Fat Off Sex and Violence (5 page)

            It was that day he stumbled upon the spot, and he could tell in his gut it was a special place. A feeling swirled within him, like the anticipation on Christmas morning, and he didn’t know why. He always imagined it had something to do with the huge rowan tree protruding from the earth right in the center of the clearing. Something about it seemed powerful, ancient. This place made him smile, and he kept returning, used it to clear his head, read comics, practice his gaming strategies, draw monsters and super heroes. Once Chester came into the picture, he found himself escaping to his happy place more often than not.

            When he finally made it, he shuffled to the tree, shrugged the backpack off, tossed it to the grass. With the night air poking him with icy needles, the bark of the tree felt warm, inviting. He melted into it as he leaned against it.

            Chester’s face popped into his head: the smug smile, the rumble of his laughter. “Eat shit and die.” The words blew from his lips, echoed into the night. The trees swayed with the wind, the crickets played their music.

            Then he thought about Chester’s crumbled body, covered in spilled beer and broken brown glass. Damn, it felt good to see that and know he himself had caused it. If it were up to Gary, Chester would have cracked his skull open, leaked gray yolk onto the pavement.

            A tiny flicker of panic poked him in the chest.
Did Chester follow me here? Did he see which way I went?

           
In the privacy of the woods, with no witnesses, Gary didn’t know if Chester would ever stop hitting him, would probably pound him until his bones powdered. The man had never hit him before, not with a closed fist. Gary had caught a few slaps, some hard shoves, but mostly harsh words and loud threats—the recent headlock was the worst yet. Sheila had something to do with the tamed violence, he knew. But he could see it in Chester’s eyes, hear it in the intensity of his voice, that if given the chance, he would beat Gary into a pile of quivering flesh and hair.

            Gary held his breath and listened, spun his head like a security camera, looking for a dark figure standing between the trees, listening for the snapping of twigs or the crunching of leaves. He saw nothing but trunks, heard nothing but the cricket song and some random bird sounds.

            No, he was safe here. He was always safe here.

            His stomach grumbled, loud and churning, and Gary rubbed it like it was an injured child. With all the excitement, he hadn’t realized how hungry he was. As it had been more times than he could count, candy would be his supper. Which didn’t bother him all that much. Along with pizza and cheeseburgers, chocolate was one of his favorite foods.

            He unzipped his bag, moved his drawings to the side, and pulled out his lunch pail. Only a few chocolate bars left. He chose another Snickers, ripped the wrapper off, bit the bar in half, and chewed with an open mouth. One of his favorite parts of a good candy bar was licking the melted chocolate from his fingers.

            A gust of wind cut through the air, peeled his Spider-Man comic away from the stack in his backpack, blew it across the field. He quickly reached over, secured
Kronos
the Destroyer
, pressed the stack of drawings to his chest.

            “Shit.” Gary’s face glowed pink as he rocked himself onto his knees, then onto his feet. He chased down the comic, grabbed it just before the wind stole it again. His chest undulated as he struggled for oxygen. But the wind snuck back into the backpack, tossed the remaining comics into the air. They scattered in all directions, vivid colors and text bubbles all over the place.

            Gary growled as he picked them all up, stacked them on top of his drawings, his body sweaty even in the chilled night. He grabbed the last one, his favorite Green Lantern, and marched back to the tree. A long sigh deflated his chest as he went to stuff the comics back in his bag. But there was one left, one even the wind wouldn’t dare touch.

            Lusty Bloodsucker
sat at the bottom of his backpack, the girl on the front licking her fangs, a trickle of blood running from her mouth, over her chin, and down her ample cleavage. The drawing was of a brunette with huge black eyes, but even still, Gary imagined it was his blond neighbor. He imagined her taking his cock into her animal mouth, sinking her fangs into his throbbing vein.

            He smiled, bit his lip. His chest tingled at the thought of what he was about to do, part excitement and part shame. Gary couldn’t help but feel that to masturbate here, in his sacred forest, was not a good idea, almost like desecrating an ancient artifact or something. This had always been a place of peace for him, and to leak his semen into its soil was wrong. But right at that moment, the stress in his stomach was heavy like he’d swallowed a bowling ball, and he knew no better way to release the tension.

            So he pulled
Lusty Bloodsucker
from the bag, placed his drawings and the rest of the superhero comics in, zipped it up, unzipped his pants.

            Giving the woods another long swiveling stare, he decided he was alone, and his cock stiffened at the news. He peeled the cover back, flipped past the no-nudity-bullshit parts, got to the good stuff, spat in his palm, grabbed hold of himself.

           
I’m a freak, huh? You’re gonna call the cops on me, are you?

           
The vampire on the page was on all fours, getting pounded from behind. Gary imagined it was him doing the pounding, closed his eyes and pretended that the violent stroke from his hand was actually the warm pussy of his neighbor, enveloping him, loving him.

            The tree grew warmer—hot even—through his shirt. Gary figured it was just his own body heat, kept going and going.

The ground rumbled.

            It was so faint, so quick, Gary wasn’t sure if he’d even felt it. He clenched his teeth as he neared the end, turned the page—a close-up of the vampire’s face, eyes wide, tongue lapping up the pearly threads.

            “Aannghu…” As the climax tremored through him, he turned to his side. It came in rhythmic bursts, soaked into the dry soil like spilled milk, some splashing over a protruding tree root.

            Gary snorted, swallowed, took deep breaths as he collected himself. He sat up, wiped his hand in the grass, leaned against the tree. “Ow.”

            There was no question this time, the tree was hot as an iron. And it moved. No, not on its own—the ground shook. Violent tremors tore through the earth, knocked Gary backward. He crab-walked away from the tree, trying to swallow but unable to produce any spit to wet his barren throat.

            And then the earth opened up.

           
Oh, Jesus.

           
The soil parted—rays of vibrant orange light strobed out, danced in the trees, lit the clearing up like an open fire.

—4—

“No, no, no.” Gary’s head shook from left to right, over and over, without his consent. He told his legs to pick him up, get him out of there, but they refused to obey.

            The goriest scenes from every zombie comic he’d ever read, every zombie video game he’d ever played raced through his mind as he watched the small white hands grab at the surrounding earth.

            He couldn’t believe that his special place, the only place where he was truly peaceful, could be cursed.

            The thoughts sped by in a split second, then turned to a monotone hum as a head emerged from the dirt under the tree’s bulk. The white hands gripped twin tree roots, pulled. Dirt spilled off the top of the head, black strands of hair flowed like oil from the pale scalp.

            Then the eyes. They lit the clearing with orange light, on and off as the thing blinked. There was…something floating in the air. Gary could only see it in the light of the thing’s eyes—with every blink, the stuff would disappear and reappear.

            It looked like bacon fat hanging there, floating like fog above the loosened soil where the thing emerged, the very spot Gary had squirted his load.

            The thing, a girl from what Gary could tell, stood no more than three feet tall. She stretched, groaned, yawned.

            Not human. She had the look of a chunky child, maybe a five year old, but as Gary squinted and took her in, he saw something was off. Besides the vibrant orange light emitting from her eyes, which were as big as softballs, she also had skin that was whiter than any human could have, white as bleached bone. Her hair floated around her head, as if filled with helium, and her mouth stretched wide, gave her an almost Pacman look—and as she yawned, mouth unhinged like a bear trap, he saw the teeth. They reminded him of a killer whale’s: sharp cones equally spaced. She wore no clothing, but where her “naughty bits” should have been were just blank voids.

            Her head slowly rolled toward Gary, mouth stretched wide into…a smile? It was either that or she was baring her teeth at him, like a rabid dog, inching her way toward him. Then it was an all out run.

            “No! No, don’t…” Gary scrambled backward, found his feet, but before he could turn and escape, he was hit by her rushing body, arms outstretched. They hit the ground, and he squeezed his eyes, clenched his teeth, waited for the inevitable bites that were to come, the sensation of being eaten alive.

            But he didn’t feel any pain.

            “Thank you, Master.” She hugged him, nuzzled her face against his stomach. Her body threw out a scent like earth and rotten eggs.

          Gary just lay there, arms in the air, scared to tell her to stop, scared to move at all. “What…what’s going on?”
Was that candy I ate laced with something?

           
She looked up at him, blinded him. “You freed me. And I love you.”

            Her smile faded as a deep moan rumbled from her stomach like a dying bear. She stepped away from him, shone her eyes back toward the floating yellow substance by the tree.

            “I’m so hungry. Mind if I eat, Master?” She skipped toward the tree, opened her mouth wide, inhaled. Gary’s clothes pulled taught against his body as if a massive vacuum had just been switched on. The floating fat was sucked into her mouth and she chewed, loud and messy. After she swallowed, she sucked more into her mouth, repeated. Her small plump hands rubbed her belly in a circular motion as she moaned.

           
What kind of demon is she?

           
She was no zombie, that much Gary was sure about. He considered himself a zombie expert, and though she clawed her way out of the ground, she had no other traits of the undead. No, this girl, this thing, was something else. Something Gary was not familiar with.         

           The light from her eyes faded, lost its power with every mouthful, until finally dying. Her eyes, now jet black, grew tired, heavy-lidded. She collapsed backward, lay on her back, and snored.

           
She’s…asleep?

           
Gary collected himself, stood back up, brushed himself off. He contemplated making a run for it, getting the hell out of there and…what? There was nowhere to go. The only place he could think of was Sheila’s apartment, but he knew what kind of hell waited for him there. Besides, his own mother kicked him out, wanted a new life sans Gary.

           
Fuck them.

           
He stared at the demon girl lying in the dirt. Her words massaged his brain.

           
She called me master. She said she loved me.

           
Gary wondered what it was he’d stumbled on here. Was she some kind of genie or something. Did he get wishes now?

            The idea of being master to a creature from the depths of the earth intrigued him—oh, the possibilities. Maybe now he would have power, maybe now people would stop laughing at him, calling him a fat loser, a masturbator. Now they would have no choice but to respect him.

            The girl let loose a thunderous snore, silenced the crickets around them. Gary shambled his way toward her, plopped down, pulled her head into his lap. He ran his fingers through the weightless hair.

            “It’s okay. Your master’s got you now.”
I am the Demon Emperor.

***

The girl’s massive eyes fluttered open—there was just the slightest orange glow in them, but faint, like a flashlight running out of battery power. She looked up into Gary’s face, smiled, giggled, wrapped her arms around his neck.

            “Hi, Master. That was yuuuuummy.” She kissed his cheek with dry hard lips.

            “What…um…what are you?” Gary wanted to show the demon that he could be a good master, but he couldn’t help but stumble his words. Her teeth shone in the moonlight, looked like she could bite him in half if she wanted to.
            She tilted her head. “A feedling, silly. Don’t you know that?”

            “A…feedling? No, I don’t know what that is.” Though she sat in his lap, he didn’t feel any weight, as if she were a living balloon. But just having a girl, or what looked like one, in his lap at all made him shift uncomfortably. “Are you a—”

            “I’m a feedling, that’s all. Nothing else.” She pushed her face closer to his and the stench of rotten eggs nearly choked him. “You mean you found me by accident?”

            Gary nodded, chewed the inside of his cheek.

            She sniffed the air, licked her teeth, squinted one eye. “You were jacking off, weren’t you?”

            He shook his head. His skin flared red. The girl smiled wide.

            “Yep, I can smell it. I would’ve tasted it, but it’d been so long since I’d eaten, I was too hungry to care.” She hugged him again. “So this is fate that brought my master to me?”