It was time. Eddie couldn’t take it anymore. He was determined to put an end to it, in his own inimitable way.
Every time—every time—he left his apartment, they were there, at the skate park on the corner. Those two boys. They always seemed to be either out on the sidewalk or just inside the park, able to look through the fence. And they were always staring at him.
Staring lasciviously. He knew it. He knew it.
His flesh crawled every time he felt their stare. Fucking disgusting homo pervs, leering at him—they needed to die. And Eddie’s dick was hard at the thought of making them suffer as they so richly reserved.
He’d gone to work today, a part-time job he’d taken at a garage, as a side hustle. On his way there, he’d gone out of his way to avoid that corner. On his way back, he’d taken the normal route, hoping they’d be gone. But they weren’t.
It was time to do something about it.
Billy—he preferred to be called Bill, but few ever did—and Ted had been friends and classmates for years. Sometimes, they’d been more than that. It was part of the natural course of adolescent sexual experimentation, but it had aroused such strong emotions that they never spoke openly of it, despite being obviously devoted companions.
Both were seventeen—their birthdays were a month apart. They frequently dressed in a similar (but not identical) manner and even wore their hair the same medium length, spread out over the nape in back. Ted’s was blond and wavy, Billy’s was deep russet brown and slightly straighter. Both had been on the team in high school, but in different sports so as to avoid direct competition. Ted was on the baseball team and Billy had gone in for wrestling.
At the moment, both were wearing a pair of distressed slim fit jeans; Billy’s were ripped on one thigh and the opposite knee. Billy’s aqua-blue t-shit was tight enough to emphasize his lithe adolescent frame, while Ted’s yellow tank top showed even more of his lean but muscled body. Billy was sporting a pair of Adidas Superstar sneakers, black with white stripes; Ted’s kicks were DC Spartan hightops in gray.
While they spent some of their time at the park on their boards, they spent most of it out of clear sight, smoking weed at the edge of the park. Today, they hadn’t even bothered to bring their boards.
And yes, they looked at Eddie almost every time he passed by.
It was his hostile expression and his angry, glaring eyes that drew their attention. Whatever other attraction there might be, they buried deep inside and never discussed. What they did discuss were the possible meanings of his seemingly hate-filled mien and while each of them posited a number of ideas, they couldn’t agree on one. Billy was inclined to think he was a neighbor irritated by the park somehow, and likely glared at everyone he saw in it. Jokingly, Ted insisted the dude was a homicidal maniac.
As they finished off their last joint and headed out of the park, they had no idea how close they were to learning the truth of the matter.
Eddie had circled back, simmering with rage. He knew he needed to lure the little faggots back to his place voluntarily, without anyone else noticing. His luck was good in that no one else was on the street at the moment; the worthless homos were the only ones visible. Now he just needed to find the right bait. He pulled up to the curb by them and rolled down the window, his expression open and genial.
Billy and Ted noticed and glanced at each other.
“Should we go over?” Ted asked.
Billy pondered for a brief moment. “Think it’ll be ok. After all, it’s two to one. And anyway, if he wants to get us, he’s gotta get out first. I wanna know what’s going on,” he replied.
And with that, the dark-haired teen strode up to Eddie truck with much more confidence than the situation actually deserved. Ted approached the curb but stood about a yard back, watching warily as Billy stuck his head in the window. Ted could hear them talking but wasn’t able to distinguish enough individual words to be able to get the sense of the conversation. Soon, though, Billy pulled back and turned, grinning, to Ted.
“’S cool, bro,” he responded, “I was kinda right, but it wasn’t the park he was pissed at. Poor guy was having chick trouble and she moved out. And get this—he’s got a whole ounce of smoke that he’s willing to sell.”
The moment the fucker had approached the truck, Eddie had his bait. Teenaged bastard just fucking reeked of weed. And as it so happened, he had some. The last cocksucker he put down had had some—the one he’d met at the gym; he’d already forgotten its name. Anyway, he’d found it in the fuckmeat’s apartment afterwards. Eddie didn’t smoke himself, but he knew a lot of pansies did. He’d used a grinder on it, rendering it into fine flakes. He’d also ground up a fistful of clonazepam—also swiped from a successful kill—and added that to the mix. It might come in handy.
Today it would.
Now, the other one came to the window. “A whole ounce?” it asked cautiously. “How much?”
“Two hundred,” Eddie said with a friendly smile.
The blond dumbfuck paused for a bit. “That’s a bit much.”
“Ok,” the psychotic alpha replied easily, “No pressure. If y’all want to, though, you can come back to my place to sample it. I don’t sell on the street.”
The fag cunt withdrew and talked to its fuckbuddy, then popped back in. “Is it really good?” it asked.
“Trust me, this shit’ll blow your mind,” Eddie came with a broad grin that trembled on the edge of being shark-like. He couldn’t hold this genial image for long; his bloodlust was seething.
But his boast had convinced them; the teen fuckwads opened the passenger door and climbed onto the pickup’s bench seat, the blond one pressed against his side.
Ted, for his part, was almost painfully aware of the physical contact into which he’d been forced. For work, Eddie had been wearing a dark, form-fitting t-shirt that showed off his bulging arms, faded and oil-stained work jeans that clung to his thick thighs, the cuffs of which were on the inside of his laced and partially open black Chippewa logger workboots.
The sadistic killer pulled away from the curb in high spirits. He had a mission again. He missed that the most from the Marines, that sense of a noble mission, a righteous kill. His huge cock was growing stiff thick with excitement, hate, and lust.
Ted was aware of that, too. At least, he was aware that the powerful stranger next to him had an erection. He didn’t know why. He also didn’t know why he was feeling a disturbing mix of alarm and intrigue.
It didn’t last long, though. Eddie lived on the next street; all he had to do was circle the block, then pull into the lot at the rear of the building. He parked just to the left of the rear entrance—most of his neighbors were out at this time of day, so the lot was fairly empty. He entered the door code and ushered the boys directly into his apartment, immediately to the left.
No one had seen the teens enter the building—not that that mattered to Eddie; his psychotic rage drove him past recognition of the need to be cautious.
All that mattered was that his homo prey didn’t escape.
Once inside, he directed them to his sofa and headed back into the bedroom. He wasn’t gone long, but it gave the kids time to exchange a few lines.
“Whaddaya think?” Ted asked, glancing around. The room was spare, but clean. Sofa, recliner facing a media/game setup, side tables, and so on, but nothing that gave the slightest hint to the personality of the occupant. It all made him somewhat uneasy, although he would have been hard-pressed to say exactly why. He shuffled his feet nervously, his sneakers scraping the carpet.
Bill was also looking around. The light was dim—the living room windows opened onto the building next door, a solid wall of brick separated by a five-foot alley filled with dumpsters, litter, and feral cats. No lights were on inside; the room was illuminated by the faint light refracted in from the narrow alley.
Billy wasn’t entirely comfortable himself, but he really wanted some more weed, and the dude he usually got it from was out of town. Besides, there were two of them. “Look, man,” he replied, “the guy might be strong, but between us, we can take ‘im, right? And anyway, what could go wrong?”
Ted could think of several things—flat-out robbery the least of them—but kept quiet as Eddie reentered, holding a baggie. “Give that a try and tell me if you think it’s worth it,” he said, tossing it into Ted’s lap.
The blond punk held it up suspiciously. “That’s not an ounce.”
“No, it’s a half,” Eddie responded, the perfect equanimity on his face utterly belying the volcanic ire bubbling just underneath. “I’m prepared to sell a half for one-twenty. But go ahead and try it. I take it you have papers.”
“Well, duh,” Billy shot back with adolescent braggadocio, “Whaddaya think we are, kids?” He dug in his pocket and pulled out the papers and a lighter.
Eddie didn’t even bother to conceal his smirk.
He strolled into the kitchen and pour himself a triple shot of Jim Beam. Sipping, he came back into the living room just in time to see Billy take a deep hit and pass the joint to Tim. The heavy odor of the pot contained a faint chemical undertone, but the sluts never noticed it.
“I’m already feelin’ it,” Ted said after his second hit. Eddie continue to lean against the wall, enjoying both his drink and the spectacle of a couple of fag pups smoking themselves into oblivion.
Although a lot was going to happen to them before they finally got there.
By the third hit, Billy was slumped back on the sofa, drooling. Ted was grinning inanely, his bloodshot eyes half-lidded. He was sitting up and holding the joint, but he was swaying. Falling into an open-eyed, barely articulate stupor he sagged back as well. Eddie stepped in just in time to catch the joint as it fell from the kid’s limp fingers.
“That’s it, you fuckin’ cocksucker”, Eddie murmured as he bent over the inert teenager, “Go night-night, fuckwad. Gonna have a helluva party when you wake up.”
But Ted wasn’t unconscious, just paralytically high. He heard Eddie’s words, distorted, as if coming from a great distance. He couldn’t make out their meaning, though. He did understand what was happening, however, when the buff ex-Marine bent over and slung him over his shoulder, swinging him around into a fireman’s carry. Indeed he couldn’t help but know, given his close proximity to the sadistic stud’s muscular body, the faint scent of mansweat mixing with the testosterone and adrenaline wafting from the killer’s skin.
What Ted didn’t understand was that Eddie was a killer—and much, much worse. At least, he didn’t understand it yet.
The homo youth didn’t weigh more than a hundred and twenty. Eddie could bench three hundred. The effort to take the meat back into the bedroom and toss it on the bed was minimal. And anyway, it wasn’t gonna stay there long.
Ted was still almost catatonic but while the physical effects were wearing off incrementally, the mental fog was dissipating at a slightly faster rate. This was not good for Ted—he was becoming aware of what was happening to him much more swiftly than his ability to act on it.
Thus, he could only stare wide-eyed in terror, moaning inarticulately, as Eddie approached grinning viciously and holding a Ka-Bar knife with a nine-inch serrated blade.
“Betcha just can’t fuckin’ wait to get naked, huh? All you disgusting faggots pullin’ yer clothes off and flaunting yer bodies like the goddam cumdumps you are, right? So just relax, cocksucker—I’m just makin’ ya comfortable, heh.”
He leaned in, smiled gleefully, and scraped the edge of the blade gently along Ted’s cheek. Slowly running the tip of the knife down the teen’s neck and across his chest, just breaking the skin, leaving a thin red line down his body. The moment the knife hit the kid’s shirt, Eddie went to work in a frenzy of motion, cutting the shit to shreds until it fell off. Turning to the punk’s jeans, he unbuttoned and unzipped the fly, then began cutting downward into the crotch.
The stupid cunt was commando. Eddie gave a derisive snort. Of course the cumsucking pansy had nothing on underneath. Fucking faggot whores never did. Eddie knew without looking that the one out in the living room would be the same.
As Eddie sawed his way through the groin, he was careless enough to allow the tip of the blade to jab the cunt in the balls. He wasn’t quite so carless as to render them inoperable—he didn’t want that. Yet.
He next sliced outwards and slit the tight fabric wrapped around its right leg, expertly slicing open the denim as easily as if he was opening a zipper. Once the right leg, firm and just faintly furred, was made bare, Eddie transferred his attention to the left and exposed it with equal celerity.
Before he was capable of making any sort of physical or vocal attempt to stop what was happening to him, Ted found himself lying back down on the bed—his brain was still badly fogged, but he had a vague idea that it was actually a bare, stained mattress—on top of some rags that had once been his clothes, utterly helpless and nude except for his socks and kicks.
He still didn’t understand. He was starting to come out of his drug-induced paralysis, but his brain hadn’t recovered fully from the chemicals and compounds he’d inhaled.
When Eddie lifted him off the bed—he’d been right, it was a bare mattress—and dragged him to a sturdy armless chair of bare wood, he tried to fight the older man off, but could only manage a faint, pathetic trembling.
Not even noticing the attempt, Eddie propped him in the chair and turned to the dresser on the far wall. He managed not to fall out before the killer alpha returned with a handful of plastic zip ties.
Ted was slowly regaining some control. He still didn’t know what was happening, but he knew that it was bad, and that he didn’t want it to happen.
“No…why…no…” he mumbled as Eddie drew neared. The latter sneered contemptuously and didn’t deign to answer. Silently and efficiently, he crossed the adolescent’s arms behind the chair and secured each wrist to the back on the other side. Stooping down, he also bound the ankles to the legs of the with the zip ties as well.
Standing up, the sadistic psychopath surveyed his work with satisfaction. The homo meat wasn’t going anywhere.
Time to turn his attention to the other one. Leaving Ted, faintly bleating and struggling, Eddie headed out to the living room.
Like Ted, Billy was slowly starting to recover. But he’d taken deeper hits than Ted had and consequently, his recovery had only proceeded to the stage of semi-consciousness at this point. He was still limp on the sofa with drool trickling down his chin.
Eddie went ahead and cut his clothes off where he was. By the time Billy was dragged into the bedroom to rejoin his BFF, he was clad in nothing but his Adidas sneakers. Limp and gurgling in frightened bewilderment, he was thrown onto the mattress like a bag of garbage, the same way Ted had been. After all, as far as Eddie was concerned, they were garbage.
“Ready to get it on, faggot?” Eddie jeered at Ted. He’d chosen Ted for his current role as spectator because he possessed the sadistic trait of sensing who was the most susceptible to psychological trauma. Ted was going to be more than just mindfucked—he was going to be cruelly, brutally mindraped.
And it didn’t hurt that he was fairly coherent now. The stupid little piece of cockgobbling shit was gonna know exactly what was going to happen. After all, his chair was placed head of the bed, about eighteen inches out from the bed itself. He had a close-up view of what was about to happen.
Eddie was going to be their hell. He was not only going to be the one to make them know the error of their sick, disgusting ways, but to punish them for it.
They deserved death. But Eddie was determined that by the time death took them, they would be in such agony that icy howling darkness would be a relief and release of orgasmic intensity.
This was what he needed, this sense of justified rampant sadism. In what was approaching an ecstasy of anticipation, peeled his shirt off, revealing his huge smooth pecs and six-pack abs, gleaming with sweat. Reaching for his groin, he opened his jeans and freed his enormous hog. It jutted out more than eight inches, bobbing mesmerizingly in the air. Ted stared at it, then looked back up at Eddie with a terrified expression. Even Billy managed to turn his head and gape at it.
Eddie merely smirked and walked over to the dresser. Placing the knife down on it, he opened a drawer and withdrew a fistful of bungee cords, selecting one and putting the others back. He’d had a design for a new kind of resistance workout and had used the cords to test some theories. He hadn’t been able to make the idea work—but he had gotten the idea for another use.
Or was it? What he had in mind would involve a considerable resistance workout.
With his hard, handsome face twisted into an evil grin, the ex-Marine ambled slowly to the foot of the bed. Billy had been too drugged to require securing; even now, his movements were too jerky and uncoordinated to constitute anything close to physical resistance. That would change soon enough.
“Watch this, you fuckin’ cunt. Watch a faggot get what it deserves. The bitch will love it, too—watch, it’ll spunk as it dies. You little homos always do,” he jeered, climbing onto the bare mattress still in his jeans and boots and rolled Billy over onto his belly. Propping himself up, he prepared to plunge his intimidatingly massive cock into the teen’s asshole, then turned to face Ted.
“You’ll see, pansy,” he asserted confidently, “oh yeah, you will fuckin’ see.”
And with that, he drove into Billy’s ass, instantly irreparably shredding the unlucky kid’s sphincter. Faster than Billy could react to that blast of excruciating pain came another as Eddie’s thick unlubed shaft ripped his rectal lining apart. By the time the alpha’s terrifying tool was grinding ruthlessly over his prostate, Billy’s ability to physically respond had recovered to a certain minor extent. Face down on the bed, he could only flail his arms uselessly. His legs, bent back at the knee to that his Adidas sneakers kicked in the air above and behind Eddie’s powerful thrusting glutes, were even less helpful.
He could scream, though, and scream he did. It was too hoarse to be loud—more of an extended, bleating croak, really, but it still infuriated Eddie.
“Shaddap and take what’s comin’ to ya, faggot!” he yelled and punched Billy on the right side of the head, twice, in quick succession. The bitch clutched its head, but continued to mewl, creating a faint but highly irritating undertone to the violent slapping and grunting sounds of the rape.
“Hey, fuckface,” Eddie called out to Ted, “Did this one plow you? You the one gobblin’ up its rod? Cause it damn sure doesn’t know how to take a dick. Only thing worse than a faggot is one that can’t even take cock.”
And as Eddie rose up on his knees, Ted watched in horror as the trained killed reached down and grabbed the bungee cord. His sense of being trapped in a surreal nightmare only intensified as Eddie resumed eye contact and spoke again.
“Pay attention to me, you worthless piece of fucking shit,” the muscled alpha hissed at the captive teenager, “Only reason I let disgusting homo parasites live one second beyond the moment I lay eyes on ‘em is to have something to fuck when I want. You only exist as cumdump anyway, and this planet will be a fuck of a lot better when you and yer kind don’t exist. You hear me, fuckmeat? So pay attention. If you can’t do any better than your boyfriend here, what’s in store for you is gonna be far worse than what’s gonna happen to this fucker.”
He bent over; looping the cord around the meat’s neck, he pulled it taut, simultaneously driving down with his full body weight so the slut couldn’t jerk itself off his dick as it fought for its worthless existence.
Billy’s spine bent backwards in an amazing arc that the adolescent boy, lithe as he was, couldn’t possibly have achieved on his own. His panicked face was pointed directly as Ted’s; his taut, muscled arms reaching out achingly towards his bound friend, hands scrambling futilely in midair.
Ted began to scream. “Stop! Stop! Help! HELP!!!” He began to struggle violently, flinging himself from side to side in a vain attempt to free himself. No matter how much he jerked and thrashed, though, the zip ties around his wrists and ankles remained inexorably tight. All he managed to do was tear his skin open on them. He didn’t come close to tipping the chair over—it was too heavy and sturdy for that—and if he had, it wouldn’t have done him, or Billy, the slightest bit of good.
He was trapped, forced to watch his best friend get assraped and strangled.
And he knew he was next.
Eddie rode the terrified teen, using the cord like a set of reins, keeping the dying youth pointed directly at his butt-buddy. He was filled a sense of dominance towards the subhuman perversion impaled on his huge shaft. He wasn’t just exercising power over it, but the ultimate power of life and death.
It would end in death, of course; the disgusting abomination had no right to exist. But for now, it was completely within his control, both it and its cock-gobbling whore of a friend.
And one of the best parts of it all was being able to plow one’s ass while simultaneously mindfucking the other one. By the time this one was done with, the other would have been mentally traumatized to the point of being catatonic. And that meant he’d need to get it awake and responding again.
He had a plan for that and couldn’t wait to put it into effect. But that was for later. He had to take out the garbage first.
In actual fact, Ted was already close to going into shock. The horror show of watching his bestie enduring nightmarish terror and suffering mere feet away had already broken his spirit. He could only sob brokenly, pleading in a pathetic voice, “No…stop…please, please…oh God, someone help…”
Yet it continued, the horrific image searing itself into the kid’s brain. Not even an hour ago, he and Billy had been chilling and getting high. Now he was bound excruciatingly to a chair, watching in terrified, paralytic amazement as the Teen’s face swelled and darkened, going from dusky to a deep, lush purple in a matter of minutes.
There was worse to come. Eddie had noticed his captive’s inability to look away from the nightmare unfolding in front of it. Time to turn up the heat.
“You enjoyin’ it, faggot?” he jeered sadistically. From Ted’s angle, he could see Eddie over Billy’s right head. The killer alpha was sneering, the bungee cord wrapped around his hands and his thickly muscled arms pulling back and controlling the fighting meat between his legs. Ted’s frantic mind, ablaze with terror, had a brief mental image of a cowboy breaking a wild bronco.
Except in those cases, the beast lived.
“This homo’s fuckin’ lovin’ this shit,” Eddie boasted cruelly to Ted. “Its fag cock his had as fuck right now. Ya know why, cunt? It’s cause it knows its gettin’ everything it needs and deserves. You garbage have no right to exist, and ya know it, dontcha? Fuck yeah, ya do—yer little pansy dick is gettin’ a stiffie, haw!”
But as cruel as it was, it was true. As Ted watched in a surreal haze of mortal fear, Billy’s face had darkened from purple to black. In fact, it was now utterly unrecognizable. Ted could make out only the barest traces of Billy’s physiognomy in the puffy, distorted mask in front of him, the eyes bulging gruesomely, streaked red with hemorrhages. The tongue, as black as the rest of the face, was sticking out like some sort of obscene insult. A steady stream of drool poured over the dark, swollen lips and fell from the chin in white, foamy strands.
And during the entire process, he had been entirely unaware of his powerful, seven-inch erection. It wasn’t until Eddie called attention to it that Ted realized that watching his best friend in the world die in slow agony had resulted in an achingly severe penile arousal.
Amazingly enough, it wasn’t the last straw for his psyche, already under more strain than a deep-sea submersible. What happened next, though, was more than enough.
Billy’s hands, after flailing in midair, had started clawing at his throat. He’d only made a couple of attempts to reach Eddie but there was no way of getting his arms back, so he’d frenetically pawed at the bungee cord. Now, after accomplishing no more than lacerating his own skin, the dying adolescent’s arms had fallen limply to his sides.
Recognizing the symptoms of fatal brain damage, Eddie barked out in anger. His rage had suddenly swelled, momentarily overcoming his lust. “Fuckin’ useless-ass faggot! Can’t even make me cum—you ain’t even no good as a buttfuck, ya worthless asswipe!!”
And with that, he jerked his arms back and down in a brutally swift and powerful yank. Instantly the teenager’s head snapped back, its trachea immediately collapsing and compacting against the spine—which itself was pulled back with such sudden force the three of the unlucky boy’s cervical vertebrae shattered like eggshells. The sound, like that of a sizeable branch breaking, echoed through the thick fog of sweat, testosterone, and mansex that filled the room.
At the moment of its death, Billy’s adolescent, hormone-filled body responded in the only was left, energetically expelling its genetic material in an instinctive reaction to extinction. Given the way his body had been bent backwards, there was only one place for the semen to go—straight along his belly and out in front, in a thick, ropy jet.
The last thing Ted was aware of before he checked out was the hot splatter of his friend’s cum across his chest and belly. After that, there was only a mental retreat so intense that his didn’t realize he’d also had a physical response as well.
As he slumped, drooling, his eyes half-lidded and staring into space, the blond teen had an orgasm as well, spunk shooting up life a water fountain and spattering back down on his firm, smooth thighs.
Slowly withdrawing his tackle from the dead fag, Eddie looked grimly at the other one. This one hadn’t been as much as he’d hoped. It was clear he was going to have to resort to more…extreme measures on the one in the chair.
His lips curled into such an evil, vicious smirk of anticipation that if Ted’s lights hadn’t already gone out, this would have snuffed them for certain.
Eddie got up and went to clean off his dick. He left the dead homo on the bed. He still had plans for it.
It took a while for Ted to regain consciousness, and it was done in steps of memory recall that were added incrementally more painful to his already hyper-stressed psyche. What he’d witnessed had been not been something for which his sheltered adolescent life had prepared him to handle. It had seemed to be so beyond the realm of possibility that it was unthinkable—utterly beyond existence.
There were two options: either this nightmare was really happening, something he literally couldn’t comprehend, or he had gone crazy. The second option was far easier for him to accept—so he’d allowed the overwhelming terror to take him under, into the sweet merciful darkness. The problem with this way out was, obviously, that all this viciousness was really happening. Whatever tricks his mind needed to play on itself were hampered by the ineluctable fact that he was a healthy, strong, virile teenager whose body was completely sensate and which still wanted to survive at any cost.
So, in the end, Ted woke up. But what he woke up to only added to the mental torture. Eddie was standing over him, grinning wickedly, holding the knife. Ted’s mind frenetically tried to shy away from acknowledging it, or any possible meaning of its use—and it completely failed.
So when Eddie circled around behind him, he couldn’t help letting out a loud, pathetic moan of horror.
“Shaddup, fuckmeat,” came a cold, masculine voice over his shoulder in a jeering tone, “When it’s time for yer pansy ass to die, you’ll see it comin’.”
The zip ties around his wrists tightened agonizingly for a brief moment, then were gone. As Ted swung his arms around in front, starting to feel the pain of blood reaching the nerves again, the same thing happened with his ankles. He was free!
Not that he could do much about it, though. It would be at least ninety seconds, maybe more, before his feet became functional enough for him to walk.
Ninety seconds alone in a room with a sadistic sex killer can seem like an eternity—and sometimes, actually be eternity. The fact that it wasn’t going to be the latter, at least, dawned on Ted when Eddie tossed the knife onto the bed. Again, Eddie’s tried to draw back from recognizing the shuddering shape it landed against.
Finally, Ted stood up, feeling his hopes of survival could be upgraded from none to slim. And the moment he did so, those hopes were completely dashed. Eddie stood directly in from of him reaching down towards the front pocket of his jeans.
And only then did the wasted punk notice something that had been there since he woke up—the butt of Eddie’s Sig Sauer handgun.
“Ya ready to dance, motherfucker? You got some cleanup work to do. To begin with, clean the cum off that piece of meat on the bed—with your tongue!”
Ted gave a soft, desperate bleat of despair, but didn’t move.
Eddie came up close—so close he could reach out and yank the youth’s dick and point the barrel of his gun downwards at its base, his snarling face filling the boy’s field of vision.
“Y’know, you worthless piece of shit, one thing the Marines taught me is that not every shot is fatal—right away. And I don’t even have to kill you, just incapacitate you. And then I can use my knife creatively, heh heh heh. In fact—”
But the brutal alpha never had to finish his sentence. The cunt was now obeying him. His face streaming and snotty, Ted’s tongue was lapping at the congealing, still-warm semen covering his friend’s corpse.
And worse was to come.
“You done, faggot, yeah?” Eddie sneered down at the kneeling, cowering youth. “Betcha loved that fuckin’ shit, didntcha, cumsucker? Now pick up that knife!”
The teen meat stared dully as the sadistic alpha tossed it onto the bed; it bounced and ended up against the dead kid’s flaccid thigh.
“Pick it up!” the ex-marine commanded again, “And don’t forget, I can still pop a cap in your knee. Or even better, your lower spine. Fuck yeah, paralyze yer homo ass—no way you’d ever be able to escape. Remember that, you scum-sucking piece of shit!”
Cringing reluctantly, Ted picked up the knife and looked at it with what seemed to be awe. Eddie grinned; he knew the sense of power and sexual dominance that it imparted. He could barely hold it himself without getting erect. Just like his cock, it was long, hard, and meant for sticking into other men to inflict suffering.
“Now,” he said coldly, “Cut off yer boyfriend’s dick.”
Despite having already cried and sobbed to the point of dehydration, fresh tears welled in teenager’s eyes. The knife tumbled from his nerveless fingers back onto the bed. He couldn’t. He just…couldn’t.
Eddie stepped forward and, grabbing a fistful of Ted’s hair as a hold, placed the barrel of the pistol on the nape of the punk’s neck and spoke in a cold, even tone that managed to be utterly terrifying. “Pick up the fucking knife and cut its junk off. Cock and balls. If you don’t, I will cripple you, then do it to you instead. Except you’ll still be alive and able to feel every goddam moment of it. I fuckin’ promise you, cunt.”
Now openly sobbing again, the unlucky youth obeyed, picking up the blade and castrating the corpse of his best friend. The limp, flaccid boymeat still managed to ooze out a pearl or two of semen as Ted sawed it off, the serrations ripping Billy’s package roughly away from his young, smooth body, leaving behind a gaping hole in the crotch from which some blood began slowly trickling.
“Gimme the knife,” the ruthless killer demanded. The cunt, its psyche total shattered by the mental trauma it had endured, obeyed robotically, holding the knife straight out to Eddie without looking away from the meat it had been forced to carve. At the same time, the dead fag’s cock and balls slid from its other hand, landing on the mattress with a faint, moist thump.
Eddie smirked. The homo wasn’t finished with its boyfriend’s junk quite yet. But there didn’t seem to be much point in telling it that. It had checked out, and Eddie was curious as to just how far out it had truly checked. But he knew one easy and quick test.
He tossed the pistol onto the bed, directly in front of the fuckmeat.
It blinked twice, then stared amazedly down at the M-18. It seemed to take it a moment to realize that there was a handgun, complete with clip, that it could simply reach out and grab.
But when it did realize, it immediately grabbed—and then pivoted, aiming the barrel at the middle of Eddie’s forehead and rapidly pulled the trigger several times in succession.
The only result was a series of clicks and a loud, jeering guffaw from Eddie.
“Ya stupid faggot, didja actually think I’d give ya a loaded gun? There never were any bullets. The entire time you were cutting off this sack of shit’s dick, I was pointing an unloaded gun at yer stupid ass!”
That was too much for the teenaged pansy. Its eyes rolled back in its head and it fell to the floor like a sack of dirty laundry.
That was okay, though. Eddie knew a way to wake it up—and he wanted it awake. He wasn’t going to fuck this faggot. At least, not in the ass or mouth. He had something special planned for this one.
Before he did anything, though, he picked the teen meat up and tossed it limply back onto the bed, where it lay next to its still quivering butt-buddy, then laid flat on top of it, the combat blade gripped tightly in his right hand. His throbbing tool, as long and as hard as his knife, slid along the punk’s flaccid member and its flat, smooth abdomen.
And that was when Eddie knew he would need to release soon. It was time, time for the useless faggot scum to die as it deserved, screaming in hellish, mind-bending agony. The muscled ex-Marine, his powerful chest and bulging biceps glistening with sweat, slammed all nine serrated inches of his knife into the helpless adolescent boy’s flank, completely running the liver through along its longest axis.
There was no slow ascent to consciousness—Ted awoke instantly, screaming in pain of a magnitude that his drugged young mind had never conceived could exist. And it was Ted, pain stitching the shredded remains of his shattered mind as nothing else possible could.
This was what Eddie was banking on. It wasn’t enough that the homo shit die—it need to know it was dying. And it needed to know why. He yanked the blade out of the fuckmeat’s body, swiftly but smoothly, only causing minimally more damage than when he’d thrust it in. The wound would prove fatal over time—but the dumbfuck cunt would be dead by other means long before it could.
“Guess what, ya disgusting asswipe?” the cruel alpha snarled at the sobbing, writhing youth. “I’m gonna fuck yer perverted guts! Fuck yeah, dude, that’s what all you little homo scum want, ain’t it? Then get ready to have my thick manmeat deeper inside ya than any of your faggy fuckers ever got—I’m gonna fuck you like ya never been fucked before, I promise!”
And with that, he rammed the knife into the cunt’s navel, piercing deeply into its intestines—but nowhere near close to the hilt. Even before it had started screaming at the new agony, Eddie pulled the blade out and substituted his cock.
The fuckmeat’s screams changed tone and timbre at this fresh nightmare. “Aw, fuck yeah, bro!” Eddie crowed, “Enjoy it, ya goddam boywhore slut! Yer fag ass just fuckin’ loves gettin’ raped through the fuckhole I cut in yer guts, yeah?”
And yet, as Ted’s mind began to break down—this time permanently—under the searing and unimaginable horror and agony of Eddie’s nine-inch tube steak rearranging and displacing his intestines to badly they were stating to intrude into his stomach and colon, the tiny little part of his bewildered and panic-stricken mind that had always been a true faggot cockpig was aware that he was fully erect again. Ted could feel Eddie’s thick, powerful thighs against his own and knew that each single brutal thrust just emphasized the fact that he was literally being fucked to death.
And despite it all, he was not only hard, he was oozing precum.
“It’s close, you piece of shit,” Eddie snarled, “So fuckin’ close. You ready, faggot? You ready for me to put you down like you deserve and cleanse us all from your useless faggot existence? Fuck yeah, I damn sure am! I’m gonna cum all over yer guts and toss you and this other piece of fagmeat into the dump. By the time they find ya, you’ll be so filled with maggots yer own momma won’t be able to ID ya. Remember that, bitch. Remember it NOW!!!”
Placing one hand over the suffering teenmeat’s face and pressing down with relentless and sadistically unnecessary pressure, the psychotic killer plunged the knife into its throat from right to left, totally mangling the larynx and slicing open both the carotid and the jugular. After that, things happened quickly.
Despite its throat being to completely impaled on the knife that the blade had protruded a good three inches out the other side, Eddie left had left the blade in the wound, preventing a sudden plunge of blood pressure. The fagmeat was not only still alive, it was still awake and at least semi-conscious and sensate. It proved that by its sudden explosive orgasm, its hot hormone-churned semen sewing all over Eddie taint and ballsack as his powerful glutes continued to flex.
And that was Eddie’s trigger to bust his load inside the homo, hosing its intestines with a continual steam of his potent, virile manseed.
The last thing the meat felt—Ted was gone and what was left now was only flesh that suffered with even the cognitive ability of an animal—was that searing heat flooding the inside of its abdominal cavity. That was the last bit of warmth it had to cling to as it sank into the cold eternal darkness.
Eddie pulled the knife out of its neck and it took another dozen or so instinctive and ever more laborious breaths as blood began to gush down its trachea. This was aspirated, leaving it to spend the final few moments of its short, wasted life gargling and drowning in its own blood as it desperately—indeed, almost lovingly—clung to the broad, muscular shoulders of its killer while its DC hightops flailed uselessly, occasionally kicking Billy’s corpse.
In the lest seconds, there was a nightmarish gout of blood expelled from its mouth as the eyes faded and glazed. Then there was nothing left but a shuddering pile of what was now, quite literally, boymeat.
After a moment, Eddie extracted himself from its abdomen, his cock smeared with cum and blood. The fagmeat’s spunk was sticky and unpleasant, congealing on his taint and the inside of his thighs. He left the bedroom immediately to clean himself off but didn’t head to the bathroom. Instead, he gathered up the first fag’s clothing from the floor and carried them into the kitchen, where he processed to wash himself off, using the sliced clothes as washrags.
Once he was done, he carried the soiled clothing back into the bedroom, tucking his cock back inside his jeans. He still had one thing left to do to degrade the fags before he could rest easy. Reaching down and picking up the blade, he approached the second homo (the weak one) and slowly sawed its cock and balls off, the way he’d forced it to do to the first one. He shoved the bloody package into the first one’s mouth and vice versa, making sure that they’d spend eternity (or at least until their rotting corpses were found) with each other’s junk in their mouths.
After all, he thought with an evil grin, they would’ve wanted it any other way.
He picked up the second cunt’s t-shirt and used it to wipe down his blade. Putting away his weapons, he brought the bungee cords back into play. Aligning the bodies on the mattress and tossing their mangled clothes on top, he proceeded to fold the mattress into a U shape—a coil spring taco filled with fagmeat. Using two of the cords at each end, he managed to secure it all in this form. Quickly putting on his shirt and looking around to make sure nothing had been left behind, the began the process of dragging the bundle out to the bed of his pickup.
It wasn’t easy, but it was by no means arduous. Once he got it where he wanted, he collected the gallon of bleach he’d stored in the cab for just this purpose.
Carefully surveilling the parking lot on the overlooking windows to confirm no one was watching, Eddie unhooked and removed the cords, allowing the mattress back to its original position. He then poured bleach over the entire thing, almost half the bottle. He next reached in and cleared the clothing to the side and emptied the rest of the bottle over the corpses and covered them with a blue tarp he’d stored in the bed. It was worn and torn, and this would be its last use, but it would certainly work well enough. Retrieving the bungee cords, he secured the whole thing under the tarp, hopped into the driver’s seat, and headed out.
He’d done some contracting work and was known by some of the staff at the city landfill from his occasional need to dispose of construction and remodeling waste. One of the guys he knew was at the gate when he arrive to dispose of the fresh meat.
“Hey, man—you gettin’ some overtime?”
“Naw,” Eddie replied, “Personal shit this time. Dumping an old mattress.”
“Cool. Carl and Tom are over on the north edge today if ya wanna see ‘em.”
At first, Eddie didn’t, then decided it might be useful, at least at a distance. He headed to the north edge and backed up to the rim about a quarter mile from where he could see Carl and Tom discussing something near a bulldozer. They waved at him, he waved back and released the tarp, swinging it back. He then managed to shift it in such a way that the bodies rolled to each side.
In full view of the workmen, Eddie hauled the mattress, the blood utterly diluted from the bleach, and heaved it into the dump. He also tossed in the bottle of bleach. Returning to his truck, he wrapped the stiffening teen corpses in the tarp with the clothing and bound it all with the cords, this time using four singly since the bundle was much smaller.
Whistling nonchalantly, he drove to another section of the dump, this one uninhabited, where he rolled the tarp down into the reeking pile of garbage. The bright blue of the trap stood out among the miscellaneous mess, but that was fine. Eddie wanted the faggots found. But not right away.
It came to pass exactly as he’d planned. The corpse were found the next weekend, after five days of stifling, humid heat. By the time they were located, the weather and insects had rendered them utterly unidentifiable to their parents and siblings. Dental records had to be used to confirm the identities.
Eddie’s sense of accomplishment and pride were almost overwhelming. He needed to do this again. SOON.
m3mayhem 