arnoldpalmer
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Augusta started his video with a chipper “Hello!” His Austrian accent was stronger, and his voicer somewhat deeper than Eric had expected. He had been following Augusta on instagram for quite some time but the Viennese super model didn’t post many videos of himself talking. This was the first one, and it was live. “In NYC for castings! Want to couch surf this time instead of being stuck in hotel! Really see the city!” said the model to his massive following.
Why not? Eric thought to himself.
With a quick message from a shell account on a shell phone, Eric offered his place and struck gold; Augusta responded.
“Yes, sounds great. Like to see your place, can you send pictures”
Eric was a little wary. He didn’t want anything coming back to him.
“Do you have Signal?” he shot back.
“Yes, here’s my number! Send them over!”
Wow, what luck, Eric thought. And how trusting of Augusta, not to think anything a little fishy even at this. He sent some photos of his apartment on the encryption-based messaging app, a little more satisfied that nothing could be tracked to him.
“Wow, beautiful place! Yes, I’m down! Can I come to you on Tuesday? I have a couple other places lined up before then.”
“Sure thing. Let’s meet at a coffee shop near my place before we go over so you can make sure I’m not a freak. There’s a cafe I like called Verdiz on 9th and Park. Meet you there around 6?”
“Like the way you think
” Augusta responded, sending over a quick selfie from his cab. The ego was strong with this one.
The guys met in the corner of Verdiz, a favorite place of Eric's -- it was a rather trusting business. No security cameras. Augusta had bought a coke, which Eric found an odd purchase at a cafe, but he didn't linger on the thought. Rather, he kept a watchful eye to make sure no one was noticing the two. Augusta was incredibly beautiful, quite tall, and had a massive instagram following; easy to catch attention. Luckily it was Manhattan, and models weren’t much news.
“So what do you do?” Augusta asked.
“Oh, freelance design stuff.”
“And you can afford to live here?” Augusta asked, with a hint of amusement and surprise.
“I’m good!” Eric laughed. Of course he was just making things up.
“I want to see some of your work,” Augusta said, “but first I need to use the rest room.”
“Sure thing!” Eric said. With Augusta up, he quickly searched a few New Yorker magazine covers and took screen shots. Augusta wouldn’t know, he thought. He’d been following the boy for months and had never seen any sign of culture or interest in anything but working out and the occasional pet shot. Sometimes a girl. Augusta had been trying for a while to start a Youtube comedy channel, mostly slapdash, and very stupid and very unfunny. But his earnestness made it all charming, and he seemed to have endless energy and a constant smile.
Eric had also watched Augusta unlock his phone earlier. “Two, two, two, two” he said to himself, smiling and shaking his head. “What a fucking idiot.” The stars seemed to be aligning. Always fun to kill a dumb one. Unlocking the phone, he turned off all geotracking and uninstalled the “find my phone” app, all before Augusta emerged from the bathroom.
“So, let’s see!”
“Here’s a few things I’ve done.”
“Wow, the New Yorker! No wonder you can afford that place you showed me! I had a few ads of myself in a couple issues, you know.” He referenced a Topman ad he had done and quickly googled it for Eric to see.
“Not surprised, and looking sharp! Well, what do you say, do you want to see the place?”
“Yes! Let’s go!”
The two finished their drinks and shot off. No one noticed them go.
Augusta loved the apartment. He was full of energy, joie de vivre.
“Make yourself at home!” Eric shouted from the kitchen, pouring out some whisky for the two of them.
“I wish this could be home!” Augusta shouted. He was enamored with the view, and seemed to be bounding around in excitement.
“Well, take a celebratory drink,” Eric suggested. The two drank and laughed, talking about life on the road and girls and magazines. Eric watched himself, but Augsta got drunker and drunker. Eventually, overheated, he asked Eric if it would be okay to take off his shirt.
“Go ahead! You have to know I follow you on instagram for a reason,” he laughed.
Augusta laughed back. “I love my gay followers,” he shot back with a wink. Such a sweet, dopey guy, Eric thought. And with his shirt off, chiseled abs, worked out but not too much, muscled, but probably not incredibly strong, Eric let it all soak in. The boy’s body was perfect. Augusta threw up a peace sign.
The two continued hanging out, Eric unable to take his eyes off the adonis. Soon, though, and it was two in the morning.
“Okay, man. I am so tired. Still a bit jet lag.”
“Jet lagged,” Eric corrected him.
Eyes half shut with a silly, drunk smile, Augusta responded “Thank you, English teacher.”
“Of course, English student,” Eric said. “Let’s show you to your bathroom and bed.”
Augusta thanked Eric profusely, then got in the shower, posting a selfie to his instagram. Eric didn't like it but decided there wasn't much of a tell in the shower to track things to his place.
When Augusta was finally soundly asleep, Eric opened the boy’s phone and typed in the unlock code he had put to heart. He opened instagram, deleted their conversation. Opened signal, deleted the conversation. Looked through messages on all the different apps the model had downloaded and made sure no mention had been made of the boy’s plans for the night. Eric was pretty astounded at his luck.
Augusta didn’t wake up right away as Eric climbed onto the bed. Stirred a little, made a small moan. Eric stared at him and thought for a while about what he wanted to do to the hunk, and when Augusta finally woke up and turned to look over his back with feint surprise, Eric slipped a needle filled with a concoction of his own making into the boy’s neck.
It wouldn’t keep Augusta asleep, but it would make him unable to use his strength to resist, and even more it made him suggestible. Case in point: Eric now straddled Augusta, took his face in his hand, squeezing on his cheeks, and gently shook him awake. Augusta registered slight confusion, a tinge of fear. He wasn’t understanding too much. Eric began to rub his chest, licked a nipple, sucked on his neck. His skin was so soft, Eric thought, hardly a blemish. It gave just slightly to the touch, depressed in a small dimple; muscled, but not too hard or stringy. Augusta’s eyes rolled back into his head, closed, then reopened, staring right into Eric’s. Eric brought his head in for a kiss, deep. He had to suggest Augusta’s mouth open, but it didn’t take much, and when his tongue met Augusta’s, it was a great pleasure that Augusta seemed to reciprocate, bringing his tongue up from its resting place at the bottom of the mouth.
The two kissed slowly for maybe thirty seconds. Augusta was getting hard, and Eric could feel it. He rubbed the Austrian model cock between his round cheeks, massaged it there. Augusta moaned a little. Eric went down and pulled the cock out of Augusta’s underwear, then started giving Augusta head. Slowly at first. The dick was gorgeous, huge balls, shaved scrotum, stylishly trimmed pubes just above the pink shaft. Thick, good girth, and long. Eric leaned over the bed and got some lube, then started jacking off Augusta while fingering himself, readying his hole for the adonis’ dick.
Augusta was a bit more aware of the situation, confused still, yet in a great deal of pleasure. He had a dumb look about him, dumber than usual, and his breathing quickened. Eric now had the model boy’s dick inside of him and was riding Augusta, slowly but rhythmically, and then with a greater pace, jerking himself off. Augusta let out stronger and longer moans, and Eric lifted his own strong thighs up and down slightly faster. Augusta’s face scrunched up, then his mouth opened wide. He was coming. Eric didn’t like when boys came inside him, so he dismounted, took Augusta’s dick and balls in his hands, and massaged him into climax. Augusta shot a load that made sense for a model traveling to the states and being bold enough to couch surf instead of taking the hotel room. No privacy, no time to jerk off in about a week. He was covered in come.
Eric thought it was the hottest thing he had ever seen. He crawled back on top of Augusta, let his erect dick hang in the puddle of semen in the boy’s cum gutters, and pushed it back and forth. Augusta was coming to, the orgasm enough to shake him out of the drug stupor. Eric leaned over the side of the bed and began to search for something. Augusta began to articulate.
“What… what is… my head… Eric? Wh —“ he cut off as Eric held a chloroform rag over his face. His eyes widened a bit in shock but quickly fluttered back. Eric smiled. He could kill the boy now, but he would do that another time, when it was more of a challenge.
Augusta wouldn’t remember anything in the morning, and now it was Eric’s turn to cum. He lifted Augusta’s legs over his shoulders, greased the boy’s asshole with some lube, fingering it first with one, then two, then three fingers to loosen the tight virgin ass — he liked to be courteous, and this way Augusta wouldn’t have any suspicious soreness in the morning — then shoved his own thick cock into the boy. He loved the way Augusta took it, rocking back and forth, just enough friction between his head and the pillow underneath it that his chin would turn up and his Adam’s apple become more pronounced, before coming back down again with Eric’s outward pull. Eric continued for some time, picked up the pace, and came inside of the limp, jiggling boy with a loud moan. He loved this prelude, imagining how much more there was to come, and how much better it would be with Augusta dead.
The next morning, Augusta woke up and was as chipper as ever. He hadn’t noticed anything — Eric had been good to clean him off with a wet towel after sex and was in the kitchen making coffee when Augusta walked in and waved good morning. He looked sexy as hell in an Oxford sweater and grey sweatpants that curved around a slight bubble butt.
“Guten tag,” he said with a dumb voice and a wink, as he picked up an orange in his left hand and tossed it over his head to his right. The dumb sense of humor and the theatrics were even more endearing in real life, but the thought of snuffing out that energy, the fear and panic that would be so new to Augusta, and the last thing he felt, made Eric get a little stiff. He shook the thought off.
“What’s on the docket for you today?” he asked.
“Well, one dollar pizza first.”
“You can just say dollar pizza, that’s the New York way,” Eric said with a smile.
Augusta smile back, “Good! I need to learn the New York way. I love it here, thinking about moving.”
“You should! Let’s be neighbors,” Eric said with a wink. “So what’s up after pizza?”
“Oh, I might go to Central Park, maybe the Museum.” His deep voice and the dopey assumption that Eric would know what he meant by “museum” when the city was chock full of them, was so charming. Eric started to think he might feel bad about what was about to happen.
“Sounds like a good day! Why don’t you start it with some coffee and then I’ll point you to the right subway line.”
“Sounds good, mate.”
“That’s Australian, not American!”
“Oops! Sounds good, bud” Augusta corrected. The two laughed, and Eric poured him some coffee. Augusta sat at a bar stool at the kitchen island counter and had just turned on his phone to take a few selfies. The first featured his hoodie prominently.
The second saw him strip the hoodie and sat pull his necklace to his mouth, showing off his deliciously full, plump lips.<br />
Of course, he decided the final one should be shirtless and took off his clothes.
Seeing his chance in this amusing charade of egocentricity, Eric turned opposite Augusta and slipped a couple drops of his liquid drug into the cup while the boy played with his phone, then passed it over as Augusta got his hoodie back on.
“Thanks!”
“Of course! Drink up, long day ahead of you.”
Augusta winked and smiled, and jokingly downed the whole cup of coffee. Eric laughed, and took a sip of his own, feeling himself tense, his heart starting to flutter a little. It would be only thirty seconds or so.
Augusta had opened his instagram to post the selfie, but decided he’d make a story first.
"Hey Eric, do you mind taking a quick vid of me for my instagram story?"
Eric was a little hesitant to let any more details of the location get online but ultimately decided time was on his side.
"Sure thing, Auggy."
Augusta raised his eyebrows with a smile, "Auggy! New nickname! I like it!"
"No chance in hell it'll stick," said Eric with a devilish grin. Augusta, of course didn't pick up on it. "Okay, I'm gonna film, do what you're gonna do in 3, 2, 1..."
He ran the video as Augusta flashed up a saucy wink and pointed to the camera. "Coming to conquer you, New York!" he said.
"Great, got it," said Eric. Augusta quickly got his hoodie back on and stood up to go look, then lost his balance for a moment, almost tipping over. He caught himself on a bar stool and took a seat, rubbing his eyes and temple with the palms of his hands.
"Woof..." he said.
“You okay, bud?” Eric asked. He circled over to Augusta, positioned just behind him.
“Oh, just a little dizzy all the sudden," he said, shaking it off. "Can I see the video?"
"I don't think so," said Eric, as he tossed the phone aside on the counter, and taking Augusta's shoulders in his hands for a massage.
"What? Why not?" asked Augusta, before another wave of the spins took him. "Ugh, what's happening? I'm really dizzy."
“Well,” Eric said, hands shifting up Augusta’s shoulders, massaging around the base of his neck with an increasingly strong grip. “Just how I like ‘em.”
“Uff, wha… what?” Augusta asked, getting more and more worried. The effect of Eric’s drug when administered to an awake, sober person was that it really only slightly weakened them, and made their vision spin. This time, Augusta was quite cognitively awake. Eric liked it that way. More fear.
He leaned down to Augusta’s level. “It’s time to die, Augusta,” he whispered slyly. At this, Augusta began to fully appreciate the gravity of the situation and attempted to brush off Eric’s hands, eyes wide with fear and confusion. He began to stand up as Eric clamped his heavy paws firmly around Augusta’s neck. Immediately Augusta gagged.
“Agggh!” he gasped. Eric was immediately rock hard, and whipped his hands back and forth, shaking Augusta’s entire body. The drug wasn’t too strong that there wasn’t fight in the model, exactly to Eric’s liking. The panicking, wide-eyed boy tried his best to shake Eric off of him, prying at his hands with his own hands, and when that didn’t work bending forward with the hope that his body’s leverage would rip Eric’s huge hands off his neck. It was not working. Eric had his grip wrapped around Augusta’s neck with a good three or four inches overlap, and with a yank he flung Augusta’s body back up.
“Kkggaah — stop!” Augusta managed to force out between horrid, weezing gasps. “Gggghhhfff!”
Eric wrestled Augusta off the bar stool and back toward the living room couch, then jumped back with the boy still firmly in his hands. Flailing and twisting on top of Eric, Augusta’s abs contracting in due panic, lungs grasping for any hint of air from his crushed trachea, Augusta was not giving up. In fact, he was making a racket.
Eric wrapped his legs around the boy’s to keep him from moving as much. Fear like none he had ever felt welled up in Augusta — he hadn’t given up, but he was well aware that Eric had him overpowered. He held onto hope that someone might walk in, and tried to shout for help. He couldn’t get a sound out. The reality of his death became more and more real by the second, a thought that had never occurred to him before. About a minute passed, Augusta bucking forward with his torso, the only thing he really had control over at this point. Tears built up in the corners of his eyes, his face going redder, his mouth wide open and tongue sticking slightly out, no sound emitting except the occasional gag. Urrgh… agggg. Long pause. Urrrh. Another pause, longer. Uhhk.
Augusta was giving in. He had gone through a massive stroke about twenty seconds ago. The horrible fear had been overtaken by pure pain and agony. Lungs that ached, red vision. Eric could feel him significantly weakened and was able to jerk the boy’s head left and right to satisfying effect as his hands slowly loosened from their grip on Eric’s and his arms started to drop to his side. A couple more jerks and the arms were completely down, limp and loose, the boy’s entire body jerking under his thin, sinuous neck. His head rolled around as Eric pressed forward with his thumbs on the back of the neck, then in with his finger on the front. Eyes wide open and slightly bloodshot, swollen tongue protruding, a little dribble. Eric’s dick was throbbing as he continued to jerk the famous model’s head back and forth and side to side, in a swaying, limp circle. The adrenaline had him in a rush. This was the part he loved most. Coming down from the high. Seeing the dead boy, in complete abandonment, the sunken look of vacancy. Augusta was seizing now a little, death tremors. Eric kept his grip tight through them and then shook the dead model viciously until the ended. Augusta’s wet mouth and jaw sputtered in the shaking. The sound turned Eric on even more. He released his grip now and brought his hands to Augusta’s chest, squeezed his pecs. In the relax of death, Augusta was more supple than ever. His neck dark red, his face bright red. Eric breathed heavily, and with him Augusta moved up and down, though his own body was no longer moving. He had pissed himself. Luckily for Eric, though, he had at least taken a shit in the morning.
Must not have realized what all the cum from the night before was, Eric thought to himself, letting out a short breathy chuckle. Quickly, he stripped Augusta's naked, which wasn’t hard at all as he’d just been wearing loose sweatpants and the hoodie. His cock was, surprisingly, a little bit engorged, and his balls as beautiful as ever. Eric gave them a hard squeeze, then lifted the body back on top of himself. He took Augusta’s head by the chin and lifted the boy’s dead gaze into his own. Augusta stared that unfocused, unregistering stare that Eric loved. His neck was bent back at maybe an 80 degree angle. Eric loved to contort, and Augusta’s lithe body was excellent for doing so.
The killer repositioned himself on the couch, sitting more upright, and pushed Augusta onto the floor. Augusta flopped and rolled, face and tongue pressed into the cold granite stone. Dead weight. Eric grabbed him by the neck again and lifted him, shook him a little. He couldn’t get enough of limp Augusta, and so loved contorting the boy’s head that he began to twist it and twist it some more, with the boy’s body held firmly between his legs, so that with more twisting the sound of the boy’s neck giving in and snapping echoed through the vast apartment. Augusta’s body faced forward, but his head, stupid looking and empty, was turned 180 degrees toward Eric. Eric was incredibly hard. He unzipped and took Augusta’s cheeks in his hand, squeezing the boy’s limp mouth open, and shoving his dick down into the mangled neck. The limp blow job was supplemented by the firmness of Augusta’s crushed throat, and the dead boy’s beautiful face quickly got Eric to shoot his load down the esophagus.
Having come, he was less interested in the boy and let him flop back onto the ground. He sat there for a while, looking at the ceiling, letting his breath return to normal, until he heard a small buzz. It was Augusta’s phone.
A small panic set in before he remembered he had deactivated the geolocation settings. He went over. A representative from the agency had been texting with directions to a shoot. Eric flipped the text back and was left with Augusta’s instagram. The story he had been about to post was still playing on repeat. Augusta was giving his a wink, pointing at the camera, telling NYC he'd conquer it soon, on repeat. The thought that such an energetic, happy, dumb boy had been doing this just fifteen minutes ago made Eric hard all over again. He would let the phone go on until it died, keeping it next to them on the bed as he fucked Augusta’s dead body over and over again that night and the next. It had been fully charged and had a remarkably long battery life. Definitely was brand new. He loved the juxtaposition. Augusta dead, his eyes staring into oblivion, rocking with each hard thrust, right next to Augusta alive and smiling in that very apartment.
Soon, though, Augusta was beginning to smell. Eric brought him into a now plastic-lined kitchen and began the work of dismembering the body, piece by piece, starting with the head. The sound of the trachea and ligaments popping sent a shiver down his spine. He grabbed Augusta by the mouth and lifted the head aside. He would keep it a while longer in the freezer. The rest was cut up, arms next, then legs. Dick, then torso cut down the center. The sound of ribs cracking reverberated through the apartment. The smell wasn’t pleasant, but once he had Augusta in the large, industrial blender then flushed down the toilet in slow parts, it would subside.
Eventually, when Augusta’s head was freezer burned to the point that it was barely recognizable, Eric took it out and let it thaw, gave it a quick kiss, and chucked it in the blender like the rest of him. Watching the decapitated head bounce around into a bloody bubble before finally catching in the blades and becoming a viscous mess felt like a satisfying end to Augusta. There’d be no more of this ultra supermodel appearing in any magazines anymore. A little sad, Eric thought, as he scrolled through Augusta's instagram. Then he flipped to a photo he had of Augusta from a shoot the model had posted on instagram, wearing a crown that read "2 fast 2 live, 2 young 2 die." Eric laughed.
After a few days, news of the disappearance made the rounds in a couple style magazines, but didn’t gain too much traction. A police investigation quickly faltered after 48 hours of no results — Augusta’s family being poor and foreign didn’t help matters too much either. Despite an outpouring of pleas from a thousand or so instagram followers, Augusta wasn’t posting, and other pretty boys were still posting pictures. The internet’s attention span is short, and soon everyone pretty much forgot about Augusta, aside from the occasional repost.
Luckily, though, Eric had been fastidious in his documentation. Cameras rigged all over the apartment caught this and every other death he had performed in ultra high definition, pristine sound. He would be able to watch Augusta die again and again.
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