Meat Chronicles 4–The Wages of Sin Are…

I’m back hunting in the suburbs. I’ve had good luck at malls, especially the extreme ends of the parking lots, so I figured I’d try a different one this time. I park in the shade, step into the back of the van, and wait to see what develops. I ain’t offin’ this one in the van, though.

Whatever I catch is going back to the apartment. I have something new I want to try. And anyways, I need to lay off that industrial park for a bit. Something washed up in a creek several miles downstream of the drainage canal, and I think it’s one of mine.

It isn’t long before something catches my eye. There’s a punk wandering through the lot, peering into the cars. I see him try to open a car door surreptitiously, glancing around to make sure no one’s looking. He can’t see deep enough into the van to see me.

He’s about eighteen or nineteen, with a broad face and large blue eyes. He’s not very tall—not quite six feet. He’s wearing a black baseball cap worn backwards; in the gap above the cap’s band on his forehead, golden hair about an inch in length stands out.

He’s got on a blue t-shirt with the red Superman symbol on the chest. Below his jean shorts I can see thick, strong legs covered with a golden fur, a finer and curlier version of the hair on his head. Underneath the golden haze a dragon tattoo on his left calf flexes with every movement of that muscle. His blue-and-white hightop sneakers dance nervously on the hot pavement as the kid keeps turning and looking around.

He was two rows out when I first noticed him, but he’s closer now. This is perfect; the meat is coming to me. All I have to do is bait the trap—and make sure it’s not too obvious a trap.

I set my wallet on the dashboard, lock the doors, and roll down the passenger window about three to four inches before retreating to the darkened rear of the van. I don’t have to wait long for him to notice it, but it seems to take him a while to decide to go for it.

He paces the length of the van a couple of times. I even hear him try the rear doors, but they’re secure. I can’t tell if he’s suspicious of the open window or is just too oblivious to notice it.

Turns out to be the latter. As soon as he sees it, his arm is in the window. He has to go up on his toes to get it in all the way to the elbow, but once he does, he’s able to unlock the door immediately. In a flash, he’s in the passenger seat and scrabbling madly for the wallet.

He’s so intent on his work that he never sees me coming. I take him by surprise, slamming his face into the dashboard, feeling the satisfying crunch of the little shit’s nose being broken. I draw back and he sits up, shaking and gasping, blood streaming from his nose, his cap remaining on the dash. He turns and looks in my direction, but I’m not sure he actually sees me. Doesn’t matter. A rabbit-punch to the jaw and his lights are out.

They stay out, too, which is good. I need that to get him into the apartment. He gets dumped into a large plastic tub with a lid, then takes a short ride on my dolly. I wheel him straight back into the bedroom and empty him out there. I can use this setup to get the meat back out for the garbage run, as well.

I cut off his shorts, boxers, and shirt, leaving him with nothing but his socks and shoes. Now that he’s ready, he can go on the table. I put a lot of time into building this thing; I hope it works well.

The basis for it is a rough plywood rectangle, about three feet wide and four feet long. The meat goes on it on his back, his ass hanging slightly off one end so I can fuck him. Just below the other end, I’ve drilled two holes, five or six inches apart. A length of nylon cord snakes out of one, forms a loop, and vanishes down the other. This cord is firmly attached to the underside of the table on the left side. It’s guided to and away from the holes by a series of metal hasps, also bolted to the underside.

The cord ends up on the right side, just by my hand, where’s it’s connected to a spindle on a ratchet gear that I can crank. In other words, it’s a fuck table with a built-in garrote that I control by a crank. I’ve even got restraining straps for his arms and legs.

Fuck yeah, I’m gonna dominate this worthless fucking thief.

Like I said, I’ve been having some control issues lately. I’m not waiting for the blond bitch to wake up. I strap him in, hock up a huge wad and spit it onto his pink puckered virgin hole, and insert my thick purple head, already oozing in anticipation. I can feel the resistance of his sphincter, unused to being stretched to such a diameter.

I’ve already loosened the cord to allow his head under it. Now I tighten it until it’s flush with his throat—just lying across it, really, not actually tight.

It takes a couple of minutes for him to awaken. That’s fine; I keep fucking him, waiting for him to come around. After all, I’m probably gonna be fucking him later on, too, after he’s dead. He won’t be moving any more then than now.

But now I want him awake. It’s not enough that he suffer. I want him to know exactly what’s happening to him—and why. I’m so excited that when he starts stirring, I can’t control the huge, sharklike grin that breaks out on my face.

He bats his long, dark lashes confusedly, staring at my face. He jerks his arms and legs, only to find the former held to his sides by a leather strap around the wrists and the latter spread wide to receive my cock with leather straps just above the knee. Below the knee, his legs are free to flail, his bright new sneakers kicking uselessly at the air…

Not yet, not yet. Control, goddammit!

I lean down over the meat, stroking his swollen nose. Caked blood trails from both nostrils. He’s gasping and making a low keening sound. More of a whimper than a moan, really.

He may whimper now, but his world ends with a bang.

“Hello there, you sorry little fuck.” I spit down into the meat’s tearful, bewildered face before I start talking again. “Picked the wrong car to break into, dintcha? You ain’t got no idea how wrong, but you’re gonna learn. Gotta tell ya though, dude, it’s gonna hurt a little.” I tweak the punk’s broken nose; he cries out in pain. “In fact, you piece of shit, it’s gonna hurt like fucking hell.”

I stroke his dragon tattoo with my left hand as I turn the crank with my right. The cord grows taut and starts to sink into the flesh of the meat’s neck. I stop before I completely cut off his air, though.

I want to enjoy this a bit. I can stand still for a few minutes as the meat struggles. He can breathe, but it’s requiring a lot of effort. As he fights for air, his sphincter tightens and his colon constricts, massaging my shaft. It would be so easy to blow my load now, but the meat is nowhere near ready. I have to maintain control of myself in order to maintain control of him. I have to hold out long enough to inflict a certain amount of brain damage…

In the meantime, the meat is trying to scream—without much luck. His deep, labored breathing is accompanied by gagging, choking sounds. Already, I can see his face turning red. He’s still getting air, but not enough. He’s being strangled very slowly.

“Hey, dude, how much ya get from breaking into cars? Was it worth it? Worth getting’ your ass plugged while I choke the life outta ya? Bet ya though only chicks got raped and strangled. Get ready for this, you worthless fuck, ‘cause it’s gonna hurt worse than you can imagine. I’m gonna make sure it does, ‘cause that’s the only way I’m gonna cum.”

His eyes, wide, clear, eloquent in horrified confusion, stare into mine. He looks like he’s trying to speak. I can make out the word “please” on his writhing lips as he spews spittle in a frantic attempt to beg for his useless life.

“What’s that, bitch? Still don’t get it, do ya, ya worthless fuck? You’re gonna die so I can cum. It’s that simple. Here, lemme show ya.”

I twist the crank mercilessly. The cord sinks so deep it nearly vanishes. There’s a cracking, crunching sound as the esophagus collapses; its cartilage shattered beyond repair. The damage is reflected in the blond punk’s face as more blood leaks from his nose.

His face darkens as the tip of his tongue parts his lips, accompanied by a froth of drool. More of this foamy drool is pushed out as the tongue extrudes, bubbling over his blue, swelling lips.

The meat convulses helplessly, his torn, ravaged rectum fluttering along the surface of my engorged tool. His balls contract as his own thickly-veined dick responds to asphyxia, rising and glistening as precum drips involuntarily.

His eyes, huge and desperate, bulge frantically as the pressure builds above the cord that has now sunk back nearly to his spine. His skin and eyes grow darker as I watch, as blood vessels rupture until the meat’s face is black and unrecognizably contorted. As I’d hoped, his shoes are kicking and flailing in the air. His broad, smooth, well-muscled chest is slick with deathsweat; the odor of it wafts from his pits.

He’s almost gone. There’s only a few more seconds until his brain is so damaged that he’ll never be a functional being again. A few more seconds before I perform a miracle and make meat into a vegetable. There’s just enough left of him to understand my words.

“Do you get it now, fuckmeat? See what a worthless little fuckwad you really are? Ain’t no one gonna miss you when you’re gone, bitch. You’re a fuckin’ thief. I don’t give a shit what the fuck you do, meat, but bein’ a thief is what got ya here, you stupid little shit. If you’d been a good little boy, you wouldn’t be choking to death with my cock pluggin’ your ass.”

His eyes had been losing focus and drifting, but as I speak, they turn and orient themselves on me. I can tell his brain is still functioning enough to understand my words, and his eyes well enough to see me despite the excruciating pain of the swelling and hemorrhages. His convulsions slow as his body strains futilely against its bonds, a single rigid clenching of everything. My god, the way his ass sucks down my cock…

“Let go, you useless fuck,” I snarl into the dying kid’s face, “you want this. You know it. Give up and let it happen. You worthless little pig, you wanna give me your load as you die. You can’t help it, I’m gonna get it whether you like it or not, but we both know this is what your sick little fucking soul has always wanted. You were out prowling the mall, looking for someone like me to find you and give you the best fuck, the most intense orgasm possible. You’re gonna cum when you die, fuckmeat, and that’s gonna make me cum too. The last thing you’re gonna feel is the hot splash of my spunk in your guts as your shudder and shoot and die. Stop fighting and let it happen. You’ve always wanted a man to hold you down and control you till you cum and die. It’s your lucky day, meat.”

He hears me and he understands. I know he understands because there’s a massive spasm that visibly runs along the meat’s dick and results in a fount of semen. He gets it. He relaxes, surrendering to death, allowing himself this ultimate orgasm as the last physical sensation of which he’s capable.

His ass clenches as well, gipping my cock tightly in a velvet glove of soft rectal lining, squeezing and rippling. It’s too intense for me to resist. Before I’m aware of my actions, I’m screaming and spitting on the meat as I blow my load deep inside his dying asshole. I’m lying flat on top of him, feeling him arch and twist, his hot, smooth, sweaty skin sliding across mine. The firm flesh inside his thighs caresses my flanks as his legs kick and tremble. I pump the bitch full of cum, cursing uncontrollably, as darkness overwhelms me.

When I come to, I find that I’m still hard. I couldn’t have been out long.

On the other hand, the meat is still jacking my dick. The fuckwad isn’t completely dead yet. It’s still convulsing; the aimless thrashing caused by massive trauma to the brain, but it massages my still-sensitive shaft beautifully. I look down into the meat’s face—bloated, black, every inch expressing the unspeakable agony of the garrote. Its eyes had rolled back into its head, only blood-streaked white showing beneath the half-open lids.

Its taut, firm body kept bucking and jerking on my cock. I found myself moaning, pawing at the meat, running my hands down its slick muscled flesh. I can feel a burning sensation in the head of my dick; I can tell I’m going to shoot again.

The meat is fading fast. Time for me to commit one last act of brutality on this hot little teenage punk. One last blast of pain to send him off right. Christ, the pain in the head of my dick; I’m gonna blow…

As I shoot, I crank the cord one last time. The meat’s neck snaps with a sound like a branch breaking. The corpse goes rigid one last time, encasing my cock, milking the last drop of semen out of me like a greedy little deathpig.

I stand up, my back aching. I’ve gotten a lot of exercise. Excellent piece of meat, but it’s completely fucked out now. I need to get it into the tub before it gets stiff and unwieldy. I also need to find a new dumping ground.

Good thing that tub is airtight. Depending on how long it takes me to find a dump, the meat could get pretty ripe before I’m done with it.

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