Mankiller–Snuff Movie 2

The percentages had been worked out. The video, carefully and skillfully edited, was a huge hit online and it became obvious that Nick’s cut was going to be considerably more than fifteen hundred per movie.

Nick and Tony were both pleased with the deal. Within days of Ricky’s debut, they met again in the studio. Each was eager to get started on the next video. And each brought something new to the table.

Tony brought a new bitch. “Name’s Joey. I met him a coupla weeks ago; finally got him in here for a photo shoot. Here, lemme pull the slideshow up—tell me what ya think.”

Nick sat in a chair, a large bag from a hardware store by his side. He’d brought it in with him but hadn’t said anything about it yet. And at the moment, he was too busy looking at the pics of Joey to pay much attention to anything else.

Joey was similar to Ricky, Nick’s last victim, in that he had a slender (but not scrawny) swimmer’s build and black hair cut fairly short. The resemblance ended there. Joey was taller, close to six feet—nowhere near as tall a Nick but several inches taller than Ricky had been. His slim, smooth body had a fine dusting of black hair on the calves and forearms—and large black tangles in the pits and groin—but was otherwise smooth and glistening.

The face was what set him apart. Joey was in his early twenties and had the face of a model. Sky-blue eyes framed by long black lashes gleamed seductively out of a perfectly-formed face with a strong, straight nose, a chiseled chin and lush, full lips. His short hair looked like a spill of black silk threads, perfectly sculpted without any obvious product. His skin was clear and smooth, except for what appeared to be the faintest shadow of stubble along the jaw and on the upper lip.

Nick turned to Tony. “Dude, he looks like a model. What’s his deal?”

Tony, whose eyes were drifting over Nick’s muscled body with a dreamy, faraway look, snapped back to himself. “New in town. He wants to get into movies. Sucking dicks back in Podunk wasn’t good enough; he wants to do it on camera.”

Nick turned back to the slideshow. “Fuck, he’s a hot little bitch. He’ll be very popular.”

Tony chuckled. “Yeah, but not in the way he thinks—not after we get him. But we need to move fast. With those looks, someone will grab him quick. I’m already blocking it out in my mind; he thinks it’s normal porn—we’ll use the bedroom. Question is, how are ya gonna off him? I wanna shake it up a little.”

Nick stood up and grinned. “Man, I got it covered. Here, lemme show ya somethin’.”

He bent over, reaching into the large shopping bag. He grinned ever wider to himself as he flexed his thick thighs and muscular ass at Tony. He knew that there was an attraction there. That was a good thing. That was a thing he could use in the future, maybe.

His bicep swelled as he lifted his purchase out of the bag; it apparently weighed several pounds. Tony’s attention slipped from Nick’s body to his hand; he couldn’t identify the device. It looked kinda like a cordless drill, but it was large and had a long, thin metal frame running down at an angle from the “bit” to beneath the grip.

“What the fuck is that?” he asked.

Nick’s grin grew yet even more shark-like. “It’s called a framing nailer. Cordless. Holds up to sixty three-and-a-half inch nails.”

“I don’t get it. What’s that—“ Tony paused, thought, and went pale.

But Nick couldn’t help noticing the bulge in Tony’s crotch.

“Dude,” Tony whispered, “that’s so fucking sick. It’s brilliant. I’ll get the motherfucker over here right away. This is gonna make us so fucking much money…”

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The image is too blurry to make anything out; the camera is moving too much. There’s a couple of violent shakes, a “goddammit” muttered off-screen, and the frame steadies down.

It focuses on a young man’s face, classically formed, with bright blue eyes and a shy grin. He glances nervously to one side, then back at the camera. “Ya really think you can get me somethin’ with this? I wanna do more. I heard you can make a grand per movie, maybe more. Dude, that’d be sweet.”

The voice behind the camera comes back, “Joey, I’m givin’ ya that much for just one scene.”

The kid’s grin develops a slightly harder edge. “Yeah, but it’s only once. I wanna fuckin’ contract.”

“We talked about that, too. Let’s see what kinda response we get from this. You have no idea what the future holds. But I promise you one thing—just lie there and let Nick have his way with ya and you’ll be an instant star. You won’t even know what hit ya. I got another line of coke laid out if ya want it before we get started.”

The kid nods and gets up; the image blurs momentarily as the camera is repositioned. Now it’s aimed directly at the bed; the head is to the left and the foot to the right. The sheets are clean—at any rate, they have been cleaned; they’re yellowed and stained but not filthy. Over them is a brown fleece blanket and a couple of flattish pillows.

The punk walks back into the frame and sits on the bed, facing the camera, sniffling and wiping white powder from his nose. His slim, smooth body gleams under the overhead lighting. He’s nude except for his ankle socks and skate shoes. A long tube of flesh dangles between his firm thighs. He’s coked up and twitchy; his blown pupils changing his eyes from sky to midnight blue.

He almost jumps out of his skin when the large, muscular man enters from the right, nude but for his construction boots, his hard body gleaming in the light, his huge dick jutting straight out in front. The man laughs in a deep bass rumble as he reaches out and grabs the boy. “Slow down there, Tiger,” he chuckles, “I ain’t even gotten started yet.”

There’s a laugh—almost a giggle—from behind the camera. “Looks like he’s already anticipatin’ that hard fuckin’ shaft stickin’ in his ass,” the off-screen voice says. “Me too. Look here, Joey—I’m gonna be beatin’ off while I film. If you’re that good a fuck, I should be able to cum just by watching. See? Make me cum, boy, show us you’re worth the money.”

Joey looks wide-eyed at the man towering over him and then dead-on at the camera. He jerks abruptly as if he’s trying to bolt from the bed but the muscled alpha has his upper arm in a vice grip and yanks him back down on to the bed. “C’mon, man,” he hisses at the kid, “if ya wanna be in porn, ya gotta get fucked on film. First time is the hardest, I promise. After this one, it’ll be like doing everything else in your sleep.”

The kid seems to calm a bit, not thinking the words through. “How do ya want me?”

Nick smiled down at him. “Get on your hands and knees, bitch, I’m gonna fuck ya like a dog.”

The punk scrambles to obey, whipping his lithe body into position, his tightly-laced sneakers spread far apart on the sheets, his knees spread just as widely. The alpha top grins at the camera and, flogging his dong in one hand, spreads the boy’s asscheeks while he nods the camera in for a closer view. It closes in on the kid’s fluttering pink fuckhole, already quivering with excitement. “Dude, I can’t wait for you to get your tool inside this bitch,” the voice behind the camera mutters breathlessly.

“Yeah,” comes the basso rumble, “but I wanna fuck ‘im first.”

A thick purple head, oozing clear precum, slides into view. It looks like it’s at least twice the diameter of the slut’s hole. There’s an extreme close-up of the dark spongy mass spearing the writhing sphincter, stretching it unbearably. The sound of the punk’s yelling and bleating, off camera but very loud, attests to the pain he’s in.

“Fuck yeah,” the cameraman moans, “lookit that thick shaft tearing your asshole open. How’s that feelin’, Joey, huh? Looks like it hurts good, dude, looks like it hurts so fuckin’ good.”

The camera pans up the boy’s smooth body, heaving with the alpha’s thrusts. It focuses on the kid’s face. “Joey, man, look up here. Yeah, right at the camera, that’s it. Lemme see, fucker, lemme see in your face how much you love that cock inside ya. Yeah, I know it hurts, but you love gettin’ hurt, dontcha, cocksucker? Aw, dude, you’re gonna love what Nick’s gonna do to ya. You’re gonna cum harder than you ever have in your life, and you’re gonna do it on camera, man!”

Joey’s face fills the frame, tense and strained with the erotic agony of rough sex. His head is turned to the side, Nick’s thick hairy forearm and big muscled hand are visible, forcing the whore’s head down onto the mattress. As the top grunts and thrusts ever deeper, the kid’s eyes open wide, the pain of the assfuck shining in the huge pools of blue and black bordered with long silky lashes. He looks directly into the camera, lust and love of the pain written all over his grinning, straining countenance.

“Fuuuuuck, yeah…” Joey moans, deeply, breathily. His eyes close as he wallows in the sensation of a massive tube of flesh rammed up his rectum. He emits tiny, high-pitched squeaks in time with Nick’s deep strokes.

The camera pulls back. Both men can be seen in full on the bed.

Joey is huddled on his knees, ass in the air, head forced down onto the bed. Nick has mounted him from behind and is riding him like a bull, busting his ass like a bronco. Nick’s powerful legs, thick like the limbs of a tree, are pumping and sweating; his yellow construction boots with black leather at the ankles providing him traction on the synthetic material of the bed coverings.

The dominant alpha crouches over the slim, smooth boy, holding him down and sinking his dick into the punk’s colon with deliberate and intense brutality. He grunts again, then starts speaking, his voice rumbling in the lower registers.

“You like that cock, you fuckin’ faggot punk? Ya like feelin’ a real man inside a’ ya? C’mon, cunt, tell me ya like it. C’mon you fuckin’ faggot cocksucker, tell me how much ya love my shaft tearin’ yer guts open!”

As he’s speaking, Nick grabs Joey’s hair in his fist, pulling his head up slightly and spitting in his face. Shoving the slut’s head back down, Nick looks at the camera and winks, sticking his tongue out.

His eyes aren’t quite directly on the camera, though; they seem to be more on the cameraman.

The whore moans and groans loudly; Nick’s pace has picked up and the kid’s having trouble keeping up. He’s starting to sweat and jerk; it’s clear that the alpha top has exceeded the punk’s limits. Joey peers up as the camera is shoved obtrusively into his face; his discomfort is obvious in his strained expression.

“Man, Joey, that’s gotta feel hotter ‘n fuck, dude, that thick fuckin’ shaft reamin’ out your asshole. So many guys are gonna cum watching you get fucked, ya know that? Whaddaya think about that, man?”

Still pumping rhythmically, Nick growled, “I bet it turns the little faggot whore on, don’t it, boy?” The camera pulls out a bit to show him crouching over the kid, covering him completely with his hard muscled body, pinning the punk to the bed. Nick is still gripping his hair tightly in one hand, pulling his head to the side and whispering into Joey’s ear.

“Yeah, pretty boy, bet you just love getting’ dicked on camera, don’t ya? Show the world just what a whore you are, letting your faggot cunt get plugged fulla cock, huh? Yeah, motherfucker?”

Joey squirms and moans, looking pleadingly—and lovingly—at the camera. He’s really enjoying being dominated. As his stunning eyes focus on the camera, he licks his lips slowly and moans deeply, breathily.

A cold note creeps into the voice behind the camera. “Hey, Nick, I think Joey’s getting’ tolerant of your rod, man. Looks like he’s imitating Marilyn Monroe or something.”

Nick chuckles. “Yeah, think it’s time to change things up a bit. Set the camera down and get the thing, dude.”

The camera moves quickly, blurring the image for a couple of minutes. There are a few flashes of clarity—a shot of the floor, a brief pan of the bed—and then it stabilizes, evidently on a tripod. Again, it’s got a full-length shot from the side of the bed. Joey is still huddled on the bed, his smooth, firm ass speared by Nick’s huge, glistening shaft. The kid has buried his face in the pillow, biting it, his arms stretched above his head, hands grasping the sheets tightly. On top of him Nick pumps steadily and deeply, looking almost bored.

Tony appears from the right side, holding a large nail gun in both hands. Except for his white tube socks and hightops, Tony is nude. His dick isn’t thick, but it is long and heavily veined, and standing fully to attention. He approaches Nick, who reaches out and grabs the tool—the nail gun, that is—with one huge, strong arm.

He swings it up lightly, seemingly admiring the heft. As strong and well-built as he is, he has no difficulty maneuvering the device. Tony retreats from view again, moving towards and behind the camera. Nick turns to him and the camera closes in on him, just as he bends down over Joey and whispers into the boy’s ear again.

“Listen up, cunt. Time to rock n’ roll, motherfucker. Time to get what ya came here for. Ya wanted to get fucked on camera? You have no idea how fucked you are, cocksucker, but I think it’s time ya found out.”

The boy’s head is turning to the side, his expression one of trepidation—he has no idea what the alpha top is talking about. Before he can twist himself around to see, the muscled arm tightens, bringing the nail gun down onto the kid’s back, under his shoulder blade.

The camera closes in as Nick pulls the trigger. The gun bucks violently as it fires, the loud report echoing in the metal-walled room. It’s immediately drowned out by Joey’s screams. He thrashes wildly in pain, but the dominant strongman overpowers his struggles, holding him down on the bed with an almost nonchalant look on his face.

He moves back a little on the bed, admiring his work, his cock slipping smoothly from the punk’s ravaged fuckhole. Suddenly, he grins up at the camera. “Lookit that, huh? That’s three and a half inches of pointed steel, bitch.” The alpha manhandles the wailing slut, rolling him so that the head of the nail can be seen. The frame zooms in on it—the head of the nail is almost flush with the kid’s smooth, heaving skin. A trickle of blood leaks out from under the small shiny disk.

The stud grabs the whore’s black hair, roughly jerking his head up and back until his ear is at the level of his tormentor’s mouth. “How’s that feelin’, cunt? Told ya you were fucked. Damn, faggot, that must be stuck in your lung, huh? Keep jerkin’ around like that, you stupid fuckin’ whore, you’re just tearing yourself open inside. Now shaddup and lemme see how many things I can stick in ya before ya die.”

He rolls the punk back onto his belly. The camera had swung down briefly to catch a shot of the alpha’s thick purple cock, swaying free after he’d posed the whore for the camera. The frame closes in and slides, slowly and lovingly, along the glistening vein-bound shaft.

The camera quickly snaps back to a wide shot. Nick is poised over the weeping boy, snarling down at him. “Quit cryin’, you fuckin’ pussy assfuck, you ain’t felt anything yet. You’re gonna love this next one, cunt, you’re gettin’ a twofer!”

Nick raises himself up, his hard body gleaming in the light as his muscles tense for the assault. In a flash, he drives his engorged rod deep into Joey’s ass in one swift, brutal thrust. At the same time, he reaches around the punk’s side and fires a nail into the boy’s sweating, heaving flank, the sharp steel shaft shattering a rib on its way in.

The young man’s reaction is instant; he tenses rigidly, almost convulsively. His breath is expelled forcefully from his lungs. The involuntary contraction of his muscles in reaction to the excruciating pain tightens his vocal cords—the escaping air is channeled into a high pitch.

“Fuck yeah, cunt, that’s what I’m talking about!” Nick cries before turning happily to Tony (and coincidentally the camera). “Ya hear that, dude? Motherfucker’s squealin’ like a pig. And damn if his reamed-out fuckhole didn’t tighten up on my dick!”

The camera moves in closer, obviously being held up to Joey’s face. As the lens focuses on the beautiful face, smeared with tears and snot, the voice behind the camera begins to speak. “Fuckin’-A, Joey, you lucky cunt, gettin’ this hot stud’s cock shoved up inside ya—told ya, you were gonna get nailed tonight, didn’t I, ha! Make sure you scream loud now, dude, lotsa guys out there wanna watch you get hurt. Fuck, bro, hundreds of guys are gonna beat their meat and blow their loads watching you shriek and squirm and bleed—don’t it just make ya fuckin’ hard?”

The camera zeros in on the boy’s strained, pleading face. He’s not looking directly into the lens; he’s looking into the cameraman’s face, his expression full of misery, fear and desperation.

The cameraman whispers, “it don’t matter if it ain’t getting’ ya hard, Joey. What you like don’t matter to anyone anymore. Just enjoy the pain, motherfucker. All kinda guys are gonna enjoy it later on, I promise ya.”

The frame suddenly goes blurry. The camera’s being moved quickly. The movement stops momentarily, the lens pointing up towards the ceiling. Tony’s handsome face is visible from below, foreshortened to the point that his dark eyes, furrowed in concentration, can be seen over his cleft chin. The camera shakes again as he mutters, “yeah, I’m repositioning it. Just keep bangin’ him, dude, it’ll just be a sec.”

The camera frame tumbles as he manipulates the tripod; the metallic clicks and clanks are underscored by Joey’s sobbing.

The frame goes black—and then comes back instantly. The caesura was brief—just long enough to remount and refocus the camera.

The boy doesn’t need to be remounted. Or refocused. He’s still locked in place, held down on the bed by the alpha top, Nick’s hand pressing against the back of the punk’s head, forcing his face into the pillow, deep—but not deep enough to suffocate him. His weeping is muffled but still audible.

The porn-star wannabe kicks his smooth taut legs violently, his purple velour skate shoes flailing at Nick’s construction boots which are planted firmly on the rough blanket for traction. His hands clench and release convulsively, in rhythm with the muscle stud’s strokes, his fingers curling tightly as the thick shaft plunges deep into his rectum, splaying out as it’s withdrawn, the massive head scouring the whore’s colon roughly on the way out.

Joey’s arms, however, aren’t moving much. One of the nails in his back has pierced his trapezius muscle, the other the dorsal. Any movement of his arms at the shoulder would clearly be agony; now that the camera is closer, the thin trails of blood oozing out from under the nail heads is much easier to see.

As the two men writhe in an embrace of lust and pain, they’re joined by a third. Tony steps in, his lithe, hard body preceded into the frame by his long thin cock, already oozing from its swollen tip. His handsome face is split by an evil grin.

“Hey, dude,” he chuckles, “he ain’t makin’ enough noise. Hey, Joey, ya wanna be a star, right? You seen how it works in porn—the bottom’s gotta scream and yell so’s the audience knows he’s gettin’ fucked good! You’re too fuckin’ quiet, brah! Here, lemme see if I can help…”

As Nick obligingly leans back, Tony bends over Joey and, grabbing his wrists, wrenches his arms up over his head, then pulls them back down behind his back.

Joey screams, a loud, high-pitched shriek of agony. The twisting alone is almost enough to dislocate his shoulders, but the movement of his muscles can be seen under his slick, sweating skin.

So can the movement of the nails as the muscles contract around them, tearing themselves open on the thin steel shanks.

Joey’s scream trails off into an agonized croak before he draws in another breath with a loud whoop. But at least one of the nails has punctured a lung; his breathing is raspy and labored. He shrieks again, just as loudly but not as long. This one subsides into prolonged sobbing.

In the meantime, Nick hasn’t mistimed a single thrust of his dick. Tony, standing by the kid’s head, is slapping him in the face with his dick as the slut screams and cries. “Ya gotta stick a few more in him,” he tells Nick, “this cunt can take a lot more pain. He ain’t even passed out yet.”

Nick looks up at Tony, then at the camera. A slow smile, dripping with lust, crosses his face. He’d put the nail gun to one side for a moment; now he picks it up; his deltoid bulging as he hefts the seven-pound weapon and swings it around so the camera catches a good view.

Then, without warning, he drops it down and fires a nail into Joey’s elbow, on the outside at the bend.

The screams are ear-splitting as the boy thrashes and flails violently, his arms and legs a blur. The rest of him is motionless, however, held in place by Nick like an iron cage. The hard alpha dom leans back, eyes closed, grinning and snarling in sexual pleasure as the tortured youth kicks and struggles on his cock.

He’s having a great time, and it’s obvious. The poor porn actor manqué is not, and it’s also obvious. Tony has stepped back out of the kid’s reach for the moment. Nick is the true star and he shows it. “Oh fuck yeah, you motherfuckin’ whore,” he growls, “that got ya goin’, huh? Guess what, cunt—I can feel your little faggot dick getting’ hard while I fuck ya. It makes your ass get extra tight. Know what else, you fuckin’ cocksucker? I can feel your ass get tight every time I stick a nail in ya, too. I guess that means your worthless homo cock gets hard every time a real man shows it what pain feels like, huh? You love it, you fuckin’ fairy whore, dontcha? Then this’ll make ya cum, bitch!”

Nick seems to lose it on camera, raping the kid in a frenzy of rage and desire, his hips nearly a blur as he reams the struggling, terrified youth. Simultaneously, he flips a switch on the nail gun—it’s not obvious at first why, but it soon becomes clear. He doesn’t have to squeeze the trigger to fire the gun anymore; he just has to bump it against his victim with enough force to trigger it.

He’s beating the boy with the nail gun. Each blow fires a thin shaft of steel more than three inches into Joey’s smooth, flailing torso. As he screams and moans raggedly, holes are punched into his back and his sides, through his kidneys and liver.

“Roll ‘im on his side!” yells Tony, “do ‘im sidesaddle!”

Nick rolls onto his side, pulling Joey on over, still impaled on his huge tool. Joey looks directly at the camera, his sky-blue eyes bloodshot and ringed with gray by shock. His long lashes flutter, fear adding to the eroticism of the moment, as if he’s flirting with the camera in the moment of his greatest agony. His dick emerges from the dark hairy shadow of his groin, erect and straining despite the boy’s obvious agony.

Except it’s not his moment of greatest agony.

“Make him cum before he dies,” hisses Tony, leaning down and spitting into Joey’s stunned face. “Can ya do that? Motherfucker’s already hard. Can’t blame the little cunt, with your hot cock inside him. Bet he’s ready to shoot. Can ya make ‘im shoot and die?”

“Hell yeah,” chortles Nick, “watch this. First one in the head don’t kill him. Betcha ain’t seen this one before, dude.”

Grabbing a hank of the boy’s hair, Nick pulls Joey’s head backwards. From the camera’s angle, not much more can be seen beyond the thick bulge of Joey’s adam’s apple, bobbing up and down in terror. The frame jerks and blurs; Tony has picked it up momentarily to aim it from a higher angle, since Nick and Joey are on their sides now.

He gets it in focus just in time to catch Nick drive a nail into the back of Joey’s skull, about an inch above the top of the neck—directly into the brain stem.

Tony backs off, showing a full-length image of Joey—who seems to be frozen, not moving at all—and Nick reaching down into Joey’s groin.

The camera is no more than a yard from the bed, so Joey’s swollen purple dick is very clear in the frame. Tony was right; despite the fear and pain, some part of the little whore had gotten off on the pain and the fear. Even now, as he quivers in the throes of massive brain trauma, he’s oozing precum from the tip of his cock.

Nick places the gun up under Joey’s scrotum. As the kid trembles on his dick, Nick applies enough force to trigger the gun, sending a nail up behind the boy’s balls, deep within the root of the unfortunate slut’s rod, impaling the tube of flesh on a shaft of steel and forcing a massive ejaculation.

Joey’s mouth opens and a deep, mindless moan comes out, the sound flowing from his lips as the semen flows from his dick. He doesn’t spunk in spurts; it’s a solid stream of white shooting out like someone stomped on a tube of toothpaste.

“Fuck!” Nick yells, his face contorted in animalistic rage and ecstasy. “Fuckin’ cunt’s so goddam tight—fuck! Gonna shoot, dude, gonna fuckin’ unload in this whore’s fuckhole! Yeah, fuck yeah!”

Tony jacks himself furiously. He licks his lips, staring down at the writhing, traumatized flesh beneath him. “Waste him, dude,” he gasps, “lemme see ya use that hard strong body, dude. Waste the fuckin’ punk, man!”

“Hell fuckin’ yeah,” Nick grunts. He swings the nail gun around and slams it up against Joey’s temple. There’s a loud crunching sound as three inches of galvanized steel punches its way through bone and brain tissue.

Joey goes rigid instantly, his smooth, hard body covered in a greasy lube of sweat, gleaming under the overhead lights as it shudders and convulses.

As the kid thrashes on his cock, Nick grunts loudly and screams. “Fuck! Fuck! Motherfuckin’ faggot cunt, take my load! Fuck, slut, take my cum, you worthless pig whore! Goddamit, cunt, take another shaft in your useless homo skull!”

Nick drives the gun down onto the top of Joey’s cranium, sending another nail deep into Joey’s cerebrum. Quickly withdrawing the heavy tool, Nick whacks it against the whore’s skull one last time, in the back, before tossing the weapon away.

The alpha stud grabs the flailing boy’s hips and pulls his ass relentlessly up along his hard shaft, grunting uncontrollably in violent orgasm as the unconscious punk jerks bonelessly in his death throes. As his beautiful, lightly stubbled face bobs, tongue protruding and eyes rolled back to expose the whites, Tony cries out and shoots a jet of spunk into Joey’s dying face, cum splashing into his eyes and his open mouth.

There’s one last sound; one last grunt from each male as Tony, Nick and Joey each signal the last spurt of seed from their overwrought cocks. Joey’s grunt is louder—he’s shooting out the last spark of life along with his last drop of spunk. Nick and Tony go very still, looking each other straight in the eyes, each trying to catch their breath after their intense orgasms.

Joey, on the other hand, doesn’t try to catch his breath. And he doesn’t remain still, either. His body kicks, jerks, and convulses harder than before; his smooth sweaty legs flailing as his purple velour skate shoes kick convulsively on the bed…

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Tony leaned back against the headboard and fired up a joint. He inhaled deeply before handing it off to Nick. As he held the smoke, Tony looked down at Joey’s corpse. There were at least a dozen nails driven into the youth’s smooth, slim body, not counting the ones stuck in his skull.

Nick took a hit and passed the joint back to Tony. He planted his right foot in its thick construction boot against Joey’s side and shoved the still-quivering body off the bed. It hit the floor with a boneless sound somewhere between a thud and a splat. It was the sound of warm dead flesh hitting the floor.

Nick looked at Tony. Tony returned his gaze, looking deeply into Nick’s eyes.

“You want me to fuck ya, don’t ya?” asked Nick

“Yeah, I do. But I don’t wanna end up like him.” Tony nodded at Joey’s body, still shuddering with the random firing of neurons within his mangled brain, his purple skate shoes scraping mindlessly on the floor.

“Maybe we can work something out,” Nick replied. “Let’s see what happens.”

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