Fat Off Sex and Violence (17 page)

            “What?”

            The fat girl walked up beside him. Her blubber jiggled as she came, and though Chester could tell these two were kids, they were huge, looked ready to pop.

            “You like it up the ass, Chester?” The girl stepped beside the fat boy and took his hand again. “I bet you like to suck cock, don’t you?”

            Chester snorted, shook his head. “You kids get the fuck outta here, you hear me?” He spat on the floor. “Sheila, get your ass in here and shut that fucking door.” He said the words through clenched teeth, a harsh whisper as if the horde of people behind her still couldn’t see or hear him.

            But they could. Every pair of eyes was right on him—but they didn’t make a move. They just watched, stood by waiting for something.

            The kids looked past Chester at Betsy’s body. And they started biting the air, chewing on something that wasn’t there. As Chester watched their odd behavior, the kids expanded, like balloons being filled with water.

           
What in the hell?

           
“Mmmm,” they said together.

            Chester scanned the crowd looking for an escape route. There had to be a way he could zigzag through all those fuckers. Pain pulsated at the side of his head where his ear used to be.

           
Why aren’t they fighting each other? Why just me?

           
A familiar face stood out from the ocean of unfamiliar ones. Fat, covered in acne, sweaty, scabbed over and swollen from the ass-kicking Chester had given him. And the fucker still had his sword.

            Chester’s chest filled with heat and he thought his teeth would crack from the pressure of his jaw. “Gary? You got something to do with this, don’t you, motherfucker?”

            Before he knew it, he was sprinting toward Gary, unable to help himself. And he was going to kill him, that much he knew. He blew past the kids, past Sheila, but before he could make it out the restroom door, something hit him in the stomach, tackled him to the ground. The wind rushed from his lungs and his vision blurred, but when he looked up his attacker was smiling down at him.

            An old woman, someone he had never seen before. Blood caked her face and neck and she moved in for a sloppy kiss. Chester was stunned, didn’t think quick enough to move out of the way before the woman’s fetid tongue was in his mouth and her cold deflated breasts rubbed against him.

            He shoved her away, wiped his mouth with his forearm. “Get the fuck off me, you old bitch.”

            But as he turned his head away from her, a work boot slammed into his face, crushed his nose in. Tears filled his eyes and blood flooded his mouth. Then the tongue was back, sliding over the roof of his mouth like sand paper. Something tugged at his pants.

            “Give it to me,” a male voice said.

            Chester couldn’t see through the blurriness. He turned his head away from the old woman’s face, shoved her away again, tried to crawl away backwards on his elbows. Rough hands gripped the waistline of his jeans and pulled him. The pants slid down to his knees and the warm stuffy air of the restroom embraced his genitalia. A man the size of a gorilla had a hold of him, his bushy mustache matted with gore. He smiled as he reached for Chester’s groin.

            Chester kicked out and caught the guy in the forehead. Sheila stood in the same spot and beamed down on him. Her eyes were wide and psychotic.

            “Get away from me…get the fuck away!” Chester kicked the man in the same spot on the forehead, but it did nothing.

            A blinding pain took over as the man’s meaty mitt grabbed hold of Chester’s package and squeezed, felt like he was grinding his balls into paste.

            A small boy ran out of the crowd, climbed gorilla man’s back like a mountain and launched himself into the air. A pair of big metal scissors shone from the boy’s hands as he soared, strings of meat connecting both blades. He landed on Chester’s stomach and drove the scissors into him, just under his ribcage.

            “Ungh…” Chester gasped, and as he tried to breathe, the old woman mashed her tongue into his mouth again. The boy held the scissors, still embedded in Chester’s stomach, and he opened and closed them over and over. Something rubbed against Chester’s penis, but he could barely feel it over the blinding pain in his abdomen. Slamming his teeth shut, he severed the woman’s tongue, which slid down his throat and choked him before he was forced to swallow it. He reached out, grabbed the boy by the throat.

            Then he saw Gorilla-Man who had his pants off and was rubbing his hard dick against Chester’s flaccid one like a stick prodding a dead snake.

            Behind him, he could hear the obese children laughing…and eating. The wet smacking sounds of their chewing mouths echoed off the walls.

            With a surge of adrenaline, Chester crushed the boy’s throat and threw a knee into Gorilla-Man’s swinging ballsack. The boy fell to his side and thrashed and the man fell backward into the crowd, who had advanced past the door and into the restroom.

            A teenage boy started it with a kick to Chester’s ribs. Then the blows came from every direction: fists and kicks and teeth. No matter where he moved his face, it was met with more impact. He couldn’t breathe as his chest and stomach were pummeled, and he could only see red spotted with twinkling stars. Metal and wood slammed into him, taking turns with the punches and kicks.

            There was a brief pause in which he could only hear the ringing in his ears, the beating of his heart, and the laughter of the fat kids.

            His vision cleared for just a moment, and just as he was sucking in a lungful of oxygen, it was cut off by the stinking skin flaps of the old woman’s crotch as she straddled his face. Long silver pubic hair jabbed him in the eyes as his nose and mouth were engulfed in aged pussy flesh. She rocked over him and moaned deep. He looked up at her, worm’s eye view, past her breasts and into her face. She smiled down at him with blood pouring from her mouth.

            Something warm engulfed his cock, but he couldn’t see what it was. And then he could only feel the potent torment as unseen weapons opened and penetrated his flesh. Something went into his right oblique, stabbed deep and stayed there. A sharp point ran across his inner left thigh and unzipped it. It came from all over and Chester screamed into the old woman’s birth canal. He tried to push her away but didn’t have the strength—every attempted breath only gave him a mouthful of salty juice.

            The pain covered him, was everywhere and pulsating. He could no longer differentiate injuries, just knew he was fucked. Consciousness began slipping away.

            Then the old woman shrieked, quivered. It felt like she pissed on his face, and Chester choked for a moment, but then she raised up and his lungs filled with glorious air. He took a long rattling inhale. Every breath was fire.

            A woman had been straddling his cock, and even through the pain Chester saw she was gorgeous—she slid him out of her and walked into the crowd. Blood pumped and flowed over his chest and stomach. Pink meat and yellow fat peeked out from open wounds.

            Chester opened and closed his mouth. No words would form, only wet empty sounds. He could only get the tiniest bit of air into his lungs—he tried to move but couldn’t.

            The mob backed away…all but one.

            Sheila stepped forward and let the bat swing like a pendulum, to and fro, at her side. She wore a coating of blood like a leotard, the whites of her eyes and teeth radiant against the crimson of her face.

            Chester tried to find Gary in the crowd again, but couldn’t spot him. There was just too many of them, and they all watched as Sheila stood over him, knelt down and took his cock into her. Even though it was limp, she forced it in, then sat down hard.

            From behind him, the fat kids walked, hand in hand, back into his vision. They looked drunk, barely able to stand, and their size seemed to have doubled. They jiggled as they stood on either side of Sheila as she grinded on top of him.

            “You’re so…delicious,” the boy said.

            “Mmmm…yummy.” The girl rubbed her protruding stomach.

            They blinked slow, wobbled on their feet.

            “Sh…Sheila. P-ple…please…” Every word was anguish.

            She raised the bat over her head, both hands on the handle, the fat end pointing down at Chester’s face. With a rock of her pelvis, she drove the bat forward. Chester’s face took the blow and his teeth rattled to the back of his throat. Then she rocked again and he took another hit.

            She kept doing it, slamming the bat down like she was churning butter, turning his face into a pile of meat and bone.

            She laughed as she did it, and just before everything went black, Chester saw the kids fall over, and the rumbling sounds that erupted from their throats mixed with the shrieks of hell coming to claim him.

—15—

Gary stood in his spot at the back of the bar. He still had a clear line of vision into the restroom where he was able to see everything. The feedlings had directed all of the people’s rage toward Chester, while at the same time not allowing their influence to touch him. And Chester was torn to shreds on the restroom floor, his blood spreading across the tile. Through all the disgust and horror that filled him from watching Chester’s violent death, there was a sense of satisfaction.

            But he knew time was short, and if he was going to put an end to all of this, he had to act now.

            The people around him were coming to, snapping out of their hypnotized state. They looked at each other, at themselves. Blood and ejaculate were splashed over everyone and as the people realized it, the panic set in. Some felt their wounds for the first time and fell to the floor whimpering or crying. Others noticed their nudeness, filled with shame, and ran out of the bar with arms and hands covering what they could. A few called out for loved ones that didn’t answer back.

            Gary didn’t have time to watch this. He weaved his way into the restroom. Sheila sat in the corner, staring at Chester’s mutilated corpse. Her eyes were perfect circles, unblinking, and her head shook from side to side with twitchy slow movement.

            “Mom… Mom I’m sorry,” Gary said. He knelt down, kissed the top of her head. “I have to go. I have to take care of this, put an end to it.”

            She didn’t respond, didn’t even look at him. Just stared at what was left of Chester.

            “I’ll be back for you, okay?”

           Kronos and Mary Jane nearly blew the walls down with their roaring snores. Gary still had his sword in hand, and though it seemed the violence had ended for now, he couldn’t make himself drop it. He grabbed the feedlings by their overflowing fat, and lifted them into the air with ease. Even though they had exploded in size, their weight was the same, and Gary flew out the front door of the bar with the feedlings swinging at his sides, their rotten smell as strong as ever.

            The cries of the wounded and confused sliced through the air. People stumbled about in all directions.

            Gary pushed through them, and headed back to the place where everything started.

           
I’ll put them back where they came from.

           
He thought about his spot in the woods, thought about the big rowan tree there. He figured whoever put them there, their last so-called master, put them there for a reason. He always thought the tree looked ancient, powerful.

           
It’s gotta be the key to all this. Maybe it can keep them under ground, keep them asleep.

           
It was the only plan he had.

            He reached the end of the pavement and strode into the woods. The trees zoomed by, and though the feedlings weighed nothing, the weight of the sword and the act of running as fast as he could filled his lungs with lava. Sweat poured.

            In the distance, the tree loomed over the forest. It seemed to be beckoning him forward, rooting for him.

            When Gary reached the clearing, he tossed the sword and feedlings ahead of him and leaned over with his hands on his knees. His throat rattled as he sucked for breath. His clothing reeked of his odor and were soaked through with perspiration. Lying on the ground where he’d left it was his bag, his drawings tucked safely within.
When this is all finished
, he thought,
I can still complete my comic. I can still make a better life for myself.

            The feedlings still snored, but had already begun their restless tossing and turning.

           
Oh shit. No time, no time.

           
Below the tree, amongst its roots, were the large holes where Kronos and Mary Jane had emerged. But now, the feedlings were far too big to fit.

            And Gary had no shovel.

            He grabbed the sword and slid on his knees to the first hole. He stabbed at the earth, breaking off big chunks of dry dirt, then scooping them out with his hands. He moved as quickly as he could, stabbing and grabbing and tossing and digging. When he was satisfied with the first hole, he crawled toward Mary Jane, dragged her by her floating hair toward the hole.

            He rolled her inside, stuffed her in, but she barely fit.

           
It’s gonna have to do.

           
With shaking hands he pushed the discarded dirt back into the hole, covered her the best he could. Though her belly extended past the hole, Gary covered every inch of her with dirt. She moved around, mumbled and moaned as he worked, but she never woke. He could only hope it was good enough.

            He looked over his shoulder at Kronos. The feedling rolled over from his stomach to his back, smacked his mouth, let out another snore.