SlasherVictim
Forum Regular
- Joined
- Aug 13, 2016
- Messages
- 38
- Location
- North America
“I'm just saying,“ Kasey says. “That I can kind of see where they're coming from. I mean, the physics are sound. A large enough disk would behave the same way as a sphere. That much has been proven. And it would make sense if the earth was surrounded by ice. I mean, we haven't even explored all of the Arctic circle. Why is that?”
You try to keep from laughing as you watch the pure rage well up on Vlad’s face. “Are you seriously trying to convince me that the earth is flat?” He asked. “Like, really. You're not fucking with me. You're actually siding with those fucking idiots?”
“Hey, hey, easy. I'm just saying I can understand where they're coming from, you know? The government is keeping a lot of things from us. Them trying to hide a flat Earth isn't too far-fetched. Ever since the cold war we've been pretending like we've made it into space and can prove all of this stuff, y’know? But a lot of those 'pictures’ people use as evidence can be easily debunked. They're fake. Have been since the launch of Sputnik.”
Vlad's can barely contain his rage, and you're pretty sure you can see a vein popping just to the side of his temple. He takes a deep breath and runs his fingers through his fluffy brown hair, brushing it out of his eye. Oh. This was going to be fun. “Go on, man,” you say. “I can tell you have something good. Blow this idiot out of the water.”
The floodgates burst. Vlad's mouth opens, and you're almost sure you actually hear facts mixed in with the constant stream of insults.
“Alright, you fucking half-witted twat. I'm going to tell you this once, alright? Forget the sun and moon. Forget the coriolis effect, if you even know what that is. Forget fucking gravity. I have a feeling I know what you're going to say to those, anyway. 'oh, but those are just all ways of the government brainwashing you and turning you into mindless sheep and keeping you from toking it up and being a useless sack of shit’. No. Something's huge. Have you heard of something called the fucking Foucault Pendulum?” Kasey’s face dropped. Either he hadn't, or he knew exactly what was coming. Either way, he didn't answer.
“No? No surprise there. The nearest one is at the local college. Somewhere I'm sure I wouldn't catch you dead near.” He looks at you. “You know what it is, right?” You nod.
“That's the experiment that lets us actually see the earth's rotation, right? With a pendulum?”
“Right. See, he knows his shit. So the Foucault Pendulum is a basic device --a pendulum, if you weren't fucking listening closely enough-- that demonstrates the rotation of the earth along its axis. It's ovoid axis. What it is is just a large pendulum is suspended on a rotating axis --generally gyroscopic, but not always--, allowing it to stay in place and swing on a continual plane. An easily replicable experiment, really. Something a grade schooler could set up. Anyway, so the earth rotates, and as it does, the ground beneath the rocking pendulum moves. Some places use dominos, some use sand, but no matter what you use to actually observe it you can actually see what looks like the pendulum moving so slowly you almost can't even tell with the naked eye. But how can it be moving, you wonder?” He snorts, and you smile. Damn. He's really tearing into it this time.
“Well, not you. You probably just assume it's the government hiding something from you. Trying to take your hard earned weed money. But no matter what, it knocks each of the dominoes over, one by one, all while remaining in the same spot. It leaves varying marks in the sand in a circular pattern. All while in the same spot. Now, if the earth was flat, even if it rotated, it wouldn't stay that consistent. It'd cause the pendulum to rock in some weird, ovoid, probably somewhat difficult to predict pattern, I'd hypothesize. Either way, the physics of a disc work differently than the physics of a sphere. And all of our physics point to sphere. Not a fucking disk.” The three of you all fall silent for a moment as Kasey tries to put together some kind of response.
“Well,” he says. “To be fair i only said I understood. I never said I agreed. Besides, there are entire research papers dedicated to it. Look it up. It makes sense. But it's not my fault both of you are brainwashed sheep.”
“Hah. Now he's getting defensive, huh? Now that he doesn't have a leg to stand on? Christ, man. Get your shit straight already. I'm the sheep? You're literally the one arguing a worldview that has been obsolete since the 14th century. You're the one who thinks fucking weed not only treats diseases, but cures them. You, the almighty shepherd, have legitimately tried to convince me that the moon landing was faked to get back at the Soviets. Come the fuck off of it you half-witted shit pile.”
“Hey, no need for insults, man.” Kacey says. You decide not to point out that he was flinging insults too.
“You know what?” Vlad says. “What the fuck ever. I have shit to do.” He looks at you. “Come on.” He says. “We have to go do that thing.” You're pretty sure that he actually doesn't have anything in mind, and that he's just trying to find an excuse to bail, so you go along with it. You look down at your watch. Huh. Six.
“Shit,” you say. “Yeah, I didn't realise it was getting that late.” You stand up and take Vlad's side. “Later, dumbass.” You say, waving to Kasey.
“Maybe do some fucking research while we're gone, huh?” Vlad says. “Some actual research. Research papers, encyclopedias, maybe pick up an atlas. Not any of those retarded, yellow, far left, bite-sized articles from Cracked you like to quote.”
You laugh, finally finding your shot to join in. “To be fair, that’s an exaggeration.” You say. “I don't think I've actually ever heard him quote a Cracked article. Maybe CollegeHumor or Mashable once or twice, but not Cracked. Cracked is a little too sophisticated, probably.”
You glance back over at Kasey, who, at this point, is seething. He's not really responding. Just kind of sitting there, wide eyed, staring at the two of you. Frankly it's a little creepy. Vlad turns and walks out, and you follow.
“Honestly,” Vlad says over his shoulder. “I wasn't really lying. There's this place I want to check out before it gets too dark. It's a couple dozen miles away, so I couldn't really blame you if you wouldn't want to come, but it's supposed to be pretty fucking cool.”
You don't really have anything else to do, and it's definitely piqued your curiosity, so you agree. “Yeah, sure. Where is it?” you ask.
‘Nowhere particularly interesting unless you like deep wilderness exploring. It's this old abandoned camp. Nobody really gave me a reason why it was shut down, but it was apparently condemned a couple of decades ago or some shit. Just a bunch of reclaimed buildings now.”
On one hand it sounds like there's just enough to there for it not to be too boring. On the other, you can imagine it being just hot enough, and the drive being just long enough, to make the whole trip suck pretty bad. Eh. You decide. Fuck it.
***
It took about an hour for the two of you to actually make it to the abandoned campground, and you were actually feeling a little motion sick from the bumpy, winding dirt roads that have fallen into disrepair for lack of use.
“For some reason,” Vlad said as he pulled into a small dirt driveway.. “I was actually thinking of inviting that dipshit, but then he starts in about his facts and opinions about how we don’t really know how the world works, and we’re being kept in the dark for some reason or another.” He sighs and leans back, shutting the car off. “Remind me again why we hang out with that fuck?”
“Well,” you say. “I guess he’s fun to laugh at? I mean sometimes he’s not completely terrible, right?”
“I don’t know. I guess. Anyway, sorry to tell you this-” he leans forward on the steering wheel and points up an only somewhat worn path that leads up the hill in front of you. “-but the pathway up through here is pretty much completely grown over. We’re going to have to walk the rest of the way. I don’t think it’s too far, though. A quarter mile up and around that hill, maybe? We’ll be there in, like, ten minutes.”
You shrug. It could be worse. At least you’d get to hang out. That in its own would be kind of cool. “Alright,” you say. “Any game plan once we get there?”
“Eh. Not really. Just doing a little exploring. The cabins are on either side of the camp, I think, and it’d be pretty cool to see if the supply house has been cleared out or not. It probably has been, but it couldn’t hurt to check.” He leans over the seat and grabs a small backpack before hopping out of the car. You follow suit.
“What's that?” You ask, nodding toward the pack. He smirks.
“Just some basic supplies,” he says. “Just in case. Standard stuff. A little water. A flashlight. Some paracord. Bolt cutters. A knife.”
“Wait, bolt cutters? Why?” He cocks his eyebrow.
“Just in case the place is locked up. Hard to explore it if we can't get in.” Shit. You didn't realize you might be breaking in somewhere. This actually just got a bit more exciting.
“Alright. Lead the way.”
The hill turns out much steeper than it looks, and by the time the two of you make it to the top your breathing has picked up, waffling just between normal and hyperventilating. His estimation was right, though. The walk ended up taking about ten minutes.
You come to a large, overhanging sign arched over what was once the camp entrance. “CAMP DOGWOOD” was painted in chipped, red letters just beside a cartoonish picture of a golden retriever wearing an ascot and a stereotypical ranger's hat. Just ahead is a building that you think is pretty fair to assume is the reception building, and at in-between the building and the title sign is a small, arrowed signpost. Vlad is the first to move, and he walks up to the signpost. You follow close behind.
The signpost has four different arrows. One points ahead, toward the building. Like you expected, it's labeled “reception”. One points to the left, down a narrow path that winds around and behind the reception building. It's labeled “infirmary.” One seems to point straight to the left and down another path, apparently leading to “cabins”. Finally, the last one points right toward “camp activities.”
“Well, while we're here we might as well check out the reception area. Might find some keys or something, in case other shit is locked up.”
You follow him to the building. The door is ajar, and Vlad looks back at you over his shoulder.
“Shit,” he says. “I was half hoping we'd have to bust in, but it looks like someone's already done it for us.” Upon examination of the slightly ajar door, you notice what he means. The window is completely shattered inward.
“Well,” you say. “At least it makes it easier on us?”
“Yeah. I guess.” The two of you walk in and you're immediately bombarded by clouds of dust. Vlad coughs and covers his mouth and nose with his shirt. You do the same, barely containing a sneeze.
“Some animal must have been in here recently or something,” he says through sporadic coughs. “Damn raccoon or something kicking up the dust. Give me a second.” He drops to one knee and rummages through his pack for a moment before finally pulling out a flashlight. “Here. Take this. Should make it easier to scout the place.”
You grab it and he pulls out a second one, switching it off and on a couple of times. “Let's split up for a sec. I'll check around here, you check around the back. Probably some offices or something.” You nod and flick your flashlight on. He walks by you and over to the reception desk, looking around just behind it. You head back to the back, where you find two doors on either side of the building. You can see the faint silhouette of trees just through the nearly opaque, dust-caked window of the left door, so you decide to take the one on the right.
Huh. Weird. You think. It's wide open, and just as disturbed as the room before it. You can make out clouds of dust through the beam of your flashlight floating around. You cover your face with your shirt again and step inside.
Vlad was right. It looks like it was the camp scoutmaster’s office or whatever the hell it's called. The floor is lined with papers and folders, and a trophy buck head that once sat proud on the wall behind the desk is now overturned on the ground. You walk over to the desk and crouch down, looking around it. As if the papers on the floor had revolted some years ago, tired of their lives on uniform on the desk, the surface is empty. That is, besides a dusty nameplate that you can barely read. Something Skinner. Just what you’d want your camp leader to be named.
You look down to the front of the desk. A single drawer just below the surface is slightly open, and you open it the rest of the way. Inside you see an old, empty pill bottle, some more papers and pamphlets, and. . . Keys? At least if you were there a little while ago you would have seen keys, if the dust was any indication. Now, though, you only see a key-ring-like pattern set into the grime-caked drawer. Right beside it is another pseudo bas relief where what looks like a somewhat sizable box used to be.
Well, you think. That was a bust. “Any luck?” You call out to Vlad. You hear some shuffling in the other room and the beam of light sweeps across the wall. Vlad steps into the doorway.
“Not shit,” he says. “Place has been ransacked way before us. You?”
“Same. Get this, though. The camp master? His name was fucking Skinner.” Vlad snorts.
“Subtle,” he says. “Anyway, let's get back outside. Doesn't seem like there's anything interesting in here. Activities next? Maybe there's a supply shed.”
“Yeah. Sure. Sounds good to me.”
Apparently the “activities” were pretty limited, because it doesn't take the two if you too long to actually reach the course. The camp must not have been well funded, because it’s pretty small, too. You can see an archery range somewhat in the distance, there’s a large gazebo a little way down the path, a shed the same distance in the opposite direction, and another signpost. Vlad nods to the shed.
“Let’s go check this shit out,” he says. “Half the reason I came here. Hoping for some archery shit. Even if it is old, it can be refurbished.”
So it wasn’t just exploring on his mind. It was looting, too. Well, you realize. What could you expect if he brought a pair of damn bolt cutters along? He breaks off into a brisk walk toward the shed that’s actually kind of difficult to keep up with. You have a feeling that it was more than half the reason. Oh well.
“What the fuck?” Vlad says. He crouches down and looks at something. “Someone’s been here. Recently, from the look of it. The damn thing is unlocked.” You feel your blood chill in your veins. Your heart drops like a brick of lead and you suddenly feel way more uncomfortable than you did before.
“Do you think we should leave?” you ask. “I mean, what if it’s a park ranger or something? Couldn’t we get into some pretty big trouble?”
“Eh. It probably isn’t. Whoever did this is probably long gone, but the place is probably empty by now.” He reaches up and forces the door forward. One of the hinges is broken, and it grinds against the concrete floor inside. After some considerable effort, though, it opens. Both of you flick your flashlights on and start sweeping the single room shed. Several archery targets are lined up on the right wall, and four oars hang on hooks just above them. Dozens of feet of rope lay coiled in the corner next to a box of carabiners. You suppose there’s a rock wall somewhere around here. On the right wall, though, several quivers filled with arrows sit next to empty hooks.
Vlad groans. “Fucking hell,” he says. “I knew it as soon as I saw the door. Oars. Some targets. Some rotten ropes, and useless target arrows. I seriously thought there’d be more, man. Pointless. This entire damn trip was just rendered pointless.” He kicks one of the quivers across the shed and arrows scatter everywhere. You didn’t realize that he’d been this dead set on looting old bows. Both of you fall silent for a moment, but you speak up.
“Well,” you say. “It doesn’t have to be a pointless trip...” He looks at you and raises his eyebrow.
“What do you mean? The whole place has been cleaned out. There wasn’t anything in the front office. Nothing here in the supply shed. I doubt there’s anything in the infirmary or cabins, either. Nothing interesting to find or do in the whole camp, unless you actually want to camp or something.”
“I mean, there isn’t nothing. Really. When do you think the next time we’ll find a chance to be this alone?” Your heart is racing, beating like the hooves of a first place racehorse. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. You gulp as a look of realization melts over his face. You take a couple of steps towards him. “There is… something we could do,” you say.
You walk up to him, avoiding eye contact, and reach down in between his legs. You’ve never done anything like this before, but fuck if you hadn’t thought about it. You lean in, just inches away from his face as you lightly brush your fingertips along the inside of his leg. You’d both joked a lot about what you’d do in a situation like this, but you never actually thought it would happen.
You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and run your hand up his thigh. It almost immediately meets resistance as it brushes against his already erect cock. Relief washes over you as you realize you’re not the only one who’s been anticipating this.
“What are you doing?” he asks. You pause for a moment and look up. The look on his face says that he knows exactly what you’re doing. And that he doesn’t want you to stop. You grab tightly onto the shaft and lightly rub it through his jeans, feeling your own pants growing tighter as your dick hardens. Slowly, you drop to your knees.
You lift your hands to his belt and fumble with it a bit before finally getting it undone. You look up at him, and he leans against the wall and nods. You gulp, reach into the hole of his boxers, and, with some difficult maneuvering, pull his rock-solid dick out. The thought of it being easier if you’d just have pulled them down crosses your mind way too late as his full cock presents itself before you.
You lean forward, stick your tongue out of your mouth, grab onto his dick, and lightly lick up the shaft. You feel his knees tense up and almost give out, but he stays standing. He lets out a muffled partial-moan through his nose as your tongue makes it to the head, flicking the tip of it. Finally, you take it into your mouth and gently suck on it.
You run your fingers along the shaft, your saliva making it easier to pump as you rock your head along it, and you feel his fingers drop to your head and entangle in your hair.
His half-moans graduate into full-blown panting as the as you bob your head back and forth. Thick dollops of precum slide out of the the head of his dick, startling you. You’re not really sure what you expected, but it caught you off guard. You lap at the head with your tongue, and instead of stopping, you speed up.
You moan yourself around your stuffed mouth, and can’t help but touch yourself through your pants. His dick twitches in your mouth, and he shudders as your hot breath brushes against his balls when you take him in deeper.
His moans crescendo as you give his shaft full licks up and down, wrapping around various parts of his cock and squeezing them. You grab onto one of his thighs with your hand, balancing yourself as you pump his dick harder. You finally let go, gagging as you bottom out at the back of your throat. You hold it for a moment and rub yourself before finally needing to breathe.
You break apart from his dick for a quick breath, making sure not to stop jerking him off. You take the chance to get a good look at him in full bliss. One of his hands rests on the back of your head, absently pushing you forward, and the other is digging into the back of the shed. His head is thrown back and his eyes are closed, and he his moans are almost perfectly timed with the gyrating of his hips rocking against your hand.
You lean back forward and take his cock back into your mouth, reach down, and lightly grab his balls.
“O-Oh god,” he barely manages to say through moans. “I think I’m going to-” You don’t pause. You want it. God, in that moment you’re not even sure what else you could want. You pump his shaft harder and twist your tongue around his head like it’s a popsicle. His grip on your hair tightens as he starts involuntarily face-fucking you.
Your eyes roll back in your head and everything around you seems to disappear. You gasp for air, but don’t stop stroking him. Finally, his entire body stiffens and he shoves his cock as deep into your mouth as it will go. Your grip on his thigh tightens as he shoots a thick, hot load right down your throat. You’re positive you came, too, just through rubbing yourself through your jeans. You swallow, just before falling backwards off your knees and onto your ass, fighting for air. All you hear for a moment are both of your heavy breathing. Finally, Vlad breaks the silence.
“What the hell?” he says. “Is that fucking-” He stops talking, and slumps to the ground in front of you.
He screams in pain, clutching at his shoulder, and you scramble backward, not stopping until you bump into the archery targets. Sticking straight through his collarbone is a medium sized, dusty fiberglass arrow with slightly tattered rubber fletching. The same kind of arrow that you see scattered around the floor.
Vlad reaches up and grabs the shaft of the arrow, but hisses and pulls his hand away before managing to free it. You hear someone laugh just outside the shed.
“Haha, holy shit, I guess target arrows aren’t as useless as you said they were, huh?” he says. You recognize the voice even before he steps in through the doorway. Kasey. “Did I actually just manage to hit you before you saw me? And while you were getting your cock sucked by that fag over there, too. Never fucking expected that. This day just keeps getting better.”
“Kasey?” you say. “What the-”
“Ah. Not yet. I didn’t say you could talk, did I?” He reaches into the waistband of his pants and pulls out a rusted black pistol, aiming it at you. You raise your hands like they would actually protect you. “Amazing what you can find in places like this, isn’t it? This right here? Hanging out right in the scoutmaster’s desk drawer beside his keys. Think it still works?”
“Kasey, come on,” you say. “Don’t do this, man.”
“Oh. Don’t do this. I think I’ve said the same thing to you guys, haven’t I? ‘Can we just drop it?’ ‘could we just not right now?’ ‘Please, I don’t really want to talk about it.’ And how much good did that do me?” You open your mouth, but before you have a chance to say anything, he yells. “I said how much fucking good did that to me, huh?!”
He lets out a mirthless laugh. “You think I don’t fucking hear how you talk about me behind my back, you fucking asshole? “Kasey the shitpile.” “Kasey the guy who always smells like shit.” “Kasey the guy who would almost be okay if he wasn’t a fucking idiot.” Please. Fucking please, man. I gave you a shot, and you fucking blew it. And then?” He laughs. “Then you blew him, apparently. Seriously, man. What’s up with that?”
“Fuck you,” Vlad managed through clenched teeth. He tried to stand up, but Kasey pointed the gun towards him instead.
“Are you serious? Now you’re going to try to play the hero? Against the victim? Makes perfect god damn sense, doesn’t it? Fuck me? No, man. Fuck YOU.”
You swallow hard, made all the more difficult by the lingering cum residue in the back of your throat. “Kasey, man, come on. I never meant any of it. We used to be friends, remember? We used to be cool. Back when nobody else would even talk to you, I was there. We could have that again. Just don’t do this, okay?”
He chuckles, biting his lip and shaking his head. “You know what I always hated about you, man? It wasn’t even how shitty, or arrogant, or even how fucking self-righteous you are. It’s how god damned fickle and two faced you are. You want me to let you go? You want me to believe we can ever be friends again?” You’re not sure how to respond, so you just nod. “Alright then. Good. Prove it.” Vlad goes to stand up again and Kasey points the gun back at him. “Sit the fuck down.”
“How?” you say. “How can I prove it?” He laughs.
“Well,” he says. “That’s easy.” He crouches down and slides the gun across the floor. After standing back up, he pulls an old, flimsy looking target bow off of his shoulder, quickly knocking one of the target arrows from a quiver at his side. He draws it and aims it at Vlad. “Just shoot him. H’m? Shoot him, and you get to live. I can trust you won't’ do anything to fuck me over again, because I know your secret as a murderer. That’s something we’ll have together. Something you can’t be two-faced about.”
You look down at the gun. Your mind races. There’s no way you could kill Vlad. The two of you had gotten really close lately and, if today was any indication, are probably going to get closer still. You lift the gun, aiming it at Vlad. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying to steady your hand. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. Your open your eyes and notice your vision has blurred. Tears well up in your eyes and freely run down the sides of your cheeks.
In one quick motion, you swing the pistol around, aiming it right at Kasey, and pull the trigger. Thunk. A gale of compressed air fires out of the barrel at an unamused, but uninjured, Kasey. “Yeah. See. That’s what I thought. Hah, I’m surprised that thing even fired. It’s rusted all to hell. Truth be told, I was hoping I’d get to use it on one of you. I’ve never shot a tranquilizer dart before, and it could have been kind of neat seeing how fast it’d take someone down, but all the darts were broken.”
Your stomach sinks, and your hands tremble. The gun falls to the ground, and you try to scoot further backward as he aims an arrow at you. He draws, and releases. At almost point blank, the arrow flies true right into your stomach.
You double over in pain, screaming as you feel it slide through your shirt and into your stomach. You’ve never felt such a fierce pain in your life. What you’ve heard people describe as a “Stabbing pain” doesn’t even remotely compare to the arrow now embedded in your stomach. Kasey walks up to you and grabs onto the arrow, twisting it around.
“Well,” he says. “It was worth a shot. But I guess I could have expected you to fuck it up, huh? Not really any surprise there. You are a piece of fucking shit.” Something about his grin chills you to the bone. “Actually,” he says. “That gives me an idea.” He walks to the entrance of the shed and picks Vlad’s bag up, digging into it. “Ah,” he says. “Here we go. I knew Vladdy would have some retarded bullshit like this.” He pulls out the paracord and unravels it. Then, paracord dragging the ground, he pulls both you and Vlad together, back to back and ties the cord around you. He doesn’t even bother removing the arrow in your stomach and ties the paracord around it, leaving it sticking out. ”You two stay right here, mkay? I’ll be right back.”
Neither you or Vlad say anything and it feels like an eternity before Kasey finally makes it back. “Alright,” Kasey says. “This is going to be a real pain in the ass, but it’ll totally be worth it.” He grabs onto the rope wrapped around you, crouches down, and lifts, trying to force both of you to your feet. “Come on, guys. Let’s go. I really don’t feel like outright torturing you right now, and at this rate that’s what you’re going to make me do. So please, just make it easy on all of us and come on.”
“It’s okay,” Vlad says. His voice is really quiet and it sounds like he’s having trouble speaking. “Let’s just listen to him. He’s too big of a chickenshit to actually do anything, anyway.”
“Yeah,” Kasey says. “Listen to him. I probably don’t even have the stomach to actually kill you when the time comes.” Him agreeing with Vlad actually manages to make you feel worse, but you don’t like the sound of torture either. You muster up all your strength and stand alongside Vlad and Kasey leads you back across the campground, past the reception building, and toward the cabins.
“Where the hell are we going?” Vlad asks. He sounds like he’s getting at least some of his strength back already.
“Oh, you’ll see,” Kasey replies. “We’re almost there.” He leads you past one of the cabins a good deal away from it on the outskirts of the woods to a solid looking wooden hut. “Here we go.” he says. I’ve already prepared everything, too. That’s what took me so long.” He steps up behind the two of you and pushes you towards it.
“What the hell is this?” you ask. “Is that-” you get a better look at it as you step up to it. “Is this a fucking outhouse?”
“Ding ding ding, guess he’s not as big of a retarded sheep as he likes to act. Good thing I can actually hear you now that you’re not sucking Vlad’s fucking cock like you always do. And while I meant that figuratively, it’s pretty damn great that it could be literal, too. Now hurry up. Move it.” He pushes you inside, and as you step in you see that the wooden top of the toilet part of the outhouse has been pried off and is leaning against the side of it.
“Now. For the fun part.” He lifts his leg and kicks the two of you against the wall, and you both lose control. He hums to himself as he digs through Vlad’s bag again, pulling out a large fixed blade knife. “You see, the thing is, I think Vlad was right.” He laughs and leans in, playfully smacking Vlad’s cheek a few times. “Like always, right buddy? Anyway, I’m not really a man of violence. Doesn’t suit me, so chances are, I actually wouldn’t have the stomach to outright kill you. But here’s the thing. I don't really have to, and this can still be deliciously ironic!” He grabs the arrow in Vlad’s chest, twists it, and yanks it out. Blood splurts out of the wound and coats the rope, but it quickly slows. Somehow it must have missed any real vitals. He then walks around to you and you scream as he does the same.
He takes the knife, leans in, and slices it across your cheek a few times. The blade bites deep, and you can feel the skin opening up every time it runs across. After a few cuts on your cheek, he cuts up the top of your arms, and your shoulders, opening up giant gashes all over you. “See,” he says. “Normally these wouldn’t be fatal. Maybe a couple stitches, but you’d survive. But!” He grabs onto the rope and tries to lift you up again, barely managing to get the two of you to your feet.
“But, bacteria is a bitch. Infection and shit. So I figure what better resting place for a pile of shit that shit on me, than in a shithouse-” He grins and pushes the two of you forward. You try to resist, but you’re easily thrown off balance and you trip into the deep outhouse hole, Vlad-side-down. Vlad screams for only a moment before his face is pressed into the pile of fetid muck that you can only hope after all this time isn’t raw sewage. You can feel him struggling beneath you, but you realize it’s too late. You both do. “Being shit on.”
“Holy fuck, no. No, no, you can’t be serious. Come on man. Come on! We were friends! We were fucking friends you pile of shit!” He doesn’t even react as he lowers the wooden seat back over the hole. All you can do as he listens as he hammers it back into place. Your eyes sting. Your shoulders sting. Your lungs sting, and through all the stinging, you sob. “Please,” you say, quieter. “Please.”
“Welp,” you hear him say from just above you. “Here we go.” You hear unzip his pants and sit down. “Hope you guys enjoy this as much as I know I'm going to. Popped a laxative an hour or so ago. Stomach has been killing me all day, so this will be a hell of a relief.”
Vlad wriggles around behind you, and screams into the muck. You scream too, facing away from the impending shitstorm above. A shitstorm, you reflect, that will be the last of many you were the cause of.
The paracord around your stomach loosens some and you manage to slip an arm out of it. Oh god, you think. I can do this. I can still do this. One final glimmer of hope before the rain. You wriggle around in the tight space, only just managing to lift yourself up off of Vlad. Kasey grunts above you, and you bear him smack the wood, trying to force his shit out.
“Vlad,” you say. “I think I can get is loose. I don't know if the paracord is more elastic than he expected, or if Kasey just ties shitty knots, but my arms are free.” He mumbles something, but you can't quite make it out. You continue. “Alright. Listen. It feels loose enough for us to get a bit of room. I'm going to try to wriggle down to the side and get better footing, stand up, and shove my hand right up that fucker's ass, but I need you out of my way. On three, I'm going to press my weight onto the wood and outside ground, alright? I need you to roll over onto your side so I can make it to the ground.”
He finally faces his face away from the ground and speaks. You can tell his face is pressed against the ground by his voice, and he seems to be having some difficulty holding the position. “You better know what the fuck you’re doing,” he says.
“I do,” you say. “This will work. Trust me. On three, alright? One-” Kasey grunts again, and a loud, wet fart erupts from his asshole, launching a solid ball of shit propelled by liquid shit right into your face, and into your open mouth. Vlad screams underneath of you and tries to fight against you, managing to barely lift you off the ground before his body gives out, sending you crushing back down on top of him.
Your stomach churns and you heave, turning your head sideways and away from the toilet hole. The taste of shit invades your mouth and nose, and the liquid diarrhea stings your eyes. The solid turd slowly oozes down your cheek like a slug before dropping off, and you vomit against the wooden wall and, inadvertently, down into the pit right beside Vlad’s face. Vlad gags beneath you and you hear him lose his lunch, too, only to have to drop his face back down into it.
You start your countdown again and press your hands onto the sides of the wooden hole. “One,” you say. “Two.” Kasey hammers his fist against the side of the outhouse, grunting again. “Three!” You lift yourself up into the air and, like clockwork, Vlad rolls over onto his side. Holy shit, you think. This is going to work.
You dig your foot into the mud for better footing and slide your left leg down, holding yourself in place. With all of your might, you push against the walls, trying to right yourself. The wood creaks in protest, groaning against your weight. Your left hand slips.
Your palm slides against the old wood and thick, sharp wooden splinters slide into your hand. Two things happen when you instinctively jerk away. First, you tumble sideways, pulling Vlad’s legs closer to yours and entangling them in the unraveled paracord. Next, you drop right onto the ground by Vlad, wedging both of you tightly in against the wood. Through the low light you can barely get a look at his face.
Rage. It screams a mixture of rage and disappointment. Bits of food that were until recently digesting in your stomach hang from his left cheek, and a mixture of liquid shit and stomach fluid gives his face a bright sheen. “I fucking hate you,” he says through sobs. “You’re fucking useless.”
You break out into sobs yourself. “I know,” you say. “I’m sorry. I had it. I really had it.” You try to wiggle away, but the small space you’re in, combined with your weakened, wounded body, keeps you from even moving. You hear Kacey take a deep breath, and you close your eyes, steeling yourself for the incoming ass-cannon blast.
This time it coats you and Vlad evenly, splattering against the side of your faces and into your wounds. You hold your head up as long as you can, but, your neck can’t support the weight by itself for long, and your head drops into the vile mixture below you. Kasey lets out a contented sigh of relief and the boards beneath his ass crack as he eases himself backward, getting comfortable.
“Alright,” he says. “This -hnnngh- should be it.” One last, massive torrent of filth rains down on you, soaking into your shirt and coating your face and wounds. You hear Kasey zip up without even wiping his ass. Must not have been as prepared as he thought. Fucker.
“Well guys. It's been shitty knowing you. Gotta go now. I have to do a thing, so have fun down there.” The wooden door closes and you hear a chain rattle across it. Fading footsteps. Nothing.
***
You and Vlad spend the next dah days talking. Reminiscing about the past. It's getting harder to ignore the pain. Vlad's face is crusted over with shit, vomit, and natural grime. The deep cuts scattered across his face have turned a sick yellow-green. You know you look at least as bad. Kasey was right for once. You weren't getting out of this.
After two days without food or water both of you are too weak to talk. You can practically feel the cacti bidding in your desert-like mouth, and you're sure that if you didn't feel like you were rotting from the inside out -which you very likely are- that the headaches would be unbearable. As it stood, though, they were little more than an annoyance.
All you hope for is to die quickly, and, as if the heavens want to punish you for even being birthed, On the third day, Vlad is the first to go. You blame it on his leaner frame and silently curse him. You wish you had the energy to cry, or to mourn, but all you can manage to feel is jealously.
Your turn finally comes on the fourth day. Your whole body is relaxed. Vlad's corpse has already attracted flies, and as you count each one of his oozing pores you swear you can already see them laying their eggs.
You realize that even if they were, you wouldn't have actually noticed anyway. Really you can't see well anymore. Or hear. You just wish your sense of feeling had gone with them. The pain of each of your organs shutting down one by one is unbearable. You wish you could scream, but you can't even open your mouth.
Finally, you get your wish. An overwhelming sense of calm washes over you, coating your skin in a pleasant tingle. You relax. Close your broken eyes. And finally, for the first time in days, smile as the world around you drifts away for good.
***
Immediately after your brain stops functioning, the muscles holding in your urine and feces relax, allowing both to slip out and into your pants. Similarly, over a matter of several hours, each cell in your body dies one by one, slowly releasing the fluid contained within them, no longer capable of holding themselves together. As each of your cells die, bacteria begins feeding on them, ingesting the liquid emitted and the dead, solid material. Now that your body’s oxygen supply has been cut off, the bacteria quickly replicates, devouring more and more.
Your heart no longer functions and your blood drains to the bottom of your body. After a few hours, your flesh has grayed, losing the pigmentation it once had because of your blood. Because of the lack of oxygen your muscles stiffen and become more rigid, no longer capable of relaxing. Your heat has all but completely dissipated, leaving you a cold, rotting sack of hard flesh. The flies that had already swarmed around Vlad shift their attention to you, laying eggs on your exposed skin, particularly interested in crawling into your mouth and nose.
Gas begins to build within your abdominal cavity as the bacteria that once helped break down your stomach shift into overdrive, digesting not only your food, but you, and replicating at a rate they could never have come close to while you were alive. Your stomach bloats outward, pressing against Vlad’s own gas-filled abdomen. The sulfur in your skin bonds to hemoglobin, and the newly created molecules inch their way through your circulatory system and your skin marbleizes, changing into a darker orange-yellow,
It doesn’t take long before the maggots hatch and begin feeding on your tissue, worming their way into your clothes to get at untouched bits. They coat the flesh on your face, dig into your pus filled wounds, and slide down your throat, burrowing in and out of you to get their fill. Carpet beetles and other insects also swarm around the both of you, digging into your fetid, succulent flesh.
The gasses in your body cause your stomach to bloat even more to near rupturing until, finally, it does. It happens to Vlad not long before it happens to you. Your stomach ruptures and a white and dark brown, almost black, fluid leaks out of your split skin and into the bottom of the hole, pooling around the both of you like an acrid moat. After your skin ruptures, the flies have a new place to lay their eggs, crawling into the newly made holes. Maggots fill your stomach and they finally begin to devour you from the inside out.
Several months later nobody has even been back to the camp, let alone found you. Your leathery, hollow excuse for bodies have dropped completely to the ground and stewed in your fluids before they too had dried up. Bacteria still continues to eat what’s left of you, but not much is left. You and Vlad’s skeletons lay side by side in that pit undiscovered for years to come.
You try to keep from laughing as you watch the pure rage well up on Vlad’s face. “Are you seriously trying to convince me that the earth is flat?” He asked. “Like, really. You're not fucking with me. You're actually siding with those fucking idiots?”
“Hey, hey, easy. I'm just saying I can understand where they're coming from, you know? The government is keeping a lot of things from us. Them trying to hide a flat Earth isn't too far-fetched. Ever since the cold war we've been pretending like we've made it into space and can prove all of this stuff, y’know? But a lot of those 'pictures’ people use as evidence can be easily debunked. They're fake. Have been since the launch of Sputnik.”
Vlad's can barely contain his rage, and you're pretty sure you can see a vein popping just to the side of his temple. He takes a deep breath and runs his fingers through his fluffy brown hair, brushing it out of his eye. Oh. This was going to be fun. “Go on, man,” you say. “I can tell you have something good. Blow this idiot out of the water.”
The floodgates burst. Vlad's mouth opens, and you're almost sure you actually hear facts mixed in with the constant stream of insults.
“Alright, you fucking half-witted twat. I'm going to tell you this once, alright? Forget the sun and moon. Forget the coriolis effect, if you even know what that is. Forget fucking gravity. I have a feeling I know what you're going to say to those, anyway. 'oh, but those are just all ways of the government brainwashing you and turning you into mindless sheep and keeping you from toking it up and being a useless sack of shit’. No. Something's huge. Have you heard of something called the fucking Foucault Pendulum?” Kasey’s face dropped. Either he hadn't, or he knew exactly what was coming. Either way, he didn't answer.
“No? No surprise there. The nearest one is at the local college. Somewhere I'm sure I wouldn't catch you dead near.” He looks at you. “You know what it is, right?” You nod.
“That's the experiment that lets us actually see the earth's rotation, right? With a pendulum?”
“Right. See, he knows his shit. So the Foucault Pendulum is a basic device --a pendulum, if you weren't fucking listening closely enough-- that demonstrates the rotation of the earth along its axis. It's ovoid axis. What it is is just a large pendulum is suspended on a rotating axis --generally gyroscopic, but not always--, allowing it to stay in place and swing on a continual plane. An easily replicable experiment, really. Something a grade schooler could set up. Anyway, so the earth rotates, and as it does, the ground beneath the rocking pendulum moves. Some places use dominos, some use sand, but no matter what you use to actually observe it you can actually see what looks like the pendulum moving so slowly you almost can't even tell with the naked eye. But how can it be moving, you wonder?” He snorts, and you smile. Damn. He's really tearing into it this time.
“Well, not you. You probably just assume it's the government hiding something from you. Trying to take your hard earned weed money. But no matter what, it knocks each of the dominoes over, one by one, all while remaining in the same spot. It leaves varying marks in the sand in a circular pattern. All while in the same spot. Now, if the earth was flat, even if it rotated, it wouldn't stay that consistent. It'd cause the pendulum to rock in some weird, ovoid, probably somewhat difficult to predict pattern, I'd hypothesize. Either way, the physics of a disc work differently than the physics of a sphere. And all of our physics point to sphere. Not a fucking disk.” The three of you all fall silent for a moment as Kasey tries to put together some kind of response.
“Well,” he says. “To be fair i only said I understood. I never said I agreed. Besides, there are entire research papers dedicated to it. Look it up. It makes sense. But it's not my fault both of you are brainwashed sheep.”
“Hah. Now he's getting defensive, huh? Now that he doesn't have a leg to stand on? Christ, man. Get your shit straight already. I'm the sheep? You're literally the one arguing a worldview that has been obsolete since the 14th century. You're the one who thinks fucking weed not only treats diseases, but cures them. You, the almighty shepherd, have legitimately tried to convince me that the moon landing was faked to get back at the Soviets. Come the fuck off of it you half-witted shit pile.”
“Hey, no need for insults, man.” Kacey says. You decide not to point out that he was flinging insults too.
“You know what?” Vlad says. “What the fuck ever. I have shit to do.” He looks at you. “Come on.” He says. “We have to go do that thing.” You're pretty sure that he actually doesn't have anything in mind, and that he's just trying to find an excuse to bail, so you go along with it. You look down at your watch. Huh. Six.
“Shit,” you say. “Yeah, I didn't realise it was getting that late.” You stand up and take Vlad's side. “Later, dumbass.” You say, waving to Kasey.
“Maybe do some fucking research while we're gone, huh?” Vlad says. “Some actual research. Research papers, encyclopedias, maybe pick up an atlas. Not any of those retarded, yellow, far left, bite-sized articles from Cracked you like to quote.”
You laugh, finally finding your shot to join in. “To be fair, that’s an exaggeration.” You say. “I don't think I've actually ever heard him quote a Cracked article. Maybe CollegeHumor or Mashable once or twice, but not Cracked. Cracked is a little too sophisticated, probably.”
You glance back over at Kasey, who, at this point, is seething. He's not really responding. Just kind of sitting there, wide eyed, staring at the two of you. Frankly it's a little creepy. Vlad turns and walks out, and you follow.
“Honestly,” Vlad says over his shoulder. “I wasn't really lying. There's this place I want to check out before it gets too dark. It's a couple dozen miles away, so I couldn't really blame you if you wouldn't want to come, but it's supposed to be pretty fucking cool.”
You don't really have anything else to do, and it's definitely piqued your curiosity, so you agree. “Yeah, sure. Where is it?” you ask.
‘Nowhere particularly interesting unless you like deep wilderness exploring. It's this old abandoned camp. Nobody really gave me a reason why it was shut down, but it was apparently condemned a couple of decades ago or some shit. Just a bunch of reclaimed buildings now.”
On one hand it sounds like there's just enough to there for it not to be too boring. On the other, you can imagine it being just hot enough, and the drive being just long enough, to make the whole trip suck pretty bad. Eh. You decide. Fuck it.
***
It took about an hour for the two of you to actually make it to the abandoned campground, and you were actually feeling a little motion sick from the bumpy, winding dirt roads that have fallen into disrepair for lack of use.
“For some reason,” Vlad said as he pulled into a small dirt driveway.. “I was actually thinking of inviting that dipshit, but then he starts in about his facts and opinions about how we don’t really know how the world works, and we’re being kept in the dark for some reason or another.” He sighs and leans back, shutting the car off. “Remind me again why we hang out with that fuck?”
“Well,” you say. “I guess he’s fun to laugh at? I mean sometimes he’s not completely terrible, right?”
“I don’t know. I guess. Anyway, sorry to tell you this-” he leans forward on the steering wheel and points up an only somewhat worn path that leads up the hill in front of you. “-but the pathway up through here is pretty much completely grown over. We’re going to have to walk the rest of the way. I don’t think it’s too far, though. A quarter mile up and around that hill, maybe? We’ll be there in, like, ten minutes.”
You shrug. It could be worse. At least you’d get to hang out. That in its own would be kind of cool. “Alright,” you say. “Any game plan once we get there?”
“Eh. Not really. Just doing a little exploring. The cabins are on either side of the camp, I think, and it’d be pretty cool to see if the supply house has been cleared out or not. It probably has been, but it couldn’t hurt to check.” He leans over the seat and grabs a small backpack before hopping out of the car. You follow suit.
“What's that?” You ask, nodding toward the pack. He smirks.
“Just some basic supplies,” he says. “Just in case. Standard stuff. A little water. A flashlight. Some paracord. Bolt cutters. A knife.”
“Wait, bolt cutters? Why?” He cocks his eyebrow.
“Just in case the place is locked up. Hard to explore it if we can't get in.” Shit. You didn't realize you might be breaking in somewhere. This actually just got a bit more exciting.
“Alright. Lead the way.”
The hill turns out much steeper than it looks, and by the time the two of you make it to the top your breathing has picked up, waffling just between normal and hyperventilating. His estimation was right, though. The walk ended up taking about ten minutes.
You come to a large, overhanging sign arched over what was once the camp entrance. “CAMP DOGWOOD” was painted in chipped, red letters just beside a cartoonish picture of a golden retriever wearing an ascot and a stereotypical ranger's hat. Just ahead is a building that you think is pretty fair to assume is the reception building, and at in-between the building and the title sign is a small, arrowed signpost. Vlad is the first to move, and he walks up to the signpost. You follow close behind.
The signpost has four different arrows. One points ahead, toward the building. Like you expected, it's labeled “reception”. One points to the left, down a narrow path that winds around and behind the reception building. It's labeled “infirmary.” One seems to point straight to the left and down another path, apparently leading to “cabins”. Finally, the last one points right toward “camp activities.”
“Well, while we're here we might as well check out the reception area. Might find some keys or something, in case other shit is locked up.”
You follow him to the building. The door is ajar, and Vlad looks back at you over his shoulder.
“Shit,” he says. “I was half hoping we'd have to bust in, but it looks like someone's already done it for us.” Upon examination of the slightly ajar door, you notice what he means. The window is completely shattered inward.
“Well,” you say. “At least it makes it easier on us?”
“Yeah. I guess.” The two of you walk in and you're immediately bombarded by clouds of dust. Vlad coughs and covers his mouth and nose with his shirt. You do the same, barely containing a sneeze.
“Some animal must have been in here recently or something,” he says through sporadic coughs. “Damn raccoon or something kicking up the dust. Give me a second.” He drops to one knee and rummages through his pack for a moment before finally pulling out a flashlight. “Here. Take this. Should make it easier to scout the place.”
You grab it and he pulls out a second one, switching it off and on a couple of times. “Let's split up for a sec. I'll check around here, you check around the back. Probably some offices or something.” You nod and flick your flashlight on. He walks by you and over to the reception desk, looking around just behind it. You head back to the back, where you find two doors on either side of the building. You can see the faint silhouette of trees just through the nearly opaque, dust-caked window of the left door, so you decide to take the one on the right.
Huh. Weird. You think. It's wide open, and just as disturbed as the room before it. You can make out clouds of dust through the beam of your flashlight floating around. You cover your face with your shirt again and step inside.
Vlad was right. It looks like it was the camp scoutmaster’s office or whatever the hell it's called. The floor is lined with papers and folders, and a trophy buck head that once sat proud on the wall behind the desk is now overturned on the ground. You walk over to the desk and crouch down, looking around it. As if the papers on the floor had revolted some years ago, tired of their lives on uniform on the desk, the surface is empty. That is, besides a dusty nameplate that you can barely read. Something Skinner. Just what you’d want your camp leader to be named.
You look down to the front of the desk. A single drawer just below the surface is slightly open, and you open it the rest of the way. Inside you see an old, empty pill bottle, some more papers and pamphlets, and. . . Keys? At least if you were there a little while ago you would have seen keys, if the dust was any indication. Now, though, you only see a key-ring-like pattern set into the grime-caked drawer. Right beside it is another pseudo bas relief where what looks like a somewhat sizable box used to be.
Well, you think. That was a bust. “Any luck?” You call out to Vlad. You hear some shuffling in the other room and the beam of light sweeps across the wall. Vlad steps into the doorway.
“Not shit,” he says. “Place has been ransacked way before us. You?”
“Same. Get this, though. The camp master? His name was fucking Skinner.” Vlad snorts.
“Subtle,” he says. “Anyway, let's get back outside. Doesn't seem like there's anything interesting in here. Activities next? Maybe there's a supply shed.”
“Yeah. Sure. Sounds good to me.”
Apparently the “activities” were pretty limited, because it doesn't take the two if you too long to actually reach the course. The camp must not have been well funded, because it’s pretty small, too. You can see an archery range somewhat in the distance, there’s a large gazebo a little way down the path, a shed the same distance in the opposite direction, and another signpost. Vlad nods to the shed.
“Let’s go check this shit out,” he says. “Half the reason I came here. Hoping for some archery shit. Even if it is old, it can be refurbished.”
So it wasn’t just exploring on his mind. It was looting, too. Well, you realize. What could you expect if he brought a pair of damn bolt cutters along? He breaks off into a brisk walk toward the shed that’s actually kind of difficult to keep up with. You have a feeling that it was more than half the reason. Oh well.
“What the fuck?” Vlad says. He crouches down and looks at something. “Someone’s been here. Recently, from the look of it. The damn thing is unlocked.” You feel your blood chill in your veins. Your heart drops like a brick of lead and you suddenly feel way more uncomfortable than you did before.
“Do you think we should leave?” you ask. “I mean, what if it’s a park ranger or something? Couldn’t we get into some pretty big trouble?”
“Eh. It probably isn’t. Whoever did this is probably long gone, but the place is probably empty by now.” He reaches up and forces the door forward. One of the hinges is broken, and it grinds against the concrete floor inside. After some considerable effort, though, it opens. Both of you flick your flashlights on and start sweeping the single room shed. Several archery targets are lined up on the right wall, and four oars hang on hooks just above them. Dozens of feet of rope lay coiled in the corner next to a box of carabiners. You suppose there’s a rock wall somewhere around here. On the right wall, though, several quivers filled with arrows sit next to empty hooks.
Vlad groans. “Fucking hell,” he says. “I knew it as soon as I saw the door. Oars. Some targets. Some rotten ropes, and useless target arrows. I seriously thought there’d be more, man. Pointless. This entire damn trip was just rendered pointless.” He kicks one of the quivers across the shed and arrows scatter everywhere. You didn’t realize that he’d been this dead set on looting old bows. Both of you fall silent for a moment, but you speak up.
“Well,” you say. “It doesn’t have to be a pointless trip...” He looks at you and raises his eyebrow.
“What do you mean? The whole place has been cleaned out. There wasn’t anything in the front office. Nothing here in the supply shed. I doubt there’s anything in the infirmary or cabins, either. Nothing interesting to find or do in the whole camp, unless you actually want to camp or something.”
“I mean, there isn’t nothing. Really. When do you think the next time we’ll find a chance to be this alone?” Your heart is racing, beating like the hooves of a first place racehorse. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. You gulp as a look of realization melts over his face. You take a couple of steps towards him. “There is… something we could do,” you say.
You walk up to him, avoiding eye contact, and reach down in between his legs. You’ve never done anything like this before, but fuck if you hadn’t thought about it. You lean in, just inches away from his face as you lightly brush your fingertips along the inside of his leg. You’d both joked a lot about what you’d do in a situation like this, but you never actually thought it would happen.
You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and run your hand up his thigh. It almost immediately meets resistance as it brushes against his already erect cock. Relief washes over you as you realize you’re not the only one who’s been anticipating this.
“What are you doing?” he asks. You pause for a moment and look up. The look on his face says that he knows exactly what you’re doing. And that he doesn’t want you to stop. You grab tightly onto the shaft and lightly rub it through his jeans, feeling your own pants growing tighter as your dick hardens. Slowly, you drop to your knees.
You lift your hands to his belt and fumble with it a bit before finally getting it undone. You look up at him, and he leans against the wall and nods. You gulp, reach into the hole of his boxers, and, with some difficult maneuvering, pull his rock-solid dick out. The thought of it being easier if you’d just have pulled them down crosses your mind way too late as his full cock presents itself before you.
You lean forward, stick your tongue out of your mouth, grab onto his dick, and lightly lick up the shaft. You feel his knees tense up and almost give out, but he stays standing. He lets out a muffled partial-moan through his nose as your tongue makes it to the head, flicking the tip of it. Finally, you take it into your mouth and gently suck on it.
You run your fingers along the shaft, your saliva making it easier to pump as you rock your head along it, and you feel his fingers drop to your head and entangle in your hair.
His half-moans graduate into full-blown panting as the as you bob your head back and forth. Thick dollops of precum slide out of the the head of his dick, startling you. You’re not really sure what you expected, but it caught you off guard. You lap at the head with your tongue, and instead of stopping, you speed up.
You moan yourself around your stuffed mouth, and can’t help but touch yourself through your pants. His dick twitches in your mouth, and he shudders as your hot breath brushes against his balls when you take him in deeper.
His moans crescendo as you give his shaft full licks up and down, wrapping around various parts of his cock and squeezing them. You grab onto one of his thighs with your hand, balancing yourself as you pump his dick harder. You finally let go, gagging as you bottom out at the back of your throat. You hold it for a moment and rub yourself before finally needing to breathe.
You break apart from his dick for a quick breath, making sure not to stop jerking him off. You take the chance to get a good look at him in full bliss. One of his hands rests on the back of your head, absently pushing you forward, and the other is digging into the back of the shed. His head is thrown back and his eyes are closed, and he his moans are almost perfectly timed with the gyrating of his hips rocking against your hand.
You lean back forward and take his cock back into your mouth, reach down, and lightly grab his balls.
“O-Oh god,” he barely manages to say through moans. “I think I’m going to-” You don’t pause. You want it. God, in that moment you’re not even sure what else you could want. You pump his shaft harder and twist your tongue around his head like it’s a popsicle. His grip on your hair tightens as he starts involuntarily face-fucking you.
Your eyes roll back in your head and everything around you seems to disappear. You gasp for air, but don’t stop stroking him. Finally, his entire body stiffens and he shoves his cock as deep into your mouth as it will go. Your grip on his thigh tightens as he shoots a thick, hot load right down your throat. You’re positive you came, too, just through rubbing yourself through your jeans. You swallow, just before falling backwards off your knees and onto your ass, fighting for air. All you hear for a moment are both of your heavy breathing. Finally, Vlad breaks the silence.
“What the hell?” he says. “Is that fucking-” He stops talking, and slumps to the ground in front of you.
He screams in pain, clutching at his shoulder, and you scramble backward, not stopping until you bump into the archery targets. Sticking straight through his collarbone is a medium sized, dusty fiberglass arrow with slightly tattered rubber fletching. The same kind of arrow that you see scattered around the floor.
Vlad reaches up and grabs the shaft of the arrow, but hisses and pulls his hand away before managing to free it. You hear someone laugh just outside the shed.
“Haha, holy shit, I guess target arrows aren’t as useless as you said they were, huh?” he says. You recognize the voice even before he steps in through the doorway. Kasey. “Did I actually just manage to hit you before you saw me? And while you were getting your cock sucked by that fag over there, too. Never fucking expected that. This day just keeps getting better.”
“Kasey?” you say. “What the-”
“Ah. Not yet. I didn’t say you could talk, did I?” He reaches into the waistband of his pants and pulls out a rusted black pistol, aiming it at you. You raise your hands like they would actually protect you. “Amazing what you can find in places like this, isn’t it? This right here? Hanging out right in the scoutmaster’s desk drawer beside his keys. Think it still works?”
“Kasey, come on,” you say. “Don’t do this, man.”
“Oh. Don’t do this. I think I’ve said the same thing to you guys, haven’t I? ‘Can we just drop it?’ ‘could we just not right now?’ ‘Please, I don’t really want to talk about it.’ And how much good did that do me?” You open your mouth, but before you have a chance to say anything, he yells. “I said how much fucking good did that to me, huh?!”
He lets out a mirthless laugh. “You think I don’t fucking hear how you talk about me behind my back, you fucking asshole? “Kasey the shitpile.” “Kasey the guy who always smells like shit.” “Kasey the guy who would almost be okay if he wasn’t a fucking idiot.” Please. Fucking please, man. I gave you a shot, and you fucking blew it. And then?” He laughs. “Then you blew him, apparently. Seriously, man. What’s up with that?”
“Fuck you,” Vlad managed through clenched teeth. He tried to stand up, but Kasey pointed the gun towards him instead.
“Are you serious? Now you’re going to try to play the hero? Against the victim? Makes perfect god damn sense, doesn’t it? Fuck me? No, man. Fuck YOU.”
You swallow hard, made all the more difficult by the lingering cum residue in the back of your throat. “Kasey, man, come on. I never meant any of it. We used to be friends, remember? We used to be cool. Back when nobody else would even talk to you, I was there. We could have that again. Just don’t do this, okay?”
He chuckles, biting his lip and shaking his head. “You know what I always hated about you, man? It wasn’t even how shitty, or arrogant, or even how fucking self-righteous you are. It’s how god damned fickle and two faced you are. You want me to let you go? You want me to believe we can ever be friends again?” You’re not sure how to respond, so you just nod. “Alright then. Good. Prove it.” Vlad goes to stand up again and Kasey points the gun back at him. “Sit the fuck down.”
“How?” you say. “How can I prove it?” He laughs.
“Well,” he says. “That’s easy.” He crouches down and slides the gun across the floor. After standing back up, he pulls an old, flimsy looking target bow off of his shoulder, quickly knocking one of the target arrows from a quiver at his side. He draws it and aims it at Vlad. “Just shoot him. H’m? Shoot him, and you get to live. I can trust you won't’ do anything to fuck me over again, because I know your secret as a murderer. That’s something we’ll have together. Something you can’t be two-faced about.”
You look down at the gun. Your mind races. There’s no way you could kill Vlad. The two of you had gotten really close lately and, if today was any indication, are probably going to get closer still. You lift the gun, aiming it at Vlad. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying to steady your hand. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. Your open your eyes and notice your vision has blurred. Tears well up in your eyes and freely run down the sides of your cheeks.
In one quick motion, you swing the pistol around, aiming it right at Kasey, and pull the trigger. Thunk. A gale of compressed air fires out of the barrel at an unamused, but uninjured, Kasey. “Yeah. See. That’s what I thought. Hah, I’m surprised that thing even fired. It’s rusted all to hell. Truth be told, I was hoping I’d get to use it on one of you. I’ve never shot a tranquilizer dart before, and it could have been kind of neat seeing how fast it’d take someone down, but all the darts were broken.”
Your stomach sinks, and your hands tremble. The gun falls to the ground, and you try to scoot further backward as he aims an arrow at you. He draws, and releases. At almost point blank, the arrow flies true right into your stomach.
You double over in pain, screaming as you feel it slide through your shirt and into your stomach. You’ve never felt such a fierce pain in your life. What you’ve heard people describe as a “Stabbing pain” doesn’t even remotely compare to the arrow now embedded in your stomach. Kasey walks up to you and grabs onto the arrow, twisting it around.
“Well,” he says. “It was worth a shot. But I guess I could have expected you to fuck it up, huh? Not really any surprise there. You are a piece of fucking shit.” Something about his grin chills you to the bone. “Actually,” he says. “That gives me an idea.” He walks to the entrance of the shed and picks Vlad’s bag up, digging into it. “Ah,” he says. “Here we go. I knew Vladdy would have some retarded bullshit like this.” He pulls out the paracord and unravels it. Then, paracord dragging the ground, he pulls both you and Vlad together, back to back and ties the cord around you. He doesn’t even bother removing the arrow in your stomach and ties the paracord around it, leaving it sticking out. ”You two stay right here, mkay? I’ll be right back.”
Neither you or Vlad say anything and it feels like an eternity before Kasey finally makes it back. “Alright,” Kasey says. “This is going to be a real pain in the ass, but it’ll totally be worth it.” He grabs onto the rope wrapped around you, crouches down, and lifts, trying to force both of you to your feet. “Come on, guys. Let’s go. I really don’t feel like outright torturing you right now, and at this rate that’s what you’re going to make me do. So please, just make it easy on all of us and come on.”
“It’s okay,” Vlad says. His voice is really quiet and it sounds like he’s having trouble speaking. “Let’s just listen to him. He’s too big of a chickenshit to actually do anything, anyway.”
“Yeah,” Kasey says. “Listen to him. I probably don’t even have the stomach to actually kill you when the time comes.” Him agreeing with Vlad actually manages to make you feel worse, but you don’t like the sound of torture either. You muster up all your strength and stand alongside Vlad and Kasey leads you back across the campground, past the reception building, and toward the cabins.
“Where the hell are we going?” Vlad asks. He sounds like he’s getting at least some of his strength back already.
“Oh, you’ll see,” Kasey replies. “We’re almost there.” He leads you past one of the cabins a good deal away from it on the outskirts of the woods to a solid looking wooden hut. “Here we go.” he says. I’ve already prepared everything, too. That’s what took me so long.” He steps up behind the two of you and pushes you towards it.
“What the hell is this?” you ask. “Is that-” you get a better look at it as you step up to it. “Is this a fucking outhouse?”
“Ding ding ding, guess he’s not as big of a retarded sheep as he likes to act. Good thing I can actually hear you now that you’re not sucking Vlad’s fucking cock like you always do. And while I meant that figuratively, it’s pretty damn great that it could be literal, too. Now hurry up. Move it.” He pushes you inside, and as you step in you see that the wooden top of the toilet part of the outhouse has been pried off and is leaning against the side of it.
“Now. For the fun part.” He lifts his leg and kicks the two of you against the wall, and you both lose control. He hums to himself as he digs through Vlad’s bag again, pulling out a large fixed blade knife. “You see, the thing is, I think Vlad was right.” He laughs and leans in, playfully smacking Vlad’s cheek a few times. “Like always, right buddy? Anyway, I’m not really a man of violence. Doesn’t suit me, so chances are, I actually wouldn’t have the stomach to outright kill you. But here’s the thing. I don't really have to, and this can still be deliciously ironic!” He grabs the arrow in Vlad’s chest, twists it, and yanks it out. Blood splurts out of the wound and coats the rope, but it quickly slows. Somehow it must have missed any real vitals. He then walks around to you and you scream as he does the same.
He takes the knife, leans in, and slices it across your cheek a few times. The blade bites deep, and you can feel the skin opening up every time it runs across. After a few cuts on your cheek, he cuts up the top of your arms, and your shoulders, opening up giant gashes all over you. “See,” he says. “Normally these wouldn’t be fatal. Maybe a couple stitches, but you’d survive. But!” He grabs onto the rope and tries to lift you up again, barely managing to get the two of you to your feet.
“But, bacteria is a bitch. Infection and shit. So I figure what better resting place for a pile of shit that shit on me, than in a shithouse-” He grins and pushes the two of you forward. You try to resist, but you’re easily thrown off balance and you trip into the deep outhouse hole, Vlad-side-down. Vlad screams for only a moment before his face is pressed into the pile of fetid muck that you can only hope after all this time isn’t raw sewage. You can feel him struggling beneath you, but you realize it’s too late. You both do. “Being shit on.”
“Holy fuck, no. No, no, you can’t be serious. Come on man. Come on! We were friends! We were fucking friends you pile of shit!” He doesn’t even react as he lowers the wooden seat back over the hole. All you can do as he listens as he hammers it back into place. Your eyes sting. Your shoulders sting. Your lungs sting, and through all the stinging, you sob. “Please,” you say, quieter. “Please.”
“Welp,” you hear him say from just above you. “Here we go.” You hear unzip his pants and sit down. “Hope you guys enjoy this as much as I know I'm going to. Popped a laxative an hour or so ago. Stomach has been killing me all day, so this will be a hell of a relief.”
Vlad wriggles around behind you, and screams into the muck. You scream too, facing away from the impending shitstorm above. A shitstorm, you reflect, that will be the last of many you were the cause of.
The paracord around your stomach loosens some and you manage to slip an arm out of it. Oh god, you think. I can do this. I can still do this. One final glimmer of hope before the rain. You wriggle around in the tight space, only just managing to lift yourself up off of Vlad. Kasey grunts above you, and you bear him smack the wood, trying to force his shit out.
“Vlad,” you say. “I think I can get is loose. I don't know if the paracord is more elastic than he expected, or if Kasey just ties shitty knots, but my arms are free.” He mumbles something, but you can't quite make it out. You continue. “Alright. Listen. It feels loose enough for us to get a bit of room. I'm going to try to wriggle down to the side and get better footing, stand up, and shove my hand right up that fucker's ass, but I need you out of my way. On three, I'm going to press my weight onto the wood and outside ground, alright? I need you to roll over onto your side so I can make it to the ground.”
He finally faces his face away from the ground and speaks. You can tell his face is pressed against the ground by his voice, and he seems to be having some difficulty holding the position. “You better know what the fuck you’re doing,” he says.
“I do,” you say. “This will work. Trust me. On three, alright? One-” Kasey grunts again, and a loud, wet fart erupts from his asshole, launching a solid ball of shit propelled by liquid shit right into your face, and into your open mouth. Vlad screams underneath of you and tries to fight against you, managing to barely lift you off the ground before his body gives out, sending you crushing back down on top of him.
Your stomach churns and you heave, turning your head sideways and away from the toilet hole. The taste of shit invades your mouth and nose, and the liquid diarrhea stings your eyes. The solid turd slowly oozes down your cheek like a slug before dropping off, and you vomit against the wooden wall and, inadvertently, down into the pit right beside Vlad’s face. Vlad gags beneath you and you hear him lose his lunch, too, only to have to drop his face back down into it.
You start your countdown again and press your hands onto the sides of the wooden hole. “One,” you say. “Two.” Kasey hammers his fist against the side of the outhouse, grunting again. “Three!” You lift yourself up into the air and, like clockwork, Vlad rolls over onto his side. Holy shit, you think. This is going to work.
You dig your foot into the mud for better footing and slide your left leg down, holding yourself in place. With all of your might, you push against the walls, trying to right yourself. The wood creaks in protest, groaning against your weight. Your left hand slips.
Your palm slides against the old wood and thick, sharp wooden splinters slide into your hand. Two things happen when you instinctively jerk away. First, you tumble sideways, pulling Vlad’s legs closer to yours and entangling them in the unraveled paracord. Next, you drop right onto the ground by Vlad, wedging both of you tightly in against the wood. Through the low light you can barely get a look at his face.
Rage. It screams a mixture of rage and disappointment. Bits of food that were until recently digesting in your stomach hang from his left cheek, and a mixture of liquid shit and stomach fluid gives his face a bright sheen. “I fucking hate you,” he says through sobs. “You’re fucking useless.”
You break out into sobs yourself. “I know,” you say. “I’m sorry. I had it. I really had it.” You try to wiggle away, but the small space you’re in, combined with your weakened, wounded body, keeps you from even moving. You hear Kacey take a deep breath, and you close your eyes, steeling yourself for the incoming ass-cannon blast.
This time it coats you and Vlad evenly, splattering against the side of your faces and into your wounds. You hold your head up as long as you can, but, your neck can’t support the weight by itself for long, and your head drops into the vile mixture below you. Kasey lets out a contented sigh of relief and the boards beneath his ass crack as he eases himself backward, getting comfortable.
“Alright,” he says. “This -hnnngh- should be it.” One last, massive torrent of filth rains down on you, soaking into your shirt and coating your face and wounds. You hear Kasey zip up without even wiping his ass. Must not have been as prepared as he thought. Fucker.
“Well guys. It's been shitty knowing you. Gotta go now. I have to do a thing, so have fun down there.” The wooden door closes and you hear a chain rattle across it. Fading footsteps. Nothing.
***
You and Vlad spend the next dah days talking. Reminiscing about the past. It's getting harder to ignore the pain. Vlad's face is crusted over with shit, vomit, and natural grime. The deep cuts scattered across his face have turned a sick yellow-green. You know you look at least as bad. Kasey was right for once. You weren't getting out of this.
After two days without food or water both of you are too weak to talk. You can practically feel the cacti bidding in your desert-like mouth, and you're sure that if you didn't feel like you were rotting from the inside out -which you very likely are- that the headaches would be unbearable. As it stood, though, they were little more than an annoyance.
All you hope for is to die quickly, and, as if the heavens want to punish you for even being birthed, On the third day, Vlad is the first to go. You blame it on his leaner frame and silently curse him. You wish you had the energy to cry, or to mourn, but all you can manage to feel is jealously.
Your turn finally comes on the fourth day. Your whole body is relaxed. Vlad's corpse has already attracted flies, and as you count each one of his oozing pores you swear you can already see them laying their eggs.
You realize that even if they were, you wouldn't have actually noticed anyway. Really you can't see well anymore. Or hear. You just wish your sense of feeling had gone with them. The pain of each of your organs shutting down one by one is unbearable. You wish you could scream, but you can't even open your mouth.
Finally, you get your wish. An overwhelming sense of calm washes over you, coating your skin in a pleasant tingle. You relax. Close your broken eyes. And finally, for the first time in days, smile as the world around you drifts away for good.
***
Immediately after your brain stops functioning, the muscles holding in your urine and feces relax, allowing both to slip out and into your pants. Similarly, over a matter of several hours, each cell in your body dies one by one, slowly releasing the fluid contained within them, no longer capable of holding themselves together. As each of your cells die, bacteria begins feeding on them, ingesting the liquid emitted and the dead, solid material. Now that your body’s oxygen supply has been cut off, the bacteria quickly replicates, devouring more and more.
Your heart no longer functions and your blood drains to the bottom of your body. After a few hours, your flesh has grayed, losing the pigmentation it once had because of your blood. Because of the lack of oxygen your muscles stiffen and become more rigid, no longer capable of relaxing. Your heat has all but completely dissipated, leaving you a cold, rotting sack of hard flesh. The flies that had already swarmed around Vlad shift their attention to you, laying eggs on your exposed skin, particularly interested in crawling into your mouth and nose.
Gas begins to build within your abdominal cavity as the bacteria that once helped break down your stomach shift into overdrive, digesting not only your food, but you, and replicating at a rate they could never have come close to while you were alive. Your stomach bloats outward, pressing against Vlad’s own gas-filled abdomen. The sulfur in your skin bonds to hemoglobin, and the newly created molecules inch their way through your circulatory system and your skin marbleizes, changing into a darker orange-yellow,
It doesn’t take long before the maggots hatch and begin feeding on your tissue, worming their way into your clothes to get at untouched bits. They coat the flesh on your face, dig into your pus filled wounds, and slide down your throat, burrowing in and out of you to get their fill. Carpet beetles and other insects also swarm around the both of you, digging into your fetid, succulent flesh.
The gasses in your body cause your stomach to bloat even more to near rupturing until, finally, it does. It happens to Vlad not long before it happens to you. Your stomach ruptures and a white and dark brown, almost black, fluid leaks out of your split skin and into the bottom of the hole, pooling around the both of you like an acrid moat. After your skin ruptures, the flies have a new place to lay their eggs, crawling into the newly made holes. Maggots fill your stomach and they finally begin to devour you from the inside out.
Several months later nobody has even been back to the camp, let alone found you. Your leathery, hollow excuse for bodies have dropped completely to the ground and stewed in your fluids before they too had dried up. Bacteria still continues to eat what’s left of you, but not much is left. You and Vlad’s skeletons lay side by side in that pit undiscovered for years to come.
