Fat Off Sex and Violence

by McKenzie, Shane

  His vision cleared for just a moment, and just as he was sucking in a lungful of oxygen, it was cut off by the stinking skin flaps of the old woman’s crotch as she straddled his face. Long silver pubic hair jabbed him in the eyes as his nose and mouth were engulfed in aged pussy flesh. She rocked over him and moaned deep. He looked up at her, worm’s eye view, past her breasts and into her face. She smiled down at him with blood pouring from her mouth.

  Something warm engulfed his cock, but he couldn’t see what it was. And then he could only feel the potent torment as unseen weapons opened and penetrated his flesh. Something went into his right oblique, stabbed deep and stayed there. A sharp point ran across his inner left thigh and unzipped it. It came from all over and Chester screamed into the old woman’s birth canal. He tried to push her away but didn’t have the strength—every attempted breath only gave him a mouthful of salty juice.

  The pain covered him, was everywhere and pulsating. He could no longer differentiate injuries, just knew he was fucked. Consciousness began slipping away.

  Then the old woman shrieked, quivered. It felt like she pissed on his face, and Chester choked for a moment, but then she raised up and his lungs filled with glorious air. He took a long rattling inhale. Every breath was fire.

  A woman had been straddling his cock, and even through the pain Chester saw she was gorgeous—she slid him out of her and walked into the crowd. Blood pumped and flowed over his chest and stomach. Pink meat and yellow fat peeked out from open wounds.

  Chester opened and closed his mouth. No words would form, only wet empty sounds. He could only get the tiniest bit of air into his lungs—he tried to move but couldn’t.

  The mob backed away…all but one.

  Sheila stepped forward and let the bat swing like a pendulum, to and fro, at her side. She wore a coating of blood like a leotard, the whites of her eyes and teeth radiant against the crimson of her face.

  Chester tried to find Gary in the crowd again, but couldn’t spot him. There was just too many of them, and they all watched as Sheila stood over him, knelt down and took his cock into her. Even though it was limp, she forced it in, then sat down hard.

  From behind him, the fat kids walked, hand in hand, back into his vision. They looked drunk, barely able to stand, and their size seemed to have doubled. They jiggled as they stood on either side of Sheila as she grinded on top of him.

  “You’re so…delicious,” the boy said.

  “Mmmm…yummy.” The girl rubbed her protruding stomach.

  They blinked slow, wobbled on their feet.

  “Sh…Sheila. P-ple…please…” Every word was anguish.

  She raised the bat over her head, both hands on the handle, the fat end pointing down at Chester’s face. With a rock of her pelvis, she drove the bat forward. Chester’s face took the blow and his teeth rattled to the back of his throat. Then she rocked again and he took another hit.

  She kept doing it, slamming the bat down like she was churning butter, turning his face into a pile of meat and bone.

  She laughed as she did it, and just before everything went black, Chester saw the kids fall over, and the rumbling sounds that erupted from their throats mixed with the shrieks of hell coming to claim him.

  —15—

  Gary stood in his spot at the back of the bar. He still had a clear line of vision into the restroom where he was able to see everything. The feedlings had directed all of the people’s rage toward Chester, while at the same time not allowing their influence to touch him. And Chester was torn to shreds on the restroom floor, his blood spreading across the tile. Through all the disgust and horror that filled him from watching Chester’s violent death, there was a sense of satisfaction.

  But he knew time was short, and if he was going to put an end to all of this, he had to act now.

  The people around him were coming to, snapping out of their hypnotized state. They looked at each other, at themselves. Blood and ejaculate were splashed over everyone and as the people realized it, the panic set in. Some felt their wounds for the first time and fell to the floor whimpering or crying. Others noticed their nudeness, filled with shame, and ran out of the bar with arms and hands covering what they could. A few called out for loved ones that didn’t answer back.

  Gary didn’t have time to watch this. He weaved his way into the restroom. Sheila sat in the corner, staring at Chester’s mutilated corpse. Her eyes were perfect circles, unblinking, and her head shook from side to side with twitchy slow movement.

  “Mom… Mom I’m sorry,” Gary said. He knelt down, kissed the top of her head. “I have to go. I have to take care of this, put an end to it.”

  She didn’t respond, didn’t even look at him. Just stared at what was left of Chester.

  “I’ll be back for you, okay?”

  Kronos and Mary Jane nearly blew the walls down with their roaring snores. Gary still had his sword in hand, and though it seemed the violence had ended for now, he couldn’t make himself drop it. He grabbed the feedlings by their overflowing fat, and lifted them into the air with ease. Even though they had exploded in size, their weight was the same, and Gary flew out the front door of the bar with the feedlings swinging at his sides, their rotten smell as strong as ever.

  The cries of the wounded and confused sliced through the air. People stumbled about in all directions.

  Gary pushed through them, and headed back to the place where everything started.

  I’ll put them back where they came from.

  He thought about his spot in the woods, thought about the big rowan tree there. He figured whoever put them there, their last so-called master, put them there for a reason. He always thought the tree looked ancient, powerful.

  It’s gotta be the key to all this. Maybe it can keep them under ground, keep them asleep.

  It was the only plan he had.

  He reached the end of the pavement and strode into the woods. The trees zoomed by, and though the feedlings weighed nothing, the weight of the sword and the act of running as fast as he could filled his lungs with lava. Sweat poured.

  In the distance, the tree loomed over the forest. It seemed to be beckoning him forward, rooting for him.

  When Gary reached the clearing, he tossed the sword and feedlings ahead of him and leaned over with his hands on his knees. His throat rattled as he sucked for breath. His clothing reeked of his odor and were soaked through with perspiration. Lying on the ground where he’d left it was his bag, his drawings tucked safely within. When this is all finished, he thought, I can still complete my comic. I can still make a better life for myself.

  The feedlings still snored, but had already begun their restless tossing and turning.

  Oh shit. No time, no time.

  Below the tree, amongst its roots, were the large holes where Kronos and Mary Jane had emerged. But now, the feedlings were far too big to fit.

  And Gary had no shovel.

  He grabbed the sword and slid on his knees to the first hole. He stabbed at the earth, breaking off big chunks of dry dirt, then scooping them out with his hands. He moved as quickly as he could, stabbing and grabbing and tossing and digging. When he was satisfied with the first hole, he crawled toward Mary Jane, dragged her by her floating hair toward the hole.

  He rolled her inside, stuffed her in, but she barely fit.

  It’s gonna have to do.

  With shaking hands he pushed the discarded dirt back into the hole, covered her the best he could. Though her belly extended past the hole, Gary covered every inch of her with dirt. She moved around, mumbled and moaned as he worked, but she never woke. He could only hope it was good enough.

  He looked over his shoulder at Kronos. The feedling rolled over from his stomach to his back, smacked his mouth, let out another snore.

  I’m not gonna make it.

  Working even faster than before, and ignoring the pain in his hands and knees, Gary worked on the second hole. He growled as he tore chunks of dirt away. His fingertips bled and he
bent back nails as he worked, but he kept at it.

  Kronos snored behind him, but they were becoming faint.

  Gary breathed in ragged gasps, and once the hole looked deep enough, he turned to fetch Kronos.

  A foot caught him under the chin and knocked him backward. He tumbled into the hole, knocked his head against the dirt wall.

  His mouth filled with blood and his vision swam, but he could still see Clay standing over him.

  “Hey, Gary. What do you think you’re doing with my feedlings?”

  “C-clay? What are you…what are you doing?” Gary thought he was too late, that Kronos had woken up and was influencing Clay. But as the thought entered his mind, he heard another thunderous snore.

  “I asked you to let me use them, but you wouldn’t. You just couldn’t share, could you?” Clay bent down, picked up the sword. “You always treated me like shit. Even though I was the only one to ever be nice to you, the only one who ever tried to be your friend.”

  “Clay, come on. You have to stop this…we have to get Kronos in the ground.”

  “Why would I want to do that?” He stepped forward, kicked a wave of dirt into the hole. “I’m somebody with the feedlings. Not just some loser nerdy kid. I felt powerful with the feedlings around.”

  “Clay—”

  “Shut the fuck up, Gary. You don’t get to talk now.” He pointed the sword at Gary’s face. “I’m the master now.”

  And he thrust the blade down, pinning Gary to the earth wall behind him.

  Gary looked at the sword protruding from his stomach. He couldn’t even lift his arm to try and pull it out. He whimpered as his shirt soaked with blood.

  “C-clay…you can’t be…you can’t be their…m-master.”

  “Oh really?” Clay was on his hands and knees shoving dirt into the hole.

  The dirt smacked Gary in the face, covered his bleeding body. Just before he was concealed in darkness, just before Clay shoved that last pile of dirt over his head, he saw the red light igniting the forest.

  ***

  Clay stood there for a minute, wished it could have been different. He always liked Gary, always wanted to be his friend. But now…now he could rule the world. Nobody could stop him.

  Kronos sat up, glared at Clay. Just a morbidly obese fat kid, but Clay knew better. The feedling could offer him the world.

  “I’m your master now,” Clay said. His body throbbed with agony, as if every bone were shattered, his head especially. Every movement he made, every word he spoke sent tremors of pain throughout, but he had to be strong, couldn’t cry, had to show the feedlings he would be a good master, a strong master.

  It seemed like every inch of him was covered with blood, some his own, but most not. He forced himself to step with confidence as he approached Kronos, let the blood oozing from the wounds on his face drip down over the feedling.

  Kronos turned to face him, stretched his mouth wide and let the blood rain down and slide into his gullet.

  And right before Clay’s eyes, the feedling transformed, his childish, pink exterior melting away and revealing the pale white flesh beneath. Kronos smiled up at Clay, his teeth stretching wide and long into serrated daggers.

  “Hello, Master,” Kronos said. “Pleased to meet you.”

  Clay reached down and patted Kronos on the head, then moved past Gary’s grave to where Mary Jane lay buried. His pants fell to his ankles as he prepared to wake her, complete his claim on his feedlings.

  The world won’t know what hit them, but they’ll all bow down, every last one of them. He would be the demon emperor, and he couldn’t wait to get started.

  Shane McKenzie is the author of Infinity House, All You Can Eat, Bleed on Me, Jacked, Addicted to the Dead, Muerte Con Carne, Escape from Shit Town (co-authored with Sam W. Anderson and Erik Williams), Fairy, The Bingo Hall, and many more to come. He is also the editor at Sinister Grin Press. He lives in Austin, TX with his wife and daughter. He has been cumming and bleeding all over everything in hopes he will find the feedlings, but so far no luck. But when it happens…run. Keep up with him at shanemckenzie.org, or send him an email at shane.p.mckenzie@gmail.com.