wave to each other as I walk off the playground. Instead of continuing up the slope to her house, I turn back to head home. Just as I start to wonder where Kidney went, I see him hiding behind a tree, with two unmarked ice cream sticks at his feet.

"Playing the voyeur on her's one thing," I say to him. "But I was back there too."

"Very funny," he grumbles. "I told you, not so much as a half hour ago, that I was gonna get Rilla. Where do you get off jumping the gun on me?"

I shrug. "I only introduced myself. You could've come and said hi too."

"Dumbass. One guy is bad enough. Two guys approaching a lone girl is only sure to scare her. Women are pretty fragile, and wary like rabbits, you know. It's a pain, but it's true."

"Rabbits are like that because they know there are foxes in the world. Women know that there are men like us."

"So now it's our fault?" Kidney challenges. "We're not out to kill them like foxes, unless they take it to that level themselves. If they'd just give it up, neither party would have these problems."

“But we don’t really want them to just give it up, do we?” I counter.

“Well, half my point still stands,” Kidney insists.

I just shrug again. "Wanna play some Mortal Kombat at my place?"

"Sure, even if we do already know how it's gonna turn out," Kidney says, now smirking. "Kidney wins! Flawless victory. Fatalityyyyy!"

"If you were a Mortal Kombat character," I begin, "What'd your finisher be anyway?"

"I dunno. It'd have to be something where I tore out their kidneys with my bare hands."

By the time darkness has fallen outside my bedroom window, I've thoroughly gotten my ass beat via console.

My knuckles redden as I squeeze my controller in rage- the diet form of hurling the piece of shit at the wall. Kidney can't stop laughing, which is what's really pissing me off.

"Fuck it," I say. "I'm gonna go get something to eat." I leave my bedroom, slamming the door behind myself.

Soon, I'm listening dully to the sounds of the humming microwave, crickets chirping loudly outside, and grease popping on my buffet takeout. I go back upstairs with my food, and find Kidney scrutinizing my shelf.

"You really oughta hide those DVDs we made better," he whispers to me. "You can't just leave them here with all your normal stuff."

"Why not?" I say lackadaisically. "Unmarked, empty looking discs aren't particularly interesting when they're next to a bunch of movies, TV shows, and porn."

Kidney just frowns. "The whole, 'hidden in plain sight' thing is bound to backfire eventually. You live with your mom and kid sister for fuck's sake, and they don't exactly respect your privacy.

Say one of them gets bored, and decides to kill time by having a look through your stuff. After getting through everything else, they might wanna check if there's anything on those unmarked DVDs.

Hell, what if one of them was even looking for an empty DVD to rip stuff onto. They see those, think there's probably nothing on 'em, and that you won't mind if they take one. It'd all be over then."

"Alright, alright," I groan. "I'll put 'em somewhere else. But where?"

"Inside your mattress would be good. You make a hole in it, put the DVDs in the hole, and sew it back as it was. I bet not even cops would find them there."

"The hell?" I question. "Am I supposed to dig them out and put them back like that every time I wanna watch them?"

"No. You burn them onto your computer, and store the videos in an encrypted, hidden folder.

The DVDs are only supposed to be backup storage, in case you have to delete the stuff off the computer, or its hard drive gets corrupted. Things like that."

"All of this sounds like a huge pain," I say as I stuff my face.

"Come on, it's easy," Kidney assures me.

"If it's so easy, then you can do it yourself," I tell him, and plop down onto my twin sized bed. "My computer's password is 'jeetocheeto69365'."

"Isn't that your username on Runescape? You really are careless," Kidney sighs, and logs on.

By the time I finish my dinner, Kidney is still ripping the DVDs onto the computer. I decide to kill time by getting some preparations together.

"We're going to need more animal tranquilizer after this one," I tell him, as I draw the last bit of liquid from a glass bottle into a small syringe. It's your turn to buy it, so order some online soon, alright?"

"Fine," Kidney agrees.

"And hurry up and get done with that already," I say. "I wanna get going to Mrs. Horatay's house soon."

"Why so impatient?" Kidney asks. "We still have several hours of night left before even the earliest risers start getting up. It's actually still a little early."

"Do you even have to ask why I'm impatient?" I ask as I pack rope into a black backpack. "You've seen her too, after all."

Kidney grins. "If I was her husband, I'd hate to have to leave that rack for a boring business trip, on the week of our anniversary, no less. I'll be sure to give her a good titty fucking in his absence."

I laugh. "It's funny how we've never even spoken to the Horatays, but we know all this shit about them. Gossiping housewives are truly a force to be feared. If I ever get married, it'll be to a quiet woman."

Kidney lets out a scoff. "A ring around the finger is like a collar around the neck. I look at it as a symbol of bondage.

We do most things with our hands and fingers, so rings are placed around them to show that everything you do after marriage is under your spouse's control."

"Are you sure you're not just saying that because your dad's a pussy whipped loser?"

"Tsk," Kidney grumbles, as he removes the final DVD from the tray. "Flip your mattress over, will you. It's time to put these away."

I do as he asks, then watch him go to work on hiding the DVDs.

"You're a pretty good seamstress," I remark. "You'll have to give me an embroidery lesson sometime."

"Say what you want, sewing is a useful practical skill, same as cooking. I won't be dependent on some bitch to take care of me," Kidney says.

"Yeah," I agree. "I'm gonna have to know how to close the mattress on my own after we make new movies anyway."

There's a pause before I ask, "How's Krin doing?"

He bristles. "Why should you care about my little sister?"

I sigh, "What's the problem? You're always complaining about how annoying she is. She's a lot like mine." I grin, then say, "I'd be fine with you fucking Sota, you know."

I notice Kidney swallow, then I laugh.

"I know you want to, man. It's totally obvious."

He has no counter to this.

"How about we strike a deal? I'll slip some roofies to Sota, if you do the same with Krin."

"Krin's not annoying all the time," Kidney says softly. "I've talked about how she badgers me into doing homework and chores and takes my stuff without asking. But, I guess I've never mentioned how it really is between us."

I listen with an eyebrow raised.

"In the town we lived in before, our old man had a pretty nasty fall from grace. The folk there were cliquish to begin with, big families rooted in years of tradition.

So, that incident only ensured that we were completely rejected- all of us Bellourds. "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree," they'd say, so the adults didn't want their kids around me or Krin.

Nobody really spoke to us. Even if they didn't understand why, we were just rotten apples to be avoided. Even so, we weren't lonely.

We were able to stay together a lot, because we're only a year apart. Things were nice with just the two of us." Kidney smiles in recollection.

"We played around all time back then: hide and seek in the woods, role playing, a lot made up games too... One day, we decided to play doctor in Krin's room.

I can't remember whose idea it was, but I remember that after she checked my breathing, if behind my ears were clean, and everything else, I ended up lying on the pale gray carpet for a "down there checkup."

After my checkup was over, it was my turn to be the doctor, and do the whole routine on her.

After that time, we'd play doctor every few days. And after a while, the patient started to always end up saying, 'Hurry up and get to the down there checkup.' That eventually became all the doctor game was about.

We didn't know much, except that it felt good, and that we didn't wanna get caught doing the down there checkups.

Over time though, we stopped bothering to call them checkups, or asking, 'Wanna play doctor?' We'd just go into a bedroom, close the door behind ourselves, and touch each other.

We didn't stop, even after our family finally got enough money to move here, and we both made other friends. And one time back in junior high, our parents went on vacation.

We had a long day of doing whatever we wanted around the house, got tired, crashed on the couch, and turned the TV on to some lame channel.

I got hard, which wasn't unusual when we were alone, but this time we both felt it was different.

Now, we had all the time in world to go as far as we wanted. That day, when we lost our virginities together, is the most cherished memory I have.

It was amazing, almost heavenly. I'd never felt that close to anyone before. I felt so warm and complete- so happy and at home.

Even now, the honest moments between me and Krin are the most precious things to me. I'm not ready to accept any other man into the picture, Jeeto."

I sigh, "But any other woman is fine?"

"What I do with those other women isn't like what me and Krin have together. They're nothing," Kidney says.

"Krin would be nothing to me, and as for her, she wouldn't even know who it was. That's hardly getting into your precious picture, then, is it?"

"But Krin is something!" Kidney says emphatically. He then reins himself in. "I just don't want anyone doing her that way. End of discussion. I'm going back to my place to change and pick up my bag."

"Alright," I say lazily. "But you know, for someone who I thought hated women, you've got an annoying soft spot for one."

"Meet you at Mrs. Horatay's house," he says.

I watch his back with narrowed eyes as he leaves, wondering if Krin's little pussy would feel as "heavenly" for me if I forced her down on her knees and fucked her.

If and when that happens, I'll let her know that she has her brother to blame the most.

I might have let this go if Kidney didn't make such a big deal about it. But he just made her forbidden fruit, and a woman should understand, how a forbidden fruit is more enticing than all the others in the garden.

#video recording #crime

[thatweirdmod]

Riding Wild 1: Easy Pickings

"Roger!" A man in dirt-caked jean overalls called out to his boy, who was saddling a horse.

"You'd better not be goin' nowhere the state that tool shed is in," he warned.

Anger flashed across Roger's gaunt, dark features. "I swept it up already, Pa."

"The hell ya did," he scoffed. "Get yer hide back and clean it up," Pa commanded with a wave of his hand. His son sighed, and started back towards the shed.

"When you leave later, swing by the general and pick me up some of them fat cigars."

Roger nodded, and started to pass, but Pa's firm, rough hand took hold of his shoulder. The man pulled him back in front of him.

"Hey, now you look a man in the eye when he's talkin' to you." Roger lifted his eyes to his father's face, a red, mottled thing that he'd come to despise.

"You been runnin' with those Tarrey boys agin?" Pa asked.

"No sir."

Faster than Roger could blink, the back of the older man's hand smashed his left cheekbone. He staggered back, clutching his throbbing face.

"Some son of mine- lyin' bandit!" Pa shouted angrily. "You know," he said with a mean scowl, "if blight was not disposed to strikin' this here farm, I'd've taken another wife. A real woman, who could'a had me a dozen sons. Then, you'd be feedin' corn." He turned and walked off, spitting in the weeds on his way back to the house.

Roger went to the shed, and saw a farmhand finishing up some chores nearby. He approached the other boy, and slipped him a buckaroo to be done with the petty task. Then, it was straight back to his prized horse, Red Jerry.

He rode out of the village area and over the open countryside. The sun was finishing its evening, but for the sake of secrecy he brought no lantern. Roger and the fellers had scouted a new house some miles down the Worshaw River from their base in Forland, and it was there that he now headed.

Rog was joined on the way by Darl and Kane, a ready pair of brothers about his age. "The others already down there?" he asked.

"Beats me," Kane replied, running a hand through his shaggy light hair.

"Don't matter," Darl said. His shoulder-length brown hair blew back from his round, stubbled face as his horse galloped forward. "Hell, it's just womenfolk anyhow. I hope Lorm and Tampie don' show."

"Well then you should'nt've told 'em now, should yah have?" Roger said. "We'd have one woman each with no need for sharin'."

Darl smiled, "True's that!"

"'No sharin'?" Kane objected. "Well hows I supposed to try 'em all, then?"

"Just hope yah snatch up the right one at first," Roger said.

"It ain't about best, it's about varieteh," Kane said.

"Maybe Kane should'a been born to your kin, Rog," said Darl. "Lord knows he loves to spread his seed."

"Hey now, with a sack this big, it wouldn't be right not to share," Kane said generously.

The house came into view. It was a neat keep nestled in trees and shrubs. The fellers reigned up a little ways from the place.

"Aww shit, here we go!" Kane whispered excitedly, as they hitched their horses in the trees.

Darl said, "Alright, Lorm and Tampie have five minutes to get their asses down here 'fore we move in. Hey, you bring rope?"

Roger lighted from Red Jerry and patted the saddle bag at the horse's side. "I never leave without it."

The clops of horses came down after them. Rog peeked out to make sure it was friends. Yep- tall, black-haired Lorm on his pale Moonshine, and Tampie on his speedy Night Strider, with a hood covering his firey locks.

"I lay first claim on the younger daughter," Lorm said by way of greeting.

"The hell you do!" Darl protested. "Last one I wanted yah snatched and right loosened up before me."

"I had my eye on her first anyhow," Lorm dismissed.

"If the two of you keep bickerin' on, I might just get 'er myself. Come on," Roger said, advancing on the house.

"Tampie, Lorm, get the back door would yah?"

The rest of the group went to front door. It was an ordinary wooden slab with one measly lock. At Rog's first ramming, a frightened yelp went off from inside. He rammed the door again, and it flew open, spewing splinters.

The widow's curly dark hair bobbed as she dropped her cup of tea. Its shattering on the ground seemed to startle her even more.

"W-w-who are you?" she stuttered out.

Darl laughed, and Roger answered her as they entered. "Prolly yer worst nightmare."

Banging sounded from the back of the house- the other boys coming in.

"Please," the short, plump woman cried, "don't hurt us. Take whatever you want."

"Will do," Rog said.

She wailed in terror as he proceeded to seize her by the arm, and smash her against the cabinets. She began to slide to the floor limply, but he snagged her by the collar and doubled her over his knee, bashing her back with his fists. She groaned with each blow.

"Easy, Rog," Kane said. "I'd like some life left in 'er when I get to it."

"Aww, bug off," Roger said, still punching and kicking the crying woman.

Some shrieks of, "Noo!" and "Let me go!" further into the house told them that the other boys had found the widow's daughters.

Roger took out his hunting knife and cut the mother's dress off. She desperately flailed against him in an effort to escape. He pulled his hand back and smacked her across the face. He spun her 'round as she stumbled back, and filled his hands with her fat, drooping tits. Tears trickled down the widow's reddened face as her breasts were yanked and slapped at by a strange man.

He tore away the rest of the fabric that covered her body, latched his hand around her neck, and shoved her down over the stove. She groaned in horrified agony as the skin on her breasts seared. It was still hot, probably from when she made that tea.

He pressed down on her harder still, lined up proper behind her ass, and unbuttoned his pants. He stuffed his prick inside her sloppy twat and began pounding her from behind.

While the mother was moaning like a whore from Roger riding her over the stove, Darl and Lorm were dragging one of her bawling daughters out from a bedroom. The girl's clothes had been torn open, her breasts and upper thighs exposed as the boys tugged and shoved over her like a couple of dogs over a bone. They looked ready to come to full blows, pretty thing that she was.

Tampie and Kane were getting along better. They had the other one pinned to a bed and on her back. Tampie held her struggling legs apart and forced himself on her. The girl's unwilling cunt clenched tightly around his cock, but this only made him go at her even more roughly. The hard length that he fucked her with grew from a nest of bright orange hair, more garish than the more muted ones that topped his freckled head.

Kane occupied the other end, digging the edge of his knife into the dame's throat as she sucked his manhood. Her puffy eyes poured tears down into the spread of lush, wavy hair beneath her. Kane shoved his dick deeper down her throat, and she gagged on the cock in her inexperienced mouth.

Roger finished with the mother, and floored her with a cracking punch to the head. He left her sprawled on the kitchen floor, not conscious enough to find a covering for her burnt nipples, or to wipe the semen leaking from the ruined cunt between her splayed legs.

In the family room, Darl held the younger sister's hands above her head and used her. Her small, pert breasts bounced as he pumped his dick in and out of her pussy with wet slaps. Darl smirked down at the lass with enjoyment as he plowed her, her exquisite face tight with pain and stained with tears from her blue eyes.

His pleasure was disturbed, however, when Lorm grabbed him by the back of his coat and threw him off. "You've had more than enough of a turn, I'd reckon!" Lorm said irritatedly. The girl started scrambling to her feet, but he grabbed her.

He shoved her back onto the ground as Darl stumbled backwards into a shelf. Lorm twisted the crying young girl onto her stomach and mounted her. He held her thin arms pinned to the wooden floorboards, but her legs kicked up in a frenzy.

"Settle!" Lorm yelled. "You kick me one more time I'm gonna shove this pistol up yer ass."

She submitted, sniffling, and the black-haired feller continued reaming her with his thick cock. He was mid-thrust when Darl returned, and knocked him hard on the side of his head. Lorm rose, riled, with a hand clutching his drawn pistol. He wound his arm back and struck down at the other boy.

Darl dashed to the side, missing the butt of Lorm's gun, and caught the girl, who was trying to break off at their scuffle."Yer a wild one ain't ya?" Darl said in her ear, as he constrained her against his body and groped her chest and nether parts lustfully.

"Let go! Don't touch me!" she screamed, hitting at him and trying to squirm out of his arms.

Lorm's pistol clicked as he cocked it. "I said settle down! Don't think I won't shoot right through the both of yah."

Kane stepped out, buttoning his pants, the other sister's weeping leaking from the bedroom behind him. "Gentleman, what is all this ruckus?"

"Lorm's been vyin' for my girl agin," Darl accused.

"She ain't your girl," Lorm said angrily.

"Well regardless of whose she is or whose she ain't, neither of you's gonna get 'er you keep this up," Kane said. "Why don't we let the lady choose?" He turned to look at the shaking dame in Darl's grip. "Well missy, who fucks you first?" he asked, sneering.

She looked between them frightfully, but answered nothing. "Oh, come now," Kane wheedled. "The longer the matter stays unsettled the longer this's gonna take."

The girl swallowed, her eyelashes fluttering as she looked at the ground.

"This's bullshit," Lorm growled. "I laid first claim. You all heard me."

He stepped forward to take the lassie again, but Darl quickly pushed her aside, and met Lorm's stride with a fist to his face. Lorm staggered back, spitting blood. "Oh you son'uva bitch!" He shouted with the wetness of injury, and barreled towards Darl. "Come'ere yah little shit!" Darl side-stepped his charge and crumpled him with a kick to the shin.

Lorm clambered up and took hold of Darl, grappling him to the floor. Kane had taken advantage of their nonsense to take the girl for himself. While the other boys beat and cursed each other, he forced the object of their inflammation down over a kitchen chair and fucked her sweet pussy hard as he could, until he erupted and covered her ass with his come.

Darl and Lorm paid no attention still when Roger came back from looting one of the rooms and tied the girl, hands to the chair, ankles to the table, and had his way with her as well.

"Good-ness," Kane sighed as he watched them. "They're even worse'n usual."

Roger hefted his sack over his shoulder. "I'm gonna take this out to the horses. There's still a lot more booty here needs cleanin' out."

When the brawl between the boys had finished, Darl was crawling away feebly, with a large red bruise bashed into his temple, and Lorm was banging the girl.

Roger loaded up Red Jerry with the pickings, good ones. He'd interrogated the mama while he worked her over, and had gotten her to spill about the money safe.

He'd cleaned every penny out, and imagined how, when her husband's body withered and lost the strength to support his family and even his own vital organs, he must have entrusted much of the future to that box.

Rog, promising mercy for her daughters, had coerced the widow into telling him where those shiny heirlooms were too, and he'd swiped them from under the bed she once shared with her man.

Despite the success, Roger had a uneasy feeling. He went back into the house, and a reason struck him.

"Where's the woman's older daughter?"

"Must be in the room back there," Tampie answered through a mouthful of cookies. "That's where I left 'er."

Roger walked up to the bedroom and peered in. The cool night breeze would have been pleasant if it were not in the context of the window being wide open and the girl missing. "Fuck!" Roger shouted, kicking the door frame.

"What?" Some of the others questioned.

"The damn girl's missin'."

The group of fellers snapped to attention, cursing.

"What? This ain't the first time this's happened," Roger complained with some snarkiness. "I bring rope along for a reason yah know!" he hollered.

"Well, shit," Kane sighed. "You know where she went?"

"My guess is down the road to the nearest help," Roger groaned. "We gotta git now. Lorm, Tampie, you go up 'round the bend and keep an eye out for her. Watch the woods too. Kane and I'll go down the other way. And Darl," he addressed the boy slumped over the table, "you get the mama hogtied 'n finish up here."

Darl lifted his aching body up, and the rest of the fellers stormed from the house, got on their horses, and cut through the night after the escaped girl. He roped up the still barely cognizant widow. Her daughter watched in fear as he dragged her mother over to the table that she was bound to.

"Please don't hurt mama," she mewled.

Darl ignored her, and began stuffing her family's most valuable possessions into bags. He went outside, ladened Brown Streak with all the horse could carry, and dumped the rest on the ground, hopefully to be picked up by the other boys if they could return.

Then, Darl fetched the gas can from his horse. The girl's whimpering and pleading rose as he walked back, boots clopping along the floor with set purpose.

"Sorry dame," Darl told her with a smirk as she looked up at him with red eyes. "You're not temptin' me to spare yah." He popped open the container and hefted it up.

"Stop it, please!" she screamed, fighting against the ropes as he began pouring the gasoline over her back. Choking fumes quickly filled the space.

"I know all too well that beauty's only skin deep, and fading," he said.

The mother started coming to. "Just in time," Darl announced, and kicked the woman over. He drenched the curly-locked widow's face with gas. She wailed and sputtered as the pungent liquid burned her eyes and poisoned her mouth. Darl laughed heartily.

"Aww, ain't nothin' like the smell of fresh gasoline. The blood of flames!" he exclaimed.

He splashed and spilled all throughout the house, humming out of tune with the victims' horrified screeches as he went.

Darl finished his rounds back at the table. "Any last words?" he hollered over their cries of "Please!" and "Don't!" and "We'll do anything!"

"Don't kill mama and Beth. Please, please don't," the girl begged, her final, desperate tears squeezing from her eyes.

"Mm-hm," Darl nodded as he produced a pack of matches from his jacket. "And you, madam?" he asked the mother, chuckling at the way her face contorted as she tried and failed to blink the painful toxin from her eyes.

"You can take everything," she moaned, overwrought. "But let us keep our lives at least. I swear, we'll go far away, and we won't tell a soul about this. Please."

"'Course you'd tell," Darl scoffed. "'Sides, I like the thought of you blackenin' along with yer house. I've always liked that kinda thing," he said, draining the rest of the gas as he walked away. Their sobs were as broken as the front door he stood at while he struck his match.

Darl tossed the small flicker of doom down from his fingertips. He watched, mesmerized, as the wet trail flared up and flew across the wood. He listened, and relished the moment when the blaze caught the women. Nothing before had reaped those screams from them. There was nothing quite like fire.

It wasn't long Roger and Kane had ridden before they spotted the older girl, scrambling up the dusty road with her clothes in disarray and her wavy dark hair tousled. Roger rode down the lass and leveled his shotgun at her.

She screamed, "Somebody! Help! He-" The booming blast fired off, and pellets ripped apart her head, which sprayed in bloody clumps and pieces. Her headless body fell forward into the dirt.

The boys slowed. Kane dismounted, and dragged the body into the bushes. Blood poured from the remains of her neck, and left a fresh red trail across the road. The orange glow in the distance caught Roger's attention. "Shit," he said. "We gotta get back, git the stuff 'n get outta here."

Kane hastily kicked dirt over the blood, then ran back over and hoisted himself onto his horse. "Hope Lorm and Tampie heard the shot and started back to the house already."

The pounding in the ground and huffs of horses made Darl start. He turned back to the darkness to see four mounted figures approaching, thank goodness. He'd been in a warm daze, like, and only remembered now that the fire would attract other people.

"Load up the horses. Quick!" Roger said, reigning up sharply.

Flames from the house lapped out at the surrounding foliage. Liking the taste of the new fuel, they devoured more, crackling. "Yah! Yah!" Lorm hollered, putting his heels to Moonshine.

The group kicked off in a flurry of dust, but Darl lingered back atop his horse, and watched as a roiling inferno grew from the house.

He thought about the two women inside, their flesh turning to black crisp and ash on their cracking skeletons. His bruised head throbbed in the heat. Maybe he should've made the beauty suck his cock before she turned to nothing. Too bad. He sent Brown Streak into a gallop to catch up with the others.

#western #gang #crime #idiots

[thatweirdmod]

Sainwell and Iglair PART 6 END

Love is over.

I'm  sitting in the lawn chair on my porch again, the cool beer in my hand dangling from my fingertips idly. I'm staring ahead blank-faced. I   observe the worn down homes and trailers beyond my soggy, green patched lawn, the grey sky above them, the bright light cracking through as if through broken glass.

I see it. I  lift the can to my mouth, sensitively aware to everything about it- the  uneven weight due to its half emptiness, the sharpness of the opening,  the uncomfortable wetness of the drop of beer on the opening as I place  my mouth to it again.

I take one  last sip, and throw the can across the yard, watching some of the beer  spill. I rub the bits of stubble on the face that I haven't shaved for  two days.

I'm set to meet Iglair  in 15 minutes. We're just supposed to hang around in the arse of town,  maybe find some smellies to abuse. I don't know though. No matter how  hard I work to clean up the trash around here, when I look around, it's  still piled around me.

Bash one's  brains, but there will still be a town full of them, loitering, consuming, existing when they ought not to. A gun is what I need-   something automatic, specifically. "Charity begins at home." That sentence is vaguely comforting to me. Step by step, I'll start small and close.

I  rise, and gather my things. You know what those are by now, but if not,  you can make an educated guess. I walk, half dragging myself to the  shortcut through the forest, where Iglair will likely meet me halfway.

Sure  enough, there he is. Poor observational skills as usual- he doesn't  notice me approaching. My dead, red-eyed stare pierces his casual form  from behind.

I take my knife, and slice his throat before he can fully turn. Sweet red blood pours from his open throat like a decadent wine. Fool. How dare he look at me with that shock, almost like he's accusing me of a betrayal of sorts.

He  gags, coughs, and chokes on his flowing blood, hands clutching his   neck- helplessly, as if he could stanch the pouring. The slice parts and closes as he makes gulping and gurgling sounds. Is he attempting to swallow, I wonder?

I  myself wouldn't be able to fully understand the look I know he sees on  my face, in my eyes. He crumples to the ground. His blood soaks into the decaying leaves and fertilizes the dirt beneath him. Here he is, his final, gasping breaths sopping with thick, red blood.

He is pathetic, a victim and a cancer at the same time. This is not a paradox, because Iglair is just a human, just a notably terrible one. This whole  time, I hated him. He was disgusting. It sickens me to even call him  sad, like he invokes any sympathy.

Who  was he, pretending to be some sort of superior predator alongside me? There is little difference between us and the so-called sheep in the   end. The difference is only positive for.. do you remember it, the   creature that has been reduced to skulking about on the edges of its   raped forest?

It has already been made so that happiness is barred, at least partially, by our very   nature. I expose parts of that fact. I'm honest in the areas where   others choose blindness, but the price I've paid is blindness in the   areas where others can see.

This   place is nothing if not balanced. I'm no scientist, but if you've also   read the science and behavior of electrons, atoms, and pressure, you   will understand. Where else does that science apply?

I  release a deep sigh. Iglair is no more. His legacy is nothing but a   sack of bloody flesh. No more giggling girls will follow him, no more of  his ignorant, idiotic smirks, no more of the weight of having a   companion at my side, no more of his hypocrisy, no more arrogance.

I stand there for a while. It almost embarrasses me to move, but I know I'll have to eventually. Bastard-  me this time. Then I smirk. I know a guy who sells drugs around here, and I've come into quite a collection from the bums I've been killing. I'll redeem the drugs for money today.

I  have a little bit of blood on me, but he'll overlook it with the   discount he's getting my meth and heroin for. The guy's place probably   what you have in mind- worn down, concrete, dirty, and graffitied on the  outside, and cluttered with bottles and other crap on the inside.

"What?", the thirty-something year old waste of scraggly hair asks me at the door. "Product", I respond. He nods, and steps aside for me to come in. I present him with a bag of drugs prolly about 1 pound. "Can I get $20 for these?"

"If you wanna sell yourself short, sure", he says with a light chuckle.

"It doesn't matter. I mainly want to get rid of them easily. The drugs weren't my main target."  His face sobers a bit at this. Yeah yeah, he doesn't understand me,   thinks I'm a creep. Whatever. Why the fuck's he getting serious anyways?  I've done this 10 times before.

"Hang on a sec",  Richard says. He goes to the back, to his bedroom, to get the money.   He's returning. I wonder if he noticed that my hands are casually in my pockets now? When he's close, stretching out his hand with the cash, I whip my hand out of my right pocket, and slash his throat like a pro   with the knife it's now holding.

He  makes a gurgling sound of surprise and fear. His eyes are wide, and his  blood splatters onto me, and the 20 dollar bill, unfortunately likely  rendering it ruined. I'm sure he has much more around here though, along  with the things that I actually came here to get.

This  jackass, or former jackass, was bragging to me one day, waving around an AR-15 and other mainstream, infamous weapons of semi-auto   destruction. He used them to rule the block. Now I will use them to kill  the block. *Sigh*, why do I even try? I sound like a lamer version of the MC of Hatred.

I  tear through his drawers, search underneath his bed, and any cranny I think he could be hiding money in. After a half hour, I've come up with  $2000 cash, loads of ammo, two trusty big boy guns, and one pistol. I brought my extra large bag today, so I can stash everything in there,   and go back out on the street looking only like some weird twat hauling around too much stuff.

I walk down  the street, eyeing the bums and other disgusting people I pass by. I  would like to start gunning these people down, but do I really want to  be caught and stopped having only killed trash that was already prime  for pick-up by someone else? There are better locations. I'll have to  choose wisely.

Let's see.  There's the downtown shopping area with the despised burger joints, the  residential areas, and of course, the classic school. Might I just comment that no one seems to know how to do a school shooting properly.

For  the amount of ammunition, and the vulnerability of the targets, few are  actually killed. If the droves run away from me, I will empty my gun  into the crowd and watch as many fall as possible. I won't fuck around,  picking off randoms and missing 90% of the time. Kill like you mean it  at least!

Even the infamous  Columbine shooting is no exception. With the amount of ammo, and the  quality of the weapons that the killers had, many more than 13 could  have been killed. It's like they shot for the stars, wanting to and  having the equipment to kill hundreds, probably, but they ended up fucking around and shooting the ground.

They  sucked at building bombs too. They should've known that those barely   tested, plain bombs would fail them. Fools, in many ways than just their  failure at what they're so remembered for. Hah, they didn't even kill those jocks they hated so much.

To  think there are idiots falling on their rotten cocks when they all did  such sorry jobs. They were crazy and stupid, too. Maybe I'm getting too  cocky, though. There's only one way to find out if I'll fair any better  generally speaking, but I promise you this: I'll act with much more  purpose and precision than any of them did.

Ah,  how could I forget. There are four guys at school who like to rough me  up. I've had a lot on my mind, and getting beaten is just a regular part  of my schedule. So I've got a plan forming: start with revenge, then  work my way down in the public spaces.

And  to start with revenge, I need to start with my dad. I head home, and   dump all the stuff I got back in my room. Hopefully no one will trace   Richard's murder back to me until earliest the day after tomorrow. I   strip down to my undershirt and boxers, and hop into bed. My alarm is   set for 1:00 AM, a half hour before I can expect my dad back tonight.

After  waking, I sit on my bed waiting with a half-finished beer. Sure enough,  I hear the door banging open at 1:32 AM. I hear his familiar footsteps  walking past my room into the bathroom. I walk out, and stand next to  the door with a knife ready in my hand. When the door opens, I waste no  time in stabbing the figure that presumes to step forth.

"Blerghhh!",  he gurgles in reply. Blood pours from the stab wound in his lower neck  as he looks at me when confusion and fear. It takes another several   seconds of throat clenching and him staring at my cold face before   understanding and indignation register in his age-murkied, alcohol   reddened eyes. He dies as he lived- in anger and ignorance.

I  realized now that I should've waited for him to settle down in a chair  for supper instead of killing him where his fat, dirty body will be   blocking the bathroom doorway. I'll also have to sidestep a huge mess of  blood if I wanna shit in there.

I  killed him well though, and the relief this has provided me is worth   celebrating over the petty regrets. My name is Sainwell, said like "sane  well". But I am neither sane nor well, it seems. What was I going to do  after this? Ah yes; go to school in the morning, with my oversized bag  and no books.

I try some of my dad's whiskey. Hmph,  it's too strong and bitter for my tastes. Should I be embarrassed to   admit that? Sleep comes easily. On the walk to school, I realize how   empty this place is becoming.

Iglair,  and the two giggling bitches who used to curse us with their unwelcome  company, Brownie and Airey, are dead. This is the first time I've really  noticed the benefits and effects of my work. I could almost cry. I've  never been proud of myself before, and this is the closest I've come to  it.

I arrive at school, and begin  to place my marks. I'll start outside during lunch, when those four  assholes who beat me everyday over by that fence will be expecting their  toy to show up.

I wait around the corner, burglar's mask covering my face. The troglodytes start lining up, but of course, they don't see me. "Where's that little creepy loser at?", one asks. "He  thinks he's being smart by being a no-show? That was the obvious   solution from the start, but we'll give him double when we catch him   next", another responds. So on the trolls grunt, laugh, and rave, until I've gotten my gun out, and have heard enough.

I  swing out, and fire into the lot of them. Screams and yells of shock   and horror rise from their midst as bullets cut through the air and   strike through the worthless sacks of flesh, bone, and liquid. I cap   down one who's trying to escape, and finish off the others with several bullets to the chests and heads.

I  go over the wannabe escapie with the shot leg, and blow a hole clean   through his head and out his eye. Glorious gore, brains, and blood are   revealed and splattered. Skull fragments are blown about.

Shouts  of alarm are starting up in the main part of the school. I have to   hurry. I slip over the fence, and wait around the wall for evacuating   students to cluster at the entrance. They're familiar with this type of thing, so they're just gonna gtfo. I hope no one sees me.

Once  I'm satisfied with the crowd. I fire into it. And it is wonderful.   Screaming, blood spraying, bodies falling, destruction. I can't go back and finish everyone, but hopefully I hit enough vitals to at least get a  better fatality rate than losers like Klebold, Harris, and Cruz. Okay,  maybe not Cruz (bitch with his 17 fatalities), but to make up for it, I  have to get down to the burger joint quickly.

I  cut through the woods. There are shouts behind me. Someone's probably suspicious and coming after me, even though I hid the weapon. I make it  into downtown, and run down the street as fast as I can in my burglar's  mask. I'm doing this for and with everything I have, so appreciate it.  People are getting rattled up, but I made it in time. God, I made it in time!

I  enter the burger shop, this hateful place that stinks of grease and the  BO of selfish blobs. This hateful place where ungrateful, miserable  employees in stained, greasy clothes and unwashed hats fill out the   orders of an even more despicable populous. This place that embodies the  concrete that smothered the creature's home, and devours all within a trillion mile radius.

My friend,  I am here again, feeling every movement and thought in slow-motion as I  pull my gun out and fire into these disgusting, short-sighted,   arrogant, self-satisfied pricks.

I'm  blocking the exit that the customers would use, but what of the one in  the back, that those slimy distributers of filth and socially acceptable  rape and agonizingly slow annihilation will use to escape the wrath  being dealt? Yeah, bitch, I'm talking about the employee exit or  something. Well, I've already blocked the door, so voila!

Bang bang bang bang bang!!!

Oohh,  one of the fat pigs just tried to come past me directly. Down he goes onto the dirty floor, to lie in his own fat and blood, until someone   picks him up and carries him off to mourn the end of his worthless life.

They're  hiding behind the counter. I hear some idiot talking to the police. I rush over and shoot her in the head, right through the phone she's   holding to her ear! She's goes dead and blank-eyed. Dark, sticky red   pours through the hole in her phone. It falls from her limp hand.

Other  women are wailing and screaming at the death of this worthless and   awfully annoying woman. I shoot them too. I bet they've never been   quieter in their lives. "I just did you all a favor", I shout to the rest of the "restaurant". "Now you won't have to hear those shrill, stupid, irritating voices anymore!"

Cries  of accusation, disgust and pleading rise from the remaining fools   behind the counter. I gun the rest of them down, and head into the   kitchen. "You're all FIRED! Get it?"  I kill the employees that are there. One falls over, bleeding all over  an unfinished burger and knocking over a condiments container. The   kitchen is as dirty as one might imagine. I shake my head in disgust.

The  blue-baptized army of justice is arriving, but I can't die in here. So I  run. I run as fast away as I can. They're shooting at me, but by the  justice that once roamed the free land, the wind allows my escape. The  birds' honor gives my feet flight into the woods. I kneel, panting, with  one of the big boy guns in hand.

The  voices of the concrete monster behind me disturb and echo through what  should be peaceful air and atmosphere, seeking more blood and   retribution for "tragedy". How strange and sad that the grey monster   knows NOT that it is the bringer of the greatest tragedy. It's   brainwashed itself into thinking itself handsome. Even as it looks into the mirror in the place of cleansing, it sees not the reflection.

And now I have to die to the ringing of its voice? Beggars can't be choosers, though, and I'm far from an innocent. Here I take the life which I gave, and pull the trigger.

A  bullet blasts through my chin, up through my tongue, thunders through my brains, parting them with explosive intensity, and finally, goes out  through the top of the inside of my skull, leaving a hole in my plain, light brown hair.

#finale #suicide #crime #crazy

[thatweirdmod]

Sainwell and Iglair PART 5

The time for the "good life" to end is now.

I get a message from Iglair an hour after plopping down. I read the black bits of pixelated text from my bright white screen, "I'm ready to do the black-haired chick." it says.

"You don't even know her name, when everyone says you two are cute together?"

"I know her name, but I know that you don't, Sainwell."

That's  true. I've been so caught up in my hatred and spite of her that I never  bothered to pay attention to the basic  things, though I did pay attention to the character that she plays. "Her name is Airey."

"Wtf", I respond to Iglair.

"Yep, kinda weird, but that's besides the point. You ready now?"

"I'll get there when I get there."

"K."

I  shut off the bulky beige machine that runs the best legal parts of my life. I go over to the mini fridge I bought just for personal effects, like the second beer I'm pulling out. I crack open the can, loving the fizzle and the creamy head. I suck down the cold contents gratefully.

Truly,  there is a pleasure in life aside from what I'm about to partake in. I  close my eyes,wondering just where any of this is going. Where am I going?, I wonder.

If it ever gets to hard, I'll find respite in the same place as my "victims". Victims.  I've snuffed out the grey lives that they lived in this grey world,   though it was not my choice to make. I should just take it out on   myself, I guess, but for some reason I won't, not yet anyway. I   eventually will, won't I.

Does she deserve this or not? The obvious answer would be "Of course not!"  But, we're all filth in some way. What, or who will really miss her.   This planet has been carved out around her and us for the purpose of   pleasure and selfishness. She will be my pleasure, and Iglair's. What's really wrong with that? Am I a fucking nihilist?

I  can tell right from wrong, sure, but somehow philosophy always raises questions- disgusting questions that I need God to answer.

I  shake my head free of the swarms of filthy, other-worldly insect-like beasts that threaten my way of life, and whatever right of life I still  delude myself into thinking I have. I take another deep glug of my beer.  The drink is the closest thing I would call a friend, but I've   forgotten about Keltcher outside, haven't I?

I  walk, staggering a bit, over to my dresser. I pull down my pants and   briefs. Hmm, should I go with the white briefs, or the blue boxers? Blue  boxers might be better for the occasion. I change into them, and put on  a fresh white t-shirt, dark blue hoodie, and black jeans.

My light brown hair is tussled a bit, I notice, when I see my reflection in the mirror. So that's me, huh? Who is that, and why?

But  I'll scare myself if I think too hard, so I just pack my tools into my  backpack: a flashlight, tape, ropes, a crowbar, a couple of those nice  engraved pocket knifes you're wondering why I like to make a point of mentioning, hmm, what else? Ah yeah, I'll bring this hatchet, and   condoms, I guess, also a lighter, some lighter fluid. Damn, my bag is   getting packed, and you can bet Iglair is already bringing a lot of the same stuff.

I pack latex gloves, clothes, pliers, an iron bar, and a hammer as well. The shed is already  stocked with our stuff. I guess I've known Iglair for a while, which is  strange, since I can't say I like him that much.

That  used to be our "secret base". The term is so normie that it makes me   cringe, like we were rough, freckle-faced young bastard boys who shared titty mags there, or some shit. We were a little different, is all I can  assure you.

I finish off the cold, creamy beer, and quickly replace it with an ale, you know,   something a little more substantial, hard hitting, pointed. I'm getting drunk, huh? Aren't I? I don't think I've ever gone out for a killing   this inebriated before. I should probably stop, unless I want to find   myself unable to perform. I feel like a drink when I think about that   bitch, though.

*Sigh*, I'm so damn tired. Won't someone take it all away? Oh wait, Chester Bennington already said that, "I'm sick of feeling. Is there nothing you can say? Take this all away..." I find myself mumble singing the lyrics, like a stupid bum you'd see staggering down a sidewalk, stinking up the public space.

I  can't count on anyone taking it away for me. I'll have to face it   myself, like he did. Anyway, this is today, and that's another day,   right?

I'm half-way through the   ale. Iglair is probably wondering where I am and what I'm doing now. I   don't know how far he's started already. Will I be there too late, or at  a time where I'll think, "Glad I didn't have to be here for the setup." *Siiiigghhh*, *yawn*, I bore you, yeah? It's fine, I'm boring myself, too.

I  slip on my tennis shoes, admiring how good a job I did cleaning the   stench and blood of the hobo couple from them. The memories of their   stench mixed with iron-laden blood makes my beer-full stomach turn-   better change my mind's channel.

I drag myself out of the door. "Dammit!",  I mumble, then do a quick double back inside for my burglar's mask. I don't know exactly where my dad is, maybe at the bar or working late. He  has friends, unlike me. I wonder how that's like. Whatever. I don't know or care if I'm lonely, and I'm too lazy anyway. It'd be pathetic, too, even for me. I can be pathetic in other ways, just not like that.

Keltcher's taking a nap in his dog house. Sweet boy.  I know that's not completely true, but let me imagine, just for now,   but I know I'll keep imagining tomorrow and the day after that too. I   run down the sidewalk through the cool air. Today isn't freezing like   before, but it's crisp, I guess. Why do I use gentle words like that?

I  cut through the forest, trees and bushes, jogging until I reach a spot  that's more the middle of somewhere than nowhere than anyone could   understand. I see the old shed. It's still intact for the most part.   Iglair has probably set the chains in order, and cleared up a little.

I  approach and enter with a sigh flowing through my dry lips. Sure   enough, Iglair turns to me. I can tell he's dulled also. His childlike   excitement has somehow been evaporated. He looks sexier like this,   slightly serious, but keenly after pleasure. It goes well with both the darkness of his black hair, and his blue eyes.

The  black haired girl is kind of out of it, drugged for a somewhat special  occasion. She hanging up by chains around her ankles and wrists. It will  be a long night, if we have the heart for it.

"After this", Iglair begins, "we  should find something more interesting. There must be something more   exciting than this sort of killing. I've been as depraved as I could, or  wanted to bother being, but there must be something more abstract,   something bigger that we can aim for, or I can aim for."

I hear him, more clearly than I would've thought. "Mmm-hmph", I mumble back to him in careless consideration.

"Let's just rape her for now, though", he says. I find myself saying, "I want her to wake up before we really start."

"Yeah, agree", Iglair says.

He doesn't seem to care that I'm not on the sharp and ready. Blackie, no, what was her name? Ah, Airey  starts to wake up. The more I think her name, the sexier it makes her seem. She wakes up, noticing that she's farther off the ground than she  usually glides, and completely naked. You can see the "What the fuck?"  on her face before she says anything.

The chains dig into her skin. Her arms and legs probably ache. I bet it's uncomfortable. Iglair asks for the first time, "Which one of us should be first?" My mild surprise appears through the haze of the beer.

"I don't care." Maybe he's annoyed, because it's not a real answer, but I really don't care.

Airey  looks around, her panic rising. I wish that I couldn't even be bothered  to feel the tinge of annoyance that I do at having to wait for her to  come to an understanding of the situation. "Iglair?", she asks. We're both leaning  on our elbows, sitting on separate old wooden benches in front her.

"And?", I reply to her confusion boredly.

"Samwell? What's going on? Where are my clothes?" Her high, panicked tone irritates my ears. The rising shame in her regal like voice adds a needed bit of humor, though.

"It's Sainwell*"*, I correct her drily.

Iglair speaks up, his voice lower than usual. "You're hot, you know. I've never seen you like this before."  Airey's light blue eyes are wide, bewildered and scared. Her and Iglair  could be brother and sister, or maybe cousins. I'm quite sure that they  are unrelated, though.

This is  humiliating, and she's desperate to cover herself and get away. She's  twisting, and trying to get out of the chains, but only manages to make  noise in the quiet shed, while we watch. Even more awkward and shameful  for her, she sways back and forth like a child on a swing as she  helplessly struggles in the chains, her legs and arms spread.

The  cool air on her pussy must be adding to her panic, realizing over and over again that she can't even close her legs. She halts and stares at him in a sort of defensive terror as Iglair finally rises and starts   walking over to where she hangs.

His  fingers immediately assault her pussy, making her release a sudden   sound of surprise, something like a moan and a cry of shock.

Her face is flushed. "No", she moans, tears coming to her eyes. "Why? Please stop this, noo", she begs as he rubs her, and roughly squeezes her sizeable breasts.

My  groin reacts a little as I hear the shlicking sounds of her moistening  privates. She continues to groan and cry, squirming and fruitlessly   trying to close her open legs. She's helpless as Iglair molests her,   touching her for as long, and however he wants.

She  cries out as he inserts two fingers. I watch as he moves them in and   out. His pace is relaxed. She whimpers, I wonder how it feels for her.   He fucks her with three for a little while, then takes off his pants and  boxers, and strokes his penis to get a little harder.

He  puts his dick inside her tight, now wet private area, and rapes her as  she cries and moans like a whore who's not worth actually paying. I see  blood smearing. Oh well, somehow I didn't think he'd had her before,  though he could have with the way she had seemed to like him. He goes at  her roughly, raping her with fingers inserted with his dick at times  for several minutes, and then ejaculates outside onto the dusty concrete  floor.

He punches her hard in the  back, after he finishes, then I stand up for my turn. I kneel beneath  her, and let my mouth have the first of the feast. Airey's voice comes  out in ways I know she's trying for it not to, and her clit hardens as I  suck and lick her privates. I wiggle my finger into her asshole,  enjoying the tightness around my finger as I fuck her anus with it.

I  dig my tongue as far into her vagina as I can, then suck hard on her  hard red clit. I use my other hand to finger her vag while I suck. She  moans as I feel her spasming around my fingers and under my tongue.

I  drop my pants and jerk my semi-soft penis to hardness while I watch   Airey's shameful struggle against the orgasm. I slid it in and out of   her pussy, which if I didn't know any better, I'd say she was really   feeling in a naughty way.

Iglair comes over and joins me. I pop my penis  out of her vagina and shove it hard and deep into her ass. She screams  in surprise and pain. Iglair quickly replaces me inside of her pussy. She wails in discomfort at the two penises rubbing mercilessly against and stretching out her inner walls. We bang her like that for a few   minutes, but Iglair creampies her vagina and then pulls out, while I   still haven't finished.

I get my   knife, and stab her in the left ass cheek. Airey screams in pain. She   couldn't have possibly thought we'd only give her the pleasure of raping  her wet, aroused sex, but not the agony of our sadism? I dig and twist  the blade around, until a satisfyingly large hole of torn up flesh is left. Blood runs down her shaking thigh and leg, dripping onto the   ground.

Her teeth are gritted, her face the image of suffering.

She's trying to peer back at me, to see what the fuck I'm doing, but I say, "Mind your business. Let me do my thing, you black haired moron."  I'm ready to finish, my dick is aching to in fact, so I plunge my dick  into the bloody hole I made in her ass. It's very fleshy, warm, and   gory. I love it. I love the pretty red dripping all over my cock.

This  feels amazing. I haven't moaned like this, maybe ever. I fuck her new,  raw meat, made to please asshole with new found vigor and excitement. I  cum inside the hole, briefly wondering what kind of infection this could  give her. Iglair has been watching, as we always watch and entertain  each other. He looks vaguely surprised, his lips slightly parted, as he  casually touches his penis.

I've  been noticing him more today, and I can tell he's been noticing me. I hold his stare for a while, my cock still hard. He never bothered to put  his bottoms back on, so I can see clearly he's hard again too. I redo  the chains, so the the filthy raven whore can close her legs to cover  her drying pussy. This seems to be a comfort, though her arms are bound  tighter to make up for it.

Iglair  joins me in front of Airey, and I walk back over to my bench, sitting down on the edge. Airey watches as he kneels in front of me. His mouth caresses the tip of my penis, and his hand, softer than I would have   expected at least, rubs my length. He opens, to take me inside of the   wet warmth of his mouth. I lean back as Iglair sucks me off. I come in   his mouth, but he swallows and doesn't seem to mind.

We  switch places, so that I can do the same to him. I take fair amount of  his hard pink length in my mouth, my hand rubbing what my mouth doesn't  envelope, and caressing his balls, which have a light coating of soft  black hair.

I never imagined that  cum could taste as sweet as his does. I swallow it all gratefully from  his hard, soft pink leather covered flesh rod. I feel an interesting  fulfillment. I like him a little more than I did before, but I realize  that I still don't trust him.

A  glance at Airey confirms that she's scared, vaguely aroused, and doesn't  know what to make of the situation. As if I do either, bitch. She's  seen us. She's felt us. We've defiled her, violated her, aroused her,  and been inside her. There's no way we can let her go, even if I'm  tired, so "whoohoo!", I tell myself. I must prime myself like a lawnmower, because it's time to cut, shred, and destroy.

I  grab the hammer from my backpack, and Iglair gets his engraved golden pocket knife. I know, even I wonder where he got the money for it. We   string the black haired girl back up, fright in her eyes as they shoot   between the weapons in our hands.

She whimpers, and here comes the pleading. "Please.. please! Don't kill m-".  My hammer comes down on her head. She screams in horror, red blood   wetting her hair and dripping down, mixing with the tears streaming down  her face.

Iglair is swiping   around with the knife, making thin cuts all over her body. He kneels   down, then inserts the blade  into her vagina. If only she were a gold   digger, then I could make some sly joke. It'd be the same if I were   shallow enough  to figure all women as golddiggers. Her wholesomeness   pesters me even now, see, even as she's being sliced through from pussy to asshole, even as she's screaming like I've never quite heard before.

Blood  pours and drops to the floor heavily, even through this, her character  won't let me enjoy my irony. Hell, I can barely even make a joke about  "tearing her a new one", since Iglair's just connecting what was already  there. No, oh wait! I did technically make her a new hole to fuck  earlier. "Please, I can't take any more. Please no more." Her desperation is sexy.

I  force her mouth open, and use the pliers I brought to grab that   dangling thing at the back of her throat. She struggles, making it a   pain, especially with her face slippery from tears and blood, but I   finally get a good hold, and pull until part of the flesh rips off.

I feel her jolting up and down, and notice that Iglair is having sex with some part of her vagnus, lol,  that's what I'm calling it now. I beat her a few times on either side of her head with the bloody pliers. Blood and spit splatter on my face as she cries and begs.

"Shuutt up, you stuupid cunt! Do you know how rude that is?"  I yell at her, choking her and beating her with my fists now.She's been  going limp for a little while. Something inside is dying. She really  can't take it. Iglair finishes, and I grab the lighter fluid from my  backpack. I smirk at her a little, while she looks at me with red,  tear-filled, puffy eyes, mouthing terrified pleas over and over again,  even though I can see in her eyes that she's entirely expecting what  comes next.

I drench her new sliced vagnus with it, which gets her screaming and begging with the voice of a broken royal. It turns me on.

Iglair  huffs a small laugh, and when I turn back, I see he's already holding the lighter. A flick on the slick, and she's alight, glowing brighter   than her grades and good looks ever made her.

Horror and pain- that's her face. Her tender skin and once pink pussy and asshole, pardon me, vagnus, blacken. The fire smokes out after a little while. She can do nothing but hick and whimper.

Airey's  body vibrates as she sucks in painful, slow breaths, shaky with tears and the fragments of her crushed spirit. She's just hanging onto   consciousness. To be honest, I'm impressed that she hasn't quite gone   into that annoying, pathetic shock, but she's heading there. She'll be   completely boring in a few minutes, so we'll start to wrap things up   now.

Iglair and I get our metal   bars and beat her until she's covered in bruises, but thankfully still   hanging onto consciousness, because I want to use the hatchet now. I   loosen the chains, and she falls to the ground like a rag doll.

I  gather my energy, and hack her head. She makes a strange, muffled   scream. I hack and hack, pieces of her blood, brains, and skull making a  mess all over my hoodie. A couple strands of her long black hair   somehow find their way into my mouth, as hair always does (#relatable), and I have to spit several times during my hacking to rid my lips of   them.

Once her formerly brilliant brain has been split and spread on the dirty ground before us to my   satisfaction, her skull is half broken up, and my jeans are soaked with her blood and brains, I rise. Iglair frowns down at her- our last minor  enemy.

Iglair gets an axe from the  corner of the shed, and uses it to dismember her. I put her divided  body parts into two garbage bags, and Iglair starts leaving with the   other one. But before leaving he says, "Night." I say nothing back.

He  did the initial heavy lifting: drugging her, kidnapping her, bringing her here, chaining her up, and bringing the axe and cleaning supplies.

Therefore,  it falls to me to clean up the shed, and dispose of half of Airey's   body. It's strange, how this time I feel a hint of regret, sadness at   the death of this girl. She was probably going somewhere. She could've   been as close to happy as is possible under our grey sky.

No,  I mean she would've been able to see the stretches of red, orange, the  streaks of sunlight breaking across the broad blue, whereas Iglair and I  are color blind.

She would   probably have earned every bit of color that she saw, too. Did we have   to crush her, for that? Sure, a portion of her sights would have been   illusions, as no human can see completely. I regret it just a bit less, now, because she would have perpetuated the grey, while choosing to be blind to at least part of that inconvenient fact.

I've  finished cleaning, and I see that Iglair left a change of clothes for me. I dispose of my old clothes in the bag with her body, which is   destined for a nearby junkyard. The trucks will come again soon, and   help me bury her deeper and deeper. Maybe years from now, someone will   find the victims, and waste millions of tax dollars trying to piece   together the rotten, stinking pieces of the past, trying to find killers  which may be dead themselves, or killers which cannot be caught.

It's  probably 2:00 A.M or so. I hope my dad isn't home yet, but I left my   window unlocked so that I can go in that way. Dad thinks poorly of me,   but even if he caught me sneaking in this may be the last thing he would  assume, unless I inherited my strangeness from him unbeknownst to me.

The  alcohol wore off as the night wore on, and I realized how annoying it was, how much I didn't want to stand it, but I didn't want another beer  either. I can only hope sleep comes easily. What's wrong with me? Not just today, this whole time. Sainwell is dirty. Sainwell has become dirty.  I catch my reflection in the mirror, looking hollower than when I set out earlier. My hair is messy, stained a sticky red in far too many   spots.

I'll be caught soon, if I   continue being so careless, if I continue at all. I'm beginning to   realize what I have to do. Even if I regret it, the time is coming to   end this story. To end Iglair and myself, and all the grey that I sulked  so long in hatred of.

#violent crime #crazy #kidnapping

[thatweirdmod]

Sainwell and Iglair PART 4

The following doesn't reflect my real opinions or feelings on hobos.

The sun has risen for another okay/shitty day under the grey-blue sky. I sit on my porch with a creamy cool beer. I'm too young to have it, but no one cares around here.

It's Saturday, so I'm chilling. Maybe Iglair is off fucking some slut who gave it up willingly, but I live blandly save for my darker pastimes.

I contemplate who should be next in between sips. Someone random? Someone from school? Some adult asshole? I can't decide, and all this thinking is a pain.

I get up, throw the can in the trash, and grab my baseball bat from the corner of my room. I can't remember a single time I used this to play ball.

Hobos are always easy game. No one cares about them, really. Even the religious folk who harp on about "alms for the poor" have the ulterior motive of pleasing  god for personal gain.

To me, however, hobos aren't some opportunity to perform a good deed; they're just leeches. My future tax paying self, and all the other tax payers will silently thank me for this service in their hearts later.

I start walking towards the outskirts of town. Maybe I'll find some of the cretins in an alley or side-street. For now, I keep my burglar's mask in the pocket of my ripped jeans. It'd just draw more attention if  I wore it on the way, perhaps increasing my chances of being recognized and/or reported.

Even if the grubs that I'm hunting for don't leech much, they're still   stinking eyesores. They have no purpose, and should just be put out of their misery by a working-class human.

Now my beat up running shoes are dragging down the cracked, dirty concrete of the seedier part of town. I spot potential prey down an alley, and put on my mask.

There are two vagrants, one male, and the other female. They reek of alcohol and weeks of body odor. Their hair is straggly and going grey. They've probably been strung out on crap for 35 of the 50 years they appear to have been around for. They don't notice me until I'm practically right over them.

The old man's filthy beard  parts as he opens his mouth in alarm. I get a nasty glimpse of his rotting teeth just before I smash the metal bat on his already flat head. He makes a strange moan of pain and incoherent panic, and raises his dirty hands to grasp the wound on his head.

The old woman next to him, probably his squeeze or wife, stirs in horror. Disbelief and fright register on her wrinkled, dirty face. Her mouth is open, showing me her foul, meth-fucked teeth.

I strike the old man again on the shoulders, legs, back- fuck it, everywhere. I completely let lose, salivating like a mad dog, and swinging the bat down with all my strength like I've gone batshit insane. Blood splatters onto the building walls and my clothes. The mask becomes wet as it soaks up my drool.

The notes of my favorite human song rise to my ears. "Uehhghhg, uuuhhhg,” the old man groans. It's the Song of Agony, a special melody which can be sung only by those truly overwhelmed with suffering, helplessness, grief, outrage, and defeat.

I hear his bones cracking and splintering in his meaty sack of flesh when I strike the right spots. Eventually, the thuds and cracks turn to dull wet smacks. I beat the old man's head into a mushy mess of skull fragments and brains.

Patches of his long, unkempt hair fall in clumps with his scalp. His blood soaks into his clothes, magnifying and altering his stench. Blood puddles at my feet. I'll have to throw my shoes out if I can't get the stains out.

I watch his shoulders droop. My baseball bat has deformed them in ways you wouldn't normally imagine.

In the corner of my eye, I catch the old woman staggering down the alley, trying to make an escape. But damn, is she slow. With my youthful and un-addled body, I jog her down easily, and smash my bat against the back of her head with a satisfying crunch.

She moans and crumples down to the glass shard covered alley corner. "I left your friend back there quicker than I normally would've, and it was all for you,” I laugh down at her.

I kick her over with my feet, then smash the baseball bat into her abominable, rotten mouth. "Let me take care of those for you." She screams and chokes in pain and horror as I smash her mouth in. Her jaw breaks with a loud crack.

I let up for a second, catching my breath. She turns over, laboriously, like one of those landwhales on “My 600lb Life.” Her broken jaw hangs and moves loosely as she struggles to crawl away.

Bloody saliva and bits of broken brown teeth pour out of her now rather gummy mouth. She moans and groans in one of those deep, annoying, feeble old woman voices.

I kick her in the side, hard, and she falls onto her back again. She hics, struggling to breathe and swallow as sobs rack her abused body. Red-dyed tears stream through the grime on her face, and into her grey hair. Blood and drool slime down into her hair as well.

That's the look. The knowing eyes that truly and finally recognize the extent of   cruelty that can live in a human skin, that can look like them.

Despite that,  she still must throw up a final, desperate, pleading look. A thin line to reel me back into my humanity, begging me to see and understand the horror of what I'm doing, to change my mind, because I must be insane. I can see; she already knows her hook could never penetrate my concrete scales.

I drive the handle of my bat  into one of her eyes, and she wails a horribly arousing thing. Then, I drive it into the other eye. Same stupid crone's cry.

I punch her in the  face 10 or 20 times, especially in her crushed eyes. I pound her several more times with the bat, but decide to leave her, gasping and sucking for air, battered and blind.

I lean against the building across from her, and watch my handiwork. She wheezes, and her bloodied, broken hand raises for a few seconds, like she's beckoning, reaching, trying to get somewhere. She continues moaning in agony and confusion.

We both know  she'll die here, along with that other fat, dirty old shit.  I'm getting bored with watching her relatively quiet suffering and struggling, so I go over the old man's broken and mashed body, and search his pockets. I find some rusty screws, a little bag of meth, some tissues, and a few dollars in cash.

I pocket the meth and cash, then return to check on the old woman. She's still lying there, wheezing, bleeding, and crying. "Uhhgg, uhh, uh, uhhg, aahh,” the old bitch goes.

It's getting annoying, so I bash her head 5 more times with the baseball bat. I check her pockets too, finding more meth and 10 bucks. There's an  opened bottle of whiskey sitting where they were. Luckily, it didn't end up breaking.

I slice off the woman's shirt with my pocket knife, and soak the stinking rags with the alcohol. I drape a piece onto each of their faces, hoping that the blood soaking in won't keep them from catching.

I light each alcohol rag with my lighter. They burn for a bit, singeing the bloody, ragged meat of  the couple's faces, but they go out too quickly.

I click my tongue in annoyance, then remember that I was curious about something. I go back to the woman, and use the pocket knife to cut her jeans so I can pull them back.

I expose her genitals. Old woman cunt doesn't look as bad as I thought it would. I finger her dead vagina for a few seconds. I twist my fingers around. The squelching sounds it makes are a little fun. I shove the blood coated bat inside, and fuck her with it for a little while, getting more aroused.

I go over to the old man and cut open his pants as well, exposing his floppy, bruised penis. I start cutting it off from the root, but his ruined body starts sliding down the wall as I'm trying to work. Ugh, annoying. I finish, then take the whole leathery pack of genitalia over to the old woman.

I gaze down at her for a while. Drugs probably still in her system, her body, having already been abused and neglected for a lifetime, lies dead, destroyed and violated, in an alley with her filthy groin exposed for the whole world to see. I did most of this to her. I harden, dick so tight in my pants it hurts.

I check over my shoulders. No one. I drop my pants, and quickly fuck her wrinkled pussy. I rub her lifeless clit as hard as I want, making sure to throw the old man a wry glance. I jizz quickly, ejaculating on the old tweeker's nub and labia.

I grab the old man's meat, and stuff it into the old bitch's puss. "'Til death do us part,” I say sarcastically. I don't think it's actually all that ironic, but I feel like it is, so whatever.

Some asswipe passing by spots me with the bloody bat in my hand, pieces of flesh still stuck to it. Then, the idiot spots the couple, their bodies destroyed, disrespected, and practically unrecognizable.

His face is pure shock, but I don't see much after that, because I'm bolting away as fast as I can. A shout rings out behind me, but I'm far away. I'm soaked in blood, murder weapon in tow. Shit.

I make it into the forest, and head home under its cover. A shower, tool cleaning, a laundry load, and a beating from pops later, and I'm sitting in my computer chair at night with another beer.

I'm watching hentai, A Size Classmate, one of my favorites, as I wait for Iglair to message me or something.

#crime #crazy #criminal #violent #hobo hunting

[thatweirdmod]

Sainwell and Iglair PART 3

Story time (damn, now I realize before I should've said "hammer time!"):

I  wake up in the morning on a beaten up, twin sized bed, pale light   leaking through the window next to it. I groan, slide out, then look   around the room cluttered with clothes from my broken drawer and empty   drink cans. Some of the shit's from my dad's latest rage, some of it's   from my own laziness. Either way, I can't yet be bothered to reorganize.

I  dress, black hoodie over white t-shirt and I trade my pajama bottoms   for dark jeans. I open the door to go splash some water over my face,   and I'm greeted with my drunkard old man. I start passing by him,   wordlessly again, but he grabs my shoulder.

"No 'Good mornin' for your old man?"

Ugh, just what I need. "Morning pop", I mumble, and try to shove out of his grip. He grabs the back of my hoodie, and shoves me against the wall.

"What  is it with you, you little shit? You know, it makes me sick to look at  you. What is it that you do all day anyway, Sainwell?"

"School, loitering",  I respond dryly. He searches my eyes, for light maybe, but I know   there's only a dying darkness. There's not a drop love or passion to be found anywhere in my being. He's too pathetic and fickle to be able to say the same, though.

He knees me  in the stomach, and throws me down as I cough. He stomps me, over and over again. I wait for him to finish, irritation building in my chest. Part of me wants to let it explode at his turning back. I watch as dad grabs the open whiskey bottle he left on the counter, and walks away,   taking deep drinks from it.

I   despise the self-assured quality of his gait, the carelessness and lack of real thought that it conveys. Who does he think he is? Dumb, balding  fuck should've just kept drinking and ignored me. Whatever. I tolerate  him, cause I need him for now. He pays for my food, housing, and   tuition. Maybe I could do that myself, but it'd be a pain in the ass,   and cut into my free time, so I take the beatings and deal.

I  take yet another walk through the world of frozen air and grey. I'm   going to school, but I know I'm not going anywhere. I see the same   bitches from the other day, the ones who probably take this route to   ogle Iglair. He's rounding the corner from his street now, and here they  are, what a fucking coincidence. I'm too lazy to roll my eyes.

We  don't bother to wave at each other or say hi, but from a glance, we   quietly acknowledge each other. That makes me disgusted, not happy. Have  I become entangled with another human to the point of silent   understanding?

The cunts next to   me have the audacity to disturb the air with a couple of light giggles, and that's enough to set fire to the stagnant ice in my veins. I'm awake  to the possibilities of their demise, especially the one with the long  black hair. Fuck her.

The neighborhood curb that stretches along the street of the vacuous replays the high voices full of praise into my head. "Such a sweet girl." "Smart too." "Cute." "Promising." "She helped me so much with babysitting Jacob!"

Black  hair bitch is one of those people who just glides through life, or   seems to anyway. I bet I don't see her struggle behind closed doors, or maybe there isn't even one. Regardless, I'm not sure if I'm jealous of her. Can't be bothered to be. She makes me sick. Life would be easier if  I were like that too, but who cares?

The  only thing that's so great about her to me, is the way her hips sway   slightly as she glides through her sickening life. I bet I sound like a school shooter, but I don't use guns. They're stupid and noisy. Nothing  says, "Draw attention to me", like police finding records you purchased a  gun before some stupid, carbon copy of cliche perfection went missing.

She's  done nothing to earn my animosity, I realize, but she'll get it anyway.  We're approaching the school entrance, and the company of these  bitches, which I don't recall us ever asking for, has stalked us almost  the whole way.

I enter the large   building that I've long since gotten of tired of. I trudge through math,  history, and all the other shit which is of little consequence to my   life's ultimate path. A gang of four asswipes finds a gap of time to   rough me up. Their mouths spew forth the same foul arrogance, and their fists and tennis shoes strike the same spots as any other day. More   waiting to finish until bulky hypocrites are done with me.

I  eat the crappy school lunch, pocket a fourth of my burger for Keltcher,  finish going to the rest of my classes, and leave. I've barely said a  word to anyone the whole day, and only spoke when the shithead teacher  called on me.

Iglair catches my  eye on the way out. He's walking with that black-haired nuisance from  earlier. He shouldn't be. We're going to get rid of her, I've decided.  But maybe it should just be me. He might wind up being the last person  she was seen with.

We don't need none of that shit. None of that, "She last messaged you, asking when to meet up",  shit. We're supposed o throw the fucking pigs off, not lead them on.   Iglair can be duller than I am. Just cause you can call a bitch out   doesn't mean you should. Asshole. Maybe I'll kill him too one of these days.

I  turn away from their smiling faces. I get home, feed Keltcher on the   soggy, patchy lawn, trade the goody boy crap in my backpack for some   real shit, and head back out. Then, I track back in, grab a beer from   the fridge, and suck down it's creamy contents in a few gulps.

I  find myself walking down a street downtown, rather than the park. I   pass fast food joints, where people willingly kill themselves and our   evermore shitty planet with garbage food. Alas, I look around me, and   see the reasons why I can't be bothered to feel remorse every time I   take off one of these humans. I am one, too, but that just makes me want  to kill more. So much for empathy.

Not  "alas", though, for I'm secretly glad that I don't have to worry about  doing something wrong. I only take out the trash. Some other creature,  somewhere, is thanking me from the shadows of the bleak concrete world  that swept over its forest.

I   don't really care for the other creature, but I'm in good company with   it. I walk and walk, until I'm at the woods. I walk through the woods to  my house, take a beating, drink a beer, go to sleep.

Next  morning, dress, beating, beer, walking. On the walk, I start to rethink  my policy about guns. I could buy one in another town, and get a  silencer too. Just thinking about hitting some of the cunts at school.  But my first order of business is these bitches next to me. The air   around them is annoyingly warm. I hate them.

Iglair  is more social than me. He knows how to smile, how to laugh, how to   enjoy himself in the company of normie twats. It doesn't seem to make   him sick. Nothing does. I wonder how he does it, but not in the sense   that I admire his abilities. In fact, it annoys me.

In  my old computer chair after school, I'm furiously rubbing it out to   some porn of a "bear" masturbating. I hate it when they touch themselves  anywhere but the junk, caressing like some lonely, pathetic fool.   Thankfully, I've found one where he isn't doing that.

This  old bastard is just wanking like an animal. Okay. I finish, wipe up my  cum that's extra slimy today, pack my backpack, and leave. My average looks are covered with a burglar's mask, as I sleuth down a neighborhood  a ways from my house. Hitting the brown haired whore tonight, though  she's secondary in my opinion. I don't even remember how Iglair and I  came to the conclusion that it should be her.

Did  I mention it's already 3 fucking AM? Iglair is standing below her   window with a ladder and a crowbar. He's putting it up to her window   when he sees me approaching. Cunt should watch his surroundings more.   His reaction was late. He climbs the ladder, and pries open the girl's   window as quietly as possible. Only, what he thinks is quiet is noisy to  me. Fucking idiot.

He takes a few  glances around, and satisfied, he climbs into her room. I follow him up  and in. Brownie is lying on her side, sleeping. Her room's cleaner and  bigger than mine, with a few pieces of cute crap around and gadgety shit  too.

I've got a piece of tape  waiting for her mouth, and I snap it over. She wakes, disturbed and  groggy. I run the tape all around her head at the mouth a few more  times, as she starts freaking out more.

We're  doing it here. Her parents aren't home. She told Iglair they were going  on vacation for a couple of days. When they come back tomorrow, well,  the state that they find their sweet, beautiful daughter in will be  priceless.

The hole that they all  carefully carved out together through a spot in a grey wall of this  world will be packed in mercilessly with unbreakable diamond. This   diamond formed not in a deep volcano in Earth's mantle, but in Hell   itself, and it will thoroughly block the bright ray of sunlight which   once shone through the hole.

Yes, their first, pure, virgin reaction to the destruction of the most   precious life in their eyes, which no human can reverse, may be the   greatest joy to me.  But as the way of the world would have it, it's not  reasonably possible for Iglair and I witness.

I  climb on top of the girl, and pin her arms to the bed. More crying and  freaking out. Iglair's taking out some pieces of rope from his backpack,  and he ties each of her legs to the bottom posts. I force her arms  together so that he can tie them, and then tie her bound hands to the  top bed posts.

Her annoyingly high  pitched moans are thick with tears. Bitch sounds like a damn muppet.  She should at least try to reserve a bit of her dignity.

I'm  just now noticing the light sprinkling of freckles on her terrified   face. Just makes her even more of an innocent normie, makes her death   that much more sad. I tear open her pajama top, and she does one of   those raspy, muffled screams through the tape.

No  bra to sleep. I take a finely engraved with patterns hunting knife, and  start tracing a marble pattern into her the skin of her breasts. I poke  each of her nipples with the tip of the blade. They bleed a little. "Mmmmph!"

Stupid brownie cries. I suck her nipples so hard they change color. I drag the blade down her torso, deeper than on her tits.

Tears  spill from her eyes and wet her pillow. Iglair's standing off to the   side. This girl doesn't seem to excite him particularly. I claw at her   bleeding abdomen and breasts, making the cuts worse. I punch and slap   her breasts. I grab them, and pull on them harder and harder until she   makes a new sound of horror that conveys immense pain.

I  slap down her bruised breasts, and suck her nipples again. Then, I bite  them. Flesh tears, and her muffled screams ring in my ears again. I  shake my head with her nips in my mouth, like a wild animal feasting on  prey. It tears off.

I slice her  pants and panties with my hunting knife. Desperate, raspy cries rise up  and plead with my ears, but my blade continues to slice her skin in my  unyielding effort to get to my prize.  Her soft pink pussy is dry,  unlike the park whore's.

My penis  is out and erect already, and I start fucking her in smooth motions as I  pick up the hunting knife again. Brownie has started snotting, which  annoys and disgusts me.

I stab the  tip up to about an inch into the nipple of her other tit. I twist it  around a bit, all the while fucking her, then slide it out, pinch the  bleeding, ruined nipple, pulling it up. I then slice it off. Her cries  and mumbles are now weaker, more broken.

Iglair  sits on the bed near her head, and punches her several times in the   face, which makes the bed shake. He takes out his penis, and strips the tape off of her face. Before she can scream, he grabs her by the face. "Don't make a sound, or you'll find out just how much worse this can get for you."

He starts trying to put his dick in her mouth. "Open up, you damn whore." She finally complies. "Suck it properly",  Iglair commands. When she starts crying again and his dick falls out, he grabs her by the nose, and punches her in the teeth. She bursts into  another fit of tears, wails puffing past her bloody teeth. "For fucks sake, shut the hell up!"

I  pop my dick out, before I come, then I finger her roughly, and she   groans. I go down to suck her hard clit. I keep fingering and sucking.   She's in pain, but "bodies work", and she's getting wet.

Iglair  has finally got her sucking on his dick right. I finger her until I   feel her tightening. Her pussy spasms even though I know she hates it.   Shame and pain are etched into her face, ever the good girl. That annoying face. Iglair takes his dick out of her mouth, and I stab her in  the nose.

Iglair covers her mouth  as she groans, spitting blood. I grab the crowbar, and hook one of her  tits with it. I rip it across her chest, tearing her breasts. I beat her  in the chest with the crowbar, breaking some ribs. I throw it to the  ground, then fuck her pussy wildly and hard. Her bloody pussy squelches.

Iglair  comes on her face. She groans like a dying whore as a shove my  prick  in as deep as I can. I rape her hard in her pink genitalia for  several  minutes, then I come inside, breeding her like a brood mare. I'm  hard  again within a few minutes, and I siddle underneath her, putting  my  dick at her anus. Iglair climbs over her, and I start fucking her super  tight asshole. She screams in pain as he penetrates her pussy, and  I  can feel his dick moving through the wall of flesh. We ram her from   both ends so hard she can't help crying and crying. Then we double-team   cream inside her holes.

I found a   laptop on her desk, and I'm beating her with it. It starts breaking as   she cries and moans. Iglair switches his penis from her ass to her vag, and fucks that instead. I hand him a toothbrush I got from the bathroom.  He plunges it into her anus, twisting it and fucking her anus with it.  He switches from brush side to bottom side.

He  pulls out, and we cut the ropes. She's weak and sobbing now, and we   shove her to the ground. Iglair beats her with her chair, and I throw   hardcover books from the shelf at her. Iglair bends down over her again and fucks her doggy style, switches occasionally from ass to pussy until  he finally blows on her back and carpet.

"Please, please stop",  she cries, her voice void of anything but sorrow, agony, and   exhaustion. I respond by smacking her across the face five times with a hardcover fantasy book.

"Stupid cunt",  I growl. We kick and beat her for three minutes or so. Then, Iglair   bludgeons her face in with the crowbar. Brownie screams and gurgles, the  sound of the crowbar chunky, thudding and wet against her skull and   flesh. Then he flips it over, and yanks off chunks of her face using the  forked side. He beats in her face with that side too.

He  swings the crowbar down on her mound, then turns her flaccid body over  again. He sodomizes her anus with the crowbar, tearing out strips of   bloody flesh. I prod Iglair aside with a flute I found on her shelf,   then rape her lifeless body in the vagina, mouth, and anus. We each take  turns for 20 more minutes.

I stab  the ruins of her skull with my hunting knife until the blade chips, and  the flames of my rage have dimmed to glowing coals.  Iglair climbs out  of the window, and comes back in with a gas can. We drench everything we  can, starting at the remains of Brownie's face, then her bed, then  leaving at the bottom of the stairs.

I strike a match, throw it onto the trail, and we high tail into the night.

#violent #crime #crazy

[thatweirdmod]

Sainwell and Iglair PART 2

Alas, this texticular diarrhea began to pour from my fingertips into Notepad.

You know us from last time, as murderers and plunderers of innocence. But you don't know us yet as everyone else does- as relatively average for the area students.

Right  now, we're walking home, under the cloudy grey sky next to the half   frozen pond. The chilly wind whips the sound of our feet smacking the   concrete three fourths away. There's girls next to us.

Heads  with long black hair and brown hair turn in our direction. Well, not in  our direction, their irritatingly insipid faces, full of gleeful   foolishness, are pointed in Iglair's direction.

These  are the dumb normie twats who've been duped into thinking him some sort  of charmer from little more than the flash of a flirty grin. Maybe his  face is a little pretty. Maybe I'm in the way. Maybe one of these days  we'll, or I'll get around to hitting one of these bitches. Targeting  people close to us- I like the sound of the risk.

For  now, I just keep my head down and keep pounding the sidewalk towards my  dingy house. I finally get to the torn up, soggy lawn, where a skinny  dog is waiting for me. Keltcher. He runs up, I pet him on the head, and give him a little rub behind the ears. I actually kinda like him.

I  pull out a bit of the shitty sausage they served for school lunch. I   bet he already caught it's scent. I only ate what I needed to to keep me  from starving the whole day. Keltcher gobbles down the disgusting   sausage gratefully, though.

Inside  the house is warmer, but it smells of beer, and an unwashed, angry dad.  He's sitting half out of his wits on the couch. I pass by to my room  without saying anything. It's kinda small, but I don't really care. I  pull off the light grey hoodie I have on over my black rock band tee,  and flop into my torn computer chair.

I  turn on the PC. It's full of porn that I've gotten bored of since   downloading. I kill time on the PC, browsing forums, until Iglair   messages me a little after 6 PM. "You up for another tonight?"

"Yeah",  I reply. After all, what else am I gonna do? Don't answer that, cause you don't get it. Why do anything else? Don't answer that either,   smartass. In 15 minutes, we're stalking along a cold, windy beach under the cover of night fall.

Some   asswipe is out jogging. Gotta stay fit as a fiddle. All for nothing,   though. This time, we've brought a few new toys along with our old ones.  We both charge towards him. The jogger startles, but as soon as he   turns, my hammer is already smashing his face. The jogger groans loudly in pain. Unlike the forgotten park walkway woman, he might be heard.

Looks  like I got him in the mouth. I wonder how many dollars of dental work just went down the toilet? He stumbles and falls over. Iglair drives a hatchet down into his face. The man screams. We stand over him,   butchering and beating him. I kick him in the legs. Iglair takes the   hatchet to his arms, hacking away at the toned flesh.

The  idiots in the town likely won't hear the screams of the jogger, but as  sweet as the sound of his agony is, it's making me slightly uneasy. I pull a metal bar out of my backpack, and beat him in the face and head with it. His blood splatters all over my legs and the weapon.

He  stops moving, but he's wheezing through his ruined face. Iglair is   laughing, and he can't stop. I have my own engraved pocket knife too,   and it I use to slice his pants. I dig into his flesh, slicing through   it as well in my ravenous effort to rid myself of the obstruction of his  pants. I tear his pants and boxers open. Iglair, still laughing and   smiling, hands me the metal bar, still bloody from crushing and   destroying his face.

Lube, I   guess. We kick the man onto his stomach, and I lean down to spread his   ass cheeks. A somewhat ripe, warm smell greets my face. I insert the   metal bar into his anus, and he gurgles more. I shove it in and out.   Iglair takes out his hard penis, and rubs it furiously as he watches me sodomize the jogger's anus.

He   can't take it anymore, and starts to push me aside. He bends over the   man, who's still lying, gurgling blood through his ruined face and   breathing in sand. He fucks the man's asshole even more furiously than   his masturbation.

Sand scrapes the  meaty ruins of the jogger's once pretty okay face, and he's lifted up by his hips, and fucked relentlessly. Iglair will finish and drop him   soon, so I move now. I grip the man's penis, which to his credit, is   still flaccid. I take my nice black metal, engraved pocket knife, and   slice off part of the tip of his penis. Gurgling intensifies.

The  man groans in pain. As Iglair keeps going from behind, I take slice   after slice off, until his genitals are lying in thin bloody,   ratatouille like slices on the sand. All that's left are his soft,   blonde covered balls.

Iglair moans  as he comes inside the man's asshole. It's nice and wet up for me now.  Iglair gets off, and I pick up my hammer again. I strike the jogger's head repeatedly, until the gurgling, which had by now become slightly   obnoxious, stops.

Even in this cold, it will be a while until he completely cools, especially down there.

I'm  really hard now, my dick is throbbing as I slip it into the man's anus.  It was tighter than I thought it would be after Iglair's ravaging. I  work my cock in and out in easy, fluid motions, until I finish inside.

We hack his body into pieces, stuff 'em into the garbage bags we brought with us, and throw them into the sea. "Next time, we should get a female", I tell Iglair. He nods in agreement. Then we go our separate ways. Back home to shower, then bed, then school tomorrow.

#violent #crime #crazy

[thatweirdmod]

Sainwell and Iglair PART 1

Ranttyping...

Ahh, my friend and I. You don't know who that is though, so let me specify. My name is Sainwell Brugler, and his name, the fine lad with short, but somewhat spiked black hair, and light blue eyes, is Iglair Boscoviche.

It's cold today, even for the land of grey sky and icy ponds we inhabit. This stroll down the concrete pathway in the woods and bushes of our   local park would seem to others as an average one. However, we're   hunting- a fun pastime in a bleak world with bleak futures.

Cramming  in school, going nowhere, but this act will no doubt end in something.  We walk, side by side behind her, the 30 something year old idiot in   front of us. It's getting to be dark in the evening, but she probably   thinks it shouldn't be dangerous.

Curly brown hair, a long beige coat, an easy gait- she's the type who'll be   featured in the papers tomorrow. Mother, maybe. Teacher, maybe. Friend, I'm sure. Upstanding member of the community? You bet. That's a lot of assumptions, but here's what I don't doubt, everyone will be saying what  a wonderful person she was, how they never would've thought. Yada yada.

And  to Iglair and I, shattering all those peaceful expectations for   tomorrow, for the years ahead, for old age, is a core part of the   enjoyment.

He smirks next to me. I'm bland next to him. Average.  My brown, light maybe, hair is in a plain arrangement that wouldn't   classify as a style. It's just hair, and my eyes are just eyes. I'm no one who'd be given a second glance on the street. I don't stand out.   Maybe I'm not a suspect.

Anyway, focus on the prey, the only fun of the day. Hah, what do ya know? A rhyme. It's been a few minutes, and now we both notice the slight   stiffness of her previously easy posture and walk. The discreet glance   over the shoulder, that she hoped not, but knows anyway that we noticed.

Her fear warms the chilly air. But who am I kidding, that's all just my   artsy side coming out. Fear can't be literally felt that way, obviously. Too much playing, and she'll speed up her pace. We're still too far from any clearing for it to make a difference for the poor little sheep, though.

Iglair and I both know it's the time to strike. Our previously stalking movements turn into   brisk running steps. The woman starts, but starts is all, before we're   upon her, tackling her to neglected concrete.

The usual grunts and attempted screams, as Iglair forces his hand over her lightly lipstick-ed mouth, but we know that no one will hear her from   out here. I wonder what she's even doing here? Maybe taking a cut   through an old park on a work to home commute? Whatever. Our work begins  now with her.

I grab the roll of  grey tape from the back pocket of my oversized jeans, and rip off a   piece while Iglair holds the woman down. I stretch it over her soft face, over her mouth, as a starter. Then, I wrap a strip around her   whole head over the first place. Snap. Slip.

She's still moaning and struggling, Iglair smirking. He likes this part, and he's more open with his enjoyment than I am. Maybe I'm just the deader of us. But he shows enthusiasm for our entire process.

I slip off my backpack, and remove a length of rope. The woman kicks past Iglair frantically. Ugh, annoying. "Hold her still, dammit", I tell him. "I'm trying. This is a feisty one, huh?", he says half to me and half to her, and he's still looking down at the woman with a self-satisfied smirk.

Not particularly,  I think. She's not putting up that good a fight, but I don't always   have to be such a tarter. Finally, I tie the bitch's legs together. Her arms, which Iglair is holding above her head already, are easier to tie.

Taped and tied. Done. Iglair and I both dig into her pockets, finding a   wallet, some keys, and a couple of caramel candies. I take the cash   only, though there are credit cards too. Like we're gonna use them so the police can track our location and who used them. Not all criminals have to be complete dumbasses. Iglair is already sucking away on one of the  candies.

The pig beneath us is  crying up a storm of fluid, threatening to loosen the tape, which was  already such a pain in the ass the get around her. I sigh, slap her backhanded across the face three times, and grab the tape again. "Shut the fuck up!", I whisper harshly through the annoyingly frigid air.

"You know what's gonna happen next?",  Iglair taunts. It's unmistakeable in her frightened eyes that she has horrible ideas going through her mind, and she's right. Hah. I wrap the tape around her whole and head mouth a few times. "Uncomfortable? Losing circulation in your face is hardly worth considering to be a problem where this is heading."

The  way Iglair has been bouncing around, I can tell he's excited for the next part, waiting until we can get to it. He produces a pocket knife, flips the blade out, and starts cutting her shirt open. She starts those pleading, desperate moans through the tape, like all the idiot cunts do  at this point.

They excite Iglair, but they kind of annoy me. Maybe once I get further into it   I'll appreciate her cries more. I open the button on her jeans, and tear open the zipper. I start pulling the jeans down, which is a pain, but will be worth it.

Iglair is working on her slightly above average pair of teets. He's cut open her   bra already too, and his face is buried in her chest, as he feasts on her tits. Biting, licking, sucking until they bruise. He punches and slaps them, and claws her breasts with his hands. I watch blank-faced, my groin slowly hardening. He leaves her bruised, bleeding, and scraped breasts when he notices that I haven't finished pulling down her jeans and taking off her shoes yet.

He begins to help me pull of her black leather boots, and I finish yanking  off her jeans. The woman shivers in her white polka dot panties. "Just have some gratitude that we left the jacket on your shoulders, idiot", I tell her.

More  tape smothered mumbles and pleas. She must know they won't do her any good, but that's just how whores are. They don't know what to do, so   they make noise.

Perhaps she'd been a plague to some man or another, but she seems innocent enough. Iglair examines her concealed privates. "Ahh, what's this?",  he coos, practially spilling over with excitement. Her white panties   have a wet spot. I know it doesn't mean anything though. Pussy leaks all  the time, whether bitches are horny or not, and bodies work.

"Looks like you can't wait to be fucked", he says. "Mmmmm!",  she shakes her head in protest, tears spilling onto the ground. Of   course she doesn't want this, which is all of our fun, but teasing is   part of the fun too. We both know how frustrating, how shameful this   must be for her. It's always almost too good to imagine that we're the   perpetrators of such torment.

I   crawl up, and I punch her in the head and face, over and over. She   screams, writhes under Iglair as he unzips his pants on top of her. I've  probably broken her nose by now, and my gloves are getting wet with her  tears and snot as she cries, struggling to breathe.

Iglair  slices her panties with his engraved pocket knife. The bottom part   flaps down, perfectly revealing her fuck hole. She's got slightly curly,  thin brown pubes, kind of like the hair on her head. Duh, I guess. I'm  yanking her hair, and slapping her across the face. Iglair shoves his dick inside the woman. She's unwilling, but her vag is pretty lose, so her resistance hits a flat note. He pumps in and out, fast and hard. The  woman groans and moans in pain, I couldn't say whether that wet pussy  actually liked it too, though.

I  yank her up, to Iglair's mild annoyance, and slice a hole in the tape. I  guess I didn't think this out all the way. I rub my dick in her   bloodied face, searching for the tape hole. I shove her face onto my   prick, until I finally get it in her mouth. The dumb bitch starts   choking. Why do they have to fucking breathe?

I'm  impatient, ready to burst all over, and I better get a good nut in. I shove and pull her head up and down, slapping her every time I feel the  scrape of teeth.

"Suck it!",  I order. Her sucking is interrupted as she gasps and screams Iglair is  roughly double fingering her asshole. He's picked up a stick from the ground, and is using it to violate her pussy, while fucking her. It must  be scraping him down there too, but that's his thing, I guess. It must  hurt when it rubs up against her sensitive clit, probably giving a  splinter.

I slap her, "Focus bitch." I moan as she finally complies better. "Shut up and keep it up."  I ejaculate on her face and in her mouth, and Iglair takes his pocket knife, and plunges it into her chest. She groans in pain, and he keeps fucking her, even harder now. I keep my dick in her mouth, as she   struggles for her final breaths. Her blood soaks her jacket, and begins to puddle around her. The heady, rich scent fills the air as the life   leaves her annoying, idiotically innocent eyes.

The  blood has flowed down to her pussy, where Iglair is still fucking   violently. She stops moving on her own, and Iglair is left reaming her   lifeless body. He groans in effort, and finally blows his load outside, where it lands on her blood soaked chest and face.

We  stand up, zip up our pants, and grab a couple of decent sized sticks   from the forest floor. We beat and beat her, probably for ten minutes   straight. When we finish, her body lays broken, purple, and disgusting. But her face is too recognizable still. Iglair gets a hammer from his   own backpack, and starts smashing her face, over and over again the   hammer squelches and crushes against her face.

He finishes, panting, and hands the hammer to me. I flip it to the fork   side, and go to work on her scalp. I smash and scrape, pulling out   clumps of her hair, skin, and skull. She looks demolished. My gaze travels down to her pussy again. I take my manhood out again. I don't have any getting ready to do. After my second go at the woman, my dick is covered in a pink sauce of sexual fluids and blood. I tuck it back into my boxers and zip the fly on my jeans.

Iglair joined me at some point. His penis slurps in and out of the bloody hole of hard fragments and flesh that we beat her mouth into. He slides what's left of her head up and down on his dick. His grip slips a little as more of her brains fall out. He gets her by a leftover patch of hair and continues in a fast, solid rhythm. Her open skull thuds wet on the pavement as he bangs it up and down. He masturbates himself with the remains of her destroyed, bloody head.

"Think her mother would be able to recognize this if she stumbled out here tomorrow?", I ask Iglair.

"It's alright, I guess", he responds as his cum squirts onto her ravaged face. "Who says this cunt even had a living mother?"

#violent #crime #crazy

[thatweirdmod]

Going to the Other Side (Sainwell and Iglair)

Airey jolted from sleep. After years of being shaken from peace by its blaring resonation, the seed of anxiety that the sound of alarm had sown within had grown into a tangle. She scrambled from bed and over to the white dresser to shut it off. Her room was still very dim. 5:30 AM marked the start of another productive day.

She washed her face, brushed her teeth, combed her sleep-tossled black hair straight again, dressed in a long-sleeved white shirt and mid-length black skirt, and applied a modest touch of make-up to her bright-eyed face. She didn't do that little smile in the mirror that nice kids do in the movies, but she was more ready to greet the day than most of them were anyway.

She loaded three slices of wheat bread into the toaster- one for herself and two for her dad, who was now stirring around in the bathroom. While tea steeped, she scrambled some hen periods with a spatula. Poor birds. Everyday, or almost everyday, they have to push out something bigger than their heads through a hole that's half the size of a human anus. Most would pass on having to squeeze out a dry, calcium crusted crap everyday. That's what they do to propagate their species though, but it happens whether the eggs turn into fluffy, cute baby birds, or end up fluffy, sizzling in the fat from some mammal's tits.

"Thanks, Airey," her dad said as they sat down for breakfast. He was a hard-working foreman with an increasing number of light-grey streaks in his neatly brushed, black head of hair. He had a soft aura and a kind-hearted, patient smile, but the firmness  and understanding needed to instill, and equally important, inspire healthy successfulness and discipline.

She took after him more,  Airey's mother used to say before. Their days were always busy, but they made time to have breakfast together. It was the only time they had most days. They'd talk about how things were going, and whether her reply called for guidance or praise, he always had a reason to be proud of his daughter.

Her father was off first. "Bye sweetheart. I love you."

"Bye. Love you too, Dad."

And they meant it more than anything else in the world.

Black backpack on now, Airey stepped out under the swirling grey sky. Cooking breakfast wasn't the only reason she had for getting up early. She headed off down the concrete sidewalk, taking the long, scenic route to school. After doritos, this was her second favorite guilty pleasure. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw him again. Iglair. He was a dream of lightly spiked black hair, lean muscles, and the deepest, bluest eyes that had stopped her dead in her tracks the three times that they had found her. He was perfectly cool, with no insecurity in his gait. Iglair was amazing, a living wonder of the world, that yet passed so easily, like a small, swift breeze- always too swiftly for her to fill her eyes enough.

Airey found a silver lining in this though, as she always did with things. Perhaps it was better than he moved along without catching her gawking. If she ended up seeming like a creep to him, she'd be heartbroken like the MC of Yandere Simulator. The cold wind blew some strands of her long black hair in front of her eyes, and she wished that she'd put on some hair clips. Even the couple of seconds that pushing the hair from her face interrupted her gaze was too much time to lose. And then she felt a pang of forlornness at her desperation.

A brown haired girl in a pink sweater and jeans started down the same path from one of the houses. Unlike Airey, it was actually practical for Cassie to take this route. But like Airey, she was always taking it at the right time. The girls smiled giddily and exchanged excited glances. Briefly, Airey had wondered how this could end, the two of them being friends but liking the same boy. But, it was never going to happen anyway. A sad, lonely part of her knew this, but she couldn't stop herself from following him.

Up ahead, a guy with messy, light brown hair was dragging his beat up tennis shoes down the pavement. Hands buried in his grey hoodie, worn bag slung over his slouched shoulder, a frown was no doubt on his face, which was always a portrait of depression.

He and Iglair never talked on the way to school, but Airey would see them together after school, hanging out around the pawn shop or walking together. She wasn't sure why Iglair spent so much of his time, or any at all, with this shabby Samwell boy, especially when he wasn't connected to his regular group of friends at all.

At school, she ignored the dirty looks from kids who called her a teacher's pet. So what she reminded Mr. Corncap to collect the homework when he forgot? It wasn't her fault that she did her work and they didn't do theirs. This school was full of lazy people, the ones who were outright about simply not wanting to study, and the ones who made excuses, pretending that the reason they couldn't match her performance was because they were dull, and she was just given the gift of sharpness. As if she didn't devote the hours to study that they did to leisure.

Airey spent her day as usual, answering every question correctly when called upon, getting extra marks, and keeping records for the student council as its secretary. She'd had lunch with Cassie and some others, but they were Cassie's circle of friends, not necessarily her own. They just sometimes spoke of things that were.. a bit too crude for Airey's taste. On the way out of school, however, something incredible happened. Iglair approached her.

"Hey, do you have a minute?"

Airey almost couldn't believe her ears. "Yes!" she said, perhaps too quickly. But for him she had a million minutes.

"I hear you're pretty good with math, and that you've tutored some of the other kids," he said.

"Yea.. yes. I've done.. I do that sometimes," she stuttered nervously.

Good lord she was stupid, she thought looking down with a silly simper that she couldn't help. Iglair still had the grace to smile his heartmeltingly charming smile at her, and ask,

"Would you mind helping me with calculus? I've been having a little trouble."

She stared for a moment. He appeared to be slightly abashed at this, and it was absolutely adorable.

"Sure," she agreed, smiling brightly.

"What time is alright for you?" Iglair asked.

She would liked to have thrust everything to the back burner to chase this opportunity that might as well have been her own modern fairytale. However, she had already promised to babysit the neighbors' son for this evening and the next, and Airey was never one to shirk her responsibilities.

"Is Friday at 7:00 fine?" she asked, and then she felt stupid again.

Kids at this school usually had bigger plans than studying on a Friday night, especially someone cool like Iglair. But once again, he was too gracious in the face of her social bumbling, and instead of faltering, his smile grew pleasantly.

"Sounds good. Do you want to meet at my house?"

Heat rushed her body from head to toe. And then she was humiliated. Even the cold could not excuse such a flush, she realized.

"Um.. y-yes, sure. That's fine."

It was beyond fine. In Iglair's house, maybe even his bedroom, she thought woozily. It might smell like him. Would they be alone?

"Alright, see you later then. And thanks!" Iglair said.

"You're welcome," she said, waving shyly as he left.

"Over the moon" might have been a good way to describe Airey as she near skipped down the sidewalk of her neighborhood. But she was not so far above this world that she wouldn't notice one of its creatures moving gradually and dangerously across the ground to her left. She halted, looked both ways, entered the road, and gathered up the turtle.

"You were heading here, right?" Airey asked it chirpily as she carried it to the other side of the road.

Of course, there was no response. What kind of sounds did turtles make anyway, she wondered. As she was setting the animal down, a car sped past behind her, going well above the 30 mph speed limit. "Whew, it's a good thing I saw you just now," a bittersweet victory, when she realized how many of the world's crossing turtles that she wasn't there to help.

The turtle, whom she thought looked like a William, slowly kept on its path, wherever that might be leading. For some reason, Airey always assumed that turtles had a set, known destination to be, maybe because moving at such a painstaking pace might not afford much time for do-overs and mistakes. They had long lives to make up for their slowness, but slowness to balance their long lives. Maybe in a way, turtles lived about as long as other animals.

She turned and saw Cassie heading up the sidewalk. They had walked together, fluttering through various topics as easily as the birds chirping above. Airey remembered their laughter at something that was said, but she didn't know what.

Because now with death sinking its fingers into her soul from where it seeped through her rent body, that was all a distant, and foolishly carefree seeming yesterday. Airey thought she had learned diligently of concerns, that she was molding well into someone reliable and knowledgeable, prepared for the challenges and harshness out in the open grey lands. She thought that she was a person to find color in the world, and to bring the vibrancy of good into the drab and grey.

But somehow things had turned so awry, and how could she have solved this, been ready for it? She could scarcely grasp how this place that she'd been thrust into, this place of unfathomable suffering, could belong to the same reality of the world before. Airey recognized the ones tearing the bloody meat that was once the complete person of herself mechanically only.

Somehow one of them was Iglair, inflicting abuse upon her with the part of himself that she had once, in the cloudy flower days, blushed to think about. The shreds of her ignorant, faraway dream repelled her when they flitted back into her memory. His attention was a nightmare.

But she was not delusional enough to think that she would wake up from this- could not be, with the pain. The body that she'd washed, fed, clothed, and once thought that she knew for an unalienable fact was her own was violated and mutilated beyond the filthiest and most hellish illusion that her un-bled mind of afore times would have been able to conjure.

She could feel herself being battered heavily, but could not see from where the blows were coming and when anymore. Death had become the lover that she desired. And now she faded into the claim of its arms as it pulled her away from the monsters and the agony and into quiet nothing. She felt herself fall, and then with a painful crack to the side of her head, all ended.

Love is over.

#tragedy #lost innocence #violent

[thatweirdmod]

Beriphitar's Pillage 1.5: A Memory on the Road

I feel especially disgusted by this chapter.

As the wind blows through my hair, I remember that I knew someone once,   someone I can't forget, before I ran away for the first time.  Trusty   Rusty was new back then, or at least, new to me. I was fishing for parts  for her in the junkyard, clambering through wooden things, metal   things, soft things, and broken things under the perpetually dreary sky that I shared with no one in this particular place- my place. I wasn't that much of a loser, but I wasn't cool.

Calling me a weirdo wouldn't quite have fit either, but still, the truth of the  matter was that I just didn't fit in. If the word "edgy" had found the  grey spot on the world that our town festered in, perhaps that's what I  would have been called. In that case, I wouldn't have cared what they said, but I wouldn't have thought it accurate. If I must be described, I fancy that I am a lone wolf, a logical but wild prowler.

I was in one such useless self reflective trance that day too, and clanking on the other side of the mound of rubbish to my right had pulled me out  of it:

Must I be denied everything? Even the illusion of ownership and privacy that  I indulged in such a lowly niche as a junkyard? Out of curiosity, and  what the recipients of such call "ill-intent", I quietly climb the hill  of discarded treasures. At the moment that I peer carefully over the  brink, light brown hair dips beneath my view. His head bobs up just as  quickly, though, and he repeats the motion. The boy/man, around the age  where males begin taking their place in the world as perverse,  productive men, is working at some task.

I  remind myself of a wrinkled necked turtle as I stretch further up. I   see that before him was a hole, about 5 feet wide and almost as deep.   His cargo pants are caked in light brown dirt, but reddish wetness   darkens them in spots. I look to his left, and am less surprised than   some would say I should be to see the bloody members of a chopped human corpse- forearm and hand, leg and foot.

I  am not completely without caution, because now it concerns me slightly  more that the boy is facing my direction. He keeps his head down to his  work, on his knees, passing the pieces into the hole. I can hear the  firm wetness of the meat when he touches where the person or persons  were cut- that solid thump that nothing but flesh can make when it's  lifelessly toppled.

His animal  senses finally override his human concentration. He turns his head up  and spots me, peering down at him. Our eyes meet. Mine are wide, and his  are too, but it's not fright I see. It's surprise. We stay like that  longer than natural, me holding fast to the scraps to keep from falling,  and him looking up at me, his face slowly becoming blanker.

Finally he says, "They sing. I love that."  His voice is calm, soft, firm, and has a nice resonation to it. In   skill of producing sound, his throat is more mature than the other loud,  brutish boys of our age. I bet he could dry the fiercest storm of a   baby's tears, and have it sleeping within a minute with his soothing   voice, but only because the child would be too ignorant to detect the   haunting notes underneath the manipulative reassurance.

I  can't let him leave, and he can't let me leave. Fine then. The boy is but a stick in a plain white t-shirt and long beige cargos, and I have on my toolbelt as I always do when I come here. A crowbar, pliers, a   screwdriver, and other miscellaneous tools ring my waist.

I  take my crowbar in hand and start rising over the summit. He stands to his feet. His face remains blank, but his eyes darken as they continue to stare at me. I feel like a warrior in an army with the high ground as  I descend upon him. It seems he realizes that he must move, so he goes  for the shovel stuck into the ground next to him. I'm out-ranged, but  that is only a bit concerning. It's probably a waste, but I jerk my chin  towards the body pieces and ask, "Who was that?"

"A girl",  he replies. For all his calm and creepiness, his humanity is revealed by his white knuckles, clenched frantically tight around his shovel.   He's afraid, and he's conceded a few steps. The corner of my mouth tugs up a twitch. This is my domain, I tell myself.

"I can tell it's a girl", I say as I walk a semicircle around him. "I  can see the budding tits on the upper half of the torso there. I bet   she would have been humiliated if she were told how badly she needed a   training bra", I remark, observing the pointy outlines of her nipples.

"She knew", the boy said. "She was wearing it before."

"You take it off?"

"Yeah."

I pause my walking. "Her name was Shaeldanae", the light brown haired boy/man said. "She was in my class in Wurthsworths- first year."

"Oh",  I say. My eyes flit to the crowbar for a moment. I would kill him for the heck of it if no other reason, but for some damn reason I feel too lazy to deal with this.

"I go there too. That place sucks."

"What's your name?" he asks me, with a little more courage than before.

I consider the risks of telling him, but he's the one who's committed the crime here. "Beriphitar."

"I'm Sainwell- Sainwell Brugler."  I consider judging him to be a simpleton for telling me his name- full  no less. But I guess it would make no difference. It could be an alias  too.

"I don't know if it's nice to meet you", I state, but I'm looking for an answer.

"Do you think it's nice what I've done?" I usually hate it when people who ought to be giving information try to flip the table and extract it.

"It's not nice, but I like it",  I respond, but I leave out the fact that I rather strongly dislike   Sainwell himself. So why don't I raise my crowbar against him? Maybe I   respect him as seasoning to a bleak world. My grip tightens around the   heavy metal.

"Drop the shovel", I suddenly order.

He looks concerned at this, and doesn't move. "Do it now. I am dominant." After another pause and failure to comply. I say,"I  can kill you like you killed her, regardless, and you could be joining  her in the hole you've been so kind as to dig. Also, scratch dropping the shovel; throw it far away over there", I say pointing.

This  time, the boy obeys. I swiftly close the distance between us and strike  him in the chest with the crowbar. He crumples with a deathly groan. I  drop the weapon, grab him by the hair to lift his head up, and begin  pounding his hollowly gasping face with my right fist. I beat him over  viciously. I kick him as hard as I can, over and over, in the legs,  thighs, buttocks, torso, back, shoulders, and face.

When I finish, he's dazing and bloodied with broken bones. I spit on him, and speak clearly so he can hear me. "Don't ever think about getting retribution for this. If you do, I will end your life."

My  mood has been completely soured for the day, and maybe even half of   tomorrow, so I begin walking away as fast as possible. But I heard a   zipper no sooner than I'd begun turning, and in the corner of my eye, I caught soft pink being furiously smeared with red, and two sick eyes of a  battered, swollen, bloody face staring at me again. Before riding my  bicycle out at the entrance of the junkyard, I ground myself against it,  fulfilling the urge of my blind rage and roil.

I  hold a cigarette between the fingers of one hand, and my other holds   Trusty Rusty's handle. I puff a cloud of smoke out, which is whipped   behind me as I buzz along. That was a strange day, and not one that I   particularly like to revisit, but occasionally I wonder, what's become of Sainwell now?  I shake my head and take another drag. It doesn't matter. I'm rich and  I'm free, and all that's even farther behind me than the confused,   groggy girl staggering from my old hovel.

#crazy #crime #violent

[thatweirdmod]

Beriphitar's Pillage 6 FINAL: Okay

Beriphitar's Pillage Chapter 6 - Okay:

The sounds of searching, questioning people torment my ears, but I'm afraid that if I reach up to cover them, my aching body will tumble from the tree branch it lies upon. Why did I ever think it was a good idea to tie myself in a sleeping bag to a high tree branch like I was a resourceful archer, when I didn't even have the vision for how she did it in the first place?

The branch is not even wide enough to turn over, and who knew lying on a round object would make one more likely to roll off? This sucks. At least they probably won't be able to see me all the way up here.

Volunteers and lawmen push through the tangled woods together like the teeth of a comb- a wide toothed comb, however. I can see nothing from my prison of fabric, rope, and leaves, but it is my educated guess that they're spread thinly.

It would take the full force of the town's small population to be spread thick out here. To make the odds better, with how selfish, cold, and apathetic I believe these people to be, they would not bother, not even for a precious human like the one whose camouflaged grave they've probably already unwittingly trampled over. The volunteers, with their untrained eyes, concern me even less than the fat, lazy lawmen.

And then, it hits me in the crotch. This happens when I'm on my back sometimes, when it only seems natural that I should be touching my penis. Against reason, I begin to shuffle my way out of the sleeping bag. If I drop anything, it could lead them to me if they pass by this tree. I scoot out, leaving the bag tied to the tree branch.

I sit up against the trunk, undo my zipper, and take Mr. Happy out of my pants. I'm already really hard. I stroke myself, and it feels absolutely amazing. Unable to resist, I pleasure myself hard and as fast as I can, using my left hand to give extra treatment to the tip of my dick. "Aaahhh!" Within a minute, I spurt semen everywhere with a loud moan.

I feel the world turning, and once my blown mind regenerates, I find myself hanging off the side of the tree branch, tangled in rope. Ugh, I want to leave this stupid tree already. When will the search be over? Who cares about one little female?

I maneuver to straighten my situation out, but I must not have tied the rope as well as I thought, because it comes loose, and I'm tossed carelessly on the ground. I hit hard and with a groan. I try to stand, but find that my knees and one of my ankles are decently fucked up.

I'm so, so tired of all this bullshit. My supplies are left up in the tree. Keeping my ears and eyes alert for any disturbance in the foliage around me, I fight my body, splintering bark, and gravity to get up the tree again. I collect my things and descend messily, exhausted now.

I don't give a shit. I'm leaving these woods. I listen to the dim voices through the thick bushes, leaves, and humus.

I close my eyes to form a picture of the location they're coming from, and set my path so that it doesn't collide with the noise. I knew this wouldn't work, however, and a couple of frayed edges from the spread of seekers brush across me.

Here's where Beriphitar does it again. I lift up the mini crossbow I purchased at some point in my journey, and shoot the 30 year old man right through his neck. While the woman searching with him is wasting time reacting with a scream, I'm loading another bolt.

I fire at her, but she's just gone into flight, so I miss. Fuck. Voices rise in response to her cries. The spider has sensed a disturbance in the web, and is coming to check what's been caught.

Both the brown ponytail woman and I flee, because there's nothing else for either of us to do. I don't even go to harvest my  freshly hunted prey. I'm frustratingly slow, lumbering through the woods in thick winter clothes, and with the bags on my back. I refuse to drop them, though. I've already lost too much.

I look over my shoulder, praying to luck, I suppose, that I don't see those damn orange vests coming in the dank woods behind me. Please, just one more, then this life can end, and my dominant spirit will find a new, free body to reeve in all over again.

The cold air rattles through my sore pipes in shaking, pathetic torrents as I drag my feet forward as fast as I can. I realize with a sense of doom, that I'm going in the direction of the town. I'll be seen for sure, but like I said, just one more. Give me the miracle of 2 minutes and a... oh! That's perfect.

I see luck personified in a female form walking along the path on the outskirts of the wood. She screams as I barrel into her. I pull the writhing, crying girl to my body, and cover her mouth with my gloved hands. "Shut up!" I whisper harshly and hoarsely. "Shut up, and maybe I'll let you live." There is no chance of that, unless someone comes to save her.

She continues to struggle, but I wrestle her down onto the paved dirt. Her feistyness is wasting a lot of my time, so I punch the back of her head and neck until she settles somewhat. I want some fight, don't get me wrong, but I can't handle too much right now. I hear shouts approaching. The sighting of me generated a lot of excitement.

My heart pounds loudly in my ears as I peel the female's tight jeans down her soft flesh. Her underwear digs into her skin as I tear it off. "Please! Please stop," she says, crying hysterically. I pray again no one hears. Just let me get it inside her.

I practically rip my zipper off in my desperation to get my penis out.

Sitting on the back of her thighs, with my hand pressing her head to the packed dark dirt, I stick her like a pig with my dick. I fuck her hard and fast, relentlessly using her ass and pussy to get myself off. I'm still fucking her, begging for one last blow, when from the corner of my eye, I see the first orange vests coming out of the woods for me.

They're yelling things at me, but I'm not looking or listening. My eyes are bound only to the task before me, my wet dick fucking and ruining the reddened, unwilling ass of the crying girl pinned under my weight. Someone is approaching me fast, but I manage it. I manage to keep pumping until I come, and a hard dam bursts inside my balls. The come is still pouring from my twitching dick as people drag me off of the female.

The echoes of wails and accusatory words whirl in the air around me. "Animal." "Crazy." "Are you okay?" "Horrible." It all blends together into human monkey noise. It's meaningless. It's all completed, but they still continue to talk as if something special needs to be done.

Cold metal clicks around my wrists. My arms won't spread from behind my back anymore. Someone hides my penis inside my pants again. I scream in the disturbed faces around me, "Molester!!! Molester! Molester!" until I'm cut off by laughing.

The sound that fills my ears is empty, cold, and hopeless, but it quiets the pointless cacophony around me. The triumphant roar from my chest booms through the open cavern of my mouth as I'm roughly pulled at. I can feel the hatred and hurt in their many clutching hands, the things I've inflicted flooding back against my body.

I cease my final cry of existence, but not because they've told me to. I'm remembering Uorthem. I should've killed him. Strangled him.

I thought that this would've been enough, but a human never seems to have enough, even right after they get their greatest current wish.

My head slumps, and my face blanks. Many such regrets rack me, and shred my heart. I was striding along with the people before, as a graceful loser, but now they have to drag me- a sack of heavy sins and filthy deeds.

I see in my future a strip search, a holding cell, derogation, frowning men and societal scorn, due process, and court rooms.

I only wonder, when in all that, will I be unsupervised with a rolled bed sheet and something high that can hold my weight?

A hundred footsteps pound the pavement. Lights and flashes assault my eyes as I'm crammed into a lawmen's car. So this is how my life winds down, huh? "Whatever," I think, but I still sigh.

So the monster has been caught. Mourning families and general sympathizers will bitterly curse me as the law tries to make me pay. Let them have their moment of unity as a fist, striking down on a piece of particularly concentrated evil in their swarm.

They will never be able to crush it all, not even when they see the dandelions of desire seeding again. It will reset. The joy as the old people recover and/or die, the hatred and the selfishness, and the sadness of the cycle.

#criminal #crazy #violent

[thatweirdmod]

Beriphitar's Pillage 5: Impulse

Aachoo! *sniffle* *sniffle*. Ugh. Persistent vagrancy in harsh weather, rain and sleet is not agreeing with me. I sit against a large tree in the woods, bundled in my coat and layers of mismatched clothes. I must look the part of a true homeless.

The sheet of discarded plastic that I put under myself to keep the wet leaves from soaking my pants crinkles annoyingly as I huddle my limbs to my chest, and bring another spoonful of cold canned soup to my mouth. It tastes especially salty and metallic when it's not heated up.

I just need to continue keeping a low profile until Uorthem finishes forging my new identity. He didn't ask me what name I wanted, and he still hasn't bothered to tell me what it's going to be. That's the least of my concerns, however. My mind is overcome of a sensation grown in my body. Religious people call it lust, the Spanish call it passion, the edgelords call it craving, but what they would all be able to agree upon is that mine is twisted.

Drundam's poorly secured homes, its sloppy force of lawmen, and its mostly lethargic populous tempt me day by day, like a lion shown a suckling lamb from inside his cage. I can do it, I tell myself. I'll be more careful to not leave evidence. No, I must not! I'm on the edge of glory, and if I were to ruin this now, I don't know what else there would be for me. This time, the admonition of reason fails to reign me in. No! I will do as I please and hunt as I should.

I rise, throw the can aside, gather the things I need, and loop my binoculars around my neck. I go back to Uorthem's house. He's not a poor man, and his skill set makes him considerable cash, so it at first confused me that his home was in about the same neglected state as all the others. I wasn't paying attention to the wheels in the yard, then. He's one of those people. His home comes in at 5th place after his nice cars.

I knock on the door. He throws the door open, with cup noodles that he couldn't be bothered to put down in one of his hands. He waves me in, and I quickly step in and close the door to conceal us. "What? I'm kinda busy makin' you a new life." Uorthem talks like one of the local hicks, but he knows his trade well, even if he doesn't incorporate the high language of the legal documents he forges into his regular speech.

"I want the room upstairs with the window third to the left, facing from outside. I'll pay $50 a day for it."

Uorthem scoffs and slurps up more of his noodles. "You're gonna have to do better than that," he says with a stuffed mouth.

"$75 a day?"

He shakes his head and gulps down the mush of salt, fat, and processed wheat. "Hows about you cut the shit. I told youthe other day. Men know what a man wants. It ain't the paper to buy goods that you really need. You need the goods, 'specially the goods that don't got a price tag." Uorthem raises his eyebrows at me expectantly.

I sigh through my nose in exasperation. I want to storm away, but I just won't. "Okay," I say.

"'Okay' what?" Uorthem presses. "You should know, what you did last time isn't gonna cut it for letting a psycho fugitive camp out in my house."

I purse my lips and wait for him to specify his demands.

"You gotta bend it over," he gestures with his hand the motion he wants my back to do.

My rage is coming on me. This isn't the cold grey thing that bids me to disregard the lives of others in the interest of my own benefit. This is the red, roiling fury that compels me to destroy, to give ten fold retribution for every bit of  disrespect, and to clench my hands so tightly around the throat in front of me that not a wisp of air can trickle through. I can almost see Uorthem's flesh turning blue and black where my fingers dig in.

He snaps the fingers of his free hand. "Earth to Beriphitar." He peers around at the bag over my back. "You look like you're ready right now. Just let me finish this," he takes a huge bite of noodles, "and we can go upstairs." After one last session of smacking and slurping, he throws the greasy cup onto his overflowing trash bin.

"These things creak and snap like an old bag in bed," Uorthem remarks. Indeed, the fear of breaking the whole thing and falling through has helped me resist the urge to stomp on the way up the narrow wooden staircase. He leads me to a room that looks more like an attic than a bedroom.

Everything from the dark wooden floor to the sloped, discolored cream ceiling is coated in a film of settled dust. Muted bright light streams in from the two small windows facing the door. There are no decorations, but it appears the room is being used a storage for things Uorthem rarely uses.

"Hurry up and get all that shit off you," he says. "I'm on a schedule, believe it or not." He walks over to the bed as I stiffly undress. Uorthem throws back the comforter and sheets and immediately coughs when a cloud of dust flurries up to assault his face. "Ugh, damn, erhgm!" he says, clearing his throat. "I put fresh sheets on this bed after my ma died in it, and ain't touched it since."

He swipes some of the dust off, a futile action, then looks back at me*. "Well don't just stand there; get on. And get your boxers off too. You don't wanna test my patience now."* Uorthem watches as I pull my boxers off, and set them aside with the rest of my clothes and things. I walk over to the bed and crawl on, feeling unusually self-conscious.

I'm kneeling on all fours below him while he stands hovering behind me. He grabs my ass with both of his hands, squeezing  and rubbing so hard it feels like he's trying to tear it. "Mmm, nice and firm," he remarks with approval, and then he pulls his hand back and gives my bottom a fierce smack.

The resonation of the clap fills the small room. Perhaps it's a good thing he can't see my face. I'm beet red with indignation at being debased in this manner. It's absurd that this is what he would ask of me. I keep my teeth clenched and lips tightly sealed to keep from growling obscenities back at him.

He reaches a hand around my waist and tugs my penis a few times. He massages the tip with his thumb and index finger for a bit, then tugs the length of my flaccid wang some more. "You gotta get that back all the way down, and that ass all the way up," Uorthem says, and presses down on my back with his palm. I bend my elbows and arch my bottom up in what feels like a disgusting display of submission.

"Niiice," he says. Then, he grabs my ass cheeks in his hands again and forces them so far apart that I nearly feel skin tearing. He chuckles as he watches my exposed asshole spasm. I could kill him. Uorthem leans down and drags his wet tongue flat over my anus. I can feel red welts forming on the flesh of my bottom from where his fingers are digging in. He laves at my asshole with his tongue for a while, then pulls back and releases one of my cheeks.

Uorthem claws a dry finger inside my bottom hole, and moves it in and out. "Ohh yeah, that's tight," he breathes. Then he pushes another inside. I can feel the skin stretching and threatening to break. He fucks my ass with his fingers faster and rougher. He inserts another painful finger, releases the other cheek, then begins to masturbate while still fingering and making lesions on my anus.

I release a breath when he finally pulls his fingers out. He rubs my spasming asshole and then smacks my bottom cheeks hard a few times. He grabs my hips, and I groan in pain as he pushes his dick inside my anal cavity, spreading me apart to what feels like beyond my limits. I've never felt something so massive in my ass. I can feel the soft tissue of my anus tearing, blood smearing.

I can feel his penis ramming up and down my intestines, where I've only felt shit before, and where before things are only went down. The experience is jarring, nauseating, and agonizing. I feel constipated when his dick fills me up. It feels like forever that he rides me, banging my ass mercilessly, but I finally feel wetness fill my bottom cavity, and hear Uorthem release a deep sigh. "Whew, nothing like a conquering a fresh, tight ass."

This remark offends me. He's conquered nothing. "Well, enjoy your stay. Either pay again, or be out by this time tomorrow," Uorthem says, and then leaves me in the room alone, sore, tainted and icky from his sticky semen in my bottom hole. I waddle over to my discarded clothes, and fish a piece of paper towels out from the pockets of my pants to wipe my bottom with.

I go over to the window, pleased that I have the view into 2 of the neighbors' houses that I thought I would. These idiots leave the curtains of their blind-less windows open, or partially open. I've never understood why anyone would do that. From my observation over the course of these 5 days I've been waiting, one of the households is all female-folk. There's a matriarch who looks to be in her forties, another who could be in the final years of high school or early college, a vapid junior high cunt, and a little elementary kid. They all go to school or work.

I've decided that I can no longer leave bodies with my physical evidence for someone else to clean up, so someone is going to be my lucky kidnap-ee to have a mystical time in the woods with. There they will be used, and there they will be buried.

I observe all their manners for the rest of the day and night until they go to sleep. This open window house is really too much. I now know where each of these persons sleeps. The next day, I pay Uorthem again, and I wait again. They do basically the same stuff.

I stealth-rush across the street with a mask on that only reveals my eyes, and with my baggy black hood up. I quietly lean a ladder from their yard up to the window of the female of interest. While peering in to make sure she's sleeping, I observe that the decor appears as though the color pink projectile vomited 10 shades around the room, and passed out sick on the bed.

I slide the unlocked window up, and enter. I easily pull her out of bed and smother her face with a chloroform soaked cloth just as she starts to scream. I then put the conveniently sized female in a black suitcase bag, put her over my back, and go out of the window. I close it before going back down the ladder, which I place back as it was in the yard.

I walk out to the woods without interruption, and remove my game meat from the bag. An instinctual part of me longs  for the days depicted in history, when mankind's conscience seemed scarcely developed beyond an animal's. Those were the days in which dominant men were free and good to enact their base and selfish urges upon whoever their muscles would allow. Conquest, reaving, and pillage were normal. Oppressor became also protector, as the weak had the choice of being used by the few or by the many. The best, like me, were even revered as well feared.

I've never done one this type before, but in the boiling state of my craving this will more than suffice. I'm actually looking forward to how tight it will be. The gross thought of Reyfon comes to my mind, but I expel it almost as soon as it appears. I run tape around her mouth and head for in case she wakes up. I hastily pull my pants and underwear off and strip her of her bottoms as well. She begins to come to, just in time. Too bad for her.

Over what must be hours, I act out every vile and aggressive thought of lust that comes to my mind upon her body. The tears, groans, cries, and presumable pleas that I reveled in have begun to die. I feel her going limp while I'm still moving and tearing inside of her, and the bearings that were thrown aside in my hunger begin to come back to me.

I take in our state. Where before I saw her, I now see a mess of red and torn flesh. One of my hands is clenched tighter around her fragile neck than I ever noticed before. I also just now notice the ache in the arm of my other hand, which digs into her dislocated, deeply bruised shoulder and presses her down into the dirt and sticks with surprising force. My crotch is soaked in blood, sopping as I pull it out of her body. My knuckles are split. My hands and forearms are red, red, red.  A knife, which I only vaguely remember taking out and using, lies to the side, covered completely in blood and some bits of stringy  flesh.

I loose a sigh. It's like I lost my mind for however long. I check the time on my watch, and start when I realize how long it's been. It takes me until past first light to clean everything up, and bury the female. I thought I would have to kill her intentionally once I was done using her as a dump for my urges. I didn't expect to have done the job unintentionally.

I use an out-of-the-way payphone to call Uorthem's phone. He answers. "Hello, who is this?"

"It's me," I say.

"What did you do?" Uorthem asks gravely. "My neighbors are all worked up 'cause one of 'ems missing. I hear it must've been last night."

"Just, bring the stuff I left at your house out to the east entrance to the woods, closest to your house, okay? That little job pays $200."

"Right, because you kidnapped and killed someone from right across my fuckin' street! I actually didn't think you'd be nuts enough to bring this psycho shit to my doorstep. Are you outta your damn mind?!"

"Hey, if I get caught, or you give me up, I give you up. So, I think it's in both of our best interests if you just bring my stuff over as I ask today, finish making my identity, then bring that over. I'll be gone, never to return, after I get my ID and papers."

"Dammit, kid," he grumbles. "Alright, but I'll only make the trip out to your woods when I have your identification credentials ready. One trip for your stuff and your ID- not two."

"Okay, but don't expect the $200 bonus when you're tardy," I tell him, annoyed.

"I. Don't. Give. A shit," Uorthem spits through the line, then he hangs up.

I walk sleuth back into the woods, and slink down against a tree with a deep sigh.

Banging midgets is fun.... yeahhh....

#crime spree #on-the-run #criminal #crazy #violent