“You made the wrong choice, stooge.”
A flickering light caught his eye. He noticed a fireplace was burning some wood. “How long have I been out?”
“About an hour.”
He felt his neck, noticing the cannula had been removed. “Thanks for taking this out.”
I laughed. “I don’t think you’re going to be appreciative in the long run.”
He looked back at the molesters, noticing they were staring back with horrified expressions. Their mouths were sewn shut with thick, black thread and their eyelids had been cut off. Numerous bags of blood were hanging on the wall behind them and plastic tubing ran between the bags to different parts of their bodies. He looked at me with a disgusted look. “What have you done?”
“From here it looks like art. It’s kind of like a Monet though—the closer you get the more of a mess it is.”
Barry stood up, swaying a little as he tried to keep his balance. He was still groggy, but something didn’t feel right to him. When he looked down he noticed his groin area was covered with a large bandage. A small diameter hose was hanging out the bottom of it and it was dripping a yellowish fluid. He immediately felt around the bandage, noticing it was flat against his skin. He looked at me with a frightful expression.
I patted a small cooler that was sitting on a table next to me. “It’s in here.”
“Oh my God!” He started to peel back the bandage.
“I wouldn’t mess with it—I had a difficult time getting the bleeding under control.”
He looked anyway. A grimace of terror overcame him. “Oh my God! You cut my dick off!”
I lit a cigarette. “The way I see it you have about a six to ten-hour window to get to the hospital so they can sew it back on.”
He ran to the cooler and frantically opened it. His eyes got huge as he stared at his severed penis lying on ice. He was so shocked that he just stood there quietly, staring in disbelief.
I leaned back, crossed my legs, then stuck one of my arms behind my head. “I was hoping to fuck with these assholes for a few days, but it looks like we’re going to have to turn this into a crash course so you can get your shit put back on.” I reached over and slammed the lid closed. “I would suggest getting the jump ropes done instead of standing there wasting time.”
He wouldn’t move as he glared at me with hate.
I tapped my watch. “Time’s tickin’ away.”
He tried to grab the box but I was holding it down. He started freaking out. “Give me the fucking box!”
I punched him in the bandage, causing him to fall to his knees. “Why have you done this to me?”
“Don’t act stupid—you know the reason.”
Tears were running down his face. “I won’t be able to live a normal life now.”
“Now you’re being pitiful.”
“But I won’t.”
“If they can sew Bobbitt’s shit back on, they can sew yours on.”
A feeling of relief overcame him. “I forgot about him. They did put it back on. I need to get to the hospital as soon as possible.”
“You can go after you torture the fuckheads.”
He looked down and noticed blood was dripping from under the bandage. “Oh my God! You made it bleed.”
“If you don’t get your ass up, your balls will be bleeding.” I pulled out a knife.
He crawled across the floor towards Don, screaming like a crazy person. He grabbed the intestines, then started slinging them around hysterically as he sat on his knees; he looked like a kid throwing a temper tantrum. I pulled out his dick and held it up. “Do ‘em right or I will toss this in the fireplace.”
“Oh my God! I can’t believe this is happening!” He stood up and started slinging the intestines around and around, jumping over them as they passed by the floor. Grotesque fluids were being slung all over him and the room as the soft tissue started tearing apart. Don was staring in horror, but Rodney and Carl were looking away, trying not to vomit as the air was being engulfed with the foul odor of a diarrhea shit storm. I stretched out on the couch and stuck my arm behind my head. “That’s enough.” I tossed the syringe across the floor. “Pump that back in Rodney’s eye. And take your time doing it so you don’t fuck it up.”
He picked up the syringe. He glared at me as blood and feces dripped from him. He was very angry. “It’s already fucked up, but whatever!”
I laughed. “Rodney’s sticking his tongue out at you.”
Barry noticed I had sewn Rodney’s mouth closed, but I had left the piercing rod in place, causing his tongue to stick out. “Damn! You stitched the fuck out of his tongue too. That was an asshole thing to do.”
“So, what? Now get that shit pumped in before I show you what an asshole is.”
He grabbed a hand full of Rodney’s hair and aggressively shoved his head against the wall, then stuck the needle in. Rodney was trying to fight back, but Barry shoved his thumb against his other eye. “Be still before I smash your fucking eye out!”
I laughed. “If you would have had that attitude to start with, you would still be sporting around a dick.”
He tossed the syringe on the floor. “You’re fucking sorry.”
“That’s what you get for trying to pull that stunt earlier.” I motioned for him to move over with my hand. “Get the fuck out of the way.” When he moved, I could see that Rodney’s eye was filled back up. “Hey, can you see out of it?”
Rodney didn’t respond.
“If you don’t tell me I will have Barry drain your balls.”
He looked down.
Barry shook his head as he glared at me. “Duh, his fucking mouth is sewn shut; he can’t speak.”
“That doesn’t stop him from moving his head to say yes or no. And get your ass over there and spin the wheel, smart-ass.”
“Why should I? You’re probably going to kill me anyway.”
“If you do what I ask you will leave here alive.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Do I lie?”
He popped off in an arrogant voice. “I’m sure, with all the sorry-ass shit you do.”
I sat up.
He quickly changed his tone. “No, you don’t.”
“And how do you know that?”
“From my research.”
“Now let me rephrase it to where you will understand it; do what I say or you will die in the most painful and horrifying way possible.” When Barry walked off I went and stood in front of Rodney. “Well, can you see out of it?”
He shook his head no.
His eye was deformed and completely red. I put my hand between his eyes, then waved the blade from my knife in front of it. He didn’t blink. I turned the blade sideways. His eye moved, indicating he could only see shadows.
Barry came walking up. “I spun the fucking wheel.”
“What did it land on?”
“Musical extremities.”
“Nice. Not sure if you’re going to be able to handle that one without killing someone, but what the hell.” I looked at the three assholes. “Which one of you wants to volunteer to die first?”
They remained silent. Don was a despicable sight. I pointed to him. “I wouldn’t choose this fucker—he’s having too much fun.” Carl was looking down. “Maybe him. He’s not all fucked up like these other two and can probably take the loss of blood.”
Barry pointed to Don. “I’ll do him.”
“Of course, you picked him, you defiant prick.”
“I just want to get this fucking shit over so I can go to the hospital. Now go get what I need.”
“Please.”
“Please get my shit.”
I laughed. “I should have cut off your balls instead of your dick.”
He patted the backside of his wrist. “Time’s tickin’ away, as you put it.”
I knew he was in don’t-give-a-shit mode, so I shrugged off his mouthiness. After I gathered the items from the table, putting them on a cart, I rolled it over
to him. “Use the saw to cut off his arms off at the elbow. Make sure you cauterize his wounds so…”
He interrupted. “I know, I know.”
I glared at him.
He looked down. “Sorry.”
“…he doesn’t bleed out so soon.” I pointed at a needle. “Here’s a curved sewing needle and thick thread. Use it to sew his left arm to his right, and vice versa.” I laid back on the couch. “And keep the blood loss under control.”
“What about his fuckin’ legs? The damn wheel says extremities.”
“I don’t give a fuck. Do ‘em if it gets your rocks off.”
Barry didn’t waste any time—Don’s left arm was lying on the floor before I had a chance to get comfortable. I could see blood gushing out of his nub, and before I had a chance to say something Barry was burning the end of it with the torch. He was now showing initiative. “Hey, I would have cut off your dick earlier if I knew that was the motivation you needed.”
He didn’t look back. “Fuck you!”
Rancid smelling smoke had engulfed the air and Don had torn his stitching apart, allowing him to scream at the top of his lungs. Barry didn’t slow down as he moved to his right arm, severing it at the elbow. When he was finished cauterizing the nub, he stood looking at me while holding an arm. “Do I really need to sew this on? It’s not like it’s going to function.”
“That’s not the point. It’s the grossness of the whole thing.”
He started stitching. “Whatever, dude. I mean Mr. fucking Miyagi.”
“Make sure you let it hang a few inches by the thread, Daniel-san of a Bitch.”
“Ha, ha, funny guy. I’ll let this motherfucker hang to China, far as I care.”
He half ass sewed it on, then did the other arm. He didn’t hesitate as he went after Don’s right leg with the saw. Don was on the verge of passing out as he finished up. Barry stood looking at him. “Why is he still conscious?”
“I gave him, and the other two pricks, a special shot that will keep them awake.”
“That’s nice of you.”
“Their hearts might explode, but at least they will get to feel it if it does.”
“Whatever. I only care about getting out of here.” He started for the wheel.
“Hold up. Go roll the mirror over here.”
“What fucking mirror?”
“It’s behind the couch with the other stuff.”
He rolled an old mirror on wheels out of the dark. “Now what?”
“Position it in front of Don so he can see himself.”
Don’s eyes opened wide when he looked at his reflection. Barry was shaking his head. “What is the fucking point in this?”
“You realize this is the first time he has taken a good look at himself.”
“So?”
“He probably had hope until now.”
He shook his head as he looked at Don. His torn and trampled intestines were lying all over the floor, the open cavity in his stomach was oozing large amounts of thick fluid, his penis was burned beyond recognition and his dangling limbs made him look like a marionette that would only be found in the darkest parts of Hell. “Why would he have hope? He’s a fucking mess.”
“Hope of being rescued. Living another day. Same reason you’re being my little bitch; in hopes you will get your dick sewn back on. He had no idea what shape he was in until now.”
“I don’t have time for this shit.” He went and spun the wheel. When it stopped clicking he yelled out, “Great, Ball Squats.” He remembered what they were. “What kind of shit do I need from the table?”
“Grab a hammer and some of the large nails.”
He walked up holding the hammer as I was stretched out on the couch. I motioned for him to back up with my hand. “For the sake of your well-being, step back so you’re not tempted to do something regrettable.”
“Well-being? You’ve already fucked that up for me.”
“That’s not true—you will still be a man, sort of.”
“Whatever.” He held up the nails. “What do these have to do with Ball Squats?”
“Be patient and you will find out.”
“I don’t have time to be patient.” He pushed his hips forward. “You made sure of that. Better hope they can fix it right, asshole.”
I waved my finger at him. “I’m getting tired of your mouth.”
“Just tell me what you want me to do.”
“Watch your mouth, for starters. Now get over there and unchain one of those assholes, then make them face the wall while bending over. Nail their hands to the wall and their feet to the floor. And make sure their legs are about three feet apart.”
“None of them are going to let me do that without a fight.”
“I wouldn’t expect otherwise.”
“I’m going to choose Rodney.”
“You have to pass on him.”
“Fuck that. You said I can choose who gets what.”
“Ball Squats requires the use of legs. His knees are nailed.”
“Then I’m choosing Don.”
“That’s a copout—he’s about to croak.”
“So.”
“Why you so scared of Carl?”
“Fuck him. I ain’t scared of shit.” He walked over to Carl and hit him in the head with the hammer, then looked at me. “Where are the keys?”
I tossed them to him. “I bet you wish you could turn back a couple of hours.”
He ignored me as he removed Carl from the wall.
“You could be doing this with your dick tucked neatly in your underwear, or Carl’s underwear I should say, instead of lying in this box.”
He continued to ignore me as he slid a chair under Carl’s stomach to support him, then he nailed his hands to the wall.
“I’m curious about something. Can you still feel your dick like how some people say they can feel their arm after it’s been severed?”
He slid Carl’s feet apart and nailed them to the floor. He looked back at me. “If you’re done running your mouth, tell me what’s next.”
“First, tell me if you can still feel it.”
“No, I cannot. In fact, I can’t feel shit.”
“That’s because I numbed you up—I didn’t want you distracted by the pain.”
He just glared at me.
“You’re welcome.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“What? You want me to cut off your asshole and stick it next to your dick?”
“Just tell me what to do.”
“Drive a few nails in the floor at an angle directly below his sack. And make sure they stick out a little.”
He did what I asked. “Now what?”
“Let’s wait until he’s awake for the next part.” I threw a cigarette at his head.
He ducked. “I don’t have time for that.”
“Fuck you, then. Go spin the wheel.”
Two Headed Cock
Barry spun the wheel, and when the clicking stopped, he laughed. He walked up to Rodney. “Hey, fuckhead, it landed on Two Headed Cock. Now you get your cock ripped in half.”
I shook my fist. I was excited. “Fuckin’ A, Bubba! That child raping fucker definitely got the right spin.”
Barry had a cocky look. He pointed to Don. “I choose him.”
I gritted my teeth. “He doesn’t have a dick, fuckstick.”
He pointed to it. “Yeah he does; it’s a stub.”
“That’s fine. The next time I won’t show you leniency.”
He clinched his fists. “What the fuck you mean by leniency? You cut off my fucking dick!”
“But I removed your cannula.”
“Fuck you!”
“Keep acting up, you unappreciative asshole, and see what happens to you.”
“You’re the asshole!” He punched Don in the face, relieving some of his frustration, then grabbed Rodney’s hair and lifted his head up. “It looks as if you’re going to have your pee pee cut in half after all, jerk off.” He shoved his
head away, then glared at me. “Where’s the shit to do it?”
“On the table where everything else is at.”
“No shit. What do I need?”
“Grab the hand cranked winch. It already has the fishing line and a fishhook attached to it, and a guide ring. You will also need some nails and a hammer.”
He loaded up the cart, then pushed it next to Rodney. “Now what?”
“Stretch his dick until it tears in half down the center from the base to the head.”
“And?”
“Figure it out—it can’t be that difficult.”
He picked up the hook, noticing the gap was about two inches and the shank was about six inches long. In a sarcastic tone, he said, “I don’t think you have a big enough one.”
“If you say so, pal.”
He pulled some of the fishing line out of the winch, then grabbed a section with both hands and tried to break it. “This shit is going to break.”
“No, it’s not.”
He tossed the slack on the floor. “It’s fishing line. You should have brought some steel cable”
“Stop being difficult. It’s high-strength braided line. And it’s ten times stronger than steel of the equivalent diameter.”
He grabbed the end of the line, then dangled the hook in front of Rodney’s face. “Better you than me, asshole.”
I laughed. “At least he still has a dick.”
“That’s alright—you’ll get yours.”
“I didn’t quite hear you.”
“I wasn’t talking to you.” He gritted his teeth as he grabbed Rodney’s dick. He pulled back on it, then started poking at it with the hook as he said, “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, I hope you fucking die.”
“You better be talking to him.”
Rodney was jerking around as Barry poked holes in his dick. He could only mumble as his good eye bulged out of its socket, staring down at his bloody penis. Barry thrust the hook through it. “Who else would I be talking to?”
I could see that the hook was cockeyed, midway down his penis. “Hold up, smart-ass. Get it as close as you can to his base—I want the whole thing ripped in half. Also, get it straight, from the top to the bottom—I want an even split.”
The complete “A Glimpse into Hell” series - 5 books, 195 chapters, 1700 pages, 600K words of pure gore Page 97