Truck Stop Murder

Luis Adam Bree

Forum Regular
Joined
Oct 31, 2016
Messages
138
Location
London England
The truck came to a halt in the park*ing lot of the rest stop, its driver mind numbed from over five hours of the most boring high*way in the US. Bernie Heintz opened the door to the cab and near-tumbled to the asphalt.
As his foot hit the step to the cab his belly seemed to bounce over his belt — too many beers and too many truck-stop dinners had taken their toll on what used to be an athletic, football player's build.
Right now he needed to use the can and take a nap. Any one of the mattresses he was hauling would have felt like heaven com*par*ed to the foam and board mat he had waiting for him in the cab.
He looked about dark truck park*ing lot. Only one other rig was parked another cab with a big trailer twenty-five to thirty foot in length.
The cab didn't have a sleep top so either the driver was inside the restroom or laying on the seat of the cab. Bernie's belly rumbled, reminding him that it was time to be emptied and, with luck, get filled again. He staggered toward the washroom.
As he neared the brick building already starting to fumble with his zipper, a man pushed out the door, ramming his shoulder and knocking him aside.

"Ooops", the man said, "Should watch where youre going."
Bernie was in no mood for jokes.

"Whaddya mean, I should watch! You opened the fuckin door!"
"Look friend," the man replied, "the lot was empty when I pulled in. How was I to know some piece of lard was going to come waltzing in, not looking where the fuck he was going?"
Bernie held his anger in check, sizing up the man. He looked to be thirty-five, maybe forty ... to Bernie's forty-nine. He didn't look too strong — the undeniable pot belly he was growing might put a little power behind any punch he might throw. Still, Bernie made a bet with himself, five to one, that this guy would be no real challenge in a brawl.

"OK", he growled, "I'm just going in for a minute or so. Do yourself a favor, don't be in sight when I get back, 'cause you won't have a call to nature holding me back for you."
"Tell you what," the stranger laughed back, "I'm just going to check my tires. You want to start anything when you're done, you're welcome to try. Just make sure you're empty, 'cause I wouldn't want to have you throwing up all over me — you look like you're already carrying a full tank!'
Bernie growled to himself. As he went about his business, the anger simmered inside him so that by the time he left, he was actually hoping the guy was waiting for him. He spotted the guy opening the back of the rig and started toward him. The stranger saw him approaching and smiling, began to remove his shirt.

"Sorry, you don't find too many laundrymats on the road and I'd hate to try to explain blood all over a nice shirt — mine or yours."
This seemed sensible to Bernie, and while normally he'd have been embarrassed to remove his shirt, he had it off quickly, his imagination already in the middle of the ass whipping that was sure to come. Bernie's belly hung a good six inches over the waist line of his pants. The two men were nearly the same height but at two eighty-five, Bernie figured he had nearly fifty pounds on this guy. It also looked like the stranger might collapse after a good one to the gut. Bernie decided that that would be where he'd start.

"By the way I'm Al," he said hopping up into the back of the trailer.
This puzzled Bernie until he looked inside. The interior of the trailer was lined with foam, like the packing for delicate equipment. It gave the inside of the truck a look like the inside of a shipping box instead of the rig that hauled them. While Bernie was climbing inside, Al explained that he hauled large electronic equipment like ship's gyroscopes that could be misaligned by heavy bumps and was on his way back.
Bernie just wished he'd shut up as he climbed inside. He rolled in and was standing up as Al closed the door. An inner latch clicked. Bernie waited for Al to turn around before driving a fist into his belly. Al only had time to see it coming before Bernie's punch drove all the wind out of him. Al came off the floor as he belly-absorbed the force and knocked him against the door of the trailer.
Bernie grinned with the satisfaction of a predator, knowing the prey was trapped. Al dropped to one knee. Bernie took a step toward Al thinking there couldn't be much fight in him but was surprised. Al came up with his fist, hitting under the overhang of Bernie's gut driving up. There wasn't a lot of power behind the punch but it was a tender spot for a gut like Bernie's. The muscles there were weakest and the pain in his belly made him stagger back.
Taking advantage, Al laid into Bernie's ample midsection with everything he had. Much to Bernie's surprise, it wasn't much. After the surprise had worn off and several gut-punches later, Bernie was not only still standing but wasn't bothering to fight back. He stood there taking each punch.
Al aimed at his gut. For some, he tightened his stomach. For others, he took it soft, letting the fat surrounding his guts absorb the blow. Since Al wasn't going for anything but the belly, Bernie decided to let him tire himself out.
Suddenly, a swing came and connected with Bernie's chin, and a ring Al was wearing on his right hand cut him. Bernie decided he'd had enough. He caught the next swing aimed at his gut and held the arm to the side as he drove his fist into Al's midsection.
Bernie could feel the man's guts surround his hand as it plowed past his opponent's virtually nonexistent abdominals. Bernie pulled his arm back and drove it in again. He held his fist in Al's navel and twisted it but good. The look of shock on Al's face gave him a feeling of power he had enjoyed many times before with others — his wife, his kid, others he'd met on the road. It was a feeling he couldn't get enough of. Bernie plunged his fist into Al's pot belly again and again, each time receiving a rush as the wind whooshed out of his now helpless victim.
Suddenly Bernie's vision started to blur. At first, he thought it was the rush of excitement. He slowed the frequency of punches. Then he realized it wasn't just the rush — he was feeling woozy. He dropped Al who immediately grabbed at his gut and collapsed, coughing. But the wooziness didn't end. Heart attack? Bernie thought to himself as he fell to his knees and he lost consciousness.
****
***
**
*

Bernie woke up suspended by his arms. Something had been placed between his legs — a bar of some kind holding them apart so he was spread eagled between the walls of the trailer ... Al's trailer. He had also been stripped naked. Al was standing in front of him, happily rubbing his belly. Al was also naked and his belly was red — starting to show signs of bruising from the pummeling Bernie had given it. Al turned and Bernie let out a quiet grunt.

"Ah, you're awake!" Al said.
A broad grin drew across his face, showing his teeth.

"You know, its been a long time since I've been hammered like that. It's nice to find a guy who really enjoys it. My guts are going to be sore for a week. Thanks."
"Let me loose ... I'll be happy to keep going. What the hell's going on here!!?" Bernie bellowed at Al.
"Yell all you want — the trailer's sound proof. It's all the foam, Bernie. I could shoot you right now and a trooper standing outside the trailer wouldn't know."
Bernie was not an unintelligent man. He had learned two things at that moment. The first was that this meeting had been no accident, the second, that he was going to die. Al caught the look on Bernie's face as his brain clicked the pieces into place.

"Yes.", he said. "And you should feel honored that so many people were willing to pay my fee. I've been instructed to inform you that your wife, your ex-wife, and several others who've felt your wrath over the years gave their contribution to this party. One is a former trucker you left paralyzed in Dubuque. Shame the law didn't catch up with you before I did ... if it had, maybe this wouldn't be necessary. Anyway, I have a few special requests and you should know some were repeats."
He glanced Bernie over.

"I'd say about six inches", he said.
He reached behind him into a box Bernie couldn't see into from where he was. When Al turned around, Bernie saw the icepick.

"Don't worry, Bernie."
Al smiled at him.

"I promise this won't be any more painful than it has to be. Unfortunately, my clients say it has to be very painful."
With that, he plunged the icepick into Bernies navel. The pain wasn't unbearable but a shock nonetheless — he'd been stabbed and he knew it wasn't fatal ... not immediately, at least. There was more to come — lots more. Bernie's face became a grimace, holding back the shout he wanted to scream in reaction to the pain.
Al jerked the icepick out and blood started to ooze from the wound.

"Good!", Al snorted, "you're made of pretty strong stuff. You see, one of my clients only wanted that Volkswagon you call a gut stabbed, but he left it to me as to what to use so I thought I'd have some fun before I really get started."
With that Al stabbed the pick three more times into his navel. On the third thrust, Bernie let out a gasp of pain. Al's face became a mask of almost orgasmic pleasure.

"Yes!" he hissed. "Now the real fun begins."
Al was stroking himself gently as he turned back to the box. When he turned back around he held a cock ring in his hand he grabbed Bernie by the balls and gave a hard squeeze, making Bernie grunt despite fighting not to.

"Yes, fun indeed!"
Al placed the cock ring on Bernie and then looked at his fingers for a few moments as if studying a manicure. Bernie could feel the ring's effect almost immediately as pressure in the right place gave him an erection in moments. Bernie's cock stood straight out. In a big man it was rare to see an eight inch cock. Bernie had that but, thanks to the cock ring, it now swelled to a bit more as blood was being pumped in but released at a much slower rate. His cock stood straight out now. Even with the pain in his belly he could do nothing about his cock. Al went back into his box and brought out a pistol. Even more now, Bernie knew he was going to die. Then, he got a look at the gun.

"Its a CO2 pistol." Al said. "Shoots BB's. It was a special request."
With that he fired the first shot, making another bulls eye to Bernie's navel. Bernie let out a small shout of pain. The BB was as thin as the icepick, but the fact that the area of impact had already been damaged, and that the BB stayed in the wound made it more painful somehow.

"Damn, I forgot. That wasn't supposed to be the target." Al snortled.
He lowered his aim and Bernie knew what he meant. The pistol coughed and a BB stabbed into his left nut. Bernie screamed. Another hit his right. And he screamed again. Al sat on the floor of the trailer, the gun in his left hand as he stroked his cock with his right.

"The fun part is," Bernie heard between his own sobs, "that you should be able to take ten or fifteen shots apiece."
Those words made the next few minutes pure agony for Bernie as Al pulled the trigger over and over again, each BB hitting a testicle — left, right, left, right. Bernie's vision glazed over red as pain overcame his vision and he passed out.
But he couldn't stay out. Another blast of pain forced his consciousness to the surface again. As his head cleared, he felt Al grab him by the balls and squeeze, rolling them in his hand. his other hand , vigorously stroking a very large and hard cock. The BB's had penetrated but had not passed through so they were still inside — scrotum or testicle. They were a mushed mess — a very painful mushed mess. And Bernie could feel trickles of blood oozing out the entry holes. The BBs grated against each other as Al squeezed and squished. Bernie let out a long loud scream and passed out again.
Al let him wake on his own. He didn't how much time had passed but the pain in his balls had reduced to an achy throb that pulsed with every beat of his heart like a tooth ache. Bernie's eyes suddenly snapped into focus. The first thing he noticed was, Al had obviously cum all over himself — he had lost the erection and a sticky mess coated his chest, belly and legs.

"Just a few more requests." Al said to him.
Bernie was too weak to do more than whimper. Al placed the barrel of the BB pistol to Bernie's cock, still hard from the ring.

"I hope you enjoy this as much as I do." Al whispered.
Then he pulled the trigger five times. The BB's ripped a path of fire straight down Bernie's cock shaft — the CO2 ripping his urethra apart as the BB's tore their way in down to the base. Bernie's throat went raw from the screams that followed. This time he didn't even realize that he had passed out.
Bernie slowly brought up his head to look at Al.

"That's all I've got for you," Bernie dimly heard Al say.
Bernie could feel the BB gun barrel being place against his navel. He gasped in shock as it was thrust into his gut, the prior wounds tearing and the barrel forced into his belly like a knife. Bernie's gut went numb. This time he barely jerked as Al pulled the trigger three times and the BB's stung deep into his belly and the cold CO2 exploded his insides. Compared to the pain he'd already suffered, this was a mere annoyance.

"Time to end this." he heard Al's voice as though from a distance.
But he could see Al hold up his hand, his fingers held aligned and straight, forming a kind of spear. He thrust his hand forward, into Bernie's navel. The holes from the icepick and blasts from the CO2 gave Al's hand an easier path, his blunt fingers ripping past the layers of fat and muscle.
Bernie screamed as the speared hand plunged into his belly and grabbed intestines. He didn't stop screaming as Al's fist closed on his guts then began punching — Al's hand never left Bernie's belly, but instead worked like some bizzare butter churn, twisting and wrenching, mushing and homogenizing what was inside.
Al finally removed his fist and looked Bernie over one last time. Bernie's groin was still bleeding, almost freely through cracks in the scabs over the bullet holes. Bernie's belly, a mess. Death was a certainty.
Al grabbed Bernie's mushed balls and jerked down so hard they tore off, sending Bernie into another scream-fest that didn't end until Al plunged his fist into Bernie's gut again, this time grabbing a hand full of intestines and yanking it out.
Bernie went into shock in that instant — he would be dead in seconds now. In that last moment, Al knew he had had a good time on this job. And, making it more fun, Bernie had a powerful orgasm— on his legs was Bernie's cum. With the final death-shock had come a rapture that Bernie would take that he could take with him to eternity. Bernie was happy now. Al was happy. As happy as any man can be when he enjoys his work.
 
LOL. This is one of mine. I wrote a long time ago and sent it to John Randall for his Katharsis mag. I remember being surprised when he told me He owned the story from that point on.
 
Back
Top