by Tim Miller
"Hey! Help! Is anybody out there?" he screamed while pounding. After several minutes, there were loud footsteps that lead to a clicking of the lock and the door swung open. A large black man in a prison guard uniform stood before him glaring at him.
"What the hell are you screaming about?" the guard asked.
"What's going on? Where am I?" Dusty asked.
"What do you mean where are you? You have been here for five years."
"Where's here?"
"Death row boss. You ok? You sniffing your toilet water again?" the guard said. Dusty wasn't even sure what that meant. Could you get high from sniffing toilet water, and was it something he'd done before?
"Death row?"
"Yeah. I guess I can see you getting nervous. Your execution is tomorrow."
"What? Execution? I can't die yet. I'm still young. I'm supposed to get released soon."
"I think you're hallucinating kid. Sorry to break it to you. Now, stop banging, unless you want them to sedate you."
"Wait," Dusty said as the guard was backing up. "Don't go. I don't want to die." He ran for the guard who pulled out his baton and clubbed him over the head. Dusty went down as he saw stars. Once on his knees several other guards came running in and piled on top of him. A doctor arrived with a needle and knelt down next to him.
"It's ok Dusty," the doctor said. "It's normal to be worked up the night before your execution, this should help you sleep."
"No! I don't want to sleep! Get off of me!" Dusty struggled against them, but there were too many, and they were too strong. He felt the needle go into his arm as he struggled. Within seconds, his vision began to blur as the floor and walls felt like they were moving; blackness soon consumed his conscious.
When he awoke, there were four guards standing over his bed holding shackles.
"Hey Dusty, it's time," the black guard said. "Stand up for me. Don't give me any problems."
Dusty stood and looked around. They wrapped the shackles around his waist and placed the cuffs on him, fastening his hands just above his waist. They walked out the door and down the long hall. There were other prisoners there as one of the guards behind him shouted.
"Dead man walking!"
Other prisoners banged on their cell doors as Dusty walked his final steps. They got through the hall and into another better-lit hallway. A huge steel door slid open revealing the execution chamber with the arm-winged table in the center. Dusty stopped and planted his feet. The guards took him by the arms and dragged him in.
"Come on man," the black guard said. "Don't make this any harder on yourself."
"I don't want to die. Please don't do this," Dusty pleaded.
"It's not up to me man. You killed all those people. You had your day in court. It's time to pay up. Don't worry kid. It doesn't hurt. You'll fall asleep and never wake up. At least you'll be out of this hell hole."
A tear ran down Dusty's cheek as the guards undid his shackles and dragged him to the table. They stretched his arms out and strapped them to the gurney. He tried to resist, but the drug they had given him earlier was still in his system, making him light-headed and weak. Once he was strapped down, they propped the gurney upright and opened a curtain.
There was a set of seats outside with dozens of people whom he didn't recognize. There was one person he did recognize, his mother.
"Mom!" he called out but she didn't' respond. She stared at him with tears running down her face. A man behind him read something, but Dusty wasn't paying attention. The guards inserted the needles into his arms and nodded to the man next to the huge contraption containing the drugs. Within seconds, Dusty felt a burning sensation run through his arm. As the burning intensified, his vision went fuzzy as the people looking through the window grew hazy. This is it; he tried to fight it and stay awake. He couldn't let himself fall asleep as it would mean the end. The fight was useless. Sleep soon took him, yet he was still alert. He could hear the men around him as the next wave of drugs entered his system.
He wanted to gag as his lungs stopped working; he felt his bowels let loose. Great, he just shit his pants in front of a live audience. Unable to breath, he wanted to move, to gasp for air but he couldn't. Dusty realized that paralysis was choking the life from his body. His brain tingled as he felt himself slipping away. Things grew darker and darker as he felt himself plunging deeper and deeper into the abyss.
He would be dead in a matter of seconds. As the darkness grew thicker and thicker around him, there was suddenly a bright light at the end of the tunnel. The light grew brighter and brighter until he jumped awake. Looking around, he was in his room covered in sweat. Mr. Socky was standing at the end of his bed staring at him with his dead, black button eyes.
"About time you woke up," Mr. Socky said. "We got work to do."
Chapter 10
Dusty sat in the car looking at the house. He had no idea what Mr. Socky had in mind this time and was afraid to ask. At least Mr. Socky began explaining on his own.
"Ok, this is going to be fun. There is a family in there. A mom, a dad, and their teenage daughter. She's like seventeen and really hot too; you'll love her. You're going to go in and take them hostage."
"No, I'm not going to do any such thing. You are completely out of your fucking mind. I'm done listening to you. You're just a stupid toy."
"What is your problem? Your balls fall off all of a sudden? We were doing so well with all this stuff."
"Dude, how many people have we killed? Like dozens? That dream I had was fucked; it was so real. I was in prison; they were giving me the lethal injection. I felt the needle and everything. It was too real."
"Oh boo hoo. You're gonna puss out now over a fucking nightmare? Don't put on me this shit of people ‘we' killed. I haven't killed anyone. You've done all the killing."
Dusty couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"Are you fucking kidding me? You made me hurt those people. You sat there and went on and on until I did what you said."
"You did all that on your own. I just pointed out what you wanted to do all along."
"All along? Why would I want to hack up people in a grocery store? Or rape some old lady in a park? You're fucking mental man. You need help," Dusty said, forgetting he was talking to a stuffed sock monkey.
"Trust me, this whole conversation is pointless. You and I both know, at the end of the day, you are going to march into that house and attack that family. You can't help yourself. Just think of me as your guide."
Dusty hit the wheel and shook his head.
"What if I get caught? Huh? What if that dream was some kind of vision or predicting the future?"
"You slashed and hacked almost a hundred people in the grocery store in broad daylight. Are you in jail now?"
"No."
"There you go. I won't steer you wrong, and to be honest, I'm sick of you acting like a little bitch. All you've done this whole time is cry, piss, and moan, only to do it anyway. Enjoy it! You only live once. Have some fun."
"Video games are fun."
"Dude, this is like a real-life game. Would you rather play a first person shooter or shoot people in person? Come on." Mr. Socky opened the glove box to reveal a semi-automatic handgun. "Take this inside and go get these folks. Have some fun."
Dusty took the gun and held it in his hand. He'd never actually used a gun before. They were easy enough to use. He liked how it felt, heavy and powerful. He slid out the clip and saw it had twelve rounds in the magazine. More than enough to do some serious damage. Now, he was curious. He'd seen people shot on TV but wondered what it looked like in real life. He placed his hand around the grip and opened the car door, climbed out and headed across the street.
Standing at the front door, he tried to think of what he should say or do. Best not to dwell on it too much and just go with it. He rang the doorbell and waited a moment as a woman opened the door.
"Can I help you?" she asked.
He smiled before pointing the gun at her face.
/> "Yeah, move the fuck back and let me in!" he ordered. She did as he said while he stepped inside, closing the door behind him. Damn that felt good; way more exciting than the mayhem at the grocery store.
"Tina? Who is it?" A man's voice called out from another room. He came into the living room where he saw Dusty. Dusty pointed the gun in his direction.
"It's me, bitch. I'm the grim fucking reaper. Get in here and sit down. Who else is here?"
"No one," the woman said.
He leveled the gun at her face and pressed the barrel against the bridge of her nose.
"Don't fucking lie to me bitch."
"Mom? What's going on?" a girl called out as he stepped in. Here was the daughter Mr. Socky told him about, and he was right, she was hot. The mom was pretty hot too. So, it was obvious the girl got her looks from her mom.
"Get in here," Dusty ordered. "Sit down."
The girl looked terrified as she sat on the couch next to her mom and dad. The dad squeezed both of their hands as he looked up at Dusty.
"What do you want?" he asked.
"I want you to shut the fuck up," Dusty said. Though he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do now. He circled around the couch, keeping the gun pointed at the family while looking out the windows and drawing the blinds.
"Mommy!" someone screamed from behind him. The scream startled Dusty, then he spun around and fired. There was a little boy running into the room. He couldn't have been more than eight or nine years old. The bullet struck the boy in the face, exploding the top of his head in the process. Blood and brains sprayed throughout the room as his lifeless body dropped to the floor.
"No!" the family yelled collectively. Dusty froze and looked at the boy's body. He just killed a little boy. Mr. Socky never mentioned a little kid in there. He was sure that wasn't by accident. Mr. Socky knew what he was doing. He'd wanted Dusty to be taken by surprise, but why? The dad jumped off the couch and took a step toward his dead son. Dusty shoved the gun in his face.
"Sit the fuck down."
"You killed my son!" the dad screamed. "You killed my little boy!"
"And unless you want me to kill the rest of your family you'll shut the fuck up. This show is just getting started."
Chapter 11
"You want money? We don't have much," the dad said. "Just take whatever you want and go. Ok? Please don't hurt anyone else." The dad was choking back tears as he spoke.
"I'm not here for money. I'm here for them," Dusty pointed the gun at the two women.
"What? No!"
"This ain't up to you, dad! You got me! Now, mom, why don't you go get some duct tape and tape your husband up. Check the kitchen and don't fuck around. You try anything stupid, and I'll shoot your daughter in the fucking cunt, you got it?"
The mom nodded as tears ran down her face, and she ran into the other room. After a minute, she returned with a roll of duct tape.
"Good. Dad, sit in this chair. Mom, tape him up good. Don't leave it loose or I'll blow his fucking brains out."
She wrapped the tape around his chair, body, hands, and feet. Dusty could tell it was tight by how blue his hands were turning. He had them all scared shitless at least.
"Excellent. Now, I want your daughter to stand up and take off her clothes."
"No!" the dad yelled, but Dusty pistol-whipped him across the forehead. The man's head snapped back as he grunted.
"Tape his mouth shut," Dusty ordered. She did as instructed and he repeated his earlier command.
"Now kid, take off your fucking clothes or your mom and dad both eat bullets," Dusty commanded. He was actually getting an erection from this newfound power and excitement?
The girl slowly removed her clothes while looking at her mom who wouldn't stop sobbing. Once she had her bra and panties off she stood half covering herself.
"Move your hands," Dusty said. She did, and he admired her small but perky breasts. Her nipples poked straight out. Between her legs was a tuft of brown hair. The girl trimmed it into a nice landing strip.
"Ok mom, go eat her pussy."
"Are you fucking kidding me?" she said, her tone growing defiant. Dusty punched her in the stomach with no warning. She doubled over holding her gut as she gagged and heaved. He stood over her waving the gun in her face.
"Do you think I'm fucking with you? Get over there and eat your daughter's pussy. You better do it good too, I want to hear that bitch moan."
Mom walked over as her daughter sat on the couch.
"It's ok mom," the girl said.
"I'm so sorry," her mom cried.
"Let's just get this over with."
Her mom put her face between the girl's legs and began licking. Her tongue was barely touching her as the girl feigned some moans. Dusty rolled his eyes.
"Oh, come on, this is getting boring," he said as he walked over and jammed the gun into the back of the mom's head. Dad was in the chair creating muffled screams, but everyone ignored him. "Now, chow down on that shit or I shove the gun up her pussy and pull the trigger."
The woman began her performance, this time getting all into it, licking her daughter's pussy up and down, even licking the clit. The daughter moaned and wiggled this time. If she was faking, Dusty couldn't tell and didn't care. His slid his hand down the front of his jeans and massaged his erection while watching this mom eat out her teenage daughter. After almost twenty minutes, he grew tired of the show.
"Ok, that's enough. Mom, take off your clothes."
This time instead of arguing, she did as she was told. She removed her shoes, shorts, and underwear and stood before him naked. He pointed the gun at the candles on the shelf.
"Go grab those and bring them to the couch."
She did and sat down.
"Now, take out the candle and shove it in your pussy."
She leaned back and inserted the long wax stick inside herself. As she fucked herself with the candle, she moaned as if she were enjoying it. Her daughter sat there looking up at the ceiling as he pointed at her.
"You, help her out. Fuck her with that candle. Fuck her real good with it."
The girl grabbed the candle and began thrusting it in and out of her. All the while, the dad sat in the chair crying and screaming through his taped up mouth. Dusty enjoyed the noises he was making even though he pretended not to hear. He got even harder watching the girl fuck her mom with the candle. Both women were crying while trying to pretend to enjoy it, hoping he'd like the show enough to let them live.
Dusty grabbed a shorter candle that had been burned almost all the way down and handed it to the daughter.
"Here, try this," he said.
She removed the longer candle and inserted the smaller one. He took a lighter off the coffee table and lit the wick.
"Ok, don't touch it. Let it burn down," he said.
The mom began crying as she looked at the burning candle hanging out of her vagina.
"Please don't do this," she pleaded. "If you're going to kill me, please just kill me."
"I'm afraid I can't do that. I need to see how this goes."
He watched as the flame burned down, touching her skin. She cried and wiggled around as the flame finally fizzled out.
"Well that sucked," he said. He walked around the living room until he saw it on the counter. He handed it to the daughter and smiled.
"Use this on her next," he said.
"I can't! This could kill her!"
"I don't give a shit. Be careful. But you will do it, or I will," he said. The girl looked at the object in her hands. It was a letter opener. No doubt will her mom bleed like hell when she starts thrusting with this.
"Actually... shove it up her ass. I want to see that," Dusty said. The girl slid the tip into her mom's asshole, closed her eyes and thrust. Dusty watched and smiled as the mom screamed.
Chapter 12
The girl cried as she violated her mom's asshole with the letter opener. Blood and feces oozed out as her asshole turned into a gaping crater. The mom cried
and whimpered until Dusty finally had her stop.
"Good, now lick that shit up," he commanded. The girl hesitated, but he raised the gun at her, and she knelt down and began licking the blood and shit out of her mom's wounded ass. She licked and slurped as Dusty watched with strange fascination. After several minutes the girl looked up at him, her mouth and face covered in bloody brown butt-sauce. It was both disgusting yet strangely amusing to Dusty.
The dad was struggling hard in his chair, to the point he almost tipped the chair over. Dusty pointed to the girl with his gun.
"Give the knife to your mom," he said. She followed his orders as he nodded to the mom.
"Cut your daughter's tits off."
Both of their eyes went wide as the mom threw the letter opener onto the floor and lay back on the couch sobbing.
"Do it you bitch," Dusty ordered.
"Just kill me," she said. "Just fucking kill me already."
He turned the gun to her husband and shot him in the face. Blood splattered the wall behind him as the chair toppled over. Both girls screamed as he spun around pointing the gun at the daughter.
"Now, she'll be next. So what will it be?"
The daughter picked up the letter opener and looked at her mom, brushing her hair aside.
"I'm sorry mom," the girl said before thrusting the knife into her chest. There was very little blood as she fell backward as her body twitched and thrashed. Dusty walked over and watched as her eyes rolled back into her head as her body twitched a few final times.
"Holy shit," Dusty said. "That kid was hardcore."
"No!" the mom cried. "No! No! Not my baby! Not my little girl!"
"That was crazy. She just shoved that thing right into her chest."
The woman had lost her mind completely. She lunged at him, clawing at his eyes as he stepped back, taken by surprise with her attack. He regained himself enough to shove her away. She stumbled a few feet and turned, but he opened fire, hitting her six times. Each round struck her body, opening several bloody holes through her torso. She fell to the ground staring lifelessly up at the ceiling. Dusty looked around at the carnage, taking it all in; disappointed he didn't get to see the daughter's tits cut off. Oh well, he still had some fun at least. Mr. Socky was right. Maybe he'd been looking at this whole thing all wrong.