Fat Off Sex and Violence (13 page)

***

They stood in the hall and faced the neighbor girl’s door. Gary could hear the wet sounds coming from inside of Sheila’s apartment, could hear her painful moan mixed with giggles. He shook his head. “Look, I just want to go. Let’s go to Rudy’s, take care of Chester, and—”

            Mary Jane’s eyes landed on him, bright and burning. “No. I want her now,” she said. “What’s the matter? I thought you’d be happy about this.”

            The neighbor’s door creaked open.

            “Feed me, Gary. Feed me or we’ll make your mother disembowel herself,” Mary Jane said.

            The neighbor stepped out of the darkness of her apartment and stood in the doorway. She wore no clothing and, though drenched in blood, her naked body was every bit of perfect as Gary had imagined it would be. So many fantasies with the neighbor girl playing the lead role, and now she was all his. Just a couple of days earlier, Gary would have given anything just to get a glimpse of her nude flesh. But now, he only wanted this nightmare to end. Actually wanted his shitty life back.

            The neighbor’s red body glistened, and as she smiled out at Gary, she brought her hand down to her thigh and swiped it across, opening a wide, seeping gash. She held a razor blade in her hand, and just as Gary saw the glint of the metal, she swiped it across her other leg. Her legs looked tiger-striped with open wounds but, much like his mother, she only smiled.

            “Why are you just standing there?” she said. “Come in here and fuck me.”

            Just to hear those words squirt from her lips petrified his cock. Another gurgled groan came from within his mother’s apartment, and Gary clenched his teeth, squeezed his hands into fists.

            “Yeah, Gary. What’s the problem?” Kronos said.

            “Feed me now,” Mary Jane said. “She smells scrumptious.”

            The girl stepped out into the hallway and approached Gary with open arms. The night air twisted her nipples to sharp points, the rest of her beading up into gooseflesh.

            Gary could only watch her come, part from revulsion, but mostly because he longed to feel her against him. So many years thinking about her, and here she was. The other women Mary Jane had influenced into fucking him were nothing, mannequins made of flesh. The neighbor was the only woman Gary had ever wanted, and all he had to do was reach out and touch her.

            Before he could make a move, she was on him. She pressed her body against his, staining his clothes with her blood. Her stiff breasts mashed against him and, without knowing he was doing it, Gary’s hands ascended from his sides to her body. His fingers glided across the smooth wet skin and he found it hard to breathe.

            “Come inside and fuck me,” she said. “Right now.”

            She walked toward her apartment, Gary’s hand in hers, and Gary allowed her to pull him. The feedlings trailed behind.

            As they entered, the red and orange light engulfed the place, illuminating the plumes of black violence that already filled the apartment.

***

Clay stomped his foot onto the dog’s head over and over. It had been dead many stomps ago, but it was just too much fun to feel it squash under his shoe. The blood-and-hair-covered rock was still clutched in his hand. Blood poured from the multiple bite wounds on his arms, but the throbs of pain were like mini orgasms.

            An obese woman grunted and slurped from across the courtyard. Clay looked up from the mutilated dog and started marching toward her. She crawled on her hands and knees leaving twin streaks of blood on the concrete. Her hair was riddled with rollers and she wore a bright blue muumuu. Something dangled from her mouth…small and bloody. As Clay got closer, he saw it was an arm, maybe a toddler’s, broken off at the elbow.

She thrashed her head like a pitbull with a rope, and just as Clay was about to pounce on her, a group of five kids emerged from an open apartment door. They shrieked a battle cry, as if they were involved in some innocent war game, as they swarmed over her like buzzards on roadkill. The kids looked to be around seven or eight, and each one of them clutched some kind of kitchen utensil. Knives, forks, corkscrews and the like were repeatedly driven into the soft flesh of the woman. She fell flat on her stomach, crushing a small girl who bit at the engulfing rolls of pale fat.

Clay almost joined in, but heard so much chaos coming from just outside the complex, he decided to leave the kids to it. He launched his rock at them, giggled as it cracked a small boy in the side of the face. The boy just stood back up, kitchen knife in hand, and slid the metal into one of the woman’s jiggling chins.

As strong as the urge to kill and inflict pain was in Clay’s head, there was an equally potent buzzing in his groin. He reached down and rubbed it. He’d had an erection for so long, his balls ached, and Clay jogged away from the courtyard into the parking lot.

Cars rocked, blood dripped down windshields. A man stood on the hood of a Hummer, a pair of gardening shears in his hands. His cock was longer than Clay’s arm, it seemed, and he watched as the man snipped the tip off like it were the head on a G.I. Joe. Blood squirted, splashed on a woman who rammed her head into the Hummer’s front driver’s window. The man worked his way down his hardened dick, chopping away disks of flesh that rolled across the hood, slid down the windshield like ketchup-dipped pickle chips.

Something smashed his foot, and Clay tried to flinch away, but was held in place. An old man in a motorized wheelchair scowled up at him—one of the wheels crushing Clay’s foot—and waved a metal cane, swung it at Clay’s head.

“I’ll kill you and fuck you and kill you and fuck you,” the old man said. His teeth rattled loose in his mouth, muffling his words.

Clay grabbed the cane and yanked it away. “Shut up,” he said as he chuckled. He shoved the cane straight into the man’s mouth, slammed it hard against the back of his throat. With a jerk of his bitten and bleeding arm, the cane was angled so that it pointed to the sky, then he pushed down with all his weight. The old man gurgled and flailed his arms, though his legs stayed still. A wet splatter followed by the strong odor of shit blew from the old man’s pants at the same time his arms fell limp to his sides. Clay yanked the cane out with a wet slurp—the dentures were stuck to the metal with gore paste.

Beyond the parking lot, people on the street looked in with wide eyes, cell phones to their ears, hands to their gaping mouths. A girl, probably around Clay’s age, shouted into her bubble-gum-pink cell phone, screaming and pointing.

Clay smiled at her. He wanted her. Wanted to tear her clothes off and fuck her until she bled. So he ran at her. She saw him coming, shrieked into her phone and backed away. But not fast enough.

Clay tackled her to the ground, the inside of his pants radiating heat at the anticipation of seeing her naked torso.

And then it was gone. He blinked, caught an open palm to the face and a knee to the balls at the same time. Rolling over, he watched the girl as she ran down the street. He looked at his hands…covered in blood.

“What…wha…
Ahhh!
” Ragged teeth punctures covered his arms, blood bubbling out of the deep holes, and he nearly lost consciousness from the sudden wave of pain. He lay on his back and rocked himself as he fought to control his whimpers.

He had to warn Gary. Had to show him the destruction the feedlings were causing.

But I can’t go back in there. I’ll black out again.

He winced as he used his arms to push himself back to his feet. Tears welled in his eyes as more blood dribbled down his forearms and dripped from his fingertips.

He looked up to the second floor, knew Gary was somewhere up there. And he ran back into the complex.

***

The scent of sex and blood was in the air, and the neighbor girl led Gary to her bedroom.

            Kronos sat down in the middle of the living room, eyes wide and scarlet, and chomped away at the violence hovering about.

            The apartment was thick with it, onyx clouds billowing through the air as if something were on fire. There was some yellow mixed in, but it didn’t compare to the vast black. Kronos held his mouth open and inhaled, nearly choking himself with it.

            “No fair,” Mary Jane said. “Hurry up and fuck this girl, I’m starving!”

            It wasn’t like Gary had a choice. The girl was strong and she tugged him along, her ass cheeks bouncing. And then they entered the bedroom, and Gary saw where all the violence was coming from.

            Her boyfriend. Or what was left of him. Pieces of him were on the carpet, most of him on the bed. His blood was splashed over the walls, floor, and even some on the ceiling. A ragged red piece of flesh hung down from one of the ceiling fan blades, an unrecognizable hunk of stringy meat.

            The man lay spread out like a starfish. His face was twisted and frozen in a painful grimace, his mouth stretched wide in what looked like a final shriek before death yanked his soul out of his body.

            “Don’t mind him,” she said as she lay down on top of his splayed carcass. “He couldn’t satisfy me. Not the way I know you can.”

            Her boyfriend’s chest and stomach were opened and scooped out. His intestines lay in a pile beside the bed, the rest of his organs lay here and there. The girl slid her back all over the gory mess and ran her fingernails over her body. Her eyelids fluttered and she licked the air.

            “Come to me,” she said. Her hand moved to the dark spot between her legs, and even through all the blood, Gary could see the pink.

            “Now, Gary. Do it now,” Mary Jane said.

            The urge to turn and run tugged at his mind. He didn’t know where he would go, but all he knew was he didn’t want to be there.

The neighbor reached behind her, snapped a rib away from her boyfriend’s exposed ribcage, and slid it into her gore-coated pussy inch by inch. Her eyes never left Gary’s.

            Bile stung his nasal cavity. But then he heard it, coming from the living room.

            Snoring.

           
Kronos
is asleep.

           
The violence-eating feedling had a much bigger appetite than his sister, and Gary could only hope it wouldn’t take as much to fill Mary Jane.

           
If they’re both asleep, I can rescue Sheila. We can get the hell out of here.

           
He looked over at Mary Jane whose stomach rumbled like an agitated storm. Her black tongue tentacled out from between her cone-shaped teeth, wrapped around a stray glob of sex, pulled it into her mouth. She nodded toward the girl on the gory mattress.

            Gary turned to the neighbor girl, forced a smile as he pulled his pants off. “I’ve dreamed about this moment for a long time,” he said. “I never thought it could ever be possible.”

            She pulled the rib out of her and threw it at him. It hit him in the chin and left a wet mark. “Shut the fuck up and do it then.”

            He peeled his shirt away, no longer worried about his appearance, and climbed up onto the wet, squishy bed. She grabbed him by the back of his head, rolled him over so she was on top. His sore beaten body ignited with pain, but he bit back his grimace.

The remains of the girl’s boyfriend stabbed and prodded Gary’s back, soaked into his skin.

Then he was inside of her, and the only sensation was her engulfing warmth.

—12—

Chester slammed the empty glass on the counter, called for another as he lit a cigarette. His head buzzed and his vision blurred, and he felt much better about the day’s events. Betsy eyed him from across the bar, a saggy woman twice his age, and he nodded her over. She smashed her Virginia Slim into the ashtray, grabbed her empty glass, and waddled her way toward him.

            “You fill this glass and give me an extra twenty bucks, I’ll suck your dick,” she said. “Whattya say?”

            Chester laughed, slapped her on the ass. Though her skin was wrapped around bundles of fat that hung down from various places on her body, Chester figured he could spare twenty bucks, clear his head before he went home and faced his fiancée.

            “What are you d-drinking?” he said.

            “Seven and seven,” she told the bartender. “Jesus, what happened to your leg?”

            “Fucking stepson,” he said, then shot vodka out his nose as he laughed. “Stabbed me with a ninja sword.” He slapped his leg, right on the wound, but the pain only made him laugh harder.

            Betsy lit another cigarette and shook her head. “You’ve always been a strange one, Chester.”

            “And you’ve always been a whore,” he said. “Now hurry up with your drink so I can stuff your mouth with my dick.”

            She clicked her tongue. “Asshole,” she said, then tipped her drink back and slurped it down in one gulp. “So we going to the bathroom or your car?”

***

Clay didn’t make it far into the parking lot before he had yanked his pants off. Blood seemed to coat everything around him. Bodies lay motionless on the concrete.

            The second he had entered the parking lot, his erection came screaming back, throbbed until it hurt. The breeze tickled it and sent little sparks of pleasure up the shaft.

            He spotted a woman lying in the back of a maroon van. The trunk was open and her blood slicked legs stuck out, bending and unbending over and over as if riding an invisible bicycle. As Clay grew nearer, he saw the shiny black tire iron she was using as a dildo. The van rocked with her rhythm.

           Clay hopped into the van, his freckled penis bobbed up and down. The woman smiled wide as their eyes met. She yanked the tire iron out and handed it to him. As he smelled it, her feet reached out and hooked behind his hips, pulled him close.