killerjustin
Forum Regular
Story by JValdez
And the guy who inspired it:
Mike stared at his display; he grinned to himself, licked his voluptuous lips, growled as his hand flicked his right hard pierced tit, and idly jerked his hard, dripping cock; he yanked his enormous low-hangers as the pupils in his large blue eyes grew even larger; bloodlust permeated his being; he chuckled softly gazing at his latest decapitated art piece; the subject’s bloody stump dripped bright red blood down it’s lean muscular torso with two pierced tits; it’s little stick arms were cuffed behind it’s back; it’s head tossed to the side of the headless body, staring out vacantly, it’s blue eyes in an expression of mild shock, it’s tongue starting to protrude from it’s lips provocatively; “Hehe, papi wants longpig, I’ll give him fucking longpig!” he thought; he watched as the transmission disappeared into the ether; “Fuck, what a hot piece of meat; I wanna fuck it too!”, he whispered, at once the sadist he so lovingly nurtured, but also the masochist he adored; Mike snapped back to current reality as a message from Justin and Jay flashed on his iPhone; “see u tonite” it read; he responded affirmatively, stood up, brushing down his erection, and wandered off to take a long hard piss.
“Jesus, I guess all they do get around here is rain!”, John thought as his plane screeched to a halt at the airport; spray obscured his view through the window of the terminal; his cock hardened as he thought about his latest project; he licked his lips and pressed anxiously forward; soon he was through the airport and on his way to his hotel, but first he made a stop at a very special shop he patronized when in this region of the country; although the sign read “closed”, the door opened quickly and he was ushered in when the proprietor saw who he was; “Just as you ordered, sir, and yes, it has just been sharpened”, he said, handing John a long, slightly curved zippered sheath; “Thank you again for excellent service”, John responded, handing the man a gold piece; “I’ll be back as events warrant”; he winked, and walked out into the driving rain to his vehicle; at the hotel, he unpacked and quickly pressed a brown uniform; he ran his hands over his chiseled, hairy torso and muscular arms; “not bad for a 46 year-old!”, he mused to himself, gazing in the mirror at his own fit reflection; he grabbed his large uncut cock and jerked it, licked it’s precum and then headed for the shower.
Mike shook his cock off, flushed the toilet, absent-mindedly watching the water circle; he put his finger into his throat and started the retching that always concluded his binge/purge sessions; his abs contracted as vomit spewed from his esophagus; “Oh my god!”, he thought, as he almost fell, kneeling over the toilet; his face red from the exertions, he wiped his mouth, rinsed, brushed his teeth and prepared to douche as a final touch. “Oh fuck, I am beautiful, but what I go through!, Mike thought as enormous waves of cramps contorted his whole body; he collapsed on the toilet, expelling the last of any residue from his gut, feeling as if his whole body was going down the drain; then all was quiet as he ran a bath, trying to feel some warmth in his empty body; he razored the bit of hair present on his legs, chest, ass; he took special care to clean the stubble from his incredibly erotic lean, muscular neck; and finally his exquisite face; Mike tried to resist the mirror but succumbed to the enticement of his own eyes; the longer he stared, the further he retreated from the present; like an infinity of mirror reflections within mirrors, he gazed into his soul, tearing apart the very fabric of his being; he kissed his own lips, grasped his own neck, pressing hard; his reflection gazed back, a slight grin on it’s lips as if saying “Harder!”; Mike squeezed the column of muscle harder, it pulsed, getting red; his eyes watered; his body shuddered; “Fuck you!” he mouthed; “Fuck you!” the reflection answered; “Fuck YOU!” he mouthed again; “Fuck you fuck fuck fuck!” the reflection answered; his grip tightened; his adam’s apple bumped up against his hands and was stuck; as his face darkened, his grip finally relaxed, sending much-needed blood to his brain; he shook his head in amazement; “Fuck, that’s hot—I’m so fucking hot!” he whispered to himself, and kissed his reflection once again; satisfied with his cleansing and extreme introspection.
John spied the UPS yard from some distance away; he parked on a side street and watched the brown boxy trucks leave on their missions; he knew which one was “his”; as truck 8 turned north towards town, he followed discretely; the first stop was a commercial facility just outside the core; he crept up, into the unlocked door, and hid in the back of the truck under some of the boxes; he stowed his own rather large box on the side, and waited.
Jose climbed into his truck, happy that it was Friday, fired up the diesel engine; before he could put it into gear, he felt a heavy sharp blow to the back of his head; that was the last sensation he would ever feel. John dragged Jose’s wiry, muscular form to the back of the vehicle, taped it’s mouth with duct tape, pulled a short scimitar from his box, jammed it up into Jose’s head through his chin; Jose’s eyes opened in shock and stayed that way as his whole body jerked and contorted as it’s brain expired; John left the dagger in until he was satisfied that Jose was dark; he arranged a towel to soak up the blood spurting from Jose’s chin, put the truck into gear and headed towards his cold storage facility for a brief stop before heading towards his main stop.
Mike sucked on his Mens Room Red and set the bottle down; “Fuck, no response from that one! Ha!” he exclaimed, viewing his inbox; he somewhat eagerly worked his correspondence, looking for something interesting, anything to break the afternoon’s pall; he pulled up his robe, trying to beat the chill when the intercom sounded; “UPS, sir”; “Fuck, I’m not expecting anything!”; Mike pulled on a hoodie, bounded down the stairs with his long legs and opened the front door to John, who handed him the UPS tablet to sign, “I’ve got something very special, that you custom ordered”; John said; “I didn’t order anything!”, Mike protested, just then he noticed the rather large container behind John; “Here, I’ll take it up to your place”, he offered; “OK”, Mike answered; as they entered the lift, he noticed “John” on the nameplate, Mike’s heart skipped a beat as he thought “No way in fuck could that be him, but . .” ; they reached the unit door, still ajar; Mike opened it and said “Thanks”; John pushed him out of the way, set his container down and said “Guess who’s coming to dinner”; Mike, startled, moved back a few steps to the now-closed door; “Hey, man, what the fuck is up? I don’t know you, you’re not my regular driver Jose!”; “Oh, but you do, and unfortunately, Jose is no longer with us!”; he answered, walking towards Mike; “Just hold it right there, buddy!”; Mike commanded; “Yeah, or what!” John threatened, advancing further; “No! let me go!” Mike yelled, as John grasped him by the waist and turned him around; “Fuck! Get out of here!” Mike continued; John produced duct tape and quickly taped Mike’s beautiful mouth shut; fear and terror crept into his eyes and face as he realized that “Chef” had arrived!
John just as quickly cuffed Mike’s hands behind his back and then kicked him in the knees, sending him to the floor; “Mmmmmm!” Mike protested; John kicked him hard in the ribs with his boot, a “crack” could be heard; “Is that any way to greet your chef?”, he snarled, a tear made it’s way down Mike’s cheek; he mouthed obscenities as John dragged him to the kitchen; Mike struggled, he managed to kick John’s balls; John grabbed his genitals, stretched them their full length, saying “Uh, no, bud, I’m here to do you . . !’; Mike continued to struggle as John threw him face down on his own red formica kitchen table; “Where’s your tools?”, John snarled, ripping the duct tape off; “Fuck you!” Mike yelled; John slapped his face hard: “Just a simple answer to a simple question, meatbag!”, he bellowed; “See that box?”, Mike motioned with his muscular neck; “Yeah, meatboy, what else?”, John pressed; “Fuck you!”, Mike retorted; “I’ll be back!”, John hissed, “Don’t go anywhere!”; Mike shuddered, not believing that he had invited this monster into his place; John went into the living room, rooting around for more tools, and spied a drill that Mike had left out when he was repairing things; he returned, set the drill down on the table, and knelt down with the tool box; he whispered “Lookie what I found! Gonna get you set up, meatboy”; he pulled a hammer from the toolbox, and pounded a nail into the center of each of Mike’s feet; John replaced the duct tape before he could start screaming, even so, the guttural noises were amazing; bits of blood began to seep from the wounds; John slapped Mike on the back of the head; “Don’t get no ideas ‘bout runnin off, hear?”; he inserted a big fat finger into Mike’s nearly-virgin so-tight ass; Mike squirmed, but the nails held him fast; tears began to fall from his eyes; this wasn’t how he had envisioned becoming “dinner” at all; soon his little hole was stretched to it’s limit as John attempted to shove his whole hand inside; all of a sudden, with a sickening “pop”, John’s entire fist was inside Mike’s ass; John exclaimed “Jesus, this is as smooth as a baby’s ass, man! Seems you were expecting someone!”; Mike’s torso jerked; as it did, the nails tore at his feet; John explored every centimetre of Mike’s ass; in and out, up and down, sideways, in agony, Mike bent his neck back as far as the lean muscular column would allow, pleading for John to stop; “You gotta a hot hot ass, meatboy!”, John exclaimed; he tore the duct tape off Mike’s mouth, “No, enough!”, Mike sobbed; “Why, my little party's just beginning!”, John hissed; he unzipped his uniform, pulled out his hard, uncut piece of meat and shoved it into Mike’s ravaged ass; “Ah! Fuck!”, John smiled; “No, please, don’t fuck me!” Mike pleaded; “Babe, this ass was BUILT for fucking!” John replied, and started pounding Mike like a piledriver; his balls slapped against Mike’s balls; Mike’s thighs and legs attempted to accommodate his huge piece of meat and his movements; a low guttural growl came from Mike’s throat; “Eh, meatbag, it likes this! Huh!”, John snapped; the tempo of his hips increased; Mike tightened up when he could detect the pulsing of the invading cock but it was too late; John spilled a big load of cum into Mike’s ass; flooding it; as he pulled out, white sticky dripped out of it’s hole; Mike, mortified at the rape he had just endured, grabbed the end of the table and sobbed; still held fast in place by the nails in his feet.
“Ah meatbag, not to worry, there’s more fun!”, John sneered; “I’m gonna ventilate those thighs now!” he said while turning on the drill; he held one hand over Mike’s mouth as he pressed the drill into the back of Mike’s right thigh; blood, tissue and bone spattered the kitchen’s walls as he pressed further, into the marrow; Mike tried to bite the big hand but couldn’t; it was holding his lips too tightly to move; John moved to the left thigh and repeated his operation; more blood, tissue and bone covered the walls; he let his hand down from Mike’s mouth, all that came out was a terrible bleating sound, as if Mike’s body was being overwhelmed with pain; a cold sweat dripped from his forehead; his neck pulsed in a very unhealthy, uncoordinated way, it’s muscles awry.
“Come on meatboy, let’s break!” John announced; he grabbed the same hammer used to nail Mike’s feet and started pulling them out; “Oh my god!” Mike cried, “Why? I don’t understand?” he sobbed, “Ah, studmeat, remember how we talked about tenderizing the meat? hehe!” John said; he grabbed Mike’s neck at the front and started dragging him out of the kitchen; “Show me your system!” he commanded, dragging Mike’s limp form; “No, that’s private, you can’t have that!” Mike answered; John slapped his face; “Oh the fuck it is, studmeat; I want access to those files, and I want it now!”; he gut-punched Mike; Mike’s contorted face said “Over there, where that door, is, inside the closet”; “Ha! In the closet! Fuck me harder studmeat!” John chortled; he dragged Mike’s body to the closet, then let it fall to the floor; “Is is up?”, John demanded; “Yeah”, Mike said weakly; “I don’t know Apple, what is the system password?”, John demanded again; “Michael”, Mike answered; “What’s the file name where the hot stuff is, the beheaded ones, parted out ones ?”, John demanded again; “dead Mike”, Mike responded; “Is that all?”, John pressed; “No, there’s a drive right there, on the top shelf, same passwords, more—lots more”, Mike answered; “Hot damn!”, John exclaimed, “Studmeat, I’ve never seen such a super hot headless bod! You look so good with your head chopped off! Fuck! I wanna chop your head off studmeat!”; “No, please, don’t chop off my head!”, Mike pleaded; “Fuck man, I have to chop off your head!”, John continued, “How else am I going to eat you?”; Mike turned his hot neck up and said “No, don’t chop off my head! Don’t chop off my head!”; “Just tell me one thing studmeat”; John queried, “Do you jerk off to images of your own beheaded body?”; Mike grinned and said “What do you think?”; John kicked Mike’s thigh; “I didn’t ask you what I thought, meatbag, I said Do you jerk off to images of your own beheaded body?”; “Yeah, I jerk off to images of my own beheaded body”, Mike answered; “Do you cum to images of your own beheaded body?”, John questioned; “I cum to images of my own beheaded body”, Mike answered; “And isn’t that what really gets you off, as opposed to say, two guys just fucking?”, John continued; “Ya”, Mike answered; “What else?”; John pressed; “Meat, me as meat”, Mike said quietly; “Yeah, studmeat, you as fucking meat!”; “What else?”. John kept pressing; “My head”, Mike whispered; “Your fucking head, yeah, what?”; John was relentless in his mini cross-examination; Mike sobbed quietly, feeling even more violated than when he was raped so viciously; “My severed head, fucked, used as a fucktoy, thrown into the fridge, the freezer, eaten”; Mike’s torso vibrated as he sobbed quietly; his pierced tits stood hard on his beautiful torso, his ample deeply circumcised cock was flaccid; his low hangers quiet in their sac; his arms ached from being cuffed behind his back; “ Eaten! You cum to images of your headless roasted body!”, John spat; “Yes”, Mike answered; “You think you’re special, because you’re so beautiful, and you have these thoughts, these images, right?”, John asked; “Ya”, Mike answered; “And that’s why you don’t share this with those who really want you, desire you for their boyfriend, who want to spend the rest of their lives with you?”,John asked,; “Ya”, Mike answered again, tears flowing freely; “That’s the real pain in your life, isn’t it?”, John concluded, “Ya”, Mike said very quietly; “Pupmeat, it’s time to be my dinner, my fucktoy”, John stated; Mike looked up with his tearful beautiful blue eyes, “Don’t chop off my head, please don’t chop off my head!” he pleaded; “Not right now, pupmeat, got some trimming to do!”, he said quietly; Mike shuddered, not knowing what was next.
John dragged Mike into his bath; Mike blanched as John scoped out the cosmetics, the endless supply of things that Mike used in his vain attempts to delay time’s ravages; John ran a bath of clear water; as water filed the tub, he kicked Mike again, “Got a special treat for you pupmeat; I think you forgot one thing in the closet—I need the passcodes to your bank accounts also . . .”, John grinned; “No, absolutely not! I can’t let you have that!”, Mike protested; John grabbed Mike’s head, holding it under the water; his eyes bulged out as he held his breath; his hands tapped the floor, his legs thrashed as oxygen was consumed; John struggled as Mike’s body struggled for it’s life; he pulled Mike up, gasping, “So what are they, tell me!”; “No, you’ve already done enough!” Mike snapped; John slapped Mike hard, then plunged him back into the water; Mike’s face was becoming contorted with the effort of attempted survival; he was pulled out again, refused once more, the next time John held Mike under a little too long; he lost his breath; he inhaled water; his body completely relaxed; John pulled him out again, turned him over, and began pumping his lungs; Mike’s body was completely quiet, no pulse visible; John turned Mike over and began mouth-to-mouth resuscitation; he felt Mike’s neck; there was no pulse; frustrated, he kicked the lifeless form; it began coughing and gasping for air; John turned it over on it’s side; colour began to reappear in Mike’s face; “Thought we lost you for a second, meatpup!” he exclaimed; Mike mumbled something about Jesus and Mary, John chuckled, “Guess I’m gonna have to move to the next phase, meatpup; if you remember that passcode, It sure would help things go a lot faster”; “No, that’s promised!”, Mike weakly protested; “Ok, meatpup, I got it; I’m gonna part you in stages then, lemme know if you wanna share”; he left and returned with a short hacksaw and more duct tape; Mike’s eyes grew as large as saucers when he saw the hacksaw; John taped his mouth, turned Mike’s body around so that his feet were inside the tub, and began sawing off the right foot above the ankle; Mike’s body immediately stiffened with the pain, his weary eyes once again filled with tears as his bright red blood replaced the water that was being let out of the tub; he cringed as John threw his right foot onto the floor beside his face; the sawing continued with the left foot; it landed with a thud on his face; he noticed how beautiful it was, even in it’s amputated state, and understood now why so many guys asked him for foot play; his stumps were stinging and burning as blood flowed from them into the drain; John applied tourniquets to each stump, just below the knees; the bleeding stopped almost immediately; “I’m gonna need sausage casing, Mike, if you’d hang on for just a moment”, John said; he grabbed a small scimitar from his kit, inserted into Mike’s abdomen at the solar plexus, and sliced downward; he then inserted his hand, pulled out Mike’s intestine, and kept pulling; Mike was amazed at how long it was, John was amazed at how sweet it smelled; he made a cut and then another, so that it was free of Mike’s torso; he held it up under Mike’s nose for him to smell also, Mike agreed that it smelled sweet and decided that it had to do with his cleansing routines; John’s eyes lit up, he draped a section of intestine like a Hawaiian lei and started romping through the apartment; into the living room, the kitchen, around the corner into the bedroom, returning to the bath; he asked “You wanna share yet?”; Mike nodded no; John could see that he was failing; he said “Gotta get some of those calf steaks, Mike, hold on”; he rinsed the small scimitar, expertly carved the first calf steak from Mike’s right calf; he winced as the knife made the first incision; blood sprang from the wound but not as much as would have been expected, he ran the knife from top to bottom along the bone, much like filleting a fish; soon the half pound of flesh was in his hand; he inhaled it’s fresh meaty fragrance and ran to the kitchen; it took short work to get it sizzling in Mike’s large skillet; he marveled at the perfect spices available to him, along with the excellent virgin olive oil, as if Mike has planned this special dinner; he ran back, filleted the left calf; that one was rinsed and placed in the fridge; Mike was breathing more rapidly and more shallow; John asked if there was anything he wished to share; Mike once again shook his head no, then John said, “pupmeat, I’m going to release your hands, so you can help with this task”; Mike weakly pulled out his hands from his back; John once again ran to the kitchen and brought back Mike’s cutting board; he placed it on the rim of the tub and then Mike’s neck on the block; Mike looked up again and said “No, don’t chop off my head!”; John leaned down, and whispered directly into his face, “No, I’m not going to chop off your head, Mike, we’re going to do it together!”; Mike looked incredulously at John; he showed Mike a special curved blade with handles on both ends; once more John asked “Anything to share?” Mike shook his head no, John positioned the blade just above Mike’s adams apple, one of the most erotic parts of his neck; he placed Mike’s hands on the handles, and then gave the blade a start by pushing on it; blood immediately spurted from the wound; Mike gasped for air as blood started rushing down his windpipe; John asked “Anything?”; Mike struggled to enunciate the master account code for all of his accounts; John used Mike’s spurting blood to write the numbers on the wall; John helped him to pull the blade down harder, into his trachea, severing muscles, blood vessels and tendons; Mike began to notice a lightness, to feel that everything was escaping his reach; this thoughts came tumbling out fast; he thought about his childhood in Colorado, and how he feared the cold and snow; he thought about his first encounters with a camera and what talent he had discovered, along with his mensa intelligence level, he thought about the children he had grown up with, how shallow and cruel they were, he fondly remembered his parents and family members, and how much they loved him, and how they spoiled him so much because he was special, “an artist”; he thought about high school, the miserable time trying not to look at the other boys, and his growing collection of self necro porn; he thought about college and the opportunities it seemed to present, only to be thrust into the “real” world that he despised; he thought about his art, his many images of his gorgeous body, intact and not, about the pleasure he gave himself and so many others. Mike tried to stabilize the blade, to prevent it from allowing more blood to flow, but suddenly Mike’s little stick arms dropped, the blade stuck at the vertebrae; his eyes stared straight ahead; his mouth was open in horror. John, grunted, pushed the blade through the vertebrae, and held Mike’s dripping head up; the stump pumped against the tile wall; splashing blood into the tub, the body jerked, the arms and hands came up one final time, as if they were searching for their severed head; the left one got stuck on the stump; John laughed and threw the head in the tub; he rinsed Mike’s blood from his hands, ran back to the kitchen, turned down the calf steak, and re-entered the closet, to access the account and make a transfer.
In Zurich, certain drives in a server farm received data from John; the transaction took seconds; Mike’s life savings was erased; John started laughing wildly; he broke open Mike’s wine reserves and began dancing around the apartment again, this time with the head; he retrieved a bone saw from his box and made an incision around the top of the skull; he reached in; ripped out the brain and threw it against the far wall; in that instance, any possible threads of Mike vanished; his life’s work, his mensa intelligence, his incredible sense of humour, his sense of adventure, his warmth, his artistry, his love of life, his love of love, his love of romanticism, all gone; John jammed the top of the skull back on and took it to the kitchen, where he enjoyed a leisurely dinner of Mike’s calf steak, wine, and wonderful local vegetables that Mike had so generously supplied; he made a toast to the head, kissed it, and then set to work, stripping the thighs of their meat; it was placed in the special container he brought in; the buttocks were filleted whole; he was sweating profusely after finishing that part of the butchering; Mike wasn’t especially muscular, but what muscle he had was very dense; John took a short break and while rummaging through the bedroom discovered some excellent smoke; he inhaled deeply; his cock was painfully hard again; he brought the head back to Mike’s bed and shoved his cock in it’s mouth; the top of the skull fell off; he kept fucking the mouth until he unloaded load after load of hot cum in it’s mouth, and then pulled out at the last moment to spray the face; Mike’s eyes continued to stare straight ahead; John kissed it, then tossed it aside as he returned to the bath and final preps; the abs were excised whole; the arms were chopped off whole, the shoulders and breast joined the rest of the meat in the special container; the ribs were ripped out with much effort and joined the other Mikemeat.
Exhausted, John made a final trip to the kitchen, retrieved the chilling calfsteak, made a round of the bath, chopped off the cock and balls, checked the bedroom, retrieved the head, and deposited all in the special container. As an afterthought he positioned the torso remains in the chair at Mike’s computer, returned to the bath and luxuriated in a long soak; very early that morning, a casual observer would have noticed the UPS truck maneouvering about the little triangle intersection where Mike’s apartment was situated; John made the short journey to the cold storage locker, collected Jose, loaded both onto his personal aircraft, and left the airport approximately fifteen hours after he had arrived.
In the Caribbean, John welcomed his weekend guests aboard the yacht “Minerva”; the small, glittering crowd relished his invitations because he always had something extraordinarily special on the menu; this weekend would start with Jose tacos and eventually work towards Mike-meat; the centerpiece was Mike’s head, it’s top filled with ice, and cavier sitting on top of that; as each guest was seated, they oohed and ahead at John’s new discovery and how beautiful he was, they looked forward to becoming much more intimate with his flesh.
A crow wandered in the open window of Mike’s apartment; he joined the ants, beetles, and other creatures nibbling at Mike’s brain and it’s fragments; a rat scurried out of his torso in the closet; dried intestines rustled in the wind; a strange peace pervaded the space; Mike’s spirit smiled; he would never leave this place.
And the guy who inspired it:
Mike stared at his display; he grinned to himself, licked his voluptuous lips, growled as his hand flicked his right hard pierced tit, and idly jerked his hard, dripping cock; he yanked his enormous low-hangers as the pupils in his large blue eyes grew even larger; bloodlust permeated his being; he chuckled softly gazing at his latest decapitated art piece; the subject’s bloody stump dripped bright red blood down it’s lean muscular torso with two pierced tits; it’s little stick arms were cuffed behind it’s back; it’s head tossed to the side of the headless body, staring out vacantly, it’s blue eyes in an expression of mild shock, it’s tongue starting to protrude from it’s lips provocatively; “Hehe, papi wants longpig, I’ll give him fucking longpig!” he thought; he watched as the transmission disappeared into the ether; “Fuck, what a hot piece of meat; I wanna fuck it too!”, he whispered, at once the sadist he so lovingly nurtured, but also the masochist he adored; Mike snapped back to current reality as a message from Justin and Jay flashed on his iPhone; “see u tonite” it read; he responded affirmatively, stood up, brushing down his erection, and wandered off to take a long hard piss.
“Jesus, I guess all they do get around here is rain!”, John thought as his plane screeched to a halt at the airport; spray obscured his view through the window of the terminal; his cock hardened as he thought about his latest project; he licked his lips and pressed anxiously forward; soon he was through the airport and on his way to his hotel, but first he made a stop at a very special shop he patronized when in this region of the country; although the sign read “closed”, the door opened quickly and he was ushered in when the proprietor saw who he was; “Just as you ordered, sir, and yes, it has just been sharpened”, he said, handing John a long, slightly curved zippered sheath; “Thank you again for excellent service”, John responded, handing the man a gold piece; “I’ll be back as events warrant”; he winked, and walked out into the driving rain to his vehicle; at the hotel, he unpacked and quickly pressed a brown uniform; he ran his hands over his chiseled, hairy torso and muscular arms; “not bad for a 46 year-old!”, he mused to himself, gazing in the mirror at his own fit reflection; he grabbed his large uncut cock and jerked it, licked it’s precum and then headed for the shower.
Mike shook his cock off, flushed the toilet, absent-mindedly watching the water circle; he put his finger into his throat and started the retching that always concluded his binge/purge sessions; his abs contracted as vomit spewed from his esophagus; “Oh my god!”, he thought, as he almost fell, kneeling over the toilet; his face red from the exertions, he wiped his mouth, rinsed, brushed his teeth and prepared to douche as a final touch. “Oh fuck, I am beautiful, but what I go through!, Mike thought as enormous waves of cramps contorted his whole body; he collapsed on the toilet, expelling the last of any residue from his gut, feeling as if his whole body was going down the drain; then all was quiet as he ran a bath, trying to feel some warmth in his empty body; he razored the bit of hair present on his legs, chest, ass; he took special care to clean the stubble from his incredibly erotic lean, muscular neck; and finally his exquisite face; Mike tried to resist the mirror but succumbed to the enticement of his own eyes; the longer he stared, the further he retreated from the present; like an infinity of mirror reflections within mirrors, he gazed into his soul, tearing apart the very fabric of his being; he kissed his own lips, grasped his own neck, pressing hard; his reflection gazed back, a slight grin on it’s lips as if saying “Harder!”; Mike squeezed the column of muscle harder, it pulsed, getting red; his eyes watered; his body shuddered; “Fuck you!” he mouthed; “Fuck you!” the reflection answered; “Fuck YOU!” he mouthed again; “Fuck you fuck fuck fuck!” the reflection answered; his grip tightened; his adam’s apple bumped up against his hands and was stuck; as his face darkened, his grip finally relaxed, sending much-needed blood to his brain; he shook his head in amazement; “Fuck, that’s hot—I’m so fucking hot!” he whispered to himself, and kissed his reflection once again; satisfied with his cleansing and extreme introspection.
John spied the UPS yard from some distance away; he parked on a side street and watched the brown boxy trucks leave on their missions; he knew which one was “his”; as truck 8 turned north towards town, he followed discretely; the first stop was a commercial facility just outside the core; he crept up, into the unlocked door, and hid in the back of the truck under some of the boxes; he stowed his own rather large box on the side, and waited.
Jose climbed into his truck, happy that it was Friday, fired up the diesel engine; before he could put it into gear, he felt a heavy sharp blow to the back of his head; that was the last sensation he would ever feel. John dragged Jose’s wiry, muscular form to the back of the vehicle, taped it’s mouth with duct tape, pulled a short scimitar from his box, jammed it up into Jose’s head through his chin; Jose’s eyes opened in shock and stayed that way as his whole body jerked and contorted as it’s brain expired; John left the dagger in until he was satisfied that Jose was dark; he arranged a towel to soak up the blood spurting from Jose’s chin, put the truck into gear and headed towards his cold storage facility for a brief stop before heading towards his main stop.
Mike sucked on his Mens Room Red and set the bottle down; “Fuck, no response from that one! Ha!” he exclaimed, viewing his inbox; he somewhat eagerly worked his correspondence, looking for something interesting, anything to break the afternoon’s pall; he pulled up his robe, trying to beat the chill when the intercom sounded; “UPS, sir”; “Fuck, I’m not expecting anything!”; Mike pulled on a hoodie, bounded down the stairs with his long legs and opened the front door to John, who handed him the UPS tablet to sign, “I’ve got something very special, that you custom ordered”; John said; “I didn’t order anything!”, Mike protested, just then he noticed the rather large container behind John; “Here, I’ll take it up to your place”, he offered; “OK”, Mike answered; as they entered the lift, he noticed “John” on the nameplate, Mike’s heart skipped a beat as he thought “No way in fuck could that be him, but . .” ; they reached the unit door, still ajar; Mike opened it and said “Thanks”; John pushed him out of the way, set his container down and said “Guess who’s coming to dinner”; Mike, startled, moved back a few steps to the now-closed door; “Hey, man, what the fuck is up? I don’t know you, you’re not my regular driver Jose!”; “Oh, but you do, and unfortunately, Jose is no longer with us!”; he answered, walking towards Mike; “Just hold it right there, buddy!”; Mike commanded; “Yeah, or what!” John threatened, advancing further; “No! let me go!” Mike yelled, as John grasped him by the waist and turned him around; “Fuck! Get out of here!” Mike continued; John produced duct tape and quickly taped Mike’s beautiful mouth shut; fear and terror crept into his eyes and face as he realized that “Chef” had arrived!
John just as quickly cuffed Mike’s hands behind his back and then kicked him in the knees, sending him to the floor; “Mmmmmm!” Mike protested; John kicked him hard in the ribs with his boot, a “crack” could be heard; “Is that any way to greet your chef?”, he snarled, a tear made it’s way down Mike’s cheek; he mouthed obscenities as John dragged him to the kitchen; Mike struggled, he managed to kick John’s balls; John grabbed his genitals, stretched them their full length, saying “Uh, no, bud, I’m here to do you . . !’; Mike continued to struggle as John threw him face down on his own red formica kitchen table; “Where’s your tools?”, John snarled, ripping the duct tape off; “Fuck you!” Mike yelled; John slapped his face hard: “Just a simple answer to a simple question, meatbag!”, he bellowed; “See that box?”, Mike motioned with his muscular neck; “Yeah, meatboy, what else?”, John pressed; “Fuck you!”, Mike retorted; “I’ll be back!”, John hissed, “Don’t go anywhere!”; Mike shuddered, not believing that he had invited this monster into his place; John went into the living room, rooting around for more tools, and spied a drill that Mike had left out when he was repairing things; he returned, set the drill down on the table, and knelt down with the tool box; he whispered “Lookie what I found! Gonna get you set up, meatboy”; he pulled a hammer from the toolbox, and pounded a nail into the center of each of Mike’s feet; John replaced the duct tape before he could start screaming, even so, the guttural noises were amazing; bits of blood began to seep from the wounds; John slapped Mike on the back of the head; “Don’t get no ideas ‘bout runnin off, hear?”; he inserted a big fat finger into Mike’s nearly-virgin so-tight ass; Mike squirmed, but the nails held him fast; tears began to fall from his eyes; this wasn’t how he had envisioned becoming “dinner” at all; soon his little hole was stretched to it’s limit as John attempted to shove his whole hand inside; all of a sudden, with a sickening “pop”, John’s entire fist was inside Mike’s ass; John exclaimed “Jesus, this is as smooth as a baby’s ass, man! Seems you were expecting someone!”; Mike’s torso jerked; as it did, the nails tore at his feet; John explored every centimetre of Mike’s ass; in and out, up and down, sideways, in agony, Mike bent his neck back as far as the lean muscular column would allow, pleading for John to stop; “You gotta a hot hot ass, meatboy!”, John exclaimed; he tore the duct tape off Mike’s mouth, “No, enough!”, Mike sobbed; “Why, my little party's just beginning!”, John hissed; he unzipped his uniform, pulled out his hard, uncut piece of meat and shoved it into Mike’s ravaged ass; “Ah! Fuck!”, John smiled; “No, please, don’t fuck me!” Mike pleaded; “Babe, this ass was BUILT for fucking!” John replied, and started pounding Mike like a piledriver; his balls slapped against Mike’s balls; Mike’s thighs and legs attempted to accommodate his huge piece of meat and his movements; a low guttural growl came from Mike’s throat; “Eh, meatbag, it likes this! Huh!”, John snapped; the tempo of his hips increased; Mike tightened up when he could detect the pulsing of the invading cock but it was too late; John spilled a big load of cum into Mike’s ass; flooding it; as he pulled out, white sticky dripped out of it’s hole; Mike, mortified at the rape he had just endured, grabbed the end of the table and sobbed; still held fast in place by the nails in his feet.
“Ah meatbag, not to worry, there’s more fun!”, John sneered; “I’m gonna ventilate those thighs now!” he said while turning on the drill; he held one hand over Mike’s mouth as he pressed the drill into the back of Mike’s right thigh; blood, tissue and bone spattered the kitchen’s walls as he pressed further, into the marrow; Mike tried to bite the big hand but couldn’t; it was holding his lips too tightly to move; John moved to the left thigh and repeated his operation; more blood, tissue and bone covered the walls; he let his hand down from Mike’s mouth, all that came out was a terrible bleating sound, as if Mike’s body was being overwhelmed with pain; a cold sweat dripped from his forehead; his neck pulsed in a very unhealthy, uncoordinated way, it’s muscles awry.
“Come on meatboy, let’s break!” John announced; he grabbed the same hammer used to nail Mike’s feet and started pulling them out; “Oh my god!” Mike cried, “Why? I don’t understand?” he sobbed, “Ah, studmeat, remember how we talked about tenderizing the meat? hehe!” John said; he grabbed Mike’s neck at the front and started dragging him out of the kitchen; “Show me your system!” he commanded, dragging Mike’s limp form; “No, that’s private, you can’t have that!” Mike answered; John slapped his face; “Oh the fuck it is, studmeat; I want access to those files, and I want it now!”; he gut-punched Mike; Mike’s contorted face said “Over there, where that door, is, inside the closet”; “Ha! In the closet! Fuck me harder studmeat!” John chortled; he dragged Mike’s body to the closet, then let it fall to the floor; “Is is up?”, John demanded; “Yeah”, Mike said weakly; “I don’t know Apple, what is the system password?”, John demanded again; “Michael”, Mike answered; “What’s the file name where the hot stuff is, the beheaded ones, parted out ones ?”, John demanded again; “dead Mike”, Mike responded; “Is that all?”, John pressed; “No, there’s a drive right there, on the top shelf, same passwords, more—lots more”, Mike answered; “Hot damn!”, John exclaimed, “Studmeat, I’ve never seen such a super hot headless bod! You look so good with your head chopped off! Fuck! I wanna chop your head off studmeat!”; “No, please, don’t chop off my head!”, Mike pleaded; “Fuck man, I have to chop off your head!”, John continued, “How else am I going to eat you?”; Mike turned his hot neck up and said “No, don’t chop off my head! Don’t chop off my head!”; “Just tell me one thing studmeat”; John queried, “Do you jerk off to images of your own beheaded body?”; Mike grinned and said “What do you think?”; John kicked Mike’s thigh; “I didn’t ask you what I thought, meatbag, I said Do you jerk off to images of your own beheaded body?”; “Yeah, I jerk off to images of my own beheaded body”, Mike answered; “Do you cum to images of your own beheaded body?”, John questioned; “I cum to images of my own beheaded body”, Mike answered; “And isn’t that what really gets you off, as opposed to say, two guys just fucking?”, John continued; “Ya”, Mike answered; “What else?”; John pressed; “Meat, me as meat”, Mike said quietly; “Yeah, studmeat, you as fucking meat!”; “What else?”. John kept pressing; “My head”, Mike whispered; “Your fucking head, yeah, what?”; John was relentless in his mini cross-examination; Mike sobbed quietly, feeling even more violated than when he was raped so viciously; “My severed head, fucked, used as a fucktoy, thrown into the fridge, the freezer, eaten”; Mike’s torso vibrated as he sobbed quietly; his pierced tits stood hard on his beautiful torso, his ample deeply circumcised cock was flaccid; his low hangers quiet in their sac; his arms ached from being cuffed behind his back; “ Eaten! You cum to images of your headless roasted body!”, John spat; “Yes”, Mike answered; “You think you’re special, because you’re so beautiful, and you have these thoughts, these images, right?”, John asked; “Ya”, Mike answered; “And that’s why you don’t share this with those who really want you, desire you for their boyfriend, who want to spend the rest of their lives with you?”,John asked,; “Ya”, Mike answered again, tears flowing freely; “That’s the real pain in your life, isn’t it?”, John concluded, “Ya”, Mike said very quietly; “Pupmeat, it’s time to be my dinner, my fucktoy”, John stated; Mike looked up with his tearful beautiful blue eyes, “Don’t chop off my head, please don’t chop off my head!” he pleaded; “Not right now, pupmeat, got some trimming to do!”, he said quietly; Mike shuddered, not knowing what was next.
John dragged Mike into his bath; Mike blanched as John scoped out the cosmetics, the endless supply of things that Mike used in his vain attempts to delay time’s ravages; John ran a bath of clear water; as water filed the tub, he kicked Mike again, “Got a special treat for you pupmeat; I think you forgot one thing in the closet—I need the passcodes to your bank accounts also . . .”, John grinned; “No, absolutely not! I can’t let you have that!”, Mike protested; John grabbed Mike’s head, holding it under the water; his eyes bulged out as he held his breath; his hands tapped the floor, his legs thrashed as oxygen was consumed; John struggled as Mike’s body struggled for it’s life; he pulled Mike up, gasping, “So what are they, tell me!”; “No, you’ve already done enough!” Mike snapped; John slapped Mike hard, then plunged him back into the water; Mike’s face was becoming contorted with the effort of attempted survival; he was pulled out again, refused once more, the next time John held Mike under a little too long; he lost his breath; he inhaled water; his body completely relaxed; John pulled him out again, turned him over, and began pumping his lungs; Mike’s body was completely quiet, no pulse visible; John turned Mike over and began mouth-to-mouth resuscitation; he felt Mike’s neck; there was no pulse; frustrated, he kicked the lifeless form; it began coughing and gasping for air; John turned it over on it’s side; colour began to reappear in Mike’s face; “Thought we lost you for a second, meatpup!” he exclaimed; Mike mumbled something about Jesus and Mary, John chuckled, “Guess I’m gonna have to move to the next phase, meatpup; if you remember that passcode, It sure would help things go a lot faster”; “No, that’s promised!”, Mike weakly protested; “Ok, meatpup, I got it; I’m gonna part you in stages then, lemme know if you wanna share”; he left and returned with a short hacksaw and more duct tape; Mike’s eyes grew as large as saucers when he saw the hacksaw; John taped his mouth, turned Mike’s body around so that his feet were inside the tub, and began sawing off the right foot above the ankle; Mike’s body immediately stiffened with the pain, his weary eyes once again filled with tears as his bright red blood replaced the water that was being let out of the tub; he cringed as John threw his right foot onto the floor beside his face; the sawing continued with the left foot; it landed with a thud on his face; he noticed how beautiful it was, even in it’s amputated state, and understood now why so many guys asked him for foot play; his stumps were stinging and burning as blood flowed from them into the drain; John applied tourniquets to each stump, just below the knees; the bleeding stopped almost immediately; “I’m gonna need sausage casing, Mike, if you’d hang on for just a moment”, John said; he grabbed a small scimitar from his kit, inserted into Mike’s abdomen at the solar plexus, and sliced downward; he then inserted his hand, pulled out Mike’s intestine, and kept pulling; Mike was amazed at how long it was, John was amazed at how sweet it smelled; he made a cut and then another, so that it was free of Mike’s torso; he held it up under Mike’s nose for him to smell also, Mike agreed that it smelled sweet and decided that it had to do with his cleansing routines; John’s eyes lit up, he draped a section of intestine like a Hawaiian lei and started romping through the apartment; into the living room, the kitchen, around the corner into the bedroom, returning to the bath; he asked “You wanna share yet?”; Mike nodded no; John could see that he was failing; he said “Gotta get some of those calf steaks, Mike, hold on”; he rinsed the small scimitar, expertly carved the first calf steak from Mike’s right calf; he winced as the knife made the first incision; blood sprang from the wound but not as much as would have been expected, he ran the knife from top to bottom along the bone, much like filleting a fish; soon the half pound of flesh was in his hand; he inhaled it’s fresh meaty fragrance and ran to the kitchen; it took short work to get it sizzling in Mike’s large skillet; he marveled at the perfect spices available to him, along with the excellent virgin olive oil, as if Mike has planned this special dinner; he ran back, filleted the left calf; that one was rinsed and placed in the fridge; Mike was breathing more rapidly and more shallow; John asked if there was anything he wished to share; Mike once again shook his head no, then John said, “pupmeat, I’m going to release your hands, so you can help with this task”; Mike weakly pulled out his hands from his back; John once again ran to the kitchen and brought back Mike’s cutting board; he placed it on the rim of the tub and then Mike’s neck on the block; Mike looked up again and said “No, don’t chop off my head!”; John leaned down, and whispered directly into his face, “No, I’m not going to chop off your head, Mike, we’re going to do it together!”; Mike looked incredulously at John; he showed Mike a special curved blade with handles on both ends; once more John asked “Anything to share?” Mike shook his head no, John positioned the blade just above Mike’s adams apple, one of the most erotic parts of his neck; he placed Mike’s hands on the handles, and then gave the blade a start by pushing on it; blood immediately spurted from the wound; Mike gasped for air as blood started rushing down his windpipe; John asked “Anything?”; Mike struggled to enunciate the master account code for all of his accounts; John used Mike’s spurting blood to write the numbers on the wall; John helped him to pull the blade down harder, into his trachea, severing muscles, blood vessels and tendons; Mike began to notice a lightness, to feel that everything was escaping his reach; this thoughts came tumbling out fast; he thought about his childhood in Colorado, and how he feared the cold and snow; he thought about his first encounters with a camera and what talent he had discovered, along with his mensa intelligence level, he thought about the children he had grown up with, how shallow and cruel they were, he fondly remembered his parents and family members, and how much they loved him, and how they spoiled him so much because he was special, “an artist”; he thought about high school, the miserable time trying not to look at the other boys, and his growing collection of self necro porn; he thought about college and the opportunities it seemed to present, only to be thrust into the “real” world that he despised; he thought about his art, his many images of his gorgeous body, intact and not, about the pleasure he gave himself and so many others. Mike tried to stabilize the blade, to prevent it from allowing more blood to flow, but suddenly Mike’s little stick arms dropped, the blade stuck at the vertebrae; his eyes stared straight ahead; his mouth was open in horror. John, grunted, pushed the blade through the vertebrae, and held Mike’s dripping head up; the stump pumped against the tile wall; splashing blood into the tub, the body jerked, the arms and hands came up one final time, as if they were searching for their severed head; the left one got stuck on the stump; John laughed and threw the head in the tub; he rinsed Mike’s blood from his hands, ran back to the kitchen, turned down the calf steak, and re-entered the closet, to access the account and make a transfer.
In Zurich, certain drives in a server farm received data from John; the transaction took seconds; Mike’s life savings was erased; John started laughing wildly; he broke open Mike’s wine reserves and began dancing around the apartment again, this time with the head; he retrieved a bone saw from his box and made an incision around the top of the skull; he reached in; ripped out the brain and threw it against the far wall; in that instance, any possible threads of Mike vanished; his life’s work, his mensa intelligence, his incredible sense of humour, his sense of adventure, his warmth, his artistry, his love of life, his love of love, his love of romanticism, all gone; John jammed the top of the skull back on and took it to the kitchen, where he enjoyed a leisurely dinner of Mike’s calf steak, wine, and wonderful local vegetables that Mike had so generously supplied; he made a toast to the head, kissed it, and then set to work, stripping the thighs of their meat; it was placed in the special container he brought in; the buttocks were filleted whole; he was sweating profusely after finishing that part of the butchering; Mike wasn’t especially muscular, but what muscle he had was very dense; John took a short break and while rummaging through the bedroom discovered some excellent smoke; he inhaled deeply; his cock was painfully hard again; he brought the head back to Mike’s bed and shoved his cock in it’s mouth; the top of the skull fell off; he kept fucking the mouth until he unloaded load after load of hot cum in it’s mouth, and then pulled out at the last moment to spray the face; Mike’s eyes continued to stare straight ahead; John kissed it, then tossed it aside as he returned to the bath and final preps; the abs were excised whole; the arms were chopped off whole, the shoulders and breast joined the rest of the meat in the special container; the ribs were ripped out with much effort and joined the other Mikemeat.
Exhausted, John made a final trip to the kitchen, retrieved the chilling calfsteak, made a round of the bath, chopped off the cock and balls, checked the bedroom, retrieved the head, and deposited all in the special container. As an afterthought he positioned the torso remains in the chair at Mike’s computer, returned to the bath and luxuriated in a long soak; very early that morning, a casual observer would have noticed the UPS truck maneouvering about the little triangle intersection where Mike’s apartment was situated; John made the short journey to the cold storage locker, collected Jose, loaded both onto his personal aircraft, and left the airport approximately fifteen hours after he had arrived.
In the Caribbean, John welcomed his weekend guests aboard the yacht “Minerva”; the small, glittering crowd relished his invitations because he always had something extraordinarily special on the menu; this weekend would start with Jose tacos and eventually work towards Mike-meat; the centerpiece was Mike’s head, it’s top filled with ice, and cavier sitting on top of that; as each guest was seated, they oohed and ahead at John’s new discovery and how beautiful he was, they looked forward to becoming much more intimate with his flesh.
A crow wandered in the open window of Mike’s apartment; he joined the ants, beetles, and other creatures nibbling at Mike’s brain and it’s fragments; a rat scurried out of his torso in the closet; dried intestines rustled in the wind; a strange peace pervaded the space; Mike’s spirit smiled; he would never leave this place.
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