Michael’s Exit
©JValdez 2011
2017; the die-off had been rather more extreme than expected; post “easy oil” had been fraught with revolutions, cults, and mass graves. Drastic measures had no effect; cities were the worst, with rumors of extreme privation/cruelty and even cannibalism.
Berlin was an island once more; thanks to the Gazprom deal inked years previously, energy was plentiful; the winters were survivable, and commerce inside the ring road thrived.
Michael knew that at age 19 his induction into the company was a god-send for him and his family; steady food, income and even education were his good fortune after winning the lottery and passing numerous examinations to assure that he was indeed fit for duty. Keeping order was, of course, the new growth industry, along with food production.
Mid-September always is a special time in the Capital, this one was exceptional—warm, soft breezes, the sun diffused through the by-now peculiar haze & always present sweet aroma of roasting meat.
“Michael, I want to give you a special thank you for your performance”, said the Commander. He ripped his uniform off and threw Michael to the bed. Michael kissed him, and said “Fuck me papi”. The Commander entered Michael’s ass and began pumping and pumping. Michael began to feel the familiar pulse of this man’s cock and at the same time knew that he was about to explode in cum. Simultaneously, both men erupted in what could only be described as animal lust. The two sweat-drenched bodies embraced for what was like an eternity. The Commander disengaged but held Michael’s head in his hands, kissing his lips over and over. Michael, now truly exhausted, began to sleep, and just barely snore, like a puppy. The Commander picked up his secure BlackBerry and said “Helmut, he’s ready to go back, just a little injection”, and put the phone down. Helmut entered the room with his syringe, and injected Michael’s upturned ass cheek. Ahmed followed, and gently hoisted the muscular youth on his shoulders for the short trip back to the cadet’s quarters.
Dawn broke with a chill in the air; the cadets started stirring in preparation for their day. Michael and Hans still slept soundly, embracing like children with their big Teddy Bear. No one disturbed them. No one dared. Helmut had just announced to the company that there was to be a special assembly at 11:00 hours. In the workshop, saws could be heard, and also hurried hammering, as if an urgent piece of contruction was taking place. The sweet smell of sawdust emanated from the workshop.
At 09:00, Helmut and Ahmed both quickly arrived at the still sleeping Michael and Hans and gently shook them awake. “Alright men, up and at them”, Helmut announced, a bit too briskly. Ahmed pulled Hans away and made sure that he was separated from Michael. Ahmed quietly whispered to Hans, “Get yourself together and appear at your next class“. “Mich . . .”, he blurted out, his mouth covered by Ahmed. “No, Hans, you mustn’t interfere. Nothing can be done for him anymore.”
Helmut had been sitting on Michael’s bed, telling him that today would be different, to wake up. Abruptly, Michael sat up, and said “Oh my God, Helmut, it’s the fillet, isn’t it?” Helmut looked away and murmured “Michael, get ready now.” Stunned, Michael pleaded, “I just wanted beef, Helmut, that’s all. Just beef.” Helmut instructed him to put on a pair of tight white briefs, a pair of black laced boots, nothing more. Helmut then cuffed Michael’s hand behind his back as Ahmed covered his body with a black cape, and led him to the anteroom adjacent to the assembly area.
A single chair sat in the center of the room; Ahmed eased Michael’s body down on it and said “Hold on, baby, someone’s here for you.”
The Commander entered the anteroom and offered a coffee to Michael’s lips. Michael eagerly sipped the liquid, pausing every now and then to peer up at the Commander, now ashen-faced. The coffee energized him, bringing colour back to the beautiful face, even bringing colour back to his muscular neck and chiseled torso. The Commander took Michael’s face in his hands, kissed the familiar lips and whispered “I’m so sorry baby, I’m so sorry”. Michael looked up and said “I am too, papi, I really am.” Michael smiled his electric smile once again for the Commander, received another kiss and watched as the Commander entered the courtyard and headed towards the front where the workshop was located.
A rumbling trundling sound echoed around the courtyard; the gallows was being hoisted atop a platform at the end of the space. The trapdoor remained closed, waiting for its moment of action. Large monitors lit up with a shot of the gallows and its new noose ready for action. Off to one side, a curiously large tree stump could be observed.
At 11:00 hours, funereal drums rolled; Ahmed and Helmut had moved Michael into place behind the platform, holding him gently. Michael stood proudly, his fine features silhouetted against the hazy mid-morning sun.
“Men of the company, we are here to administer the penalty for theft”, the Commander began. “You are all aware of our ultimate mission to re-start civilization as it will be known, and that one of our cardinals tenants is absolutely no theft of any type.” The Commander cleared his throat. “Theft degrades us, it detracts from our mission, and ultimately can destroy us.” “Michael, will you answer the charge of theft?” he questioned, pausing to look back at Michael, now ascending the stairs to the gallows. Ahmed swept the cape from Michael, revealing his magnificent physique. A murmer went up from the crowd. “I answer affimatively to the charge of theft sir”, he spoke with a clear resolute voice. “You are sentenced to hang by the neck until dead”, the Commander answered, “May God have mercy on your soul” he added and stood off to the side as Michael was put into place for the noose. Two hooded heavy guards now arranged Michael’s body to take advantage of the hemp and worked his head into the noose. His neck was already straining with the effort, bulging neck muscles and veins, filled with blood. The guards stepped back. Not a whisper could be heard, then three rolls from the funereal drums. The commander reached forward and released the lever for the trapdoor. The company gasped as Michael’s body fell straight down, struggling and twisting to escape. The rope bit into his tender skin, stretching that muscular neck to its extreme limit. Eyes open, scanning the crowd, he locked gazes with Hans and continued struggling. Torso sweating, arms trying to break free, all of it futile. With one violent jerk, his body swung around, revealing his tight ass, clenched as if it were fucking the Commander once again. The Commander felt a familiar hard sensation in his crotch. Hans was getting hard. Ahmed could barely watch, but was hard. Michael was also hard; he swung back around and showed a massive erection through the tight briefs. His face was turning purple, sweat pouring down his face. His tongue, also a deep purple, began to protrude from his beautiful lips; he mouthed “Hans”, as his cock discharged one final load of cum that pressed urgently through the briefs and spattered on the ground below. His body relaxed. A collective intake of air could be heard, some of the young cadets were weeping silently. After a bit, the heavy hooded guards pulled Michael’s body up and cut the noose that had ended his young life. They lowered his head across the large stump to the side, and stepped back. The Commander once again stepped forward, this time holding a sheathed Katana. “Cadet Hans, it is your duty to strike off the head of your mate Michael”, he announced. Hans, stunned at this turn of events, was in a daze as he was hustled up the stairs for this final horror. The Commander handed him the Katana, whispering in his ear, “One strike, Hans, one strike”. The crowd mumured again, Michael’s stretched neck poised on the stump. Hans unsheathed the Katana, and with all his might, made the strike that severed Michael’s head from his body; it fell to the platform face up, his neck stump pumping bright red blood into his own face. A dark stain appeared on Hans’ trousers, he yelled “Michael”, and drew the Katana across his own neck, decapitating his own head. “Oh my God” could be heard in the crowd, Hans’ severed head landed next to Michael’s, both drenched in each other’s blood, refreshed by Han’s bloody pumping stump. The Commander slumped in his chair, then stood and announced that the assembly was over. His stained trousers were clearly visible, as were Ahmed’s as he tenderly picked up the heads for final disposition and kissed the bloody stumps in one final act of devotion.
©JValdez 2011
2017; the die-off had been rather more extreme than expected; post “easy oil” had been fraught with revolutions, cults, and mass graves. Drastic measures had no effect; cities were the worst, with rumors of extreme privation/cruelty and even cannibalism.
Berlin was an island once more; thanks to the Gazprom deal inked years previously, energy was plentiful; the winters were survivable, and commerce inside the ring road thrived.
Michael knew that at age 19 his induction into the company was a god-send for him and his family; steady food, income and even education were his good fortune after winning the lottery and passing numerous examinations to assure that he was indeed fit for duty. Keeping order was, of course, the new growth industry, along with food production.
Mid-September always is a special time in the Capital, this one was exceptional—warm, soft breezes, the sun diffused through the by-now peculiar haze & always present sweet aroma of roasting meat.
“Michael, I want to give you a special thank you for your performance”, said the Commander. He ripped his uniform off and threw Michael to the bed. Michael kissed him, and said “Fuck me papi”. The Commander entered Michael’s ass and began pumping and pumping. Michael began to feel the familiar pulse of this man’s cock and at the same time knew that he was about to explode in cum. Simultaneously, both men erupted in what could only be described as animal lust. The two sweat-drenched bodies embraced for what was like an eternity. The Commander disengaged but held Michael’s head in his hands, kissing his lips over and over. Michael, now truly exhausted, began to sleep, and just barely snore, like a puppy. The Commander picked up his secure BlackBerry and said “Helmut, he’s ready to go back, just a little injection”, and put the phone down. Helmut entered the room with his syringe, and injected Michael’s upturned ass cheek. Ahmed followed, and gently hoisted the muscular youth on his shoulders for the short trip back to the cadet’s quarters.
Dawn broke with a chill in the air; the cadets started stirring in preparation for their day. Michael and Hans still slept soundly, embracing like children with their big Teddy Bear. No one disturbed them. No one dared. Helmut had just announced to the company that there was to be a special assembly at 11:00 hours. In the workshop, saws could be heard, and also hurried hammering, as if an urgent piece of contruction was taking place. The sweet smell of sawdust emanated from the workshop.
At 09:00, Helmut and Ahmed both quickly arrived at the still sleeping Michael and Hans and gently shook them awake. “Alright men, up and at them”, Helmut announced, a bit too briskly. Ahmed pulled Hans away and made sure that he was separated from Michael. Ahmed quietly whispered to Hans, “Get yourself together and appear at your next class“. “Mich . . .”, he blurted out, his mouth covered by Ahmed. “No, Hans, you mustn’t interfere. Nothing can be done for him anymore.”
Helmut had been sitting on Michael’s bed, telling him that today would be different, to wake up. Abruptly, Michael sat up, and said “Oh my God, Helmut, it’s the fillet, isn’t it?” Helmut looked away and murmured “Michael, get ready now.” Stunned, Michael pleaded, “I just wanted beef, Helmut, that’s all. Just beef.” Helmut instructed him to put on a pair of tight white briefs, a pair of black laced boots, nothing more. Helmut then cuffed Michael’s hand behind his back as Ahmed covered his body with a black cape, and led him to the anteroom adjacent to the assembly area.
A single chair sat in the center of the room; Ahmed eased Michael’s body down on it and said “Hold on, baby, someone’s here for you.”
The Commander entered the anteroom and offered a coffee to Michael’s lips. Michael eagerly sipped the liquid, pausing every now and then to peer up at the Commander, now ashen-faced. The coffee energized him, bringing colour back to the beautiful face, even bringing colour back to his muscular neck and chiseled torso. The Commander took Michael’s face in his hands, kissed the familiar lips and whispered “I’m so sorry baby, I’m so sorry”. Michael looked up and said “I am too, papi, I really am.” Michael smiled his electric smile once again for the Commander, received another kiss and watched as the Commander entered the courtyard and headed towards the front where the workshop was located.
A rumbling trundling sound echoed around the courtyard; the gallows was being hoisted atop a platform at the end of the space. The trapdoor remained closed, waiting for its moment of action. Large monitors lit up with a shot of the gallows and its new noose ready for action. Off to one side, a curiously large tree stump could be observed.
At 11:00 hours, funereal drums rolled; Ahmed and Helmut had moved Michael into place behind the platform, holding him gently. Michael stood proudly, his fine features silhouetted against the hazy mid-morning sun.
“Men of the company, we are here to administer the penalty for theft”, the Commander began. “You are all aware of our ultimate mission to re-start civilization as it will be known, and that one of our cardinals tenants is absolutely no theft of any type.” The Commander cleared his throat. “Theft degrades us, it detracts from our mission, and ultimately can destroy us.” “Michael, will you answer the charge of theft?” he questioned, pausing to look back at Michael, now ascending the stairs to the gallows. Ahmed swept the cape from Michael, revealing his magnificent physique. A murmer went up from the crowd. “I answer affimatively to the charge of theft sir”, he spoke with a clear resolute voice. “You are sentenced to hang by the neck until dead”, the Commander answered, “May God have mercy on your soul” he added and stood off to the side as Michael was put into place for the noose. Two hooded heavy guards now arranged Michael’s body to take advantage of the hemp and worked his head into the noose. His neck was already straining with the effort, bulging neck muscles and veins, filled with blood. The guards stepped back. Not a whisper could be heard, then three rolls from the funereal drums. The commander reached forward and released the lever for the trapdoor. The company gasped as Michael’s body fell straight down, struggling and twisting to escape. The rope bit into his tender skin, stretching that muscular neck to its extreme limit. Eyes open, scanning the crowd, he locked gazes with Hans and continued struggling. Torso sweating, arms trying to break free, all of it futile. With one violent jerk, his body swung around, revealing his tight ass, clenched as if it were fucking the Commander once again. The Commander felt a familiar hard sensation in his crotch. Hans was getting hard. Ahmed could barely watch, but was hard. Michael was also hard; he swung back around and showed a massive erection through the tight briefs. His face was turning purple, sweat pouring down his face. His tongue, also a deep purple, began to protrude from his beautiful lips; he mouthed “Hans”, as his cock discharged one final load of cum that pressed urgently through the briefs and spattered on the ground below. His body relaxed. A collective intake of air could be heard, some of the young cadets were weeping silently. After a bit, the heavy hooded guards pulled Michael’s body up and cut the noose that had ended his young life. They lowered his head across the large stump to the side, and stepped back. The Commander once again stepped forward, this time holding a sheathed Katana. “Cadet Hans, it is your duty to strike off the head of your mate Michael”, he announced. Hans, stunned at this turn of events, was in a daze as he was hustled up the stairs for this final horror. The Commander handed him the Katana, whispering in his ear, “One strike, Hans, one strike”. The crowd mumured again, Michael’s stretched neck poised on the stump. Hans unsheathed the Katana, and with all his might, made the strike that severed Michael’s head from his body; it fell to the platform face up, his neck stump pumping bright red blood into his own face. A dark stain appeared on Hans’ trousers, he yelled “Michael”, and drew the Katana across his own neck, decapitating his own head. “Oh my God” could be heard in the crowd, Hans’ severed head landed next to Michael’s, both drenched in each other’s blood, refreshed by Han’s bloody pumping stump. The Commander slumped in his chair, then stood and announced that the assembly was over. His stained trousers were clearly visible, as were Ahmed’s as he tenderly picked up the heads for final disposition and kissed the bloody stumps in one final act of devotion.
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