Fat Off Sex and Violence

by McKenzie, Shane

  Clay almost joined in, but heard so much chaos coming from just outside the complex, he decided to leave the kids to it. He launched his rock at them, giggled as it cracked a small boy in the side of the face. The boy just stood back up, kitchen knife in hand, and slid the metal into one of the woman’s jiggling chins.

  As strong as the urge to kill and inflict pain was in Clay’s head, there was an equally potent buzzing in his groin. He reached down and rubbed it. He’d had an erection for so long, his balls ached, and Clay jogged away from the courtyard into the parking lot.

  Cars rocked, blood dripped down windshields. A man stood on the hood of a Hummer, a pair of gardening shears in his hands. His cock was longer than Clay’s arm, it seemed, and he watched as the man snipped the tip off like it were the head on a G.I. Joe. Blood squirted, splashed on a woman who rammed her head into the Hummer’s front driver’s window. The man worked his way down his hardened dick, chopping away disks of flesh that rolled across the hood, slid down the windshield like ketchup-dipped pickle chips.

  Something smashed his foot, and Clay tried to flinch away, but was held in place. An old man in a motorized wheelchair scowled up at him—one of the wheels crushing Clay’s foot—and waved a metal cane, swung it at Clay’s head.

  “I’ll kill you and fuck you and kill you and fuck you,” the old man said. His teeth rattled loose in his mouth, muffling his words.

  Clay grabbed the cane and yanked it away. “Shut up,” he said as he chuckled. He shoved the cane straight into the man’s mouth, slammed it hard against the back of his throat. With a jerk of his bitten and bleeding arm, the cane was angled so that it pointed to the sky, then he pushed down with all his weight. The old man gurgled and flailed his arms, though his legs stayed still. A wet splatter followed by the strong odor of shit blew from the old man’s pants at the same time his arms fell limp to his sides. Clay yanked the cane out with a wet slurp—the dentures were stuck to the metal with gore paste.

  Beyond the parking lot, people on the street looked in with wide eyes, cell phones to their ears, hands to their gaping mouths. A girl, probably around Clay’s age, shouted into her bubble-gum-pink cell phone, screaming and pointing.

  Clay smiled at her. He wanted her. Wanted to tear her clothes off and fuck her until she bled. So he ran at her. She saw him coming, shrieked into her phone and backed away. But not fast enough.

  Clay tackled her to the ground, the inside of his pants radiating heat at the anticipation of seeing her naked torso.

  And then it was gone. He blinked, caught an open palm to the face and a knee to the balls at the same time. Rolling over, he watched the girl as she ran down the street. He looked at his hands…covered in blood.

  “What…wha…Ahhh!” Ragged teeth punctures covered his arms, blood bubbling out of the deep holes, and he nearly lost consciousness from the sudden wave of pain. He lay on his back and rocked himself as he fought to control his whimpers.

  He had to warn Gary. Had to show him the destruction the feedlings were causing.

  But I can’t go back in there. I’ll black out again.

  He winced as he used his arms to push himself back to his feet. Tears welled in his eyes as more blood dribbled down his forearms and dripped from his fingertips.

  He looked up to the second floor, knew Gary was somewhere up there. And he ran back into the complex.

  ***

  The scent of sex and blood was in the air, and the neighbor girl led Gary to her bedroom.

  Kronos sat down in the middle of the living room, eyes wide and scarlet, and chomped away at the violence hovering about.

  The apartment was thick with it, onyx clouds billowing through the air as if something were on fire. There was some yellow mixed in, but it didn’t compare to the vast black. Kronos held his mouth open and inhaled, nearly choking himself with it.

  “No fair,” Mary Jane said. “Hurry up and fuck this girl, I’m starving!”

  It wasn’t like Gary had a choice. The girl was strong and she tugged him along, her ass cheeks bouncing. And then they entered the bedroom, and Gary saw where all the violence was coming from.

  Her boyfriend. Or what was left of him. Pieces of him were on the carpet, most of him on the bed. His blood was splashed over the walls, floor, and even some on the ceiling. A ragged red piece of flesh hung down from one of the ceiling fan blades, an unrecognizable hunk of stringy meat.

  The man lay spread out like a starfish. His face was twisted and frozen in a painful grimace, his mouth stretched wide in what looked like a final shriek before death yanked his soul out of his body.

  “Don’t mind him,” she said as she lay down on top of his splayed carcass. “He couldn’t satisfy me. Not the way I know you can.”

  Her boyfriend’s chest and stomach were opened and scooped out. His intestines lay in a pile beside the bed, the rest of his organs lay here and there. The girl slid her back all over the gory mess and ran her fingernails over her body. Her eyelids fluttered and she licked the air.

  “Come to me,” she said. Her hand moved to the dark spot between her legs, and even through all the blood, Gary could see the pink.

  “Now, Gary. Do it now,” Mary Jane said.

  The urge to turn and run tugged at his mind. He didn’t know where he would go, but all he knew was he didn’t want to be there.

  The neighbor reached behind her, snapped a rib away from her boyfriend’s exposed ribcage, and slid it into her gore-coated pussy inch by inch. Her eyes never left Gary’s.

  Bile stung his nasal cavity. But then he heard it, coming from the living room.

  Snoring.

  Kronos is asleep.

  The violence-eating feedling had a much bigger appetite than his sister, and Gary could only hope it wouldn’t take as much to fill Mary Jane.

  If they’re both asleep, I can rescue Sheila. We can get the hell out of here.

  He looked over at Mary Jane whose stomach rumbled like an agitated storm. Her black tongue tentacled out from between her cone-shaped teeth, wrapped around a stray glob of sex, pulled it into her mouth. She nodded toward the girl on the gory mattress.

  Gary turned to the neighbor girl, forced a smile as he pulled his pants off. “I’ve dreamed about this moment for a long time,” he said. “I never thought it could ever be possible.”

  She pulled the rib out of her and threw it at him. It hit him in the chin and left a wet mark. “Shut the fuck up and do it then.”

  He peeled his shirt away, no longer worried about his appearance, and climbed up onto the wet, squishy bed. She grabbed him by the back of his head, rolled him over so she was on top. His sore beaten body ignited with pain, but he bit back his grimace.

  The remains of the girl’s boyfriend stabbed and prodded Gary’s back, soaked into his skin.

  Then he was inside of her, and the only sensation was her engulfing warmth.

  —12—

  Chester slammed the empty glass on the counter, called for another as he lit a cigarette. His head buzzed and his vision blurred, and he felt much better about the day’s events. Betsy eyed him from across the bar, a saggy woman twice his age, and he nodded her over. She smashed her Virginia Slim into the ashtray, grabbed her empty glass, and waddled her way toward him.

  “You fill this glass and give me an extra twenty bucks, I’ll suck your dick,” she said. “Whattya say?”

  Chester laughed, slapped her on the ass. Though her skin was wrapped around bundles of fat that hung down from various places on her body, Chester figured he could spare twenty bucks, clear his head before he went home and faced his fiancée.

  “What are you d-drinking?” he said.

  “Seven and seven,” she told the bartender. “Jesus, what happened to your leg?”

  “Fucking stepson,” he said, then shot vodka out his nose as he laughed. “Stabbed me with a ninja sword.” He slapped his leg, right on the wound, but the pain only made him laugh harder.

  Betsy lit another cigarette and shook her head. “Y
ou’ve always been a strange one, Chester.”

  “And you’ve always been a whore,” he said. “Now hurry up with your drink so I can stuff your mouth with my dick.”

  She clicked her tongue. “Asshole,” she said, then tipped her drink back and slurped it down in one gulp. “So we going to the bathroom or your car?”

  ***

  Clay didn’t make it far into the parking lot before he had yanked his pants off. Blood seemed to coat everything around him. Bodies lay motionless on the concrete.

  The second he had entered the parking lot, his erection came screaming back, throbbed until it hurt. The breeze tickled it and sent little sparks of pleasure up the shaft.

  He spotted a woman lying in the back of a maroon van. The trunk was open and her blood slicked legs stuck out, bending and unbending over and over as if riding an invisible bicycle. As Clay grew nearer, he saw the shiny black tire iron she was using as a dildo. The van rocked with her rhythm.

  Clay hopped into the van, his freckled penis bobbed up and down. The woman smiled wide as their eyes met. She yanked the tire iron out and handed it to him. As he smelled it, her feet reached out and hooked behind his hips, pulled him close.

  He was in her before he knew it and he didn’t ever want it to stop.

  ***

  Kronos’s snores still rocked the apartment, smashing through the air like amplified thunder. Gary lay on his back as the neighbor girl rocked on top of him. The ferocity in her eyes had relaxed and was replaced by the lazy squint of ecstasy.

  Though Gary was living his dream at that moment, minus the open corpse beneath him and the blood covering the girl, he looked past her to Mary Jane who sat just beside the bed. The feedling ate sloppily, her eyes squeezed shut as she gorged herself.

  Yes, this girl was the most gorgeous girl Gary had ever seen. Part of him never wanted her to stop grinding on him, taking him into her. But he couldn’t get the image of Sheila out of his head, the screwdriver going in and out of her, the metal stained red, the Philips-head tip thick with gore.

  So, as he saw Mary Jane entranced by the meal he was providing for her, he shoved the neighbor girl square in the chest as hard as he could. She tumbled backward and smashed the back of her head against Mary Jane’s plump face.

  Gary’s dick was like a slimy thumbs up. Before he could see what damage he had done, if any, he was off the bed, on his feet, and running out of the bedroom. He heard chasing footsteps and a squeak escaped his throat as he checked over his shoulder. The neighbor girl was on his heels, her breasts swaying, her face twisted into a grimace.

  “Get back in here and fuck me!”

  As he sprinted through the living room, he saw Kronos, still on his back, fast asleep. The girl reached for Gary and scraped her nails across his ass cheeks.

  “Leave me alone!” He turned on her, pointed at her with his slick erection. She looked like a baseball player sliding into home as she glided across the floor on her knees, and in the next moment, Gary’s cock was in her mouth. And just beyond her stood Mary Jane, her eyes fiery and trained on him.

  Oh fuck.

  As she took steady steps toward him, she hopped up into the air like a baby bird trying to pluck a worm from its mother’s beak and snatched the remaining globs of sex floating there. But Gary could tell from the brightness of her eyes that she was only partially satiated.

  The neighbor girl slurped on him, gagged. Mary Jane’s eyes spotlighted the yellow exploding from the blowjob, and as she approached, she ate.

  Goddamnit.

  Gary grabbed the back of the girl’s head and worked his hips, faster and faster. Yellow globs blew from his groin like exhaust from a smoke stack. Mary Jane’s movements slowed as she continued to eat.

  He grabbed handfuls of the girl’s hair, slammed himself into her over and over. Her teeth scraped against him and she giggled and gagged at the same time.

  A volcanic shudder ran up the length of his body, from the tips of his toenails to the points of his hair, and he bared his teeth and growled. As the cum sprayed directly down the girl’s throat, a colossal blob of yellow sex swam into the air.

  Mary Jane saw it and breathed in, sucking the food toward her at jet speed. It hit her like a cannonball, took her off her feet. She landed on her back, chewing and slurping. Her eyes faded until blinking out, and then the snores came.

  And it was music to Gary’s ears. He checked behind him and saw that Kronos, though still lightly snoring, was shifting in his sleep.

  Gotta get to Sheila. Gotta get the fuck away from here. Gotta—

  “W-what the fuck are you doing in here?”

  The burst of sudden voice startled Gary and he blinked away his thoughts and looked down into the wide, bloodshot eyes of the girl. She had her eyes locked on his, then they descended and found his erection. Her lip trembled and her nose wrinkled as she backed away on her hands and knees, then all at once realized she was nude.

  “What the fuck did you do to me!”

  “It’s not…I didn’t…let me explain.” Gary had his hands out in front of him and he shook his head as he took backward steps toward the door. Kronos shifted again, grunted, then let out a faint snore.

  The girl smacked her mouth, tasting it, then retched onto the floor. “You sick motherfucker…you raped me. Why is there blood on me?” She jumped to her feet, screamed, wept as she jetted toward her bedroom.

  Time to go.

  As Gary’s hand wrapped around the knob, the girl’s shriek ripped through his skull and nearly liquefied his brain. He slammed the door shut behind him and went straight for Sheila’s apartment. His nude body tightened as the cold air of the night hit him.

  “Sheila? Where are you?” he said as he stumbled in.

  “G-gary?” Her voice sounded weak, barely above a whisper.

  Gary was just glad she could respond at all as he shot toward her bedroom.

  “Sheila…Mom, I…”

  She sat on her bedroom floor, wrapped in her comforter and backed into a corner. Tears and snot made her face shine. When she saw Gary standing in her doorway, a fresh sob rocked her shoulders and she held her arms out.

  “Gary…oh god I thought you were dead.” She looked at him with hurt creasing her face. “What…what happened to you? Did Chester do that to your face?”

  He ran to her, wanting nothing more than to feel the safety of his mother’s arms, to feel her surrounding him with her unconditional love. Even as he remembered he was completely nude, wearing only the saliva of the girl next door and the blood of her butchered boyfriend, he still wrapped his arms around Sheila and squeezed.

  She rocked him, ran her fingertips over his scalp. No sex act could have felt that good. “What’s happening, Gary? W-what’s going on?”

  “It’s me. It’s all because of me,” he said, sniffling between each word. “It’s all my fault…I just wanted to know what it felt like…to not be me…to not be made fun of all time. I—”

  The front door slammed against the wall.

  Oh shit. Now what?

  For once, Gary’s worst fear was not that Chester was coming home. Before Gary had time to process what was happening, rapid footsteps pounded toward the bedroom.

  “Someone’s inside,” Sheila said.

  Gary rolled off of his mother and they both tried scrambling to their feet.

  “You motherfucker!” The neighbor girl stood in the bedroom doorway holding a baseball bat over her head. Her immaculate body was covered with an oversized football jersey that hung loosely from her bloody torso.

  “Wait…wait,” Gary said as he shielded his mother, standing between her and the crazed neighbor. “You’ve got it all wrong.”

  The girl charged, her eyes digging holes into his head as she came. She swung the bat, caught Gary in the left arm.

  He cried out, tried to grab the weapon away from her, but she pulled it free and hit him again. The metal made a pinging sound as it struck him.

  “Get the fuck outta my apartment!�
�� Sheila tried to force her way past Gary, but he held her back.

  “He…he murdered my boyfriend,” the girl said through sobs, then swung at Gary, barely missing his face. “He fucking raped me!”

  Gary reached out for the bat again, but stumbled. His forehead cracked against the side of the television stand and his face bounced off the floor. Blood filled his mouth and his vision blurred. And then the pain was there, like a headache on fire. Barely audible above the ringing in his ears was shouting and yelling, and Gary could only watch as Sheila wrestled with the girl—even weak from blood loss she put up a good fight.

  And then the room was lit with red light.

  ***

  Clay hit the woman in the face with the tire iron, then again, kept hitting her until she resembled a ruined pile of meat quivering in the back of the van.

  He couldn’t remember who she was or why he was in the van with her, but it just felt so damn good to hit her, so he kept doing it.

  Outside of the van, he heard grunts and growls, and even though he was having so much fun, he stepped out of the vehicle to see what was going on. He gripped the tire iron, sticky with fluids, and ground his teeth as he stepped down onto the concrete.

  Chaos all around. Beautiful chaos. People attacked one another all over the place. There was no prejudice in the violence as women attacked men, children attacked the elderly, animals attacked everyone. Fists and teeth and claws and weapons. Blood everywhere.

  Clay laughed, ran toward a man who was stomping the head of a small girl into a curb. The girl held a jagged bottle, and every time the foot slammed into the side of her head, she jabbed at the leg with it.