TallBlond1
Forum Regular
- Joined
- Jan 10, 2012
- Messages
- 184
- Location
- Cleveland, Ohio
Deadliest Night of the Week
by Steve Geary
Of course, hands down, the honors for "Deadliest Night of the Week" must go to Saturday.
By Saturday night, everyone's rested enough to finally be themselves. Most are able to sleep later than usual that morning, maybe even take a nap in the afternoon.
Everyone is loosened up on Saturday nights, finally able to relax -- and yes, there's time to sniff out some mischief. Only people with dull lives, or those racked by guilt, would set their alarms for a boring church service the next morning. Yes, the "religious" pick one day a week to rise to some special "goodness," while the rest of us have one night a week to be especially bad.
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Buzz and Sparky were members of the Aryan Bullets. Their neighborhood was so rife with crime that by the time of this story the police had at least temporarily thrown up their hands with it.
The Aryan Bullets leader was Big Moe; nobody was more feared. Handsome, lean and mean, he laid down his rules with an iron fist. Smart, built like a brick shithouse, and only in his late twenties, Moe controlled an area adjacent to the university which those in-the-know called Hellville.
Violent though his nature was, there were only two acceptable reasons for a gang member to take a life without his permission -- the injured party had to have either been purposely attacked or blatantly disrespected. The scumshit committing such grievous behavior must have done so "with intent." Failure to prove that a snuff job was warranted meant dire consequences for the offender, even if it meant that Moe personally terminate one of his own. Yes, even among gangs there's a code of justice, and no gang leader can maintain order if he loses a community’s respect.
Buzz and Sparky were special, though. Because Moe trusted them, they were allowed one hit a month without Moe's permission -- they could do whatever they wanted to their victim, but like everyone else, they had to report the incident and support their belief that they had legitimate cause.
So it was close to midnight when they found themselves cruising Hellville's Main Street in the drizzling rain, their windows rolled down and the stereo blasting the neighborhood as they gazed at the passersby and whores. Both their cocks had ballooned halfway down their thighs, restless and half-boned, ready for action.
"Spring break," Buzz muttered almost despondently as he raised a bottle of Jack Daniels to his lips. "Ain't much goin' on tonight."
Sparky nodded. "Yeah, an' it's the last weekend of the month. We still ain't hit our month's quota, ain’t killed even one scumshit." He rubbed his aching hard-on through his jeans.
"Not one scumshit," Buzz repeated softly. He swished his whiskey around in his mouth. He took a drag off his Marlboro and slowly allowed the smoke to escape his nostrils. His tongue gently probed the cold sore on his lower lip which had appeared out of nowhere that morning. "Damn, it ain't goin' down," he said disgustedly. He looked over at his friend. "Well, has ever'body been polite to you this month, too?"
Sparky took a swig of beer and nodded his head. "Yeah, dammit. Fuckin' neighborhood's losin' it."
"Yeah. Bet they's afraid of our muscles." He grinned.
Sparky laughed. "Yeah, that's it!" He shifted his hard butt restlessly in his car seat and scratched his nuts. "Fuck, it's too damn quiet for a Saturday night, man! I ain't seen none of the other gangs out tonight -- hell, there ain't even no fuckin' college shit out, neither!"
"Damn spring break." Buzz probed his cold sore, snuffed out the cigarette and put the cellophane Marlboro pack up to his mouth, not once taking his eyes off the road. His lip snarled. "Fuck, I'm outa smokes," he scowled, crumpling the package up and tossing it out the window into the rain.
"No problem, bro," Sparky replied. "Let's hit up the 7-11 at the corner."
They parked the car. The rain came down in torrents. Thunder and lighting boomed and flashed all around them. They made a dash for the store, grabbed some beer and pretzels off the racks and headed for the check-out line to get a couple cartons of Marlboros.
There were two adults ahead of them, the first being some fat chick. The cunt seemed to be taking forever.
The boy behind her surely wasn't with her; he seemed to be in his own world and had headphones in his ears going full blast, so loud you could hear the music ten feet away. The kid was beautiful. There was no other word for it. Blond and blue-eyed, his body had the appearance of a dancer -- athletic, not overly muscular but well-built and toned. His buttocks were handsomely sculpted and the rain had caused just enough of the T-shirt to stick to his back that his shoulder muscles and spine were clearly defined.
He looked at the two guys approaching, his eyes darting downward just long enough to register the thick, restless bulges in their crotches. After holding his gaze below their waists just a bit too long, he looked up and gave them a modest smile. "Sorry I’ve got so much stuff to check out, fellers."
Buzz's eyes met Sparky's briefly; they knew a fag when they saw one. Buzz looked back at the boy and shrugged his shoulders. "No problem, punk."
The blond continued to make conversation. He pulled down his earphones. The music blared. "Pretty nasty out, huh?" he grinned. Both gang members made a mental note of how perfectly white his teeth were.
"Yeah, lousy weather. Ya should've gone to Lauderdale for spring break with your buddies, pal." Had Buzz imagined it, or was the boy staring at his cold sore?
The youth turned away. He shrugged as he murmured, "Nobody invited me."
Buzz looked at his pal and could feel a rage building up inside him. Quietly, he seethed in Sparky's ear, "This piece of shit keeps starin' at my sore!"
Sparky snickered, then whispered, "I hadn't noticed. Let me watch." The kid had put the earphones back on and was bouncing his head in rhythm to the music again when Buzz nudged him and said, "Come here often?"
The chick from hell had finally finished being rung up. The boy was pulling low-fat popcorn and diet coke from his shopping basket. He pulled off his head apparatus, managed to take in another glance at Buzz's crotch, and looked up at him. "Um, what did you say?" He seemed unable to help himself; like a moth to flame, his eyes once again focused, mesmerized, on the area around Buzz's cold sore. This time, both gang members were witness to the event, and Buzz felt his temper go through the roof.
"Never mind!" Buzz replied angrily. The boy shrugged, nodded his head and turned his attention over to the cashier.
"DAMMIT!" Buzz hissed at his friend. "TELL ME YOU DIDN'T SEE THAT!"
"I sure did," Sparky remarked. There was a pause. The only sound that could be heard as the shopkeeper’s Arabian fingers whizzed over his register was the boy’s earth-shattering music.
"Fuckin' bastard!" Buzz growled. "I was bein' friendly, and he goes out of his way to point out my damn sore!"
Sparky grinned. "Well, hold your temper. No sense flyin' off the handle yet. I mean, it's not like he’s tried to slug ya.”
There was a pause as Buzz pondered the situation. Yeah, it's not like the kid had hit him or called him names, but what could be more rude than some dipshit repeatedly calling attention to even a temporary physical flaw?
The sound of the rain was roaring against the pavement as Sparky and Buzz ran back to their car. The kid was walking away from them, down the sidewalk. "Hey, buddy! Want a ride?" Buzz yelled after him. Even though he was only a few yards away now and had his ear phones off, the young man didn't turn around. Their nemesis disappeared into the night, enveloped by the heavy precipitation.
Buzz was practically livid. "MOTHER FUCKER! That fag scumshit thinks he looks so perfect he can ignore me! Did ya see that?!"
"Let's follow the pussy," Sparky suggested. "Looks like he's walking toward the frat houses."
Buzz slammed the car door shut, tossed a Marlboro into his mouth and fired it up. The car lurched into the street as the men sought their culprit. A sudden flash of lightning illuminated the entire neighborhood, followed instantly by a loud clap of thunder. For a brief second, the outline of the boy's drenched figure was visible in the rain.
Sparky rolled down his window as the car crept up behind him. “Hey! Hey YOU!”
No doubt about it, the boy was ignoring them. His face looked straight down, his head bowed miserably toward the pavement. His blond hair clung to his forehead as sopping wet as the fur on a drowned rat. He looked uncomfortable as hell as he held his purchases close to his body-- his sole purpose in life now seemed to be getting home and ignore anyone unworthy of him.
Buzz continued to call to the young man. "Twinkie boy! Enjoyin' your shower?"
Buzz could feel his adrenaline rise. His jaw clenched. If there's one thing he can’t stand it was being ignored. "Dammit, YA LITTLE SHIT!! We're Aryan Bullets, you mother fucker! Who the fuck you think you are?" He looked at his buddy exasperatedly. "See? The asshole's ignorin' both of us now!"
Sparky nodded grimly. "Yeah, I don't like it. I'm startin' to really hate this li'l bastard. Whaddaya think we should do about it?"
There was a pause before Buzz quietly said, "This kid's showin' us no respect. Moe's let us know what we can do at times like these."
Sparky gave him an evil smile. "Looks like we found us some fun tonight."
When the youth finally walked up to a dark frat house, Sparky and Buzz stopped their car. Their cocks pulsed with excitement, desperate to be freed from their jeans. Before the night was over, they'd be seeing every hidden treasure on this boy's physique. Better than that -- this mother fucker would soon be waving bye-bye to his perfect little body.
The young man entered the dark building and a hallway light clicked on. Soon a bedroom toward the back lit up. Yeah, the boy was alone. Almost as if the fates wished to bless the thugs, the rain slowed to a drizzle and within moments had stopped entirely.
It would be too risky to enter the building through the front door. Sparky grabbed his tool case and Buzz his Jack Daniels as they locked their car and discreetly crept around the side of the building. It was lucky for them that the kid's bedroom was toward the back. Slowly, they made their way to the lit window. They arrived just in time to see Fratboy push a button on his stereo, instantly flooding the room full blast with music.
"Nice. Fratboy loves loud noises," Buzz smirked. Sparky understood. Noise was good for covering up screams.
'Fratboy' nonchalantly reached up behind his head and pulled off his shirt. "Yeah, that's it, fucker," Sparky murmured softly. "Get outa those wet clothes. Let's see what ya got."
The boy didn’t know he was giving a free strip tease. His arms slowly peeled off the soaked shirt, revealing pale, muscular shoulders and a well-chiseled chest. There were no love handles; his torso was slim and sleek. The abdominal wall was tight and firm, with a narrow hair trail pointed the way from his navel down into his wet jeans.
The little stud quickly shucked off his wet sneakers, not even bothering to untie them. Grabbing the front button of his pants, he tore them open, pulled down the zipper and revealed long, slender legs, as beautiful as everything else about him. "Yeah, keep goin'," Buzz murmured as he drank in the sight, wiping his mouth after sucking in another large gulp of whiskey. The wet underwear was the next to go, the well-endowed penis popping out of its soggy confinements and welcoming the fresh, drying air. The boy nonchalantly fingered his organ, letting it breathe. It gratefully stretched out from its squashed, moist position. This boy was well hung.
Feeling naked and free, Fratboy walked to his closet, unknowingly giving the window a clear view of his muscled ass. He grabbed a towel and mopped down his hair. Then he walked back across the room to his groceries, his hefty cock bouncing side to side in front of him now in a semi-erection.
He pulled the popcorn out of the grocery bag. After spending a moment reading the directions, he set the microwave timer and shoved the package in. He walked happily out the bedroom door.
"Bet he's on his way to some community shower room," Buzz said.
"Yeah," Sparky whispered, "an' did ya notice? He jus' held the towel to his side, didn't wrap it around him. He didn't feel the need to cover anything up."
Buzz smiled. "Yeah -- scumshit thinks he's alone." How good and free it must have felt for this punk to have an entire frat house to himself-- a full weekend without roommates.
This was going to be good.
While Fratboy showered, the young men made ample use of their time. They knew the routine -- don't act quickly. Make sure you cover all the bases.
It was convenient that this was an old house with thick outer walls. They surveyed all the windows -- good, no burglar alarms. They jimmied Fratboy's window just a crack to assure that when the time came, it would open freely. After that, they found the house's thick phone line and cut it in two. Nobody would be calling out tonight.
"Look," Buzz said, pointing downward. "A basement window. See if you can fit through there." Sparky knew what Buzz was up to. Taking a hammer, he smashed apart the window. Fratboy's music was so loud he couldn’t possibly hear the glass shatter. He smiled as he scrambled through the broken window and was back in a flash. "It'll work perfectly, Buzz. Once I'm inside, I can reach the ceiling with no problem."
"Great, man. Sure ya got everything?" Buzz asked. "Power drill? Duct tape? Tennis ball?"
Sparky went through his tool case. "Don't worry," he chuckled. "I got it all. Li'l fucker ain't got no idea what he's in for."
The popcorn had long finished by the time the boy came back. He must've had some fun while taking his shower because his cock was now fully erect, sticking straight up in the air as he entered the room. His hair was still damp but had obtained a fresh appearance -- unlike that miserable look brought on by dirty rain. His face was freshly scrubbed, his perfect teeth vigorously brushed. He strode across the room, his hard-on again bouncing proudly in front of him. Standing in front of a mirror, he towel-dried his hair, grabbed a comb and styled it backward; it would dry itself into place. The boy then stretched his nude body and pulled his face into the mirror, checking quickly for imaginary blemishes. He flexed a bicep and grinned at his reflection, obviously proud of his looks. When the young stud stepped back, wagging his big dick in the mirror and smiling impishly at his reflection, Buzz pulled out his gun as Sparky grabbed a long metal pipe. Both thugs took stock of themselves, took excited, deep breaths and gave each other nods. "Ready."
Fratboy had put a bathrobe on and was just starting toward the microwave when his visitors threw open the window. He stopped dead in his tracks. "What the FUCK?! Who the hell are you?"
Buzz aimed the gun right between his eyes. "Don't move and you won't get hurt," he lied. "We just want to pay you a little visit, that's all." He climbed through the opening and grabbed the boy by his wet hair.
Fratboy didn't hear him. He was too disoriented. "What do you want?" he stammered. His body had gone rigid. He knew he recognized this guy, but had no idea where. He wanted to run, but didn't dare move with a gun in his face. When Sparky climbed through the window, too, the boy's body started to shake. "You're the -- the guys from the convenience store," he gulped.
"Yeah. Sweet of ya to remember us," Buzz said wryly. "DAMMIT! There ya go, starin' at my cold sore again! Sock him, Sparky!"
"No, please, I'm sorry! I --" Sparky swung the pipe across the kid's jaw, sending the youth crashing across the room and against the bedroom door. "OWW! Help! Oh, HELP!" he screamed. A bloody wound had opened up his lower lip. He stumbled to his feet and grabbed the doorknob.
"You ain't goin' nowhere, scumshit!" Sparky yelled, grabbing the boy from behind and aiming the pipe directly at his belly. The assault was so hard this time it knocked the wind right out of him. The boy collapsed to the floor, his bathrobe falling open, the front of his nude body now fully displayed for both men to see.
"There, fucker!" Buzz laughed. "Now ya got somethin' on your face for us to stare at!" That, in and of itself, was a victory, but there would be many more before the night was over. He motioned to Sparky. "Bring in the shit."
The youth's eyes and mouth were wide open, his chest heaving, one hand on it as he stared at the floor, trying to pull air into his lungs. He wanted to speak but couldn't. "Throw me the tennis ball, Sparky," Buzz ordered.
Fratboy looked at the ball cross-eyed as his jaws were wrenched open. The fuzzy sphere was stuffed into his mouth. His naked form squealed and squirmed. His guests roughly wrapped duct tape tightly around his lower face so that only his eyes could communicate. The boy's eyes reflected every bewildered emotion in the book-- fear, anger, terror, denial. Short breaths were coming to him finally, but with the tennis ball wrenching at the back of the boy's jaw, he got the air only through his nose. Where was the pistol that bigger guy had? Was it within reach? Oh, there it was -- unfortunately, the bigger guy's body was in the way.
Sparky started stripping off his clothes. "Hey, Buzz-- how about I fuck this scumshit's faggot ass?" he asked.
"He's all yours, pal," Buzz responded, "but you're gonna need some lube first. Don't worry, I'll dig you out some." He easily pinned the youth's slender body to the floor and reached down, caressing the boy's firm, slender ass. The youth shook his head vigorously, a moan emanating from deep in his throat and a desperate look in his eyes. He knew he'd landed in some deep shit. It was going to take all his wits to get out of this one intact.
Buzz grunted and pinned Fratboy's thighs down with his knees. The boy’s fuckhole was exposed by roughly wrenching the muscled asscheeks apart. For a moment, Buzz just gazed in wonder at the opening. It was a beautiful hole, with somewhat darker hairs surrounding the asslips than the downy blond vegetation scattered along the boy's legs. Buzz was mesmerized by it, but only for a second.
Sparky chuckled and ripped the underwear down-- his nine-inch tool thoroughly inflated and throbbing wickedly in front of him. He waited, not all that patiently, for Buzz's next move. Buzz smiled at him, curled his lip, and grabbed Sparky's metal pipe -- the one with a bit of a serrated edge to it -- grinding it up the young man's oh-so-perfect jock ass.
The scream inside the boy's throat was like that of a wounded coyote-- good thing for his housemates that they were all gone that evening, because that howl would've awakened the entire fraternity. The pipe's sharp edges mercilessly slashed the pink inner walls of the boy's rectum. By twisting and turning the pipe in various directions, the boy's tender inner flesh was chopped and sliced. Buzz was rewarded for his efforts as a fresh, rich stream of blood started seeping out of several wounds deep inside their new buddy’s boy pussy.
"There's your lube, Sparky my man! Try that on for size."
Sparky was like a little kid in a candy store as he positioned his nine inches behind the crimson asshole. Lifting the boy so that he was up on all fours, Sparky plunged his fat rod in doggie-style, screwing the slut in an obscene clockwise motion. The beefy fucktool seemed to be mining the boy's fuck hole for anything it could pull out. The boy screamed so hard his throat went hoarse. "DAYUM," Sparky cried, "this fag's ass feels so fuckin' good!! LOVE it clamped roun' my pussy knocker!"
To Buzz, the two bodies looked like poetry in motion. The scum's eyes were rolling up into his head as he moaned with pain. Sparky's thick prick pounded for all it was worth, and soon both the manly stalk and its hairy nest were matted with blood. "YEAH, damn fag! How does it feel to get dicked by a real man?"
Sparky could feel his scrotum tighten up. By instinct he grunted and hugged the boy tight. His balls kicked out their heavy load, and into the bloody anal cavity spewed one jet after another of hot spunk. Fratboy's body crumpled to the floor.
Buzz smiled. "Go down into the basement, Sparky. You know what to do. Time to really start havin' fun!" Sparky's cock popped out of the ruined asshole as he giggled and grabbed some washers, nuts and a wrench. The naked gang member hopped outside the window and knelt by the basement window. His dangerous dick still oozed nut juice and flopped left and right as he squeezed through.
"Kid, this is gonna hurt you more than it does me," Buzz explained. Throwing the kid on his side, he threw back his arm and plunged his fist into the boy's kidneys, giving the scumshit's guts their hardest blow yet. Through the tennis ball in his mouth, the boy screamed again, hard. Once more, he was without air. He felt his stomach hurl and could taste vomit in his mouth. It wouldn't get past the ball. Some puke leaked from his nose; the rest he was forced to re-swallow. Weakly, he curled into a fetal position and cried, hot tears his cheeks.
"Yeah, cry, ya little bastard," Buzz yelled as he shed his clothes. Naked now himself, his huge muscular form strode over to the tool case, his cock pulsing as he pulled out the extension cord and power drill. "How convenient," he smiled at his captive. "You've got an electrical outlet right by your microwave." After plugging in the cord and drill, he grinned as he threw some Orville Redenbacher into his mouth. "I'm gonna show you a good time, kid. But you ain't much of a host -- yer popcorn's cold."
Buzz threw him onto his stomach, screwed a thick bit into the drill and fired it up. The drill bit blurred and the apparatus screamed, spinning the bit in circles hundreds of times per second. Buzz grinned, slammed one of the kid's hands palm-down onto the floor, pushed the drill into the boy's wrist and applied pressure. A sickening smell permeated the room as the bit chewed through the flesh as if it were cheap pine. Blood sprayed in every which direction. The boy's legs kicked and his body lurched as he wailed his sobbing head off.
Within seconds the drill had reached the other side of the boy's arm and was halfway through the thick floorboard. Buzz felt satisfaction as the drill gave way; he’d successfully broken through to the basement. Buzz calmly pushed a heavy bolt through the fresh hole in both the wrist and the wood, and underneath them, Sparky was busy on the other side, tightening the bolt with a nut and wrench.
"Hell, yeah! Perfect!" Buzz yelled to his buddy downstairs. "Get ready, here comes another one." Fratboy almost passed out as his other wrist was similarly bolted. Blood seeped from his wounds; the floorboards around his body were developing a thick cherry stain. His lower body crumbled to the floor. Buzz demanded he again get on his knees. Although Fratboy was at risk of going into shock, the adrenaline pumping through his veins kept him from passing out, no matter how much he may have wanted to.
Forcing the boy onto his knees, Buzz aimed the drill right through the shin bones, effectively shattering them. Again, Sparky tightened the bolts on the other side of the floor. He made sure the nuts were biting firmly into the wood. Climbing stark naked out the basement window and into the bedroom again, Sparky gave Buzz a high five as they congratulated themselves on a job well done. "How ya feelin’ there, scumshit?" Sparky laughed as he spit in the boy's face.
With their prey’s wrists and legs tightly bolted to the floor doggie-style, Buzz and Sparky were hard-pressed to imagine anything more hot or vulnerable. This kid looked great! His face was drenched with angry, helpless tears. He was sweating so profusely he'd probably lost a few pounds of water weight, and his hair looked as it did in the rain.
Now it was Buzz's turn to fuck. His hard-on was only a half inch longer than his buddy’s, but it was considerably thicker, and he was determined to make sure that it hurt. At least the blood hadn't stopped oozing from Fratboy's asshole; that would help the kid in the lubrication department. Buzz knelt behind the kid's rear, straddled his ass and amid muffled screams rammed his thick fuck sausage home.
With Fratboy's abdomen raised off the floor, Sparky was able to scoot his face underneath the boy's smooth, full testicles. What a view -- Buzz's cock looked thick and nasty in close-up as it dug into the battered boy's body, and in spite of itself, Fratboy's dick was hard, bouncing left and right with each fuck thrust. Although the scrotum was bloody, both man eggs were still in decent shape.
Sparky watched the boy's large dick bouncing, then carefully wrapped his mouth completely around both balls, gently sucking them in. He tightened his jaw around the sack and rocked his mouth back and forth, causing the sharp teeth to embed themselves into the fragile skin where the scrotum attached itself to the body.
As Sparky watched in close-up as Buzz's cock plow the bloodied young ass, Sparky ground his teeth into the Fratboy's testicles. His incisors cut through various cords and tissue and the boy’s blood began to flow down his chin. All of the muscles in Fratboy's body snapped tight. He howled as Sparky grated his teeth back and forth, finally pulling his head straight back in a jerking motion, severing entirely the boy's thick scrotum. Tears streamed down the boy's face as sweat and blood poured from the fresh, nasty wound.
With severed testicles in his mouth, Sparky grinned and shook his head vigorously like a pooch that had grabbed its favorite toy. Throwing his head to the side, he opened his jaws, letting the nuts sail across the room, where they landed in a corner with a sharp, squishy PLOP! Thick, sticky spurts of blood jetted out of the fresh, oozing cavern just underneath Fratboy's cock.
"Ya know," Buzz said to Sparky as he continued to nail the ass, "I really want me a new experience tonight. I've fucked guys while we's strangled 'em to death. I've nailed 'em while you've plunged knives through their guts, screwed 'em as they's hung by their necks from shower stalls and plowed 'em while they's drowned. Sure is hot to feel their insides spasm on my dick while they're dying! But now I wants somethin' new. Got any suggestions, pal?"
Sparky loved a challenge. He looked around the room until it dawned on him. "Hell, yeah!" he cried. Grabbing the microwave table and pulling it over to Fratboy's head, he said, "Look, it's just the right height and size." With that, he took a hammer, smashed the glass on the oven's door, and slammed the boy's head into the tiny, claustrophobic compartment.
"Hoo HAH!" Buzz whooped as his cock rammed the ass with newly inspired vigor. "This'll be great, man! Fire 'er up!"
Fratboy's muffled screams were other-worldly as the men held his body in place. "Lessee," Sparky said. "Every microwave's a li'l different. Let's set it on Medium for a minute an' see what that does."
A few quick jabs at the control panel and the microwave came alive. It took only a split second for Fratboy's shrieking to fill the room. His body jerked, spasmed, and convulsed. "Oh, HELL YEAH, man!" Buzz cried. "You should feel how his guts are tightening up 'round my dick! Start over, put it on High, dude!" His pelvis pummeled the ass harder than ever. His face took on a glow of sheer sexual ecstasy.
Sparky laughed. When he changed the setting to High and pushed Start again, the boys could see Fratboy's hair start to singe. Fratboy's uncontrollable reflexes in his arms and legs shook his body. All his appendages pulled at the bolts with rough, jerking movements, succeeding only in ripping into his precious flesh. The boy's tortured throat gurglings now sounded like a garbage disposal.
"HELL YEAH, man!!" Buzz yelled, drinking his Jack Daniels again straight from the bottle. "Such an AWESOME, HOT FUCK!! His whole body's warmin' up, man! It's makin' everythin' around my cock soooo fuckin' hot!"
Sizzling, snapping and crackling noises emanated from inside the microwave and wisps of smoke started to seep through the broken glass. Peering through the broken window, Sparky could see large blisters bubbling up all over Fratboy's swelling face. The screaming head banged against the oven's insides as his hair caught on fire. The smoke quickly turned black and billowed up toward the ceiling.
Sparky got back underneath the boy and rammed his dick into the hole, too, creating even more friction on Buzz's fucktool. It felt good to feel not only the boiling asswalls but the side of Buzz's cock heat up his dick. It reminded Sparky of when they were Cub Scouts, rubbing sticks together to make fire. In and out, the cocks worked liked pistons. Fratboy's body became a piece of machinery spiraling out of control, everything starting to misfire, the entire engine destined for meltdown as the boy’s nervous system short-circuited.
"YEAH!! DIE, YA GODDAMN MOTHER FUCKER!" the men screamed as they approached orgasm. "See ya in fuckin' hell, bastard!" Buzz grabbed the hammer and pounded the boy's ribs, shattering bones left and right. The blood was overheating the boy's brain. Life's boiling red juices sizzled as they shot out of Fratboy's ears, nose and eye sockets. "FUCK, we're gonna SHOOT!"
Just as they blew their loads, a sickening sound popped loudly inside the boy's nuked head. Blood poured from his mouth and eyeballs. Boiling brain matter started coming out the ears and nose. The oven over-flowed as brain bits poured down onto the floor, where they continued to sizzle and cook in their own juices. Both gang members slumped to the ground, just in time to see Fratboy's bladder empty itself, an ever-widening pool of piss quietly spreading out from his slaughtered body.
The victors looked at each other and shook their heads, laughing. "Bro, that was fuckin' awesome!"
The boy’s perfect body had been turned into a gruesome dead mess. Buzz and Sparky left the frathouse. The body remains were left to fend for themselves. Now it was time to celebrate.
Within half an hour, Buzz and Sparky found a couple of hookers, rented a cheap motel, fucked the whores mercilessly and tossed them out on their asses. Around 4 in the morning, Buzz and Sparky fell asleep in their motel bed, their nude, warm bodies happily intertwined. They were snoring within moments of hitting the sheets.
It was just before dawn when a switch was abruptly clicked on. The room was flooded with light. Within seconds, a number of hoodlums had poured themselves into their hotel room.
The men were instantly awake. Their heads shot up from their pillows. They squinted their eyes and were reaching clumsily for their guns when a familiar voice from outside the room said, "Don't even try it."
Through the haze of two godawful hangovers, Buzz and Sparky tried to make sense of the scene. All their Aryan Bullets buddies had guns pointed at their heads. From out in the hallway, Moe walked in calmly, M 9 revolvers in both of his hands. "Sit together. Real close to each other," he demanded, slowly and quietly.
They had no choice. Buzz and Sparky moved their naked bodies closer toward each other as their friends surrounded the bed, leaving a path for Moe to enter the circle. He climbed on the bed and knelt on them, straddling their bodies. "Suppose you two tell me what happened at the frat house tonight," he said calmly.
Buzz acted as spokesman and told the whole story -- how, after all, they were allowed one hit per month. How Fratboy had insulted them. How the kid had kept staring at Buzz's cold sore. How, at the 7-11, the punk had walked away, completely ignoring them as they called after him.
Moe nodded. “Problem is, you made two mistakes,” he breathed. He roughly forced the pistols he was carrying into both of their mouths, not stopping until both barrels were jammed tightly against the back of their throats. His index fingers were ready to squeeze both triggers.
"That boy’s name was Leonard. He’s my nephew. He was an accounting major," Moe explained. "I hired him last week as my bookkeeper."
Their eyes blinked as they digested the information. They'd killed one of Moe's relatives. Not good.
"Fuckers! I gave Leonard that job because I felt sorry for him. He was almost completely deaf! He wasn't staring at your cold sore, asshole. He was reading your lips."
Realization that they’d really fucked up registered in Buzz’s and Sparky’s eyes. Moe stared at them glumly as both guns loudly went off. Both heads jerked violently backward. The gang watched calmly as two bullets tore through their heads and ripped the back of their skulls straight off their bodies. Their brains instantly splattered on the wall behind them, resembling a painting of red oatmeal. Blood bubbled out their nostrils. Buzz's and Sparky's faces took on stupid expressions as gravity caused the brain matter behind them to slowly melt down the wall.
Moe pulled himself up off the bed. He was tight-lipped as he left them.
He strode purposefully out the door. "Clean up the room," he ordered.
by Steve Geary
Of course, hands down, the honors for "Deadliest Night of the Week" must go to Saturday.
By Saturday night, everyone's rested enough to finally be themselves. Most are able to sleep later than usual that morning, maybe even take a nap in the afternoon.
Everyone is loosened up on Saturday nights, finally able to relax -- and yes, there's time to sniff out some mischief. Only people with dull lives, or those racked by guilt, would set their alarms for a boring church service the next morning. Yes, the "religious" pick one day a week to rise to some special "goodness," while the rest of us have one night a week to be especially bad.
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Buzz and Sparky were members of the Aryan Bullets. Their neighborhood was so rife with crime that by the time of this story the police had at least temporarily thrown up their hands with it.
The Aryan Bullets leader was Big Moe; nobody was more feared. Handsome, lean and mean, he laid down his rules with an iron fist. Smart, built like a brick shithouse, and only in his late twenties, Moe controlled an area adjacent to the university which those in-the-know called Hellville.
Violent though his nature was, there were only two acceptable reasons for a gang member to take a life without his permission -- the injured party had to have either been purposely attacked or blatantly disrespected. The scumshit committing such grievous behavior must have done so "with intent." Failure to prove that a snuff job was warranted meant dire consequences for the offender, even if it meant that Moe personally terminate one of his own. Yes, even among gangs there's a code of justice, and no gang leader can maintain order if he loses a community’s respect.
Buzz and Sparky were special, though. Because Moe trusted them, they were allowed one hit a month without Moe's permission -- they could do whatever they wanted to their victim, but like everyone else, they had to report the incident and support their belief that they had legitimate cause.
So it was close to midnight when they found themselves cruising Hellville's Main Street in the drizzling rain, their windows rolled down and the stereo blasting the neighborhood as they gazed at the passersby and whores. Both their cocks had ballooned halfway down their thighs, restless and half-boned, ready for action.
"Spring break," Buzz muttered almost despondently as he raised a bottle of Jack Daniels to his lips. "Ain't much goin' on tonight."
Sparky nodded. "Yeah, an' it's the last weekend of the month. We still ain't hit our month's quota, ain’t killed even one scumshit." He rubbed his aching hard-on through his jeans.
"Not one scumshit," Buzz repeated softly. He swished his whiskey around in his mouth. He took a drag off his Marlboro and slowly allowed the smoke to escape his nostrils. His tongue gently probed the cold sore on his lower lip which had appeared out of nowhere that morning. "Damn, it ain't goin' down," he said disgustedly. He looked over at his friend. "Well, has ever'body been polite to you this month, too?"
Sparky took a swig of beer and nodded his head. "Yeah, dammit. Fuckin' neighborhood's losin' it."
"Yeah. Bet they's afraid of our muscles." He grinned.
Sparky laughed. "Yeah, that's it!" He shifted his hard butt restlessly in his car seat and scratched his nuts. "Fuck, it's too damn quiet for a Saturday night, man! I ain't seen none of the other gangs out tonight -- hell, there ain't even no fuckin' college shit out, neither!"
"Damn spring break." Buzz probed his cold sore, snuffed out the cigarette and put the cellophane Marlboro pack up to his mouth, not once taking his eyes off the road. His lip snarled. "Fuck, I'm outa smokes," he scowled, crumpling the package up and tossing it out the window into the rain.
"No problem, bro," Sparky replied. "Let's hit up the 7-11 at the corner."
They parked the car. The rain came down in torrents. Thunder and lighting boomed and flashed all around them. They made a dash for the store, grabbed some beer and pretzels off the racks and headed for the check-out line to get a couple cartons of Marlboros.
There were two adults ahead of them, the first being some fat chick. The cunt seemed to be taking forever.
The boy behind her surely wasn't with her; he seemed to be in his own world and had headphones in his ears going full blast, so loud you could hear the music ten feet away. The kid was beautiful. There was no other word for it. Blond and blue-eyed, his body had the appearance of a dancer -- athletic, not overly muscular but well-built and toned. His buttocks were handsomely sculpted and the rain had caused just enough of the T-shirt to stick to his back that his shoulder muscles and spine were clearly defined.
He looked at the two guys approaching, his eyes darting downward just long enough to register the thick, restless bulges in their crotches. After holding his gaze below their waists just a bit too long, he looked up and gave them a modest smile. "Sorry I’ve got so much stuff to check out, fellers."
Buzz's eyes met Sparky's briefly; they knew a fag when they saw one. Buzz looked back at the boy and shrugged his shoulders. "No problem, punk."
The blond continued to make conversation. He pulled down his earphones. The music blared. "Pretty nasty out, huh?" he grinned. Both gang members made a mental note of how perfectly white his teeth were.
"Yeah, lousy weather. Ya should've gone to Lauderdale for spring break with your buddies, pal." Had Buzz imagined it, or was the boy staring at his cold sore?
The youth turned away. He shrugged as he murmured, "Nobody invited me."
Buzz looked at his pal and could feel a rage building up inside him. Quietly, he seethed in Sparky's ear, "This piece of shit keeps starin' at my sore!"
Sparky snickered, then whispered, "I hadn't noticed. Let me watch." The kid had put the earphones back on and was bouncing his head in rhythm to the music again when Buzz nudged him and said, "Come here often?"
The chick from hell had finally finished being rung up. The boy was pulling low-fat popcorn and diet coke from his shopping basket. He pulled off his head apparatus, managed to take in another glance at Buzz's crotch, and looked up at him. "Um, what did you say?" He seemed unable to help himself; like a moth to flame, his eyes once again focused, mesmerized, on the area around Buzz's cold sore. This time, both gang members were witness to the event, and Buzz felt his temper go through the roof.
"Never mind!" Buzz replied angrily. The boy shrugged, nodded his head and turned his attention over to the cashier.
"DAMMIT!" Buzz hissed at his friend. "TELL ME YOU DIDN'T SEE THAT!"
"I sure did," Sparky remarked. There was a pause. The only sound that could be heard as the shopkeeper’s Arabian fingers whizzed over his register was the boy’s earth-shattering music.
"Fuckin' bastard!" Buzz growled. "I was bein' friendly, and he goes out of his way to point out my damn sore!"
Sparky grinned. "Well, hold your temper. No sense flyin' off the handle yet. I mean, it's not like he’s tried to slug ya.”
There was a pause as Buzz pondered the situation. Yeah, it's not like the kid had hit him or called him names, but what could be more rude than some dipshit repeatedly calling attention to even a temporary physical flaw?
The sound of the rain was roaring against the pavement as Sparky and Buzz ran back to their car. The kid was walking away from them, down the sidewalk. "Hey, buddy! Want a ride?" Buzz yelled after him. Even though he was only a few yards away now and had his ear phones off, the young man didn't turn around. Their nemesis disappeared into the night, enveloped by the heavy precipitation.
Buzz was practically livid. "MOTHER FUCKER! That fag scumshit thinks he looks so perfect he can ignore me! Did ya see that?!"
"Let's follow the pussy," Sparky suggested. "Looks like he's walking toward the frat houses."
Buzz slammed the car door shut, tossed a Marlboro into his mouth and fired it up. The car lurched into the street as the men sought their culprit. A sudden flash of lightning illuminated the entire neighborhood, followed instantly by a loud clap of thunder. For a brief second, the outline of the boy's drenched figure was visible in the rain.
Sparky rolled down his window as the car crept up behind him. “Hey! Hey YOU!”
No doubt about it, the boy was ignoring them. His face looked straight down, his head bowed miserably toward the pavement. His blond hair clung to his forehead as sopping wet as the fur on a drowned rat. He looked uncomfortable as hell as he held his purchases close to his body-- his sole purpose in life now seemed to be getting home and ignore anyone unworthy of him.
Buzz continued to call to the young man. "Twinkie boy! Enjoyin' your shower?"
Buzz could feel his adrenaline rise. His jaw clenched. If there's one thing he can’t stand it was being ignored. "Dammit, YA LITTLE SHIT!! We're Aryan Bullets, you mother fucker! Who the fuck you think you are?" He looked at his buddy exasperatedly. "See? The asshole's ignorin' both of us now!"
Sparky nodded grimly. "Yeah, I don't like it. I'm startin' to really hate this li'l bastard. Whaddaya think we should do about it?"
There was a pause before Buzz quietly said, "This kid's showin' us no respect. Moe's let us know what we can do at times like these."
Sparky gave him an evil smile. "Looks like we found us some fun tonight."
When the youth finally walked up to a dark frat house, Sparky and Buzz stopped their car. Their cocks pulsed with excitement, desperate to be freed from their jeans. Before the night was over, they'd be seeing every hidden treasure on this boy's physique. Better than that -- this mother fucker would soon be waving bye-bye to his perfect little body.
The young man entered the dark building and a hallway light clicked on. Soon a bedroom toward the back lit up. Yeah, the boy was alone. Almost as if the fates wished to bless the thugs, the rain slowed to a drizzle and within moments had stopped entirely.
It would be too risky to enter the building through the front door. Sparky grabbed his tool case and Buzz his Jack Daniels as they locked their car and discreetly crept around the side of the building. It was lucky for them that the kid's bedroom was toward the back. Slowly, they made their way to the lit window. They arrived just in time to see Fratboy push a button on his stereo, instantly flooding the room full blast with music.
"Nice. Fratboy loves loud noises," Buzz smirked. Sparky understood. Noise was good for covering up screams.
'Fratboy' nonchalantly reached up behind his head and pulled off his shirt. "Yeah, that's it, fucker," Sparky murmured softly. "Get outa those wet clothes. Let's see what ya got."
The boy didn’t know he was giving a free strip tease. His arms slowly peeled off the soaked shirt, revealing pale, muscular shoulders and a well-chiseled chest. There were no love handles; his torso was slim and sleek. The abdominal wall was tight and firm, with a narrow hair trail pointed the way from his navel down into his wet jeans.
The little stud quickly shucked off his wet sneakers, not even bothering to untie them. Grabbing the front button of his pants, he tore them open, pulled down the zipper and revealed long, slender legs, as beautiful as everything else about him. "Yeah, keep goin'," Buzz murmured as he drank in the sight, wiping his mouth after sucking in another large gulp of whiskey. The wet underwear was the next to go, the well-endowed penis popping out of its soggy confinements and welcoming the fresh, drying air. The boy nonchalantly fingered his organ, letting it breathe. It gratefully stretched out from its squashed, moist position. This boy was well hung.
Feeling naked and free, Fratboy walked to his closet, unknowingly giving the window a clear view of his muscled ass. He grabbed a towel and mopped down his hair. Then he walked back across the room to his groceries, his hefty cock bouncing side to side in front of him now in a semi-erection.
He pulled the popcorn out of the grocery bag. After spending a moment reading the directions, he set the microwave timer and shoved the package in. He walked happily out the bedroom door.
"Bet he's on his way to some community shower room," Buzz said.
"Yeah," Sparky whispered, "an' did ya notice? He jus' held the towel to his side, didn't wrap it around him. He didn't feel the need to cover anything up."
Buzz smiled. "Yeah -- scumshit thinks he's alone." How good and free it must have felt for this punk to have an entire frat house to himself-- a full weekend without roommates.
This was going to be good.
While Fratboy showered, the young men made ample use of their time. They knew the routine -- don't act quickly. Make sure you cover all the bases.
It was convenient that this was an old house with thick outer walls. They surveyed all the windows -- good, no burglar alarms. They jimmied Fratboy's window just a crack to assure that when the time came, it would open freely. After that, they found the house's thick phone line and cut it in two. Nobody would be calling out tonight.
"Look," Buzz said, pointing downward. "A basement window. See if you can fit through there." Sparky knew what Buzz was up to. Taking a hammer, he smashed apart the window. Fratboy's music was so loud he couldn’t possibly hear the glass shatter. He smiled as he scrambled through the broken window and was back in a flash. "It'll work perfectly, Buzz. Once I'm inside, I can reach the ceiling with no problem."
"Great, man. Sure ya got everything?" Buzz asked. "Power drill? Duct tape? Tennis ball?"
Sparky went through his tool case. "Don't worry," he chuckled. "I got it all. Li'l fucker ain't got no idea what he's in for."
The popcorn had long finished by the time the boy came back. He must've had some fun while taking his shower because his cock was now fully erect, sticking straight up in the air as he entered the room. His hair was still damp but had obtained a fresh appearance -- unlike that miserable look brought on by dirty rain. His face was freshly scrubbed, his perfect teeth vigorously brushed. He strode across the room, his hard-on again bouncing proudly in front of him. Standing in front of a mirror, he towel-dried his hair, grabbed a comb and styled it backward; it would dry itself into place. The boy then stretched his nude body and pulled his face into the mirror, checking quickly for imaginary blemishes. He flexed a bicep and grinned at his reflection, obviously proud of his looks. When the young stud stepped back, wagging his big dick in the mirror and smiling impishly at his reflection, Buzz pulled out his gun as Sparky grabbed a long metal pipe. Both thugs took stock of themselves, took excited, deep breaths and gave each other nods. "Ready."
Fratboy had put a bathrobe on and was just starting toward the microwave when his visitors threw open the window. He stopped dead in his tracks. "What the FUCK?! Who the hell are you?"
Buzz aimed the gun right between his eyes. "Don't move and you won't get hurt," he lied. "We just want to pay you a little visit, that's all." He climbed through the opening and grabbed the boy by his wet hair.
Fratboy didn't hear him. He was too disoriented. "What do you want?" he stammered. His body had gone rigid. He knew he recognized this guy, but had no idea where. He wanted to run, but didn't dare move with a gun in his face. When Sparky climbed through the window, too, the boy's body started to shake. "You're the -- the guys from the convenience store," he gulped.
"Yeah. Sweet of ya to remember us," Buzz said wryly. "DAMMIT! There ya go, starin' at my cold sore again! Sock him, Sparky!"
"No, please, I'm sorry! I --" Sparky swung the pipe across the kid's jaw, sending the youth crashing across the room and against the bedroom door. "OWW! Help! Oh, HELP!" he screamed. A bloody wound had opened up his lower lip. He stumbled to his feet and grabbed the doorknob.
"You ain't goin' nowhere, scumshit!" Sparky yelled, grabbing the boy from behind and aiming the pipe directly at his belly. The assault was so hard this time it knocked the wind right out of him. The boy collapsed to the floor, his bathrobe falling open, the front of his nude body now fully displayed for both men to see.
"There, fucker!" Buzz laughed. "Now ya got somethin' on your face for us to stare at!" That, in and of itself, was a victory, but there would be many more before the night was over. He motioned to Sparky. "Bring in the shit."
The youth's eyes and mouth were wide open, his chest heaving, one hand on it as he stared at the floor, trying to pull air into his lungs. He wanted to speak but couldn't. "Throw me the tennis ball, Sparky," Buzz ordered.
Fratboy looked at the ball cross-eyed as his jaws were wrenched open. The fuzzy sphere was stuffed into his mouth. His naked form squealed and squirmed. His guests roughly wrapped duct tape tightly around his lower face so that only his eyes could communicate. The boy's eyes reflected every bewildered emotion in the book-- fear, anger, terror, denial. Short breaths were coming to him finally, but with the tennis ball wrenching at the back of the boy's jaw, he got the air only through his nose. Where was the pistol that bigger guy had? Was it within reach? Oh, there it was -- unfortunately, the bigger guy's body was in the way.
Sparky started stripping off his clothes. "Hey, Buzz-- how about I fuck this scumshit's faggot ass?" he asked.
"He's all yours, pal," Buzz responded, "but you're gonna need some lube first. Don't worry, I'll dig you out some." He easily pinned the youth's slender body to the floor and reached down, caressing the boy's firm, slender ass. The youth shook his head vigorously, a moan emanating from deep in his throat and a desperate look in his eyes. He knew he'd landed in some deep shit. It was going to take all his wits to get out of this one intact.
Buzz grunted and pinned Fratboy's thighs down with his knees. The boy’s fuckhole was exposed by roughly wrenching the muscled asscheeks apart. For a moment, Buzz just gazed in wonder at the opening. It was a beautiful hole, with somewhat darker hairs surrounding the asslips than the downy blond vegetation scattered along the boy's legs. Buzz was mesmerized by it, but only for a second.
Sparky chuckled and ripped the underwear down-- his nine-inch tool thoroughly inflated and throbbing wickedly in front of him. He waited, not all that patiently, for Buzz's next move. Buzz smiled at him, curled his lip, and grabbed Sparky's metal pipe -- the one with a bit of a serrated edge to it -- grinding it up the young man's oh-so-perfect jock ass.
The scream inside the boy's throat was like that of a wounded coyote-- good thing for his housemates that they were all gone that evening, because that howl would've awakened the entire fraternity. The pipe's sharp edges mercilessly slashed the pink inner walls of the boy's rectum. By twisting and turning the pipe in various directions, the boy's tender inner flesh was chopped and sliced. Buzz was rewarded for his efforts as a fresh, rich stream of blood started seeping out of several wounds deep inside their new buddy’s boy pussy.
"There's your lube, Sparky my man! Try that on for size."
Sparky was like a little kid in a candy store as he positioned his nine inches behind the crimson asshole. Lifting the boy so that he was up on all fours, Sparky plunged his fat rod in doggie-style, screwing the slut in an obscene clockwise motion. The beefy fucktool seemed to be mining the boy's fuck hole for anything it could pull out. The boy screamed so hard his throat went hoarse. "DAYUM," Sparky cried, "this fag's ass feels so fuckin' good!! LOVE it clamped roun' my pussy knocker!"
To Buzz, the two bodies looked like poetry in motion. The scum's eyes were rolling up into his head as he moaned with pain. Sparky's thick prick pounded for all it was worth, and soon both the manly stalk and its hairy nest were matted with blood. "YEAH, damn fag! How does it feel to get dicked by a real man?"
Sparky could feel his scrotum tighten up. By instinct he grunted and hugged the boy tight. His balls kicked out their heavy load, and into the bloody anal cavity spewed one jet after another of hot spunk. Fratboy's body crumpled to the floor.
Buzz smiled. "Go down into the basement, Sparky. You know what to do. Time to really start havin' fun!" Sparky's cock popped out of the ruined asshole as he giggled and grabbed some washers, nuts and a wrench. The naked gang member hopped outside the window and knelt by the basement window. His dangerous dick still oozed nut juice and flopped left and right as he squeezed through.
"Kid, this is gonna hurt you more than it does me," Buzz explained. Throwing the kid on his side, he threw back his arm and plunged his fist into the boy's kidneys, giving the scumshit's guts their hardest blow yet. Through the tennis ball in his mouth, the boy screamed again, hard. Once more, he was without air. He felt his stomach hurl and could taste vomit in his mouth. It wouldn't get past the ball. Some puke leaked from his nose; the rest he was forced to re-swallow. Weakly, he curled into a fetal position and cried, hot tears his cheeks.
"Yeah, cry, ya little bastard," Buzz yelled as he shed his clothes. Naked now himself, his huge muscular form strode over to the tool case, his cock pulsing as he pulled out the extension cord and power drill. "How convenient," he smiled at his captive. "You've got an electrical outlet right by your microwave." After plugging in the cord and drill, he grinned as he threw some Orville Redenbacher into his mouth. "I'm gonna show you a good time, kid. But you ain't much of a host -- yer popcorn's cold."
Buzz threw him onto his stomach, screwed a thick bit into the drill and fired it up. The drill bit blurred and the apparatus screamed, spinning the bit in circles hundreds of times per second. Buzz grinned, slammed one of the kid's hands palm-down onto the floor, pushed the drill into the boy's wrist and applied pressure. A sickening smell permeated the room as the bit chewed through the flesh as if it were cheap pine. Blood sprayed in every which direction. The boy's legs kicked and his body lurched as he wailed his sobbing head off.
Within seconds the drill had reached the other side of the boy's arm and was halfway through the thick floorboard. Buzz felt satisfaction as the drill gave way; he’d successfully broken through to the basement. Buzz calmly pushed a heavy bolt through the fresh hole in both the wrist and the wood, and underneath them, Sparky was busy on the other side, tightening the bolt with a nut and wrench.
"Hell, yeah! Perfect!" Buzz yelled to his buddy downstairs. "Get ready, here comes another one." Fratboy almost passed out as his other wrist was similarly bolted. Blood seeped from his wounds; the floorboards around his body were developing a thick cherry stain. His lower body crumbled to the floor. Buzz demanded he again get on his knees. Although Fratboy was at risk of going into shock, the adrenaline pumping through his veins kept him from passing out, no matter how much he may have wanted to.
Forcing the boy onto his knees, Buzz aimed the drill right through the shin bones, effectively shattering them. Again, Sparky tightened the bolts on the other side of the floor. He made sure the nuts were biting firmly into the wood. Climbing stark naked out the basement window and into the bedroom again, Sparky gave Buzz a high five as they congratulated themselves on a job well done. "How ya feelin’ there, scumshit?" Sparky laughed as he spit in the boy's face.
With their prey’s wrists and legs tightly bolted to the floor doggie-style, Buzz and Sparky were hard-pressed to imagine anything more hot or vulnerable. This kid looked great! His face was drenched with angry, helpless tears. He was sweating so profusely he'd probably lost a few pounds of water weight, and his hair looked as it did in the rain.
Now it was Buzz's turn to fuck. His hard-on was only a half inch longer than his buddy’s, but it was considerably thicker, and he was determined to make sure that it hurt. At least the blood hadn't stopped oozing from Fratboy's asshole; that would help the kid in the lubrication department. Buzz knelt behind the kid's rear, straddled his ass and amid muffled screams rammed his thick fuck sausage home.
With Fratboy's abdomen raised off the floor, Sparky was able to scoot his face underneath the boy's smooth, full testicles. What a view -- Buzz's cock looked thick and nasty in close-up as it dug into the battered boy's body, and in spite of itself, Fratboy's dick was hard, bouncing left and right with each fuck thrust. Although the scrotum was bloody, both man eggs were still in decent shape.
Sparky watched the boy's large dick bouncing, then carefully wrapped his mouth completely around both balls, gently sucking them in. He tightened his jaw around the sack and rocked his mouth back and forth, causing the sharp teeth to embed themselves into the fragile skin where the scrotum attached itself to the body.
As Sparky watched in close-up as Buzz's cock plow the bloodied young ass, Sparky ground his teeth into the Fratboy's testicles. His incisors cut through various cords and tissue and the boy’s blood began to flow down his chin. All of the muscles in Fratboy's body snapped tight. He howled as Sparky grated his teeth back and forth, finally pulling his head straight back in a jerking motion, severing entirely the boy's thick scrotum. Tears streamed down the boy's face as sweat and blood poured from the fresh, nasty wound.
With severed testicles in his mouth, Sparky grinned and shook his head vigorously like a pooch that had grabbed its favorite toy. Throwing his head to the side, he opened his jaws, letting the nuts sail across the room, where they landed in a corner with a sharp, squishy PLOP! Thick, sticky spurts of blood jetted out of the fresh, oozing cavern just underneath Fratboy's cock.
"Ya know," Buzz said to Sparky as he continued to nail the ass, "I really want me a new experience tonight. I've fucked guys while we's strangled 'em to death. I've nailed 'em while you've plunged knives through their guts, screwed 'em as they's hung by their necks from shower stalls and plowed 'em while they's drowned. Sure is hot to feel their insides spasm on my dick while they're dying! But now I wants somethin' new. Got any suggestions, pal?"
Sparky loved a challenge. He looked around the room until it dawned on him. "Hell, yeah!" he cried. Grabbing the microwave table and pulling it over to Fratboy's head, he said, "Look, it's just the right height and size." With that, he took a hammer, smashed the glass on the oven's door, and slammed the boy's head into the tiny, claustrophobic compartment.
"Hoo HAH!" Buzz whooped as his cock rammed the ass with newly inspired vigor. "This'll be great, man! Fire 'er up!"
Fratboy's muffled screams were other-worldly as the men held his body in place. "Lessee," Sparky said. "Every microwave's a li'l different. Let's set it on Medium for a minute an' see what that does."
A few quick jabs at the control panel and the microwave came alive. It took only a split second for Fratboy's shrieking to fill the room. His body jerked, spasmed, and convulsed. "Oh, HELL YEAH, man!" Buzz cried. "You should feel how his guts are tightening up 'round my dick! Start over, put it on High, dude!" His pelvis pummeled the ass harder than ever. His face took on a glow of sheer sexual ecstasy.
Sparky laughed. When he changed the setting to High and pushed Start again, the boys could see Fratboy's hair start to singe. Fratboy's uncontrollable reflexes in his arms and legs shook his body. All his appendages pulled at the bolts with rough, jerking movements, succeeding only in ripping into his precious flesh. The boy's tortured throat gurglings now sounded like a garbage disposal.
"HELL YEAH, man!!" Buzz yelled, drinking his Jack Daniels again straight from the bottle. "Such an AWESOME, HOT FUCK!! His whole body's warmin' up, man! It's makin' everythin' around my cock soooo fuckin' hot!"
Sizzling, snapping and crackling noises emanated from inside the microwave and wisps of smoke started to seep through the broken glass. Peering through the broken window, Sparky could see large blisters bubbling up all over Fratboy's swelling face. The screaming head banged against the oven's insides as his hair caught on fire. The smoke quickly turned black and billowed up toward the ceiling.
Sparky got back underneath the boy and rammed his dick into the hole, too, creating even more friction on Buzz's fucktool. It felt good to feel not only the boiling asswalls but the side of Buzz's cock heat up his dick. It reminded Sparky of when they were Cub Scouts, rubbing sticks together to make fire. In and out, the cocks worked liked pistons. Fratboy's body became a piece of machinery spiraling out of control, everything starting to misfire, the entire engine destined for meltdown as the boy’s nervous system short-circuited.
"YEAH!! DIE, YA GODDAMN MOTHER FUCKER!" the men screamed as they approached orgasm. "See ya in fuckin' hell, bastard!" Buzz grabbed the hammer and pounded the boy's ribs, shattering bones left and right. The blood was overheating the boy's brain. Life's boiling red juices sizzled as they shot out of Fratboy's ears, nose and eye sockets. "FUCK, we're gonna SHOOT!"
Just as they blew their loads, a sickening sound popped loudly inside the boy's nuked head. Blood poured from his mouth and eyeballs. Boiling brain matter started coming out the ears and nose. The oven over-flowed as brain bits poured down onto the floor, where they continued to sizzle and cook in their own juices. Both gang members slumped to the ground, just in time to see Fratboy's bladder empty itself, an ever-widening pool of piss quietly spreading out from his slaughtered body.
The victors looked at each other and shook their heads, laughing. "Bro, that was fuckin' awesome!"
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The boy’s perfect body had been turned into a gruesome dead mess. Buzz and Sparky left the frathouse. The body remains were left to fend for themselves. Now it was time to celebrate.
Within half an hour, Buzz and Sparky found a couple of hookers, rented a cheap motel, fucked the whores mercilessly and tossed them out on their asses. Around 4 in the morning, Buzz and Sparky fell asleep in their motel bed, their nude, warm bodies happily intertwined. They were snoring within moments of hitting the sheets.
It was just before dawn when a switch was abruptly clicked on. The room was flooded with light. Within seconds, a number of hoodlums had poured themselves into their hotel room.
The men were instantly awake. Their heads shot up from their pillows. They squinted their eyes and were reaching clumsily for their guns when a familiar voice from outside the room said, "Don't even try it."
Through the haze of two godawful hangovers, Buzz and Sparky tried to make sense of the scene. All their Aryan Bullets buddies had guns pointed at their heads. From out in the hallway, Moe walked in calmly, M 9 revolvers in both of his hands. "Sit together. Real close to each other," he demanded, slowly and quietly.
They had no choice. Buzz and Sparky moved their naked bodies closer toward each other as their friends surrounded the bed, leaving a path for Moe to enter the circle. He climbed on the bed and knelt on them, straddling their bodies. "Suppose you two tell me what happened at the frat house tonight," he said calmly.
Buzz acted as spokesman and told the whole story -- how, after all, they were allowed one hit per month. How Fratboy had insulted them. How the kid had kept staring at Buzz's cold sore. How, at the 7-11, the punk had walked away, completely ignoring them as they called after him.
Moe nodded. “Problem is, you made two mistakes,” he breathed. He roughly forced the pistols he was carrying into both of their mouths, not stopping until both barrels were jammed tightly against the back of their throats. His index fingers were ready to squeeze both triggers.
"That boy’s name was Leonard. He’s my nephew. He was an accounting major," Moe explained. "I hired him last week as my bookkeeper."
Their eyes blinked as they digested the information. They'd killed one of Moe's relatives. Not good.
"Fuckers! I gave Leonard that job because I felt sorry for him. He was almost completely deaf! He wasn't staring at your cold sore, asshole. He was reading your lips."
Realization that they’d really fucked up registered in Buzz’s and Sparky’s eyes. Moe stared at them glumly as both guns loudly went off. Both heads jerked violently backward. The gang watched calmly as two bullets tore through their heads and ripped the back of their skulls straight off their bodies. Their brains instantly splattered on the wall behind them, resembling a painting of red oatmeal. Blood bubbled out their nostrils. Buzz's and Sparky's faces took on stupid expressions as gravity caused the brain matter behind them to slowly melt down the wall.
Moe pulled himself up off the bed. He was tight-lipped as he left them.
He strode purposefully out the door. "Clean up the room," he ordered.
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