killerjustin
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- Joined
- Feb 24, 2012
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This story was written by JValdez, based on the wrong turn movies. And based on real dudes (below) (Nathaniel, Brent, Mike and Mike agian)
Michael crouched, sweating profusely, trying to stop his frenzied, frightened chattering; he watched as a deformed foot dragged itself back and forth, searching, searching; he brushed a crawling insect from his arm, it’s brown body colour contrasting with his alabaster white skin; it fell, walked to the front edge of the filthy bed, and then scurried to the corner; Michael caught his breath as the foot stopped; he heard tortured sniffing, the type of sound a pig makes, before the foot exited the squalid room; a tear crept down Michael’s left cheek, than another, and another; soon he was sobbing silently; his lean torso jerking as each sob wracked his long body; he thought “Oh my god, why am I here, how did this happen?”; a pungent horrible odour emanated from what looked for all the world like a “slop bucket” near the broken door; Michael thought he would vomit, and then stopped, motionless, as the door handle rattled; he heard what sounded like the foot dragging on the floor, and then silence, like the kind of silence that surrounded him last night, after the accident . . .
Michael glanced at his sunglassed reflection in the rear-view mirror of his convertible, “What a hottie!”, he smiled approvingly; it gazed back at him, sensual pouting lips just open to reveal it’s tongue; tires screeched as he over-corrected to negotiate a curve; his heart beat fast; he said to himself “Keep your eyes on the road, babe!”, and did just that; trees flew by in a blur as he reached the West Virginia state line, Michael loved traveling on route 50 on the way to his friend’s house in Ohio; his outstanding treatise on the “Pharmacological Effects of Ayahuasca in the Young Adult” at Georgetown had earned him a fellowship at NIH; his esoteric research had earned him an excellent reputation in the drug industry, even at his tender young age; now that first phase trials were concluded, he had open time to play before returning to the grueling routine at Bethesda; up ahead, he could see the curve that always caused him to slow hard; he touched the brake and nothing happened; a flicker of panic gripped him as he gripped the wheel; the tires started screeching again, but louder, as Michael attempted to go around the curve; “Oh my god!”, he exclaimed, as the car sped towards a tree; “No, no, no!”, he screamed as metal wrapped around the tree; there was the sickening sound of the impact, and then silence; Michael’s head slumped forward, his lean neck visible from above; the airbag slowly deflated, the Mercedes-Benz star prominently displayed in the middle of the steering column; “Oh, oh, oh,” Michael groaned; blood dripped from his forehead; he slipped the three-point harness off, pushed the door open, and slid to the ground; a sizzling sound and smoke came from the engine compartment; Michael pushed his bruised body backwards, scraping his delicate hands bloody; a small explosion popped from the bonnet, igniting petrol that had dripped on the roadway’s surface; Michael’s face turned white as he realized his predicament, now that dusk had arrived; he groaned turning onto his bruised ribs, and passed out, exhausted from his ordeal.
In the trees, two deformed figures turned towards the accident scene; their noses sniffed the air like dogs; they slunk nearly silently towards Michael’s prostrate figure; rough hideous hands grabbed his elegant shoulders and feet; Michael groaned as his body was dragged on the forest floor towards their compound; he went in and out of consciousness and thought he must be in the midst of a terrible nightmare; he was.
Night had fallen as Michael’s body was thrown onto a rough filthy bed; the door closed; a latch clicked in the decrepit lock; Michael awoke some time later and realized that something was terribly wrong; he noted a sliver of yellow light visible under the door; footsteps marched monotonously back and forth; he thought he could smell the odour of food; but it had a strange, sweet aroma he had never experienced; Michael’s cock perversely began to fill out and get very hard; he could feel pre-cum dripping from it’s deeply circumcised head; a deep blush blossomed from his thorax all the way up into his face, turning it bright red; “Fuck, I must be losing it!”, he thought; he grabbed the cock through his jeans and fondled himself; the sweet aroma aroused him further; he unzipped his jeans, placed his beautiful white left hand around the engorged shaft and began to pull on it, up and down; pre-cum flowed freely, lubing the hard head and shaft; he grabbed his low hanging large balls with his right hand and pulled hard, he managed to finger his prostate and tight hole on each down stroke; his whole bruised body vibrated with pain and pleasure; he felt the familiar powerful pulse deep inside his torso, making it’s way through the prostate and out to the engorged shaft and it’s shiny head; his full lips parted in ecstasy, it’s tongue protruding obscenely; a spurt of hot white cum shot from the head and into his mouth; then another, and another; “Ohhhhhhh! Oh my god!”, Michael growled; his delicate left hand grabbed the shaft as if it were going to rip it off; just then the latch clicked; Michael milked the shaft hard, bent down and sucked the last little bit of hot cum from the head, and rolled under the bed. His body crouched, sweating profusely, trying to stop his frenzied, frightened chattering; he watched as a deformed foot dragged itself back and forth . . .
Brent and Nathaniel slowed as they neared “the curve”; the headlights of their Subaru Forester illuminated the crash site; “Jesus, that looks like Mike’s car!”, Brent exclaimed; “Fuck, I think it is!”, Nathaniel added; “Oh my god, it is his!”, Brent yelled, stopping; they noticed the Maryland plate “Mike1”; both boys got out and inspected the smoking ruins of the E350; scowls formed on their faces and then looks of concern; “Well, since the NAV isn’t working and Mike is gone, we better go get help and find him!”, Brent said; “Yeah, even the fucking mobile is out!”, Nathaniel added in disgust; they retrieved a torch from the Forester and set off on a side road leading to the compound; a hulking collection of ramshackle buildings greeted their gaze as they rounded the final corner; smoke and an unfamiliar sweet odour permeated the premises; Brent put his fingers to his lips and turned off the torch; “Shhh!”, he ordered Nathaniel; “Something’s not right about this!”; they crept slowly up to the porch and looked in; through the gauzy window coverings they could just make out shadowy figures moving back and forth in the dim light; Nathaniel tripped over a large bone and fell; Brent quickly pulled him up, putting his hands over Nathaniel’s mouth; one of the figures moved towards the door; both boys held their breath as it opened; a tall burly overalled man peered out, smelling the night air; he looked over in the their direction and grunted “Who’s there?”; Brent softly said “It’s us, we’re having trouble with the NAV and can’t seem to get our bearings—and do you have a landline? It’s like we’re so far from civilization”; “Yeah, well those things don’t work very well out here”, he replied; “Why don’t you’all come in for awhile, I’ll see what we can do to get you going again”, he continued; “Uh, well, thanks, but we’re also looking for our friend”, Brent interjected; “Kinda delicate, pretty boy?”, the man sniggered; “I don’t know about that, he is cute—didn’t you see the crash?”, Nathaniel asked anxiously; “Oh that!”, the man answered, “We get so many crashes at that curve, I don’t know . . .”; his voice trailed off; “Anyway, you’all get inside and we’ll work something out”, he continued; Brent and Nathaniel followed the hulking figure into what looked like a large kitchen/great room complex; they were struck by how many kettles, pots and pans simmered with some sort of stew on a collection of old ranges; the unfamiliar sweet odour almost overwhelmed them; they both jumped, startled, as a deformed, filthy dwarf-like figure approached the man and whispered something in his ear; a broad grin crossed his face; he turned to Brent and Nathaniel and with an uncharacteristic smile offered “You’all are just in time for dinner”; the way he said it and the striking sharpness of his dirty teeth unnerved Brent and Nathaniel, but they thought they’d better sample a bit and then get on with the task of finding Mike.
Michael’s eyes grew wide as saucers as the door opened to the room; he found it difficult to swallow, his whole lean neck tightened, as if it knew something was about to happen to it; two sets of dirty, old boots shuffled to the bed; a hideous malformed face peered under the bed; he couldn’t tell even what sex it was; he shrank as far as his body would allow, hard against the corner; a rough, hairy hand grabbed his hair and pulled; Michael resisted with all his strength, his lean beautiful muscles fighting for their life; another more primitive hand reached in, had Michael’s whole ass in it’s hand and yanked; Michael was overwhelmed by the stench of the two “beings”; he had had nightmares of creatures, but none so ugly and horrible as the two now pulling him to God knew where; “No!, let me go!” he yelled at the top of his voice; one of the creatures slapped his face, it leaned down and lisped “Quiet, you!”; Michael cringed at it’s noxious breath; internally he prayed “Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt”; he kept repeating his private mantra over and over as the creatures continued pulling him; they entered a small, roughly timbered space, with a solitary rough table and a myriad of tools hanging from the walls; a single old-fashioned lantern hung over the table; they flung him on the table, secured his legs and hands spread-eagled; Michael couldn’t believe what was happening; “Please, please, don’t do this; let me go!” he entreated, tears flowing freely down his chiseled cheeks; the larger of the two things grasped a rusty, serrated thin blade and lowered it to Michael’s chin; “No, no, no!” Michael screamed; the blade began sawing through Michael’s perfect, delicate white skin; blood immediately shot out, as if protecting itself; Michael’s mouth opened, shocked and terrified that such a thing could be happening; “Please, please, pl-------“, his mouth begged, the words cut short as the saw invaded his voice box; his whole lean torso bucked and jerked, trying to escape; a stump started to appear; blood was everywhere as his young neck was sawed in half; the sawing thing held Michael’s head up; his eyes fixed on the pumping stump and jerking torso; his lips parted in terror, his tongue protruded, not believing how ultra-hot his own headless torso was; blood spattered his face; the last thing he saw was a patch of urine pooling in his crotch area; it bubbled up through his tight jeans and dripped onto his lean muscular thighs; the thing tossed the head onto it’s torso; it began sawing off the right arm; it stopped to examine a tattoo of Michael’s heart, now fluttering to a stop; “Mmmmm!” it grunted; the other thing began undressing the headless body; it giggled as it pulled off the diesel boots and sticky jeans; it extended it’s grotesque hand and pulled off Michael’s briefs; the flaccid large dick and low-hanging balls seemed to mock the things disassembling it’s body; it’s mouth fixed in perpetual look of horror, it’s gorgeous steel-blue eyes staring straight ahead; the left arm was next; the saw biting into the young white bone; it pulled away easily, it’s young smooth muscles no match for the brutes tearing it apart; an axe was wielded on the smooth muscular thighs, it took about five strong blows before each was freed from the torso; the smaller thing smelled Michael’s meat and scowled, it stacked the legs on the side with the arms; the abs were dissected with astonishing skill and speed; they joined the stack; the smaller one plunged a knife into the gut and began pulling out it’s intestines; it brought a section up to it’s nose and sniffed; a broad smile crossed it’s deformed face; Michael had been proud of his squeaky clean ass with good reason; his guts were probably the most pristine in the Northeast; his ablutions had paid off, the intestines would be used as sausage casing for a huge load of meat; the heart was extracted, the liver, for pate; the rest were ripped out and thrown in a stack; Michael was finally ready for dinner.
Brent and Nathaniel waited at the side of the great room, watching various pots and kettles being attended to; “I don’t know, bro, I don’t like the feel of this place”, Brent confided to his brother; “Yeah, it’s kind of spooky, and what is that smell?”, Nathaniel answered; engaged in conversation, they failed to notice the new meat being added to the collection; what they did notice was a little excitement around the huge industrial oven, that looked as if it come from the last century, covered with layers and layers of grease and grime; they could just make out a rather large piece of meat roasting; Brent said “Jesus, they have some large pigs here!”; Nathaniel agreed, saying “At least there’s enough for all!”; they once again became engrossed in conversation, trying to get a mobile signal and fretting about Mike and where he was at; time passed and they fell asleep, slumped on each other’s shoulders, like puppies; the large piece of meat sizzled and popped; it’s head also roasting; crispy brown skin began to appear; it’s stump dripping succulent juices; it’s tongue out, it’s mouth frozen in fear; it’s eyes beginning to cloud but still transfixed by the horrific events that caused it to be in this holy hell; it’s torso crisped nicely; the shield tattoo on the back of it’s right shoulder beginning to curl a bit; phrases were visible, but not individual words; the only thing discernable was “beautiful”, which this torso most assuredly was.
The overalled man shook Brent and Nathaniel awake, saying “You’all come on an eat”; they walked to a long table, shocked at the disparate array of dinnerware; a ragtag group of deformed, physically challenged beings began to appear and sit at the table; Brent and Nathaniel couldn’t tell what sex they were, what age they were, the only thing they could tell was that they were hungry; overalled man began ladling out a stew of sorts; it’s strange sweet fragrance enticed Brent and Nathaniel; they tasted some, and continued eating; “I don’t know what this is”, Brent said through mouthfuls of the stew; “Yeah, kinda like sweet pork or chicken”, Nathaniel answered; the stew finished, overalled man and the dwarf pulled the torso from the oven, steaming; Brent and Nathaniel were alarmed at what the roast seemed to be; Brent’s eyes grew wide as he surveyed it closely; “Uh, Nathaniel, I hope this isn’t what we think it is!”, he whispered; overalled man cut a large hunk from its left ass cheek and sent the platter around; razor-sharp teeth bit into the tender flesh; Brent and Nathaniel waved it off; overalled man stood up and challenged “Oh, but that’s the very best cut!”; the roast was rotated to cut the other cheek, and then Brent and Nathaniel spied Michael’s right shoulder tattoo; the shield was clearly defined, although the words had become illegible; “Oh my God!” Brent exclaimed, doubling over and vomiting; “Jesus, that’s our friend Mike!”, Nathaniel screamed; he also vomited, but shot it all over the table, spoiling everyone’s dinner; “Run, Brent, Run!”, Nathaniel yelled; “Get out of here now!”; Brent started towards the door, Nathaniel in tow; overall man looked askance, then shouted to the dwarves, “Get them!”; there was a rumble as chairs were pushed back and deformed feet tried to run after Brent and Nathaniel; Brent had the presence of mind to grab the torch; although it was brilliant moon-lit night, they appreciated the extra beams it afforded; the boys were sweating as they sped down the road, long muscular legs pumping as hard as they could, lungs expanding and contracting with the effort to save their lives; Brent fumbled with his keys as they neared the Subaru; he opened the door; flicked the central door unlock, and nothing happened; frantic, he manually unlocked the door; Nathaniel hopped in, Brent turned the key and silence; deafening silence; “Oh my fucking god!”, Brent screamed, “No, no, no!” he sobbed; Nathaniel hugged him hard; “Come on, bro, don’t fall apart, we’ve gotta get outta here!, Try again!”; he urgently whispered; one of the dwarves was clawing at Nathaniel’s door; another was ripping apart the trim and pulling on Brent’s door; overall man was close behind, rifle pointed at the car; Brent turned and turned the ignition switch, with no results; he tried to turn on headlights with no results; he buried his head in his hands and wept bitterly; Nathaniel quietly said “Oh my god, bro, it looks like they did get us too!”; one of the dwarves whirled round and round, uttering gibberish, salivating uncontrollably, and holding a car battery; their car battery.
Brent opened the door, facing overall man; Nathaniel opened his door, facing the bizarre group; overall man said “Nice night for a run, huh?”, turned to his “family”; they started screeching and laughing like hyenas, literally; a chill went through Brent and Nathaniel; overall man said “Look, it’s not fair that we didn’t give you a head start”; emphasizing “head”; again the dwarves bayed hideously; “I’m gonna give you 18 seconds—starting now!”, he continued; “18, 17, 16,”, he started counting; Brent grabbed Nathaniel’s hand and took off as fast as they could; they headed off on the main road, hoping against hope that someone from the outside world would come to their aid; Nathaniel’s face was covered in tears; Brent pushed him forward, whispering “Come on dude, put some gas on it!”; they heard the sound of an ancient vehicle gaining on them; Brent looked back and saw an old truck, dwarves hanging off it, everyone of them screaming like banshees; “Go bro!”, he urged; the sides of the roadway were covered in heavy thick vegetation, precluding any detour; the road began to slope downward; the boys picked up speed, but so did the truck; Brent grabbed Nathaniel’s waist, they moved as one unit; suddenly a “Whoosh” flew by their heads; Nathaniel felt the feathers from an arrow graze the side of his head; he bobbed, as did Brent; they started in a “Z” pattern, their muscular legs showing every striation; every fibre in their beings cried out for oxygen, for aid, for redemption; suddenly time stopped for the boys; an arrow flew into Brent’s skull, out his right eye; it pierced Nathaniel’s skull and lodged in his left eye; the eye popped out, onto his cheek as both fell in a heap onto the pavement; their torsos jerking, legs throbbing at odd angles; piss stains began to appear on their jeans.
The old truck toiled up the road to the compound, it’s precious cargo being lorded over by an especially ugly, hideous being; it poked the asses, played with their shoes, pulled on the lifeless arms; both boys were carried into the same timbered room where Michael had been butchered; Brent was first on the table, his long limbs tied at each edge; his face was contorted in pain and terror, the one socket empty; his mouth open like a rag doll; the dwarves were especially hungry after their excursion and resorted to a large sharp axe to part out Brent; the first chop took off his right arm clean; the second his left; only three blows were required for each leg; his meat was held up and inspected and smelled; “Yes, it’s good!” the grizzled, deformed being shouted; the limbs were immediately hustled off to roast; Brent’s head was severed easily, it’s long muscular stump pumping a bit from the pressure; the gut was opened and offal thrown into the same pile as Michael’s; animals and insects were already making good use of Michael’s tissues; the stench was overwhelming as tissue started to rot; Nathaniel’s body was next up; his arms were chopped off with one blow; the legs in three; his meat was also inspected and pronounced “best!”; his head was severed and taken away to join the others; his torso required special care because of it’s muscularity, it’s offal topping the pile; even the dwarves skirted the horrible red mess; tissue mixed with tissue, the remnants of three best friends; a raccoon exited with a clutch of stench-ridden offal; insects crowded into the feast; a carrion crow swooped in, flew away with a talon full of Michael, Brent, and Nathaniel.
Later that day overall man gathered the family for an afternoon feast; three heads graced the middle of the table; two muscular torsos the ends; “Go for it!”, he instructed; Michael’s head was the first to go round, it’s eyes still open in fear, it’s mouth pulled back in terror; chunks were ripped from the right cheek, and then the left; his strong white teeth shone through the void; one of the dwarves cranked back the jaw and ripped out it’s tongue; another cracked open the top of the skull and scooped out the brain with a dull “squishing” sound; eager hands stuffed bits of Michael’s brain into their mouths; it wasn’t long before nothing remained but the brain stem; that was thrown to the family’s chief mastiff, “Star”; he gratefully chomped down the brain stem whole, the very last of Michael’s consciousness had literally gone to the dogs; overall man took the defleshed skull and smashed it to bits with a large sledgehammer, to the delight of the family; innumerable bits of bone and tissue fragments flew around the room, some ending up lodged in the walls, some in the ceiling, joining other fragments that had gone before; Brent’s head was next; his lips were prized and ripped off first; his flesh was gone rapidly, the “better” taste much appreciated; this time his brain was fed whole to Star, after being scooted across the floor, with much appreciative shrieking and carrying on by the family; Star licked his lips in appreciation; Nathaniel’s head was split in a vertical manner to display his excellent structure and make the task of eating it easier; deformed hands scooped generous portions of his brain out; the outside appendages were pulled out first, overall man helped himself to the tongue, and then obliterated both denuded skulls as before, sending fragments everywhere.
The orgy of eating lasted well into the early morning hours; Nathaniel and Brent’s torsos were reduced to a pile of strong white bones; together with Michael’s bones they were shoved into an industrial macerator, ground to dust, to be used as a fertilizer adjunct; the compound had a well-deserved reputation in the county as THE place to obtain it; no one asked where it came from, as no asked where overall man’s pate was sourced from; all they knew is that the quality of the product was consistent, flavourful, and eagerly sought out, especially for the holidays; overall man surveyed his canned food supply; Brentmeat on the top shelf, Nathanielmeat a shelf below, and Michaelmeat bringing the bottom. It would be a good winter after all, he mused.
Michael crouched, sweating profusely, trying to stop his frenzied, frightened chattering; he watched as a deformed foot dragged itself back and forth, searching, searching; he brushed a crawling insect from his arm, it’s brown body colour contrasting with his alabaster white skin; it fell, walked to the front edge of the filthy bed, and then scurried to the corner; Michael caught his breath as the foot stopped; he heard tortured sniffing, the type of sound a pig makes, before the foot exited the squalid room; a tear crept down Michael’s left cheek, than another, and another; soon he was sobbing silently; his lean torso jerking as each sob wracked his long body; he thought “Oh my god, why am I here, how did this happen?”; a pungent horrible odour emanated from what looked for all the world like a “slop bucket” near the broken door; Michael thought he would vomit, and then stopped, motionless, as the door handle rattled; he heard what sounded like the foot dragging on the floor, and then silence, like the kind of silence that surrounded him last night, after the accident . . .
Michael glanced at his sunglassed reflection in the rear-view mirror of his convertible, “What a hottie!”, he smiled approvingly; it gazed back at him, sensual pouting lips just open to reveal it’s tongue; tires screeched as he over-corrected to negotiate a curve; his heart beat fast; he said to himself “Keep your eyes on the road, babe!”, and did just that; trees flew by in a blur as he reached the West Virginia state line, Michael loved traveling on route 50 on the way to his friend’s house in Ohio; his outstanding treatise on the “Pharmacological Effects of Ayahuasca in the Young Adult” at Georgetown had earned him a fellowship at NIH; his esoteric research had earned him an excellent reputation in the drug industry, even at his tender young age; now that first phase trials were concluded, he had open time to play before returning to the grueling routine at Bethesda; up ahead, he could see the curve that always caused him to slow hard; he touched the brake and nothing happened; a flicker of panic gripped him as he gripped the wheel; the tires started screeching again, but louder, as Michael attempted to go around the curve; “Oh my god!”, he exclaimed, as the car sped towards a tree; “No, no, no!”, he screamed as metal wrapped around the tree; there was the sickening sound of the impact, and then silence; Michael’s head slumped forward, his lean neck visible from above; the airbag slowly deflated, the Mercedes-Benz star prominently displayed in the middle of the steering column; “Oh, oh, oh,” Michael groaned; blood dripped from his forehead; he slipped the three-point harness off, pushed the door open, and slid to the ground; a sizzling sound and smoke came from the engine compartment; Michael pushed his bruised body backwards, scraping his delicate hands bloody; a small explosion popped from the bonnet, igniting petrol that had dripped on the roadway’s surface; Michael’s face turned white as he realized his predicament, now that dusk had arrived; he groaned turning onto his bruised ribs, and passed out, exhausted from his ordeal.
In the trees, two deformed figures turned towards the accident scene; their noses sniffed the air like dogs; they slunk nearly silently towards Michael’s prostrate figure; rough hideous hands grabbed his elegant shoulders and feet; Michael groaned as his body was dragged on the forest floor towards their compound; he went in and out of consciousness and thought he must be in the midst of a terrible nightmare; he was.
Night had fallen as Michael’s body was thrown onto a rough filthy bed; the door closed; a latch clicked in the decrepit lock; Michael awoke some time later and realized that something was terribly wrong; he noted a sliver of yellow light visible under the door; footsteps marched monotonously back and forth; he thought he could smell the odour of food; but it had a strange, sweet aroma he had never experienced; Michael’s cock perversely began to fill out and get very hard; he could feel pre-cum dripping from it’s deeply circumcised head; a deep blush blossomed from his thorax all the way up into his face, turning it bright red; “Fuck, I must be losing it!”, he thought; he grabbed the cock through his jeans and fondled himself; the sweet aroma aroused him further; he unzipped his jeans, placed his beautiful white left hand around the engorged shaft and began to pull on it, up and down; pre-cum flowed freely, lubing the hard head and shaft; he grabbed his low hanging large balls with his right hand and pulled hard, he managed to finger his prostate and tight hole on each down stroke; his whole bruised body vibrated with pain and pleasure; he felt the familiar powerful pulse deep inside his torso, making it’s way through the prostate and out to the engorged shaft and it’s shiny head; his full lips parted in ecstasy, it’s tongue protruding obscenely; a spurt of hot white cum shot from the head and into his mouth; then another, and another; “Ohhhhhhh! Oh my god!”, Michael growled; his delicate left hand grabbed the shaft as if it were going to rip it off; just then the latch clicked; Michael milked the shaft hard, bent down and sucked the last little bit of hot cum from the head, and rolled under the bed. His body crouched, sweating profusely, trying to stop his frenzied, frightened chattering; he watched as a deformed foot dragged itself back and forth . . .
Brent and Nathaniel slowed as they neared “the curve”; the headlights of their Subaru Forester illuminated the crash site; “Jesus, that looks like Mike’s car!”, Brent exclaimed; “Fuck, I think it is!”, Nathaniel added; “Oh my god, it is his!”, Brent yelled, stopping; they noticed the Maryland plate “Mike1”; both boys got out and inspected the smoking ruins of the E350; scowls formed on their faces and then looks of concern; “Well, since the NAV isn’t working and Mike is gone, we better go get help and find him!”, Brent said; “Yeah, even the fucking mobile is out!”, Nathaniel added in disgust; they retrieved a torch from the Forester and set off on a side road leading to the compound; a hulking collection of ramshackle buildings greeted their gaze as they rounded the final corner; smoke and an unfamiliar sweet odour permeated the premises; Brent put his fingers to his lips and turned off the torch; “Shhh!”, he ordered Nathaniel; “Something’s not right about this!”; they crept slowly up to the porch and looked in; through the gauzy window coverings they could just make out shadowy figures moving back and forth in the dim light; Nathaniel tripped over a large bone and fell; Brent quickly pulled him up, putting his hands over Nathaniel’s mouth; one of the figures moved towards the door; both boys held their breath as it opened; a tall burly overalled man peered out, smelling the night air; he looked over in the their direction and grunted “Who’s there?”; Brent softly said “It’s us, we’re having trouble with the NAV and can’t seem to get our bearings—and do you have a landline? It’s like we’re so far from civilization”; “Yeah, well those things don’t work very well out here”, he replied; “Why don’t you’all come in for awhile, I’ll see what we can do to get you going again”, he continued; “Uh, well, thanks, but we’re also looking for our friend”, Brent interjected; “Kinda delicate, pretty boy?”, the man sniggered; “I don’t know about that, he is cute—didn’t you see the crash?”, Nathaniel asked anxiously; “Oh that!”, the man answered, “We get so many crashes at that curve, I don’t know . . .”; his voice trailed off; “Anyway, you’all get inside and we’ll work something out”, he continued; Brent and Nathaniel followed the hulking figure into what looked like a large kitchen/great room complex; they were struck by how many kettles, pots and pans simmered with some sort of stew on a collection of old ranges; the unfamiliar sweet odour almost overwhelmed them; they both jumped, startled, as a deformed, filthy dwarf-like figure approached the man and whispered something in his ear; a broad grin crossed his face; he turned to Brent and Nathaniel and with an uncharacteristic smile offered “You’all are just in time for dinner”; the way he said it and the striking sharpness of his dirty teeth unnerved Brent and Nathaniel, but they thought they’d better sample a bit and then get on with the task of finding Mike.
Michael’s eyes grew wide as saucers as the door opened to the room; he found it difficult to swallow, his whole lean neck tightened, as if it knew something was about to happen to it; two sets of dirty, old boots shuffled to the bed; a hideous malformed face peered under the bed; he couldn’t tell even what sex it was; he shrank as far as his body would allow, hard against the corner; a rough, hairy hand grabbed his hair and pulled; Michael resisted with all his strength, his lean beautiful muscles fighting for their life; another more primitive hand reached in, had Michael’s whole ass in it’s hand and yanked; Michael was overwhelmed by the stench of the two “beings”; he had had nightmares of creatures, but none so ugly and horrible as the two now pulling him to God knew where; “No!, let me go!” he yelled at the top of his voice; one of the creatures slapped his face, it leaned down and lisped “Quiet, you!”; Michael cringed at it’s noxious breath; internally he prayed “Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt”; he kept repeating his private mantra over and over as the creatures continued pulling him; they entered a small, roughly timbered space, with a solitary rough table and a myriad of tools hanging from the walls; a single old-fashioned lantern hung over the table; they flung him on the table, secured his legs and hands spread-eagled; Michael couldn’t believe what was happening; “Please, please, don’t do this; let me go!” he entreated, tears flowing freely down his chiseled cheeks; the larger of the two things grasped a rusty, serrated thin blade and lowered it to Michael’s chin; “No, no, no!” Michael screamed; the blade began sawing through Michael’s perfect, delicate white skin; blood immediately shot out, as if protecting itself; Michael’s mouth opened, shocked and terrified that such a thing could be happening; “Please, please, pl-------“, his mouth begged, the words cut short as the saw invaded his voice box; his whole lean torso bucked and jerked, trying to escape; a stump started to appear; blood was everywhere as his young neck was sawed in half; the sawing thing held Michael’s head up; his eyes fixed on the pumping stump and jerking torso; his lips parted in terror, his tongue protruded, not believing how ultra-hot his own headless torso was; blood spattered his face; the last thing he saw was a patch of urine pooling in his crotch area; it bubbled up through his tight jeans and dripped onto his lean muscular thighs; the thing tossed the head onto it’s torso; it began sawing off the right arm; it stopped to examine a tattoo of Michael’s heart, now fluttering to a stop; “Mmmmm!” it grunted; the other thing began undressing the headless body; it giggled as it pulled off the diesel boots and sticky jeans; it extended it’s grotesque hand and pulled off Michael’s briefs; the flaccid large dick and low-hanging balls seemed to mock the things disassembling it’s body; it’s mouth fixed in perpetual look of horror, it’s gorgeous steel-blue eyes staring straight ahead; the left arm was next; the saw biting into the young white bone; it pulled away easily, it’s young smooth muscles no match for the brutes tearing it apart; an axe was wielded on the smooth muscular thighs, it took about five strong blows before each was freed from the torso; the smaller thing smelled Michael’s meat and scowled, it stacked the legs on the side with the arms; the abs were dissected with astonishing skill and speed; they joined the stack; the smaller one plunged a knife into the gut and began pulling out it’s intestines; it brought a section up to it’s nose and sniffed; a broad smile crossed it’s deformed face; Michael had been proud of his squeaky clean ass with good reason; his guts were probably the most pristine in the Northeast; his ablutions had paid off, the intestines would be used as sausage casing for a huge load of meat; the heart was extracted, the liver, for pate; the rest were ripped out and thrown in a stack; Michael was finally ready for dinner.
Brent and Nathaniel waited at the side of the great room, watching various pots and kettles being attended to; “I don’t know, bro, I don’t like the feel of this place”, Brent confided to his brother; “Yeah, it’s kind of spooky, and what is that smell?”, Nathaniel answered; engaged in conversation, they failed to notice the new meat being added to the collection; what they did notice was a little excitement around the huge industrial oven, that looked as if it come from the last century, covered with layers and layers of grease and grime; they could just make out a rather large piece of meat roasting; Brent said “Jesus, they have some large pigs here!”; Nathaniel agreed, saying “At least there’s enough for all!”; they once again became engrossed in conversation, trying to get a mobile signal and fretting about Mike and where he was at; time passed and they fell asleep, slumped on each other’s shoulders, like puppies; the large piece of meat sizzled and popped; it’s head also roasting; crispy brown skin began to appear; it’s stump dripping succulent juices; it’s tongue out, it’s mouth frozen in fear; it’s eyes beginning to cloud but still transfixed by the horrific events that caused it to be in this holy hell; it’s torso crisped nicely; the shield tattoo on the back of it’s right shoulder beginning to curl a bit; phrases were visible, but not individual words; the only thing discernable was “beautiful”, which this torso most assuredly was.
The overalled man shook Brent and Nathaniel awake, saying “You’all come on an eat”; they walked to a long table, shocked at the disparate array of dinnerware; a ragtag group of deformed, physically challenged beings began to appear and sit at the table; Brent and Nathaniel couldn’t tell what sex they were, what age they were, the only thing they could tell was that they were hungry; overalled man began ladling out a stew of sorts; it’s strange sweet fragrance enticed Brent and Nathaniel; they tasted some, and continued eating; “I don’t know what this is”, Brent said through mouthfuls of the stew; “Yeah, kinda like sweet pork or chicken”, Nathaniel answered; the stew finished, overalled man and the dwarf pulled the torso from the oven, steaming; Brent and Nathaniel were alarmed at what the roast seemed to be; Brent’s eyes grew wide as he surveyed it closely; “Uh, Nathaniel, I hope this isn’t what we think it is!”, he whispered; overalled man cut a large hunk from its left ass cheek and sent the platter around; razor-sharp teeth bit into the tender flesh; Brent and Nathaniel waved it off; overalled man stood up and challenged “Oh, but that’s the very best cut!”; the roast was rotated to cut the other cheek, and then Brent and Nathaniel spied Michael’s right shoulder tattoo; the shield was clearly defined, although the words had become illegible; “Oh my God!” Brent exclaimed, doubling over and vomiting; “Jesus, that’s our friend Mike!”, Nathaniel screamed; he also vomited, but shot it all over the table, spoiling everyone’s dinner; “Run, Brent, Run!”, Nathaniel yelled; “Get out of here now!”; Brent started towards the door, Nathaniel in tow; overall man looked askance, then shouted to the dwarves, “Get them!”; there was a rumble as chairs were pushed back and deformed feet tried to run after Brent and Nathaniel; Brent had the presence of mind to grab the torch; although it was brilliant moon-lit night, they appreciated the extra beams it afforded; the boys were sweating as they sped down the road, long muscular legs pumping as hard as they could, lungs expanding and contracting with the effort to save their lives; Brent fumbled with his keys as they neared the Subaru; he opened the door; flicked the central door unlock, and nothing happened; frantic, he manually unlocked the door; Nathaniel hopped in, Brent turned the key and silence; deafening silence; “Oh my fucking god!”, Brent screamed, “No, no, no!” he sobbed; Nathaniel hugged him hard; “Come on, bro, don’t fall apart, we’ve gotta get outta here!, Try again!”; he urgently whispered; one of the dwarves was clawing at Nathaniel’s door; another was ripping apart the trim and pulling on Brent’s door; overall man was close behind, rifle pointed at the car; Brent turned and turned the ignition switch, with no results; he tried to turn on headlights with no results; he buried his head in his hands and wept bitterly; Nathaniel quietly said “Oh my god, bro, it looks like they did get us too!”; one of the dwarves whirled round and round, uttering gibberish, salivating uncontrollably, and holding a car battery; their car battery.
Brent opened the door, facing overall man; Nathaniel opened his door, facing the bizarre group; overall man said “Nice night for a run, huh?”, turned to his “family”; they started screeching and laughing like hyenas, literally; a chill went through Brent and Nathaniel; overall man said “Look, it’s not fair that we didn’t give you a head start”; emphasizing “head”; again the dwarves bayed hideously; “I’m gonna give you 18 seconds—starting now!”, he continued; “18, 17, 16,”, he started counting; Brent grabbed Nathaniel’s hand and took off as fast as they could; they headed off on the main road, hoping against hope that someone from the outside world would come to their aid; Nathaniel’s face was covered in tears; Brent pushed him forward, whispering “Come on dude, put some gas on it!”; they heard the sound of an ancient vehicle gaining on them; Brent looked back and saw an old truck, dwarves hanging off it, everyone of them screaming like banshees; “Go bro!”, he urged; the sides of the roadway were covered in heavy thick vegetation, precluding any detour; the road began to slope downward; the boys picked up speed, but so did the truck; Brent grabbed Nathaniel’s waist, they moved as one unit; suddenly a “Whoosh” flew by their heads; Nathaniel felt the feathers from an arrow graze the side of his head; he bobbed, as did Brent; they started in a “Z” pattern, their muscular legs showing every striation; every fibre in their beings cried out for oxygen, for aid, for redemption; suddenly time stopped for the boys; an arrow flew into Brent’s skull, out his right eye; it pierced Nathaniel’s skull and lodged in his left eye; the eye popped out, onto his cheek as both fell in a heap onto the pavement; their torsos jerking, legs throbbing at odd angles; piss stains began to appear on their jeans.
The old truck toiled up the road to the compound, it’s precious cargo being lorded over by an especially ugly, hideous being; it poked the asses, played with their shoes, pulled on the lifeless arms; both boys were carried into the same timbered room where Michael had been butchered; Brent was first on the table, his long limbs tied at each edge; his face was contorted in pain and terror, the one socket empty; his mouth open like a rag doll; the dwarves were especially hungry after their excursion and resorted to a large sharp axe to part out Brent; the first chop took off his right arm clean; the second his left; only three blows were required for each leg; his meat was held up and inspected and smelled; “Yes, it’s good!” the grizzled, deformed being shouted; the limbs were immediately hustled off to roast; Brent’s head was severed easily, it’s long muscular stump pumping a bit from the pressure; the gut was opened and offal thrown into the same pile as Michael’s; animals and insects were already making good use of Michael’s tissues; the stench was overwhelming as tissue started to rot; Nathaniel’s body was next up; his arms were chopped off with one blow; the legs in three; his meat was also inspected and pronounced “best!”; his head was severed and taken away to join the others; his torso required special care because of it’s muscularity, it’s offal topping the pile; even the dwarves skirted the horrible red mess; tissue mixed with tissue, the remnants of three best friends; a raccoon exited with a clutch of stench-ridden offal; insects crowded into the feast; a carrion crow swooped in, flew away with a talon full of Michael, Brent, and Nathaniel.
Later that day overall man gathered the family for an afternoon feast; three heads graced the middle of the table; two muscular torsos the ends; “Go for it!”, he instructed; Michael’s head was the first to go round, it’s eyes still open in fear, it’s mouth pulled back in terror; chunks were ripped from the right cheek, and then the left; his strong white teeth shone through the void; one of the dwarves cranked back the jaw and ripped out it’s tongue; another cracked open the top of the skull and scooped out the brain with a dull “squishing” sound; eager hands stuffed bits of Michael’s brain into their mouths; it wasn’t long before nothing remained but the brain stem; that was thrown to the family’s chief mastiff, “Star”; he gratefully chomped down the brain stem whole, the very last of Michael’s consciousness had literally gone to the dogs; overall man took the defleshed skull and smashed it to bits with a large sledgehammer, to the delight of the family; innumerable bits of bone and tissue fragments flew around the room, some ending up lodged in the walls, some in the ceiling, joining other fragments that had gone before; Brent’s head was next; his lips were prized and ripped off first; his flesh was gone rapidly, the “better” taste much appreciated; this time his brain was fed whole to Star, after being scooted across the floor, with much appreciative shrieking and carrying on by the family; Star licked his lips in appreciation; Nathaniel’s head was split in a vertical manner to display his excellent structure and make the task of eating it easier; deformed hands scooped generous portions of his brain out; the outside appendages were pulled out first, overall man helped himself to the tongue, and then obliterated both denuded skulls as before, sending fragments everywhere.
The orgy of eating lasted well into the early morning hours; Nathaniel and Brent’s torsos were reduced to a pile of strong white bones; together with Michael’s bones they were shoved into an industrial macerator, ground to dust, to be used as a fertilizer adjunct; the compound had a well-deserved reputation in the county as THE place to obtain it; no one asked where it came from, as no asked where overall man’s pate was sourced from; all they knew is that the quality of the product was consistent, flavourful, and eagerly sought out, especially for the holidays; overall man surveyed his canned food supply; Brentmeat on the top shelf, Nathanielmeat a shelf below, and Michaelmeat bringing the bottom. It would be a good winter after all, he mused.
