Meat Chronicles 23–Alleyway Quickie

I need release.  The hate, the rage, the sperm, it’s all been building inside me, and I’ve reached the boiling point.  A faggot is gonna die riding my dick tonight.

 

There are plenty of them out, too.  The drag lined with gay bars teems with homos of all ages and flavors, all of them desperately seeking a real man to shove something long and hard into their pansy bodies.

 

I’m just the man they’re looking for.

 

I drive slowly down the street and park in a lot behind one of the bars; it’s packed, but I find a spot.  Most of the queers going in and out of the clubs aren’t alone, so I ignore them.  Extra helpings of meat can be fun, but I’m in the mood for something quick and nasty.

 

I wouldn’t have seen him if he hadn’t signaled to me, a call somewhere between a chirp and a grunt.  He’s in a narrow alley, barely four feet wide, that runs between a couple of the bars.  He’s about a yard in, outside the limited area light by the parking lot lights, and it’s obvious what he’s doing there—he’s turning tricks.

 

Aw fuck, this is perfect.  This stupid boywhore just made the worst, and last, mistake of his useless life.  I stride into the alley and he steps out into the light so we can size each other up.

 

It’s a warm, humid night; I decided to go shirtless, with nothing but a thin leather vest to cover my sculpted torso.  The rest of my gear consists of a pair of tight, faded jean tucked into a pair of black Smokejumper boots.

 

The slut is hiding even less of his lithe adolescent body; he’s utterly topless, his lean, smooth chest already glistening with sweat.  His cheap, shiny polyester-blend shorts are so short I can just barely see the head of his dick as it dangles.  A pair of tightly-laced black leather combat boots completes his whore outfit.

 

I can make out just enough of him in the light to see his red-gold hair that falls just barely closer to blond than copper.  His bangs sweep down near his eyes, which are as deep and sultry as the night.  His face is young and handsome, but signs of wear and rough use are starting to show around the eyes and the jaw line; he’s probably on something, maybe meth.  But it’s only just setting in; despite his lean swimmer’s build, his abs and chest ripple with muscle.

 

He says his name is Aaron and that he’s nineteen.  Both are lies.  I don’t care what his name is, and he knows it.  And as for his age—well, he ain’t gonna live to see nineteen.  Or eighteen, for that matter.  Even without my intervention, he’ll have destroyed himself before then.  Hell, I’ll be doing him a kindness by wasting his worthless homo ass.

 

He wants twenty for a BJ—getting one, not giving.

 

“Uh-uh, faggot.  You’re the one taking dick,” I sneer and his adolescent face lights up.  I knew it.  Goddam little perv has been waiting for an alpha to come along and put him out of his misery.  It’s his lucky night.

 

He still makes a show out of being a whore, demanding a hundred in cash to take it up the ass here and now, in the alley.  They like to pretend that things are going on like normal, right up until they’re overcome by their suffering.  I’m prepared; I hand him a Benjamin and note which pocket he stuffs it into so I can get it back when I’m done.

 

“C’mon, down here,” he says, leading me down the alley and further away form the light.  Suddenly, the alley is partially blocked; an emergency exit stairwell had been added to the building on the left and encroached on the space, taking up about half the width of the alley for a distance of about eight feet.

 

Once past it, we’re invisible from the parking lot.  The street is only twenty-five feet away—and still crowded with horny, twittering pansies—but the dumpsters are at that end.

 

The boy turns away from me.  Dropping his shorts, he leans forward and presents his ass to me, placing his hands on the brick wall to brace himself.  Grinning, I unzip my fly, letting my thick eager manshaft leap out, pulsing and throbbing.  Pressing my legs up against the punk’s thighs, I nudge his pink puckered asshole with my oozing purple head.

 

Then I shove it home, tearing into the cunt’s rectum like a mechanical punch.  He cries out; quickly, I reach around and clamp my hand tightly over his mouth.

 

“Shut the fuck up, motherfucker,” I snarl into his ear, my head to close to his I can feel my rough three-day growth scraping his baby-smooth cheek, “This is whatcha wanted, ain’t it, cocksucker?  Yeah? So shut yer worthless mouth, bitch!”

 

I release his mouth and plow his ass, the velvety feeling of his teen colon as my pound rod stretches it to the limit of its endurance stoking my lust.  What stokes it even more is hearing the homo whimpering in pain, desperately trying not to call attention to two dudes fucking in the alley, even though most of the fairies strolling by would probably pay to watch.

 

Heh, that’d be hot.  Love to see the horror on their twinkie little faces as I get to my version of a Happy Ending—and telling ‘em they’re next.

 

Meanwhile, though, this cunt is starting to relax.  I’ve reamed him out to the point that he can settle back and enjoy my rod jammed up his guts.

 

Fuck him.  Fag bitch is here to pleasure me, not the other way round.  Time I really had some fun.

 

“Ya like that, dontcha?  Ya like havin’ my long hard shaft inside ya?” I whisper into the boywhore’s ear as I reach around and fondle his firm, smooth chest, feeling his torso tense and relax with every stroke of my cock.

 

“F-fuck y-y-eah,” he moans shudderingly, arcing his back against my chest.

 

“Then I’m about to double your pleasure, bitch,” I murmur, moving one hand around behind me to the hunting knife I keep on a belt sheath hidden behind me.   The meat doesn’t know it’s there.  Yet.

 

He moans again, inarticulately, as I extract the seven-inch serrated steel blade silently.  “You ready, fucker?  You ready for another long, hard shaft in ya?”

 

He’s too far gone in his lust, his teenaged body so awash in hormones, to catch much of what I’ve said.  Doesn’t matter.  He’ll figure it out.

 

Now.

 

I clap my hand back over his mouth again.  At the same time I drive my knife into his side, low down under the ribcage, angling inwards.  His surprised grunt instantly spirals up into a muffled squeal of pain as his entire body tenses and goes rigid, rising up on the toes of its combat boots.

 

I’ve stuck him right in the kidney; he’s experiencing the first flush of shock from organ trauma.

 

“There ya go cunt, that long and hard enough for ya?  Yer right kidney’s got a steel blade in it, boy; it’s fuckin’ gone.  Well, maybe not—let’s make sure.”  I twist the knife in the wound, digging the serrated tip deep into the teen’s innards before swiftly jerking it back out.  Blood flies off the blade, spattering the wall.

 

I don’t relax the tempo of my fucking or my grip on the meat’s jaw.  The cunt is finally starting to work my dick good, and I don’t want it trying to ruin my fun.  It can hear the gabble of the passing crowd just feet away as well as I can, but I’ve got such complete control over it, it can’t cry out for help as I fuck it to death.

 

But one little stick in the flank isn’t enough.  My hard alpha cock demands more agony for the meat.  It’s still got a lot of suffering to do before I’m done with it.  I plunge the knife into the fucker’s back, feeling the resistance change as the razor-sharp tip slices through different type of tissue.  I come inward and down, spearing the cunt’s liver.

 

Again, the meat puppet succumbs to my control, shuddering and mewling in desperate, muffled agony.  “Fuck yeah, bitch, take my blade like it’s a thick cock, ya faggot.  Squeeze my dick as I cut you, ya worthless homo shit!” I growl into the teen’s ear as I grind my huge pulsing cock into his throbbing, spasming rectum.  His arms flail over his head as he desperately tries to reach me behind him.

 

I don’t let go of his mouth; he’s gonna die with my hand clamped over his face.  I can feel his tears running down his face and over the back of my hand.  The adolescent fuckmeat is suffering so damn bad—but I can still hear his hard teen dick slapping against his firm, flat belly as I pound his asshole.

 

His lithe body writhes against me, despite the knife buried in his back—that means he’s in such terror that he’s becoming oblivious to the physical pain; his every action is driving the tip of my blade deeper into his liver.  It’s gotta be excruciating.

 

It’s so fucking hot.  “Yeah, asswipe, work ‘em.  Work my cock and my knife.  Carve yer fag ass up as ya jack me off, motherfucker.”

 

He’s shaking his head, or at least trying to.  I don’t have to hear his mewling, begging words to know what he’s sayin’.  He’s sayin’ that it hurts, that he doesn’t want it—and it’s all lies.  Little fuck wouldn’ta been out here selling his homo ass in a dark alley if he didn’t want this.

 

“Fuckin’ stupid-ass faggot,” I hiss viciously into his ear, “You know you been cravin’ this since you shot yer first load.  Only reason for yer pervert fag existence is so I can cum as I off yer useless ass, and you fuckin’ know it, dontcha?  You always knew someone was waiting out there to stick ya and cut ya and hurt ya, yeah?”

 

He goes rigid as I pull the knife out slowly, his asscheeks pressed flat against my groin and trembling.  I hold the knife free for a moment.

 

“Where’s it gonna go, fucker?  What part of yer tender young flesh to ya want punctured and probed with my sharpened steel blade, asswipe?  I know—let’s try this!”

 

Without warning, I sweep the knife around in front and plunge it up to the hilt in the punk’s smooth, flat belly.

 

He grabs at my hand just as I grind the blade into his guts and jerk it back out.  The motherfucker is stupid enough to try to grab at the knife; I let him get hold of it then rapidly twist it back and forth, literally carving up his palms.  I can tell it hurts; his faint squeaks of agony are slightly louder.

 

“Yer still hard, ya sick fuck,” I snarl at him, “Gettin’ loose on my tackle, but yer damn sure enjoyin’ yer perverted ass, aintcha?  Well, cunt, that ain’t fair.  Guess I’m gonna hafta tighten yer fuckhole up the hard way.”

 

This time I aim for his chest.  He sees it coming.  Goddamn, I can’t believe how dumb this one is; despite his bleeding, shredded hands, he still grabs at my wrist.  Teen whore like him shoulda had more street smarts; I really am doin’ the fag a favor by offin’ it now.  Hell, it coulda met someone really bad.

 

Y’know.  Someone evil.

 

I let the meat grab me, though; it’s not strong enough to prevent me from sticking it again.  But I want it to feel the helplessness and despair as it slowly realizes it.

 

It takes a good minute for the tip of the blade to reach the boy’s skin.  As he continues to try to pull my hand away, I land the razor-sharp tip in the center of the firm, smooth mound of his left pec, just above and inward of the hard, jutting nipple.

 

A trickle of blood starts to flow as I pierce the skin.  I apply a little more pressure and the tip slides in almost an inch.  He’s in pain now; the knife has gone past the skin and is slicing open the muscle.  My wrists are slick with blood from the meat’s wounded hands; the deeper the blade goes, the more force he tries to apply—and the more his hands bleed, making his grip more slippery.

 

He’s losing this battle and he knows it.  But again, he’s too fuckin’ stupid to realize that he’s prolonging his suffering by fighting me.  I damn sure ain’t gonna tell him; his ass is tense and rigid with his effort and his agony.

 

There’s some physical resistance—I’ve hit a rib.  My serrated hunting knife is designed to break through the bones of large animal carcasses; the ribcage of an adolescent faggot doesn’t pose a problem.  I just need to apply more pressure.

 

The cunt thrashes violently as I force the steel blade into his chest cavity with enough force to audibly snap the bone.  Fuck, his agony feels so fuckin’ good on my hard, aching tool.  Little homo backs his ass up, grinding my shaft good and hard each time I inflict more pain.  Teen fags are great for this shit; they really seem to get into the suffering.  They’ll piss and moan and cry, but deep inside, they’re all deathpigs.

 

The more it hurts, the more they like it.  Hell, this fuckin’ queerboy is as hard as I am.  Think I’ll give him something to really enjoy.  I slam the knife home, spearing the slut’s left lung and embedding the tip of the blade into the inside of his rib in the back.  Fuck, if it wasn’t for that rib, I’da been able to see the tip of the blade come out his back.

 

“Aw yeah, ya like that, huh?” I whisper into the agonized teen’s ear, nuzzling my scruffy cheek against his.  “Fuck, the way yer workin’ my meat as you die is so fuckin’ hot, dude.  Here, fucker, do it again!”

 

Again, I twist the blade inside him before yanking it back out with a swift, vicious jerk; his lithe body shudders and spasms against mine in nightmarish agony as a series of muffled squeals are forced past my iron grip on his mouth.  The ragged nasal sound of his breathing intensifies as blood bubbles and aspirates from his sucking chest wound.

 

“Havin’ trouble breathin’, asswipe?” I jeer softly, “Yer lung has collapsed.  Fuck, man, that’s gotta hurt.  Betcha feel like yer suffocatin’, huh?  Work it out, cocksucker, work that pain and fear out on my rod!”

 

He’s panicking.  His arms are flailing and he’s riding my cock like it’s a fuckin’ carousel horse.  Goddam, little pansy’s actually gettin’ me close.  Time to shift this bitch into high.

 

I hold the knife in front of his face.  “Last time, boy.  Where do ya want it?  Where do ya want the death blow, motherfucker?  In yer chest?  Wanna feel yer heart pop like a water balloon before it spasms and slices itself into shredded meat on my blade?  Fuck yeah!  Sounds hot as hell, don’t it?”

 

I can feel him trying frenetically to shake his head; I’ve got too tight a grip on him to permit much movement, but his intention is clear.  He’s still struggling, though, his torn and bleeding colon still clamping down on my engorged shaft.  And I can still hear the wet slapping sound of his own erect dick beating against his flat, blood-streaked belly.

 

“Not the chest?  Ok, then.  Funny, ya didn’t strike me as the type that wanted its throat cut, but what the fuck—yer the one bein’ snuffed, fucker.  Here ya go, asshole, and remember—you asked for it!”

 

Holding the blade horizontally, I stick it into the left side of the teenager’s throat, jamming it straight in.  At first it’s smooth and easy, like a hot knife in butter—but then I get to the trachea.  It’s a thick, rubbery piece of tissue, and I’d hit the larynx straight on.

 

Jesus, if I thought I had a hot piece of fuckmeat before, it’s nothing to the way my shaft gets milked as I slowly saw my way through its voicebox.  The faggot fucker gyrates on my pulsing rod like it consciously wants to feel my load in its guts before it dies.

 

Once I get through the larynx, it’s smooth sailing again; within seconds, the gleaming tip of the blade springs from the smooth, unblemished flesh on the right side of the kid’s neck, accompanied by a trickle of blood.  Just the sight of it makes my balls start to boil over; I’m about to grant the fuckmeat its final wish, not that the faggot deserves any mercy on my part.

 

The last thing the homo piece of shit is gonna feel is my hot spunk hosing its guts.

 

The blade is embedded horizontally in the meat’s throat, completely impaling it from side to side.  I’ve undoubtedly cut the carotid and jugular, but the physical presence of the blade in the wound is preventing the meat from bleeding out.

 

So now, instead of sawing into his throat, I cut forward, sawing out of it.

 

I can’t begin to imagine how much agony and terror the fuckmeat must be enduring; it’s not enough.  Goddam homo can’t suffer enough.  “Fuckin’ die, ya worthless piece a’ shit.  Fuckin’ die like a dog in this alley, faggot!” I mutter hoarsely as the dying teen’s throat parts and a loud whistling wheeze erupts briefly from the jagged edges of its open, exposed trachea.

 

Aw fuckin’ hell, it goes so goddam rigid on my cock, gripping it tightly, all the boy’s pain and fear focused onto my swollen rod, concentrated on making my shoot my sperm.  At the moment of death, it finally understands and accepts its true purpose on this planet.  There’s a splattering sound as the cunt’s life blood sprays against the brick wall, but it’s echoed by another, similar sound, a bit lower down.  The teen whore spews its deathload against the same dirty brick wall that’s already stained with its dark, copper-scented blood.

 

At the same time, I’m pumping its intestines full of my hot, potent manseed, letting the dying fag savor one last microsecond of living warmth before it slips pathetically into the cold screaming void of death.  I keep thrusting and shooting for several minutes; when the meat finally dies and starts to sag, I stick my blade into its left flank just below the armpit and through the ribcage, using it as a handle to hold the corpse up until I’m done unloading in it.

 

When I’m done, I press one hand against its back, forcing it into the wall while I slip my still-throbbing cock out of its ass.  Then I pull out my blade and let go, allowing the trembling corpse to fall the ground with a dull thump.  I bend down and use the homo’s shorts to wipe its blood off my blade, making sure to retrieve my money form the dead kid’s pocket, before sliding the knife back into its sheath, hidden under my vest.  As I tuck my dripping shaft back into my jeans, I watch the whore’s boots twitch, causing ripples on the iridescent surface of the filthy puddle in which the dead body lies.

 

I head cautiously and quietly back up the alley.  At the rear entrance, I scan the parking lot for a moment while staying in the shadows, but there’s no one about.  The coast is clear.

 

And so is my mood. Whistling happily, I stroll casually towards my car, my boots thumping regularly on the pavement.  I feel good.  I’ve vented my frustrations, and I’ve rid the world of another useless faggot.  Left in a stinking puddle down a dark, trash-filled alley, with its throat cut and its ass fulla cum—bitch deserved it.

 

Fuck, the bitch got of easy.  Next one’s really gonna suffer.

 

 

 

2 thoughts on “Meat Chronicles 23–Alleyway Quickie

  1. JWC

    A quick and easy kill, a short and rewarding story. A great combo. I like that you are hinting that the meat is young; there’s no age of consent for snuff, after all. Your killers don’t care about the lives of the meat, it’s hard to imagine them caring much IDing them. After all: “teen fags are great for this shit; they really seem to get into the suffering.” With people just a few yards away during this kill, within earshot, it got me thinking about the audience for snuff, the ones who would watch the sorts of movies Carlos and Nick made together. It’d be interesting to see a kill from their point of view, either someone who sought it out or even someone who stumbled on it.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. fagxave@gmail.com

    I hope I get to be the next faggot this Alpha dumps his load into if this is getting off easy. How he twists the knife after plunging it is so hot, I was craving that knife as I read.

    This faggot deathpig needs its throat brutally cut open as well.

    Liked by 1 person

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