- Joined
- Jan 13, 2012
- Messages
- 6,470
- Location
- Cannibal Heaven
OSCAR:
Yesterday I killed a faggot. Yeah. Cut him up and killed him. And it was fun. Everyone knows all faggots deserve to die but this one was special. He was mine. My own fag. Pop gave him to me as a gift for my fourteenth birthday. It only lasted for a few hours, but it was the best birthday gift I ever got. Pretty packaging, too. Pretty face, muscles, smooth white skin. And funny thing about him, he was a fag who killed fags himself. Yeah, he’d have sex with one and then torture it and cut it up. So that’s what I did to Caleb. That’s his name. Caleb. Very pretty fag, as I said.
Pop and I caught him dumping a dead naked body—another fag, of course—in a ditch. Beat the shit out of him, tied him, and then played with him.
CALEB:
I was dumping the dead guy in a ditch where I’d dumped several others when suddenly I got jumped. Two dudes beat me and tied my wrists behind me. A guy in his thirties, long scraggly red beard, and a skinny pubescent kid, head shaved and covered with tattoos. They both ugly as sin and they stunk like hell.
“We got the killer and its a fag!”
“How do you know he’s a fag, Pop? He looks normal.”
“Son, Don’t ever say ‘him’ or ‘he’ or ‘man’ when talking about a fag. It ain’t human. It does vile things with its own kind. And tries to entice God-fearing men into joining them. See? Look at this one. A bit prettier than most, I’ll admit. Most faggots look and act like girls, like sissies. Some, like this one, go to a gym to build muscles and try to look like look like real men. It’s just a disguise so they can entice normal folk. Pull its shirt off. See? Its chest and belly are hard and smooth. Let’s pull its pants down and check its hiney. Holy shit! Look, Oscar! It’s got a shaved pussy. I heard queers shaved their pussies, but never believed it. Whoo-ee! Nothin there but a big prick and two shiny balls. And look! No hair in his arm pits either! This one’s a 100 per cent queer for certain! Now let’s check its hiney. (Turn around, fucker!) See. Its got a bubble butt. Definitely a fag.”
“What’s a bubble-butt, Pop?”
“See how round it is? Faggots like smooth, round, hard butts. For fucking each other. Say, Oscar. You wanna fuck this one? You gotta try it someday, and today’s as good as any.”
“I don’t know, Pop. If I fuck a fag, won’t that make me one?”
“No. You can fuck a fag in the ass or let him suck your dick. That don’t make you a fag. It’s only when YOU get fucked or YOU suck a dick, that you become a fag. So, do you want to fuck this one?”
“Well, O.K. Sure.”
They shoved me over a log and the kid tries to fuck my ass, but can’t get it in. Pop says “You need grease. Don’t have none but this should do it.” Pop pulled out his knife and poked it rammed it right into my hole. Shit that hurt. Blood as lube! The kid slides his dick in my bleeding hole and begins to hump me. He leans way forward and wraps his arms around my arms, and his mouth to my neck. His panting breath stinks. Finally he cums and pulls out. Sees his dick and freaks out. “Oh, fuck, Pop! Look at my dick. It’s covered with blood and shit! Yuck!”
“Don’t worry. Faggy here will clean you up. That’s another thing. Fags like to eat shit. Sit down over there against the tree.”
Pop grabbed my hair and dragged me to the kid. Puts the knife tip to my face and says, “Clean his dick and make him feel real, real good.”
Oh, god. I crawl over and suck his cock, swallowing the filth, and almost puking. He shoots another load down my throat.
OSCAR:
Pop went to the truck to bring us our lunch, and left his knife with me.
Right away, the fag says, “Oscar. You don’t really want to hurt me. Just untie me and I’ll get out of here and never come back. Please. You’re a good kid. You don’t want to harm anyone.”
“No, I don’t want to harm anyone. But you’re not just anyone. You’re a fag, a homo, a queer. All my buddies say fags are worthless pieces of shit who don’t deserve to live on God’s good earth with quality folk like us. I mean, look at what just happened. I fucked you in the ass. You sucked my dick. You swallowed my cum. You ate your own shit. Don’t that prove it? If you don’t deserve to die, well…who does? I hate faggots! But hey! Tell me, is Pop right? Is it true you fags really like to eat shit?”
I kicked it over onto its knees. Then punched my fist into its bloody hole and scooped out a handful of shit. “Eat!” It just sat there. “Eat!” Didn’t move, so I picked up Pop’s knife and sliced its titty nipple in half. “Eat!” It was scared now and leaned forward and took the shit into its mouth. Almost puked, but kept it in. Then began to chew. Oh, Fuck, how it hated eating shit. But finally it finished. “Good, now lick my hand clean.”
I sat it back against the tree and looked it over. Surely was pretty. And those muscles and smooth white skin. Opposite of me. I’m skinny, ugly and covered with tats.
“You’re pretty.”
CALEB:
He kept staring at me. Me, naked, with my shorts down around my boots. “You’re pretty.” He put his hand on my belly. Rubbed it softly, almost caressing it. Touched my other nipple. Leaned down and kissed it. Then brought both hands up to my face and touched my cheeks softly. Began to lean in but heard Pop returning and jumped back.
Pop glanced over and said, “What’s that on its mouth? Looks like shit.”
“It is. I fed it some more shit from out of its ass.”
“Good boy. A nourishing meal for any fag. Say, it looks like you were playing with the knife while I was gone. Ain’t it fun to cut a queer? And I brought some rope to string up the fag before we have our lunch.”
They yanked me up and tied my wrists to tree branches. Ripped off my boots and shorts and spread-eagled my feet wide. I was fucking scared now, strung up totally naked under the trees with two yahoo maniacs.
Anything in the pockets, Oscar?”
“Let’s see. Drivers license. Name is Caleb McDonagh, lives on Aspen Road, 6’1”, 185, green eyes, 26 years old. There’s keys, a wallet with, let’s see, 62 dollars, a cellphone, and a membership card for Muscle Boys Gym.”
“Sound like a fag gym. Yep, our queerboy here surely works on his muscles. Gotta look pretty to do the Devil’s work.”
“So, what are we going to do with it, this here fag?” I asked.
“Well, I been thinking. When you turned fourteen last month, we couldn’t afford to get you a decent gift. So, how bout this being your gift? The faggot. All yours to play with, however you want. Just don’t tell your maw.”
“Really, Pop? Mine? Totally mine? I can do anything?”
“Yup. Anything you want. You’re a man now. I won’t interfere. And I am pleased I could give you such a high-quality fag to celebrate your birthday. Such a pretty one.”
“Yeah, Pop. It sure is pretty, but I can fix that right quick.”
My heart sank into my stomach. I had become a gift to a kid with a knife.
OSCAR:
I looked at the shit eater. Strung up, muscles and smooth white skin glistening in the noonday light. All pretty. Walked up to it and leaned close. Its eyes were wide with fear as I put my penknife to its forehead and cut. It screamed and jerked its head around. I punched it in the gut.
The sissy went limp and gasped trying to air in its lungs. “Shut Up!” I resumed and cut “FAG” into its forehead. I looked over at Pop and he nodded. Blood was running down its face onto its chest. I felt an urge to taste it but Pop was there, so I cut the chest. “HOMO” Then the belly. A big round “Q” wrapped around its belly button. It was getting its breath back and began whining and screaming some more. Pop got up, went over to the ditch and came back with some sort of putrid glop, shoved it in its mouth and tied his tee shirt as a gag.
“That should keep it quiet”
“What’d you put in its mouth?”
“Ha! One of those fag corpses over there, that’s decomposing? This is its half-rotted dick and balls. Figure this Caleb fag sucked on em once before and just might like to do it again.”
CALEB:
He fucking cut me! Cut my head and chest and belly. Blood was running down my body and puddling in the dirt. The putrid crap they stuffed in my mouth was sickening. But I had to control myself and not puke with a gag in my mouth. In spite of the hurt, I had to control myself. So I concentrated on them, sitting on slope, eating sandwiches and drinking whisky. They didn’t say much and Oscar kept looking at me in that curious perverted way of his.
OSCAR:
Me and Pop ate our lunch and drank some whiskey, but didn’t talk much. Smoked cigars. Drank whisky. I just kep lookin at the pussy boy, hangin there, helpless, scared, tryin not to cry. I wanted to take the Caleb somewhere alone. Away from Pop. To kill it, of course, but somethin else, too. What exactly? The pretty faggot hangin there, red blood on its white skin and muscles. The sliced titty, so bloody, so pretty. Want to lick the bloody titty. Fag is so pretty. Very pretty. I didn’t have any experience with pretty girls. They always ignored me. Cause I’m not pretty. Not like Faggy Caleb. Not fair.
I got up and walked over. Stood there smokin. Blowin cigar smoke in its face. It stared back.
“You don’t like me, do you? You think you’re superior to me. You think I’m just a little kid. You got money and education, and I ain’t got neither. You’re pretty and have muscles. I’m skinny and ugly. All true. But I’m superior to you for two reasons. First, you’re a faggot and I’m not. Second, you’re hanging buck naked from a tree and I got this here knife."
Cigar in my left hand, knife in my right. I was running the tip of the knife over fag’s belly, not cutting, just scratching the skin, drawing beads of blood. Up and down across those pretty belly muscles.
“Pop says you’re going to rot in Hell and suffer Lucifer’s fire for all eternity. But my Uncle Lem says there is no Hell, or Heaven for that matter. Now, I don’t know who’s right. Maybe there is and maybe there ain’t a Hell. But just in case Uncle Lem is right, I’m going to make sure you suffer the Torments of Hell right here, today, under this tree. You won’t die soon. Not til I let you. But you will surely suffer the Torments. Big Caleb. Queer Caleb. Helpless Caleb. Hell is coming for you in the person of Little Oscar. I hate you, FAGGOT!”
I pushed the cigar into the sliced titty. The blood sizzled. The tit sizzled. Fag Caleb jerked all around in the ropes. Tried to scream but the gag muffled it. Then I put the cigar to its nose. And chest. And belly. Burn marks all over that pretty skin. I leaned my face close. It pulled its head back and closed its eyes.
“Don’t close your eyes, faggot! I want you to see me. You don’t like my looks? Think I’m ugly? Well, you will look at my ugly face as I drag you into Hell. Hey, Pop. You got your Army knife, the one with the little scissors?”
Pop tossed me the knife and I pulled out the little scissors. I pulled Fag’s eyelid out and snipped it off. Then the other one. Blood ran into its eyes but not much. With no eyelids, its eyes were permanently open, seeing everything, seeing me.
CALEB:
He sat down with Pop, smoking that cigar and drinking whisky, both looking at me hanging like a carcass in a slaughter house. Which I figured might turn out to be literally true. He was fucking up my natural beauty and I feared what would be next.
Pop said, “I like this cell phone. Much better than ours and probably cost a whole lot more. Let me try taking a picture. Good. It works. I’ll show Faggy what I got. Look, Fag. Here’s you.”
I looked at the phone and saw myself hanging naked. Then I saw the words. On my forehead, “FAG”. My chest, “HOMO”. My belly, “Q”. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. I’m really done. Tears ran from my eyes—cut to be permanently open—and I lost it. I cried, first soft sobs, and finally bigger, louder, heaving sobs. I totally lost control. They were going to kill me and would take their fucking time doing it. It will hurt so bad.
OSCAR:
“See, Oscar. That’s another sign of a true faggot. When a real man is faced with bad times, he grits his teeth and suffers his fate. A queer just cries like a girl. Look at that, sobbing like your friend Melissa.”
I watched as the faggot squirmed and cried, and felt my dick grow again. Damn! Why am I feelin this way? Pop was saying something, I didn’t know what, just heard the last words. “……..ways to skin a rabbit.” I knew. Knew what to do now.
I picked up the big knife, put the tip up under its armpit, and cut vertically, down to the hip. Faggy jerked but couldn’t move much cause Pop had tightened all the ropes. I made another slice about an inch from the other cut. Then pushed the knife under the skin between the two cuts, and sliced slowly back and forth down, puling at the one-inch strip, pulling it out and away from the torso, until I got to the hip and cut it off. I laid the strip on Fag’s shoulder. I went to the other side and did the same thing, and laid that on the other shoulder.
I stood face-to-face, inches away, and hissed, “See, Fag. I’m gonna skin you live. Partial, leastwise. But not yet.” I kept breathin in its face until finally steppin back and kickin it in the nuts. Pop reached in and yanked the gag off just as the Caleb began to puke.
CALEB:
I finally calmed down. Hung limply by my wrists, my nuts hurting like never before, puke on my chin, and the foul taste in my mouth. No longer crying. Just staring back at them.
OSCAR:
The fag stared at me. What was it thinking? I kept looking at the two raw strips I”d cut from its sides, and felt my dick grow again. Damn! What’s happenin? I was confused and just kept whittling my stick.
“Hey, Pop. I heard guys talk of beating up queers. You ever do that?”
“Once, in high school. Bunch of us caught a queer out by the filling station. Beat the shit out of it and then gang banged it.”
“You want to fuck this one?”
“Hell, no. I don’t fuck queers. I’d rather fuck em up. Just as soon kill em.”
“You ever kill one?”
“Well, yeah. Once. Bout ten years ago one tried to make nice with me at the Roadhouse. We went out back. Guess it was expecting to get my dick in its mouth but it got a knife in the throat instead. Jesus, I hate those fuckers. If I ever caught a faggot on my property, I’d throw it alive into the woodchipper, and use it as fertilizer.”
This stick I’d been whittling on was about two foot long and I’d put a real sharp point on one end. I began to poke it into the Caleb. Gut, chest, back, butt, dick , balls. No damage. Just jab, jab, jab. Little drops of blood all over, to go with the burn marks. I felt my dick harden again. I swung the stick hard into the side of its face. Fuck, that felt good. For me, anyway. Queerboy didn’t like it. So I whacked at its whole body…legs, arms, ribs, back, butt, ears, nose. Its squeals and cries gave me a feelin in my crotch I’d never felt before.
“Does it hurt, Faggy? Bruises messin up your prettiness? I’ll fix your prettiness, fucker! How bout I puncture your bubble?”
I walked behind and jabbed my knife into its right cheek. Went in about an inch, but I hit the handle a few times and in went in to the hilt. Six inches! Sissyboy screamed and lurched against the ropes. My dick got so hard. From hurting the fag? Hearing the screams? I pulled it out and stabbed again. Deep again. I felt my dick strainin against my skivies. So I just kept up, stabbing over and over into the pretty bubble butt. I shot my load in my pants. Jesus, I hope Pop doesn’t notice. Must have been a dozen cuts when I stopped. And a big puddle of blood in the dirt.
POP:
Never knew my kid could be no nasty. He is LOVIN’ IT. Looks like he even creamed his pants. But it’s just a fag, so it don’t mean Oscar’s a bad kid. Think I’ll go for a while and let the boy have his fun.
“We’re out of whisky, Oscar. I’ll go drive home and get more”.
OSCAR:
Pop will be gone at least forty-five minutes. Good.
I walked up to the hangin faggot. It was cryin again, kinda softly. Looked at me and moaned, “Please. No more, please.”
“Sorry, queerboy. I’m just getting started. You’re so pretty. So enticing. ”
I looked at the bleeding bubble butt, carved and cut pumpkin. I touched it and felt my cock move. I stuck a finger into one of the cuts, then pulled it out and tasted the blood. “Mmmmm, tastes nice, faggy.” I dropped to my knees and began to lick its ass. Lickin the blood, smellin the blood, a mix of shit and blood in its crack. After a while, I turned to its split titty. It had been burned pretty good so I turned to the other one. Dug my teeth in and chewed and chewed, until suddenly a piece came off and I swallowed it. In my pants, my dick exploded again. I stood up.
“Oh, Caleb, faggot blood tastes sweet. Like eatin raw squirrel right off the bone. I’m gonna have fun with you. But we’re not goin to tell Pop. He wouldn’t understand.”
In Pop’s toolbox, I found pliers. I shoved them into its mouth and grabbed its tongue. “No, you won’t tell Pop, for sure.” Pullin on the tongue with the pliers, I cut sliced it down the middle, into two parts, like fangs on a snake. It tried to scream, but all that came out was a strange guttural sound and lots of blood splatterin on my face.
CALEB:
He walked in front of me, spit in my eye, and slowly drew the knife down my face, eye to chin, making a big “X” on both cheeks. Put it to my nose and sliced off the tip. Then what was left of my nipples disappeared. He stared into my eyes for the longest time, with pure hatred. My eyes widened with fear as I watched the knife rise to the side of my head. He put the blade on top of my ear and, with a slow, deliberate sawing motion, sliced off my ear. Then he did the other ear and dropped them on the ground along with my nose and nipples, and ground them into the blood/shit-soaked dirt with his boot. I was in physical pain, sure, but more psychologically devastated by the mutilation of my body. All this by fucking pimple-faced adolescent! A child half my age!
But he wasn’t through. He took the butt end of his knife handle and used it to hammer at my mouth. Cutting my lips and loosening some teeth. When I tried to keep my mouth clamped tight shut, he pulled a short stick from his pocket. It was one of the sticks he’d been whittling. About three inches long with sharp points on both ends. Grabbing my hair, he pulled my head back, forcing me to open my mouth. Then he wedged the stick in, the points digging into the roof and bottom, keeping my mouth wide open. The points were excruciatingly painful, but not as painful as what came next. I watched as he rummaged through his tackle box and pulled out some clippers, pruning clippers.
OSCAR:
About this time, Pop came back carrying two bottle of whisky.
“Looks like you’ve been having fun, boy. There’s almost as much blood on you as on Queer Caleb.”
I took a long deep swig of the whisky. “I’m workin, Pop.”
I knelt and grabbed its left foot. My knife sliced at the soles, making deep slashes from heel to toes. Then the other foot. The pain made Faggy try to lift its feet off the ground but it couldn’t keep them both up. When it put weight on one or the other foot, it was obvious the pain was unbearable. Blood ran into the dirt which turned it to red mud, which caused Faggot to slip, making the pain even worse.
I picked up one foot and cut off all the toes with pruning clippers. Tossed one into its open mouth and told it to swallow. Then I popped more in but kept one for myself. Pop couldn’t see me as I chewed on one of the toes. I knelt and snipped off five more from the other foot. Kept one for myself and popped the other four into its mouth. They disappeared like gum drops. Then poured whisky in to help with swallowing, but mostly to make the tongue sting and burn.
Pop was roaring with laughter and I giggled a bit as I turned my attention to the faggot’s mouth. I fetched some pliers and began to pull on its teeth. I’d clamp onto a tooth, yank back and forth, loosening it until it ripped out of the gums. I could see how painful it was, so I worked each tooth, until every tooth in the front of its mouth had been ripped out. Except one which broke. I left it there, sticking up. Faggy damn near passed out from the pain and its mouth was a bloody void all across the front. I wanted to suck on it but didn’t.
“Give me the whiskey again, Pop.”
I hit its chin with my fist, then forced its head back and poured the whisky on the torn gums. It screamed and choked as the alcohol burned and dribbled down its throat. I looked into its mouth for a while, spit into it, smiled, and ripped out the little sharp stick. The points tore its mouth as they came out. Then I sat with Pop to sip whiskey, smoke cigars, and admire my work.
“Son, you have surprised me. I’m fuckin proud of you. Didn’t know you had the imagination to do this. Or the inclination.”
“Thanks, Pop. This is the best present I ever got. And I got lots more ideas. HEAR THAT FAG?”
CALEB:
I hung limp, grateful for the respite. Still, my feet and my mouth hurt so fucking bad. I looked at Oscar, who was looking at me. No doubt, he was conjuring up new atrocities. I realized there were similarities between us. We both got off on torturing men. We both had vivid imaginations and inventive minds. Anything that could bring pain, we could imagine it. And do it. All we needed was a man’s body to work on. And we both had the talent to keep the pain going without letting him die. But the difference between us was WHY we did it. I killed for love. I loved the man, or rather his body, a beautiful, smooth, muscular body. I wanted to take the beauty and destroy it, rip it apart, reduce the man to screams and tears, leaving a horrible pulpy mess that nowhere near resembled the beauty it once was. An agonizing death. But, I would consume the beauty. Yes, literally. Eat him. I have cannibal tastes. I killed beautiful men out of love. But Oscar kills for hate. He doesn’t appreciate beauty, my beauty. He was trained to hate me even before he ever set eyes on me. He’s doing to me exactly what I did to my victims, but my victims had to know how I loved and idolized their bodies. Oscar can’t appreciate what I am giving him with my pain.
Oscar approached, cigar in hand. He touched it to my cockhead. I jumped and jerked about. Then he stopped and stood motionless, staring at my dick, frowning, thinking. Abruptly, he went off into the bushes and came back with an armful of dead branches and dry brush. He made a pile between my legs and lit it on fire. The flames shot up and licked at my cock, my nuts, my thighs, my butt. Oh, fuck! This was the worst! I jerked and flailed helplessly in my ropes as Oscar and his Pop hooted and hollered and laughed.
“Yipeee! Look at Faggy dance for us! That how you dance at the club, fag? Hey! Hey! Dancin queen! Dancin queer! O.K. Look! The flames are cooking its jewels, turning em crispy. And making the bloody ass sizzle. Yee Haw! Smell that, Oscar! Smell that! That’s the smell of a burning faggot! Don’t you love it?”
“Sure do, Pop. Smells bad at first but when you realize it’s a homo burning, then it’s the sweetest smell in the world!”
They sat and watched as I continued to jerk wildly in the ropes, shrieking, breathing fast and heavy, unable to calm my body or my mind. My whole body continued to quiver uncontrollably even after the fire burned itself out. Finally, I was able to calm a bit and the spasms stopped. My screeches turned to pitiful moans. That’s when Oscar got up, walked over, and calmly jammed his lit cigar into my left eye, grinding it into my eyeball, twisting it, pushing, melting. Through my pain and lurching, I watched him with my other eye, smiling, staring intently as he ground the cigar deeper into the sizzling orb. He was loving this moment. Finally, he stopped, looked intently, and spit a big loogie into the charred socket. It dribbled down my cheek as Oscar took a swig of whiskey and spit it into the ruined eye. It burned awful in the eye and as it ran down my slashed cheek.
“That should put the fire out. But don’t relax, Fag, we ain’t gonna cool down just yet.”
OSCAR:
I got a bicycle chain from the tackle box and swung it over my head a bit so Fag could hear the whirring sound as it swished through the air before it ripped into its side. More shrieks, as I kept up whaling at its back, sides, belly, legs, arms, and torn-up ass. New bruises. New cuts. Old cuts splatterin blood all around. I had to force myself to stop. Dropped the chain and picked up my stick. Whacked his head, face, cheeks, jaw, nose, and toothless mouth.
“Don’t pass out, Faggy. Just relax. No more for now.”
Fucker was in total misery, sobbing uncontrollably. Pop came over and began to touch its shredded skin.
“Hey, Pop. You shouldn’t touch a faggot like that, should you? Maybe catch something?”
“Nope. Nothing will happen. This here homo is too fucked up now to do anything that could turn us. Come on over and take a look at what happens when a fag goes up against God-fearing men.”
CALEB:
So both Oscar and Pop ran their hands over my torn body. Pulling at torn skin. Fingering welts. Rubbing blood. Some had dried, some still oozed, and some was running. They poked and pinched and pulled and occasionally punched. I think they were both turned on, in a way, by what had been done to me. Oscar’s hands seemed to linger from time to time, and I could see the swell in his pants. Pop stuck his finger into my burned socket.
“Gooey. Sticky. Never felt anything like that. But then, I never saw anyone put his cigar out that way. Boy, you have a talent. But don’t you think we should let the fag down, let it rest a tad?”
“Fuck, no. I’m doin nothin to make Caleb the Fag feel better. But I will be careful to keep it alive so I can try a few more things I’ve considered.”
“Like what?”
“Well, like this.”
Oscar disappeared behind me so I couldn’t see what was coming. He reached up and pulled on my hand and cut off a finger. FUCK! Then he was standing in front of me with my middle finger hanging from his lips like a cigarette. Like he was giving me the finger.
“Very good, son. Can I have one, too?”
“Yep.”
He went behind me and snipped off every one of my fingers and thumbs. I screamed again, and soon felt warm blood running down my arms. With my good eye, I saw it drizzling over my bicep into my armpit. He came around front with nine digits in his palm. Pop took one and put it between his teeth.
“We could fry these and chew on em during the NASCAR tomorrow.”
“Fuck no. I won’t eat no fag.
“Oh, you’re right. Probably taste like faggot shit.”
OSCAR:
I leaned in real close to its face cause it didn’t like my breath. “Hey, Queer Caleb. You came here with a pretty face and big muscles. Well, your pretty face is pretty fucked up. Shit. Even I’m prettier than you now. But look at your muscles. Still hard, and big. Pop says you go to a gym to make them look nice. You done well. Impressive. Bet you get lots of fag dicks by showing them off. But not no more. Little Oscar is going to take care of these big fag muscles.”
I began to slice into its pecs. Deep vertical cuts, followed by deep horizontal ones. When I finished, those pecs were like a checkerboard, square pieces of bloody flesh, jiggling slightly when touched. I jabbed the knife deep into its bicep, and then again, and did it to the other bicep. Abs, too, but only lightly so as not to do serious damage to the gut. I dropped to my knees, into the wet blood mud, slashin at calves and thighs. Stabbed them over and over.
Then slashed at its muscular, bloody back. And the whole time I was cutting Caleb, I was muttering “Faggot, Faggot, Faggot”, over and over. Picked up the bicycle chain and flayed at the back again. It was turning to mush. Blood splatterin everywhere. Its entire body was quivering in pain. Screaming. Crying. It was hurting so fucking bad!
Grabbed its hair and pulled the head back. Made a few slices like I was skinning a coon, and ripped his scalp off. I walked in front of it, wearing its hair on top of my bald head. Smiling. Screaming “FAGGOT!” in his face.
“Oscar, my boy, you look right nice with hair. Maybe you should grow yours out.
But Faggy here, it don’t look so handsome anymore.
“Here, I’ll use the phone to take its picture. Maybe a video this time.”
CALEB:
Oh, Jesus, Jesus! It hurts so fucking much! Oh! Oh! Please let me die! Kill me! Don’t let me suffer any more! Please!
Pop aimed the phone at me and walked slowly closer, filming all of me. Up and down, front and back, from every angle. He finished with a closeup of my face. He punched the buttons and held it up so I could see what they had done to me. Oscar held my head so I couldn’t turn away from the horror.
My gorgeous sculpted body was gone. In its place I saw skin bruised purple and black, sliced and ripped and shredded. A thing with no teeth and cut cheeks. A powerful back now a bloody pulpy mass of mush. Luscious cock and balls burned black. A beautiful bubble butt shredded, unrecognizable. And a bald bloody head with no ears. I was no longer a man. They had turned me into a THING! An ugly, repulsive THING! From deep inside me came a howl of despair and anger and pain and disgust and horror. A primal scream that could have been heard for miles. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHGH!
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
“Oh, Lordy, Oscar. I think it’s pissed at you.”
I think I eventually passed out, totally spent by pain and grief from what I saw in the video. I became aware that they were both near me when I felt a sharp pain in my gut. Oh, SHIT! The little prick had pushed the stick into my ass, and the point had poked through my colon and was working its way through my gut! Pushing, pushing. I could sense each time point broke through some tissue. Then I looked down to see the point poking at my belly skin from inside! Oscar struggled, banging on the end of the stick, and finally broke through. The goddam stick ran into my asshole and out my belly! The fuckers were beside themselves with joy. Laughin. Hollerin. Wiggling the point of the stick. Sliding the stick back and forth like it was fucking me.
OSCAR:
Pop was sayin, “O.K. Oscar. Now pull the stick back out. You’ll see something you’d never imagine possible! That’s good. It’s out. Now, give me the knife. I’m going to make the belly hole just a tad bigger. There. Now look. Faggy is breathing hard so watch what happens now. There! See that yellow stuff beginning to ooze out? That’s guts. Intestines. They’ll squeeze through any opening in the belly. And since the fag is breathing hard, it’s actually helping force the guts through the hole!”
I saw that. Yellowish guts were slowly sliding out the hole in the belly, sort of in rhythm to its heavy panting. God! A beautiful thing to watch, as the guts began to spill out and drop toward his dick. Oh, yeah. The dick. I sliced it off, along with its balls. Held it up to its face but it wasn’t seein much. The fag was loosing it. And with blood pouring from its empty crotch, it was about to die. But I won’t let it die on me. I will kill it first.
I stuffed the his cock and balls into its mouth and held my knife up to it’s his good eye, hopin it would see it. Then I slowly pushed it in. Thru the eyeball and into the brain to the back of the skull.
CALEB:
I was beginning to lose it. Sinking. Vision beginning to blur. Oscar was whooping and bouncing in and out of my limited field of vision. I could see him grabbing at the emerging yellow mass, pulling on it, making it slide faster. Then I felt a sharp pain somewhere below and through my blood-covered eye, I saw Oscar holding up my singed cock and balls. Felt him shove them past my bloody gums and deep into my throat, gagging me. Still wearing my scalp, he smiled as he brought his knife close to my eye, and poked a couple times before pushing it in, slowly, through my eye and into my brain until it touched the back of my skull. I was suddenly feeling an excruciating pain a hundred times worse than anything else they had done to me. Scorching. Burning. Like my head was on fire. I heard a loud screeching sound. Me? It was so loud my brain seemed to vibrate. Through the searing pain and the screech, I vaguely felt a sharp slice at my throat, and something warm pouring onto my chest.
Then nothing. Silence. Oblivion.
OSCAR:
When my knife slid into his skull, the fag let out a screech of pain like I’d never heard before. Good. That is how I wanted it to end its filthy life. So I pulled the knife our and cut its throat. Blood spurted from its neck all over me. My face and chest. I grabbed the hanging queer around its chest and shoved my face into its open throat. Just held it there, soaking in the warm red blood, letting it flow over me and into my mouth. I drank faggot blood until it stopped pumping. Then I slumped exhausted into the red mud.
POP:
I was glad to see Oscar end it with the eye poke and throat cutting. I’d had enough of the fag screaming. Now the homo was dead and we could go home. Oscar and me tossed the body in the ditch, on top of the decomposing queers.
We were silent as we drove home. Oscar just stared straight ahead, thinking I guess. Me, I was glad to have killed a faggot. We did the world a favor. And I was glad Oscar had taken to it so well. You never know with a boy that age. But maybe he took to it too well. Sometimes he’d touch that homo in a strange way. Even seemed to lick the faggot blood. I woudn’t a done that. Oh, well, probably just a generational difference. I love my boy. He killed a faggot and I’m proud of him.
OSCAR:
It’s midnight now. I sneaked out of the house and hiked over here. To the ditch. In the half-moon light, I could see Caleb sprawled on the pile of queers. Five dead queers in a pile. That’s as it should be.
I took off all my clothes and piled them neatly near a tree. Then I pulled Caleb off the pile and laid on top of him. His body was cold, and beginning to stiffen. But it felt good. My naked skin touching his. I ran my fingers into his throat, feeling the Adam’s apple, ligaments, tendons, and the like. I put my mouth over it and sucked and licked at his blood. Coagulated, still sticky. It tasted sweet. Faggot blood.
I pulled his cock and balls from his mouth and held them in my teeth as my fingers explored the wounds on his face. I slid my finger into his eye as far as I could, feeling is soft brain. Into his mouth, feeling the split tongue, rubbing torn gums. My mouth kissed his burnt eyeball, and licked his exposed ear canals. I slid down, my mouth and teeth and tongue investigated every cut, pulling on loose skin, chewing, swallowing. I moved slowly touching, tasting his chest and belly, nibbling at cold guts, inhaling their foul smell. Chewing at the open void in his crotch. All the way to his toeless feet. I moved back up and lay on top. My dick had been rock hard from the time I got here an saw Caleb on the pile. But I never came, until now, when I slid my cock into the hole in his belly. I exploded, and humped him for the longest time.
I rolled him over. My tongue and lips and hands caressed every torn inch. The bicycle chain and had lacerated his back, to his spine and thru much of his back muscles. I chewed at chunks of his ass. Then mounted and fucked him. Many loads of my thick young cum filled his butthole by the time I finally wound down. I pulled out and looked at him for a while. Thinking. Deciding. Then I pulled him up so he was on his knees, leaning forward, butt high. Put my mouth to the hole and sucked. Sucked out my cum mixed with his shit. Mixed it around my mouth with my tongue and swallowed.
I stood up. “Caleb. You were pretty this morning but no more. I cut you. Killed you. Ate you. Fucked you. Pop is right. Homos deserve to die. But I deserve to kill them.”
I will find more like him. None will choose me for sex, but I’ll choose them. I’ll hide and attack them. Bring them here. Destroy them. Make love to their broken bodies. I’ll kiss the fags. Fuck the fags. Suck off the fags. Love………… I stopped. What was I saying? Have sex. Make love. To a faggot? Pop said that would make a faggot. Oh, why not as long as I kill it. Killing them. That’s what counts.
I dragged Caleb back, tossed him on the pile again, and turned to leave. I stopped. My dick was hard again, twitching and bouncing. Oh, FUCK. Do I fuck him again on top of the pile of decomposing queers? NO! I pumped my dick and jerked off, shooting cum to Caleb’s head. I’ll find new one tomorrow. Then got my clothes and started home.
Yesterday I killed a faggot. Yeah. Cut him up and killed him. And it was fun. Everyone knows all faggots deserve to die but this one was special. He was mine. My own fag. Pop gave him to me as a gift for my fourteenth birthday. It only lasted for a few hours, but it was the best birthday gift I ever got. Pretty packaging, too. Pretty face, muscles, smooth white skin. And funny thing about him, he was a fag who killed fags himself. Yeah, he’d have sex with one and then torture it and cut it up. So that’s what I did to Caleb. That’s his name. Caleb. Very pretty fag, as I said.
Pop and I caught him dumping a dead naked body—another fag, of course—in a ditch. Beat the shit out of him, tied him, and then played with him.
CALEB:
I was dumping the dead guy in a ditch where I’d dumped several others when suddenly I got jumped. Two dudes beat me and tied my wrists behind me. A guy in his thirties, long scraggly red beard, and a skinny pubescent kid, head shaved and covered with tattoos. They both ugly as sin and they stunk like hell.
“We got the killer and its a fag!”
“How do you know he’s a fag, Pop? He looks normal.”
“Son, Don’t ever say ‘him’ or ‘he’ or ‘man’ when talking about a fag. It ain’t human. It does vile things with its own kind. And tries to entice God-fearing men into joining them. See? Look at this one. A bit prettier than most, I’ll admit. Most faggots look and act like girls, like sissies. Some, like this one, go to a gym to build muscles and try to look like look like real men. It’s just a disguise so they can entice normal folk. Pull its shirt off. See? Its chest and belly are hard and smooth. Let’s pull its pants down and check its hiney. Holy shit! Look, Oscar! It’s got a shaved pussy. I heard queers shaved their pussies, but never believed it. Whoo-ee! Nothin there but a big prick and two shiny balls. And look! No hair in his arm pits either! This one’s a 100 per cent queer for certain! Now let’s check its hiney. (Turn around, fucker!) See. Its got a bubble butt. Definitely a fag.”
“What’s a bubble-butt, Pop?”
“See how round it is? Faggots like smooth, round, hard butts. For fucking each other. Say, Oscar. You wanna fuck this one? You gotta try it someday, and today’s as good as any.”
“I don’t know, Pop. If I fuck a fag, won’t that make me one?”
“No. You can fuck a fag in the ass or let him suck your dick. That don’t make you a fag. It’s only when YOU get fucked or YOU suck a dick, that you become a fag. So, do you want to fuck this one?”
“Well, O.K. Sure.”
They shoved me over a log and the kid tries to fuck my ass, but can’t get it in. Pop says “You need grease. Don’t have none but this should do it.” Pop pulled out his knife and poked it rammed it right into my hole. Shit that hurt. Blood as lube! The kid slides his dick in my bleeding hole and begins to hump me. He leans way forward and wraps his arms around my arms, and his mouth to my neck. His panting breath stinks. Finally he cums and pulls out. Sees his dick and freaks out. “Oh, fuck, Pop! Look at my dick. It’s covered with blood and shit! Yuck!”
“Don’t worry. Faggy here will clean you up. That’s another thing. Fags like to eat shit. Sit down over there against the tree.”
Pop grabbed my hair and dragged me to the kid. Puts the knife tip to my face and says, “Clean his dick and make him feel real, real good.”
Oh, god. I crawl over and suck his cock, swallowing the filth, and almost puking. He shoots another load down my throat.
OSCAR:
Pop went to the truck to bring us our lunch, and left his knife with me.
Right away, the fag says, “Oscar. You don’t really want to hurt me. Just untie me and I’ll get out of here and never come back. Please. You’re a good kid. You don’t want to harm anyone.”
“No, I don’t want to harm anyone. But you’re not just anyone. You’re a fag, a homo, a queer. All my buddies say fags are worthless pieces of shit who don’t deserve to live on God’s good earth with quality folk like us. I mean, look at what just happened. I fucked you in the ass. You sucked my dick. You swallowed my cum. You ate your own shit. Don’t that prove it? If you don’t deserve to die, well…who does? I hate faggots! But hey! Tell me, is Pop right? Is it true you fags really like to eat shit?”
I kicked it over onto its knees. Then punched my fist into its bloody hole and scooped out a handful of shit. “Eat!” It just sat there. “Eat!” Didn’t move, so I picked up Pop’s knife and sliced its titty nipple in half. “Eat!” It was scared now and leaned forward and took the shit into its mouth. Almost puked, but kept it in. Then began to chew. Oh, Fuck, how it hated eating shit. But finally it finished. “Good, now lick my hand clean.”
I sat it back against the tree and looked it over. Surely was pretty. And those muscles and smooth white skin. Opposite of me. I’m skinny, ugly and covered with tats.
“You’re pretty.”
CALEB:
He kept staring at me. Me, naked, with my shorts down around my boots. “You’re pretty.” He put his hand on my belly. Rubbed it softly, almost caressing it. Touched my other nipple. Leaned down and kissed it. Then brought both hands up to my face and touched my cheeks softly. Began to lean in but heard Pop returning and jumped back.
Pop glanced over and said, “What’s that on its mouth? Looks like shit.”
“It is. I fed it some more shit from out of its ass.”
“Good boy. A nourishing meal for any fag. Say, it looks like you were playing with the knife while I was gone. Ain’t it fun to cut a queer? And I brought some rope to string up the fag before we have our lunch.”
They yanked me up and tied my wrists to tree branches. Ripped off my boots and shorts and spread-eagled my feet wide. I was fucking scared now, strung up totally naked under the trees with two yahoo maniacs.
Anything in the pockets, Oscar?”
“Let’s see. Drivers license. Name is Caleb McDonagh, lives on Aspen Road, 6’1”, 185, green eyes, 26 years old. There’s keys, a wallet with, let’s see, 62 dollars, a cellphone, and a membership card for Muscle Boys Gym.”
“Sound like a fag gym. Yep, our queerboy here surely works on his muscles. Gotta look pretty to do the Devil’s work.”
“So, what are we going to do with it, this here fag?” I asked.
“Well, I been thinking. When you turned fourteen last month, we couldn’t afford to get you a decent gift. So, how bout this being your gift? The faggot. All yours to play with, however you want. Just don’t tell your maw.”
“Really, Pop? Mine? Totally mine? I can do anything?”
“Yup. Anything you want. You’re a man now. I won’t interfere. And I am pleased I could give you such a high-quality fag to celebrate your birthday. Such a pretty one.”
“Yeah, Pop. It sure is pretty, but I can fix that right quick.”
My heart sank into my stomach. I had become a gift to a kid with a knife.
OSCAR:
I looked at the shit eater. Strung up, muscles and smooth white skin glistening in the noonday light. All pretty. Walked up to it and leaned close. Its eyes were wide with fear as I put my penknife to its forehead and cut. It screamed and jerked its head around. I punched it in the gut.
The sissy went limp and gasped trying to air in its lungs. “Shut Up!” I resumed and cut “FAG” into its forehead. I looked over at Pop and he nodded. Blood was running down its face onto its chest. I felt an urge to taste it but Pop was there, so I cut the chest. “HOMO” Then the belly. A big round “Q” wrapped around its belly button. It was getting its breath back and began whining and screaming some more. Pop got up, went over to the ditch and came back with some sort of putrid glop, shoved it in its mouth and tied his tee shirt as a gag.
“That should keep it quiet”
“What’d you put in its mouth?”
“Ha! One of those fag corpses over there, that’s decomposing? This is its half-rotted dick and balls. Figure this Caleb fag sucked on em once before and just might like to do it again.”
CALEB:
He fucking cut me! Cut my head and chest and belly. Blood was running down my body and puddling in the dirt. The putrid crap they stuffed in my mouth was sickening. But I had to control myself and not puke with a gag in my mouth. In spite of the hurt, I had to control myself. So I concentrated on them, sitting on slope, eating sandwiches and drinking whisky. They didn’t say much and Oscar kept looking at me in that curious perverted way of his.
OSCAR:
Me and Pop ate our lunch and drank some whiskey, but didn’t talk much. Smoked cigars. Drank whisky. I just kep lookin at the pussy boy, hangin there, helpless, scared, tryin not to cry. I wanted to take the Caleb somewhere alone. Away from Pop. To kill it, of course, but somethin else, too. What exactly? The pretty faggot hangin there, red blood on its white skin and muscles. The sliced titty, so bloody, so pretty. Want to lick the bloody titty. Fag is so pretty. Very pretty. I didn’t have any experience with pretty girls. They always ignored me. Cause I’m not pretty. Not like Faggy Caleb. Not fair.
I got up and walked over. Stood there smokin. Blowin cigar smoke in its face. It stared back.
“You don’t like me, do you? You think you’re superior to me. You think I’m just a little kid. You got money and education, and I ain’t got neither. You’re pretty and have muscles. I’m skinny and ugly. All true. But I’m superior to you for two reasons. First, you’re a faggot and I’m not. Second, you’re hanging buck naked from a tree and I got this here knife."
Cigar in my left hand, knife in my right. I was running the tip of the knife over fag’s belly, not cutting, just scratching the skin, drawing beads of blood. Up and down across those pretty belly muscles.
“Pop says you’re going to rot in Hell and suffer Lucifer’s fire for all eternity. But my Uncle Lem says there is no Hell, or Heaven for that matter. Now, I don’t know who’s right. Maybe there is and maybe there ain’t a Hell. But just in case Uncle Lem is right, I’m going to make sure you suffer the Torments of Hell right here, today, under this tree. You won’t die soon. Not til I let you. But you will surely suffer the Torments. Big Caleb. Queer Caleb. Helpless Caleb. Hell is coming for you in the person of Little Oscar. I hate you, FAGGOT!”
I pushed the cigar into the sliced titty. The blood sizzled. The tit sizzled. Fag Caleb jerked all around in the ropes. Tried to scream but the gag muffled it. Then I put the cigar to its nose. And chest. And belly. Burn marks all over that pretty skin. I leaned my face close. It pulled its head back and closed its eyes.
“Don’t close your eyes, faggot! I want you to see me. You don’t like my looks? Think I’m ugly? Well, you will look at my ugly face as I drag you into Hell. Hey, Pop. You got your Army knife, the one with the little scissors?”
Pop tossed me the knife and I pulled out the little scissors. I pulled Fag’s eyelid out and snipped it off. Then the other one. Blood ran into its eyes but not much. With no eyelids, its eyes were permanently open, seeing everything, seeing me.
CALEB:
He sat down with Pop, smoking that cigar and drinking whisky, both looking at me hanging like a carcass in a slaughter house. Which I figured might turn out to be literally true. He was fucking up my natural beauty and I feared what would be next.
Pop said, “I like this cell phone. Much better than ours and probably cost a whole lot more. Let me try taking a picture. Good. It works. I’ll show Faggy what I got. Look, Fag. Here’s you.”
I looked at the phone and saw myself hanging naked. Then I saw the words. On my forehead, “FAG”. My chest, “HOMO”. My belly, “Q”. Oh, shit. Oh, shit. I’m really done. Tears ran from my eyes—cut to be permanently open—and I lost it. I cried, first soft sobs, and finally bigger, louder, heaving sobs. I totally lost control. They were going to kill me and would take their fucking time doing it. It will hurt so bad.
OSCAR:
“See, Oscar. That’s another sign of a true faggot. When a real man is faced with bad times, he grits his teeth and suffers his fate. A queer just cries like a girl. Look at that, sobbing like your friend Melissa.”
I watched as the faggot squirmed and cried, and felt my dick grow again. Damn! Why am I feelin this way? Pop was saying something, I didn’t know what, just heard the last words. “……..ways to skin a rabbit.” I knew. Knew what to do now.
I picked up the big knife, put the tip up under its armpit, and cut vertically, down to the hip. Faggy jerked but couldn’t move much cause Pop had tightened all the ropes. I made another slice about an inch from the other cut. Then pushed the knife under the skin between the two cuts, and sliced slowly back and forth down, puling at the one-inch strip, pulling it out and away from the torso, until I got to the hip and cut it off. I laid the strip on Fag’s shoulder. I went to the other side and did the same thing, and laid that on the other shoulder.
I stood face-to-face, inches away, and hissed, “See, Fag. I’m gonna skin you live. Partial, leastwise. But not yet.” I kept breathin in its face until finally steppin back and kickin it in the nuts. Pop reached in and yanked the gag off just as the Caleb began to puke.
CALEB:
I finally calmed down. Hung limply by my wrists, my nuts hurting like never before, puke on my chin, and the foul taste in my mouth. No longer crying. Just staring back at them.
OSCAR:
The fag stared at me. What was it thinking? I kept looking at the two raw strips I”d cut from its sides, and felt my dick grow again. Damn! What’s happenin? I was confused and just kept whittling my stick.
“Hey, Pop. I heard guys talk of beating up queers. You ever do that?”
“Once, in high school. Bunch of us caught a queer out by the filling station. Beat the shit out of it and then gang banged it.”
“You want to fuck this one?”
“Hell, no. I don’t fuck queers. I’d rather fuck em up. Just as soon kill em.”
“You ever kill one?”
“Well, yeah. Once. Bout ten years ago one tried to make nice with me at the Roadhouse. We went out back. Guess it was expecting to get my dick in its mouth but it got a knife in the throat instead. Jesus, I hate those fuckers. If I ever caught a faggot on my property, I’d throw it alive into the woodchipper, and use it as fertilizer.”
This stick I’d been whittling on was about two foot long and I’d put a real sharp point on one end. I began to poke it into the Caleb. Gut, chest, back, butt, dick , balls. No damage. Just jab, jab, jab. Little drops of blood all over, to go with the burn marks. I felt my dick harden again. I swung the stick hard into the side of its face. Fuck, that felt good. For me, anyway. Queerboy didn’t like it. So I whacked at its whole body…legs, arms, ribs, back, butt, ears, nose. Its squeals and cries gave me a feelin in my crotch I’d never felt before.
“Does it hurt, Faggy? Bruises messin up your prettiness? I’ll fix your prettiness, fucker! How bout I puncture your bubble?”
I walked behind and jabbed my knife into its right cheek. Went in about an inch, but I hit the handle a few times and in went in to the hilt. Six inches! Sissyboy screamed and lurched against the ropes. My dick got so hard. From hurting the fag? Hearing the screams? I pulled it out and stabbed again. Deep again. I felt my dick strainin against my skivies. So I just kept up, stabbing over and over into the pretty bubble butt. I shot my load in my pants. Jesus, I hope Pop doesn’t notice. Must have been a dozen cuts when I stopped. And a big puddle of blood in the dirt.
POP:
Never knew my kid could be no nasty. He is LOVIN’ IT. Looks like he even creamed his pants. But it’s just a fag, so it don’t mean Oscar’s a bad kid. Think I’ll go for a while and let the boy have his fun.
“We’re out of whisky, Oscar. I’ll go drive home and get more”.
OSCAR:
Pop will be gone at least forty-five minutes. Good.
I walked up to the hangin faggot. It was cryin again, kinda softly. Looked at me and moaned, “Please. No more, please.”
“Sorry, queerboy. I’m just getting started. You’re so pretty. So enticing. ”
I looked at the bleeding bubble butt, carved and cut pumpkin. I touched it and felt my cock move. I stuck a finger into one of the cuts, then pulled it out and tasted the blood. “Mmmmm, tastes nice, faggy.” I dropped to my knees and began to lick its ass. Lickin the blood, smellin the blood, a mix of shit and blood in its crack. After a while, I turned to its split titty. It had been burned pretty good so I turned to the other one. Dug my teeth in and chewed and chewed, until suddenly a piece came off and I swallowed it. In my pants, my dick exploded again. I stood up.
“Oh, Caleb, faggot blood tastes sweet. Like eatin raw squirrel right off the bone. I’m gonna have fun with you. But we’re not goin to tell Pop. He wouldn’t understand.”
In Pop’s toolbox, I found pliers. I shoved them into its mouth and grabbed its tongue. “No, you won’t tell Pop, for sure.” Pullin on the tongue with the pliers, I cut sliced it down the middle, into two parts, like fangs on a snake. It tried to scream, but all that came out was a strange guttural sound and lots of blood splatterin on my face.
CALEB:
He walked in front of me, spit in my eye, and slowly drew the knife down my face, eye to chin, making a big “X” on both cheeks. Put it to my nose and sliced off the tip. Then what was left of my nipples disappeared. He stared into my eyes for the longest time, with pure hatred. My eyes widened with fear as I watched the knife rise to the side of my head. He put the blade on top of my ear and, with a slow, deliberate sawing motion, sliced off my ear. Then he did the other ear and dropped them on the ground along with my nose and nipples, and ground them into the blood/shit-soaked dirt with his boot. I was in physical pain, sure, but more psychologically devastated by the mutilation of my body. All this by fucking pimple-faced adolescent! A child half my age!
But he wasn’t through. He took the butt end of his knife handle and used it to hammer at my mouth. Cutting my lips and loosening some teeth. When I tried to keep my mouth clamped tight shut, he pulled a short stick from his pocket. It was one of the sticks he’d been whittling. About three inches long with sharp points on both ends. Grabbing my hair, he pulled my head back, forcing me to open my mouth. Then he wedged the stick in, the points digging into the roof and bottom, keeping my mouth wide open. The points were excruciatingly painful, but not as painful as what came next. I watched as he rummaged through his tackle box and pulled out some clippers, pruning clippers.
OSCAR:
About this time, Pop came back carrying two bottle of whisky.
“Looks like you’ve been having fun, boy. There’s almost as much blood on you as on Queer Caleb.”
I took a long deep swig of the whisky. “I’m workin, Pop.”
I knelt and grabbed its left foot. My knife sliced at the soles, making deep slashes from heel to toes. Then the other foot. The pain made Faggy try to lift its feet off the ground but it couldn’t keep them both up. When it put weight on one or the other foot, it was obvious the pain was unbearable. Blood ran into the dirt which turned it to red mud, which caused Faggot to slip, making the pain even worse.
I picked up one foot and cut off all the toes with pruning clippers. Tossed one into its open mouth and told it to swallow. Then I popped more in but kept one for myself. Pop couldn’t see me as I chewed on one of the toes. I knelt and snipped off five more from the other foot. Kept one for myself and popped the other four into its mouth. They disappeared like gum drops. Then poured whisky in to help with swallowing, but mostly to make the tongue sting and burn.
Pop was roaring with laughter and I giggled a bit as I turned my attention to the faggot’s mouth. I fetched some pliers and began to pull on its teeth. I’d clamp onto a tooth, yank back and forth, loosening it until it ripped out of the gums. I could see how painful it was, so I worked each tooth, until every tooth in the front of its mouth had been ripped out. Except one which broke. I left it there, sticking up. Faggy damn near passed out from the pain and its mouth was a bloody void all across the front. I wanted to suck on it but didn’t.
“Give me the whiskey again, Pop.”
I hit its chin with my fist, then forced its head back and poured the whisky on the torn gums. It screamed and choked as the alcohol burned and dribbled down its throat. I looked into its mouth for a while, spit into it, smiled, and ripped out the little sharp stick. The points tore its mouth as they came out. Then I sat with Pop to sip whiskey, smoke cigars, and admire my work.
“Son, you have surprised me. I’m fuckin proud of you. Didn’t know you had the imagination to do this. Or the inclination.”
“Thanks, Pop. This is the best present I ever got. And I got lots more ideas. HEAR THAT FAG?”
CALEB:
I hung limp, grateful for the respite. Still, my feet and my mouth hurt so fucking bad. I looked at Oscar, who was looking at me. No doubt, he was conjuring up new atrocities. I realized there were similarities between us. We both got off on torturing men. We both had vivid imaginations and inventive minds. Anything that could bring pain, we could imagine it. And do it. All we needed was a man’s body to work on. And we both had the talent to keep the pain going without letting him die. But the difference between us was WHY we did it. I killed for love. I loved the man, or rather his body, a beautiful, smooth, muscular body. I wanted to take the beauty and destroy it, rip it apart, reduce the man to screams and tears, leaving a horrible pulpy mess that nowhere near resembled the beauty it once was. An agonizing death. But, I would consume the beauty. Yes, literally. Eat him. I have cannibal tastes. I killed beautiful men out of love. But Oscar kills for hate. He doesn’t appreciate beauty, my beauty. He was trained to hate me even before he ever set eyes on me. He’s doing to me exactly what I did to my victims, but my victims had to know how I loved and idolized their bodies. Oscar can’t appreciate what I am giving him with my pain.
Oscar approached, cigar in hand. He touched it to my cockhead. I jumped and jerked about. Then he stopped and stood motionless, staring at my dick, frowning, thinking. Abruptly, he went off into the bushes and came back with an armful of dead branches and dry brush. He made a pile between my legs and lit it on fire. The flames shot up and licked at my cock, my nuts, my thighs, my butt. Oh, fuck! This was the worst! I jerked and flailed helplessly in my ropes as Oscar and his Pop hooted and hollered and laughed.
“Yipeee! Look at Faggy dance for us! That how you dance at the club, fag? Hey! Hey! Dancin queen! Dancin queer! O.K. Look! The flames are cooking its jewels, turning em crispy. And making the bloody ass sizzle. Yee Haw! Smell that, Oscar! Smell that! That’s the smell of a burning faggot! Don’t you love it?”
“Sure do, Pop. Smells bad at first but when you realize it’s a homo burning, then it’s the sweetest smell in the world!”
They sat and watched as I continued to jerk wildly in the ropes, shrieking, breathing fast and heavy, unable to calm my body or my mind. My whole body continued to quiver uncontrollably even after the fire burned itself out. Finally, I was able to calm a bit and the spasms stopped. My screeches turned to pitiful moans. That’s when Oscar got up, walked over, and calmly jammed his lit cigar into my left eye, grinding it into my eyeball, twisting it, pushing, melting. Through my pain and lurching, I watched him with my other eye, smiling, staring intently as he ground the cigar deeper into the sizzling orb. He was loving this moment. Finally, he stopped, looked intently, and spit a big loogie into the charred socket. It dribbled down my cheek as Oscar took a swig of whiskey and spit it into the ruined eye. It burned awful in the eye and as it ran down my slashed cheek.
“That should put the fire out. But don’t relax, Fag, we ain’t gonna cool down just yet.”
OSCAR:
I got a bicycle chain from the tackle box and swung it over my head a bit so Fag could hear the whirring sound as it swished through the air before it ripped into its side. More shrieks, as I kept up whaling at its back, sides, belly, legs, arms, and torn-up ass. New bruises. New cuts. Old cuts splatterin blood all around. I had to force myself to stop. Dropped the chain and picked up my stick. Whacked his head, face, cheeks, jaw, nose, and toothless mouth.
“Don’t pass out, Faggy. Just relax. No more for now.”
Fucker was in total misery, sobbing uncontrollably. Pop came over and began to touch its shredded skin.
“Hey, Pop. You shouldn’t touch a faggot like that, should you? Maybe catch something?”
“Nope. Nothing will happen. This here homo is too fucked up now to do anything that could turn us. Come on over and take a look at what happens when a fag goes up against God-fearing men.”
CALEB:
So both Oscar and Pop ran their hands over my torn body. Pulling at torn skin. Fingering welts. Rubbing blood. Some had dried, some still oozed, and some was running. They poked and pinched and pulled and occasionally punched. I think they were both turned on, in a way, by what had been done to me. Oscar’s hands seemed to linger from time to time, and I could see the swell in his pants. Pop stuck his finger into my burned socket.
“Gooey. Sticky. Never felt anything like that. But then, I never saw anyone put his cigar out that way. Boy, you have a talent. But don’t you think we should let the fag down, let it rest a tad?”
“Fuck, no. I’m doin nothin to make Caleb the Fag feel better. But I will be careful to keep it alive so I can try a few more things I’ve considered.”
“Like what?”
“Well, like this.”
Oscar disappeared behind me so I couldn’t see what was coming. He reached up and pulled on my hand and cut off a finger. FUCK! Then he was standing in front of me with my middle finger hanging from his lips like a cigarette. Like he was giving me the finger.
“Very good, son. Can I have one, too?”
“Yep.”
He went behind me and snipped off every one of my fingers and thumbs. I screamed again, and soon felt warm blood running down my arms. With my good eye, I saw it drizzling over my bicep into my armpit. He came around front with nine digits in his palm. Pop took one and put it between his teeth.
“We could fry these and chew on em during the NASCAR tomorrow.”
“Fuck no. I won’t eat no fag.
“Oh, you’re right. Probably taste like faggot shit.”
OSCAR:
I leaned in real close to its face cause it didn’t like my breath. “Hey, Queer Caleb. You came here with a pretty face and big muscles. Well, your pretty face is pretty fucked up. Shit. Even I’m prettier than you now. But look at your muscles. Still hard, and big. Pop says you go to a gym to make them look nice. You done well. Impressive. Bet you get lots of fag dicks by showing them off. But not no more. Little Oscar is going to take care of these big fag muscles.”
I began to slice into its pecs. Deep vertical cuts, followed by deep horizontal ones. When I finished, those pecs were like a checkerboard, square pieces of bloody flesh, jiggling slightly when touched. I jabbed the knife deep into its bicep, and then again, and did it to the other bicep. Abs, too, but only lightly so as not to do serious damage to the gut. I dropped to my knees, into the wet blood mud, slashin at calves and thighs. Stabbed them over and over.
Then slashed at its muscular, bloody back. And the whole time I was cutting Caleb, I was muttering “Faggot, Faggot, Faggot”, over and over. Picked up the bicycle chain and flayed at the back again. It was turning to mush. Blood splatterin everywhere. Its entire body was quivering in pain. Screaming. Crying. It was hurting so fucking bad!
Grabbed its hair and pulled the head back. Made a few slices like I was skinning a coon, and ripped his scalp off. I walked in front of it, wearing its hair on top of my bald head. Smiling. Screaming “FAGGOT!” in his face.
“Oscar, my boy, you look right nice with hair. Maybe you should grow yours out.
But Faggy here, it don’t look so handsome anymore.
“Here, I’ll use the phone to take its picture. Maybe a video this time.”
CALEB:
Oh, Jesus, Jesus! It hurts so fucking much! Oh! Oh! Please let me die! Kill me! Don’t let me suffer any more! Please!
Pop aimed the phone at me and walked slowly closer, filming all of me. Up and down, front and back, from every angle. He finished with a closeup of my face. He punched the buttons and held it up so I could see what they had done to me. Oscar held my head so I couldn’t turn away from the horror.
My gorgeous sculpted body was gone. In its place I saw skin bruised purple and black, sliced and ripped and shredded. A thing with no teeth and cut cheeks. A powerful back now a bloody pulpy mass of mush. Luscious cock and balls burned black. A beautiful bubble butt shredded, unrecognizable. And a bald bloody head with no ears. I was no longer a man. They had turned me into a THING! An ugly, repulsive THING! From deep inside me came a howl of despair and anger and pain and disgust and horror. A primal scream that could have been heard for miles. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHGH!
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
“Oh, Lordy, Oscar. I think it’s pissed at you.”
I think I eventually passed out, totally spent by pain and grief from what I saw in the video. I became aware that they were both near me when I felt a sharp pain in my gut. Oh, SHIT! The little prick had pushed the stick into my ass, and the point had poked through my colon and was working its way through my gut! Pushing, pushing. I could sense each time point broke through some tissue. Then I looked down to see the point poking at my belly skin from inside! Oscar struggled, banging on the end of the stick, and finally broke through. The goddam stick ran into my asshole and out my belly! The fuckers were beside themselves with joy. Laughin. Hollerin. Wiggling the point of the stick. Sliding the stick back and forth like it was fucking me.
OSCAR:
Pop was sayin, “O.K. Oscar. Now pull the stick back out. You’ll see something you’d never imagine possible! That’s good. It’s out. Now, give me the knife. I’m going to make the belly hole just a tad bigger. There. Now look. Faggy is breathing hard so watch what happens now. There! See that yellow stuff beginning to ooze out? That’s guts. Intestines. They’ll squeeze through any opening in the belly. And since the fag is breathing hard, it’s actually helping force the guts through the hole!”
I saw that. Yellowish guts were slowly sliding out the hole in the belly, sort of in rhythm to its heavy panting. God! A beautiful thing to watch, as the guts began to spill out and drop toward his dick. Oh, yeah. The dick. I sliced it off, along with its balls. Held it up to its face but it wasn’t seein much. The fag was loosing it. And with blood pouring from its empty crotch, it was about to die. But I won’t let it die on me. I will kill it first.
I stuffed the his cock and balls into its mouth and held my knife up to it’s his good eye, hopin it would see it. Then I slowly pushed it in. Thru the eyeball and into the brain to the back of the skull.
CALEB:
I was beginning to lose it. Sinking. Vision beginning to blur. Oscar was whooping and bouncing in and out of my limited field of vision. I could see him grabbing at the emerging yellow mass, pulling on it, making it slide faster. Then I felt a sharp pain somewhere below and through my blood-covered eye, I saw Oscar holding up my singed cock and balls. Felt him shove them past my bloody gums and deep into my throat, gagging me. Still wearing my scalp, he smiled as he brought his knife close to my eye, and poked a couple times before pushing it in, slowly, through my eye and into my brain until it touched the back of my skull. I was suddenly feeling an excruciating pain a hundred times worse than anything else they had done to me. Scorching. Burning. Like my head was on fire. I heard a loud screeching sound. Me? It was so loud my brain seemed to vibrate. Through the searing pain and the screech, I vaguely felt a sharp slice at my throat, and something warm pouring onto my chest.
Then nothing. Silence. Oblivion.
OSCAR:
When my knife slid into his skull, the fag let out a screech of pain like I’d never heard before. Good. That is how I wanted it to end its filthy life. So I pulled the knife our and cut its throat. Blood spurted from its neck all over me. My face and chest. I grabbed the hanging queer around its chest and shoved my face into its open throat. Just held it there, soaking in the warm red blood, letting it flow over me and into my mouth. I drank faggot blood until it stopped pumping. Then I slumped exhausted into the red mud.
POP:
I was glad to see Oscar end it with the eye poke and throat cutting. I’d had enough of the fag screaming. Now the homo was dead and we could go home. Oscar and me tossed the body in the ditch, on top of the decomposing queers.
We were silent as we drove home. Oscar just stared straight ahead, thinking I guess. Me, I was glad to have killed a faggot. We did the world a favor. And I was glad Oscar had taken to it so well. You never know with a boy that age. But maybe he took to it too well. Sometimes he’d touch that homo in a strange way. Even seemed to lick the faggot blood. I woudn’t a done that. Oh, well, probably just a generational difference. I love my boy. He killed a faggot and I’m proud of him.
OSCAR:
It’s midnight now. I sneaked out of the house and hiked over here. To the ditch. In the half-moon light, I could see Caleb sprawled on the pile of queers. Five dead queers in a pile. That’s as it should be.
I took off all my clothes and piled them neatly near a tree. Then I pulled Caleb off the pile and laid on top of him. His body was cold, and beginning to stiffen. But it felt good. My naked skin touching his. I ran my fingers into his throat, feeling the Adam’s apple, ligaments, tendons, and the like. I put my mouth over it and sucked and licked at his blood. Coagulated, still sticky. It tasted sweet. Faggot blood.
I pulled his cock and balls from his mouth and held them in my teeth as my fingers explored the wounds on his face. I slid my finger into his eye as far as I could, feeling is soft brain. Into his mouth, feeling the split tongue, rubbing torn gums. My mouth kissed his burnt eyeball, and licked his exposed ear canals. I slid down, my mouth and teeth and tongue investigated every cut, pulling on loose skin, chewing, swallowing. I moved slowly touching, tasting his chest and belly, nibbling at cold guts, inhaling their foul smell. Chewing at the open void in his crotch. All the way to his toeless feet. I moved back up and lay on top. My dick had been rock hard from the time I got here an saw Caleb on the pile. But I never came, until now, when I slid my cock into the hole in his belly. I exploded, and humped him for the longest time.
I rolled him over. My tongue and lips and hands caressed every torn inch. The bicycle chain and had lacerated his back, to his spine and thru much of his back muscles. I chewed at chunks of his ass. Then mounted and fucked him. Many loads of my thick young cum filled his butthole by the time I finally wound down. I pulled out and looked at him for a while. Thinking. Deciding. Then I pulled him up so he was on his knees, leaning forward, butt high. Put my mouth to the hole and sucked. Sucked out my cum mixed with his shit. Mixed it around my mouth with my tongue and swallowed.
I stood up. “Caleb. You were pretty this morning but no more. I cut you. Killed you. Ate you. Fucked you. Pop is right. Homos deserve to die. But I deserve to kill them.”
I will find more like him. None will choose me for sex, but I’ll choose them. I’ll hide and attack them. Bring them here. Destroy them. Make love to their broken bodies. I’ll kiss the fags. Fuck the fags. Suck off the fags. Love………… I stopped. What was I saying? Have sex. Make love. To a faggot? Pop said that would make a faggot. Oh, why not as long as I kill it. Killing them. That’s what counts.
I dragged Caleb back, tossed him on the pile again, and turned to leave. I stopped. My dick was hard again, twitching and bouncing. Oh, FUCK. Do I fuck him again on top of the pile of decomposing queers? NO! I pumped my dick and jerked off, shooting cum to Caleb’s head. I’ll find new one tomorrow. Then got my clothes and started home.
