Morbid Metamorphosis

by Lycan Valley Press

  With hardly a discernible limp, he stepped out onto the balcony of his apartment. Heather had thrown him out of the house, but he had seriously upgraded. He thought back to the last time he’d seen Heather.

  She visited him at the hospital only once. She had sat with him for hours, reading a novel under the table lamp. She listened to the monitoring machines until he woke up.

  When she saw his eyes open, she closed the book.

  “I want a divorce.”

  “Okay,” Benjamin said. It wasn’t the resigned sigh she had been expecting, nor had he pleaded with her. This okay had been matter-of-fact.

  “I don’t even know who you are anymore,” Heather had said. She left.

  On the balcony now, looking out over the lights of LA, Benjamin sipped whisky, neat, and studied the swollen knuckles of his hands. He had never in his life gotten into a fight. Until a few weeks after the operation, that is. Tore out his stitches, but the other guy was worse off. Benjamin thought about the doctor’s words when he went back in.

  Clay Danger, he thought. Clay Danger’s balls.

  It was only six hours before Benjamin’s catastrophic infidelity that Clay had fallen into the thresher. In that time, the unusual organ donation request was discovered in Clay’s will. It was on video.

  “When I die,” Clay Danger had said, glaring at the camera, daring it to argue, “give my balls to a man who needs ‘em. Don’t fuck this up.”

  Veronica opened the sliding glass door and stepped out next to Benjamin. She wore a satin nightgown that the wind plastered to her skin, revealing the curves Benjamin admired so much.

  “Hi, babe,” he said. “Any word?”

  Veronica kissed his cheek.

  “Vitiligo is not as rare as you might think,” Veronica said. “However, a search of dermatologists in town narrowed it down to nineteen cases, seven of whom were male. Only two of the females are in the right age range, so it has to be one of those. I printed the names and addresses and left them on the counter.”

  “Aren’t doctor’s records confidential?”

  “I’m sorry. I thought you wanted results. Did you want to follow the law instead?”

  Benjamin grinned and stroked her jaw with a finger. She visibly shuddered and a flush darkened her cheeks. He still marveled at his ability to make women go weak in the knees. I shall only use my power for good, he thought. My good.

  “Thank you,” he said, downing the scotch and handing her the empty glass.

  At the first address, Benjamin was met at the door by a pre-school age child whose finger was industriously digging for treasure in one nostril. Benjamin grinned at the boy and asked if his mother was home. The boy shrugged and walked back into the house, continuing his uninterrupted booger mining operation.

  “Who’s at the door?” came a woman’s voice from inside.

  “Some white man,” said the boy. Benjamin could see down the hall to what looked like a kitchen window. Pale yellow curtains hung limply over a sink full of dirty dishes. The mother poked her head around the door frame. It wasn’t her.

  “What you want?” she asked without coming to the door.

  “Excuse me,” Benjamin said. “I used to know the family who lived here. They must have moved. Sorry to bother you.”

  “No family lived here but mine for a long time, mister.”

  “Oh? I must have the wrong house then. It’s been a few years. I probably got confused. Have a nice day now.”

  Turning away before she could respond, Benjamin returned to his car and plugged the second address into his GPS. Twenty minutes later, he pulled up to an apartment building not far from the house he had shared with Heather.

  Scanning the mailboxes, Benjamin found the one with her name. He waited. Twenty minutes later, a woman opened the door, a poodle straining against its leash.

  “Let me get that for you,” Benjamin said and held the door open as she led the dog out. He smiled at her and she returned it, holding his gaze for a long moment.

  “Thanks. She’s a handful.”

  “I can tell,” Benjamin said as he slipped into the building. He walked straight to the elevator as if he did this every day and pushed the call button.

  On the fourth floor, Benjamin strolled down to apartment 418, home of one Mandy Johnston, 23, college dropout, “exotic dancer”. He knocked and stepped to one side so he wasn’t visible through the peephole. After half a minute, the door opened a sliver. Benjamin shouldered it all the way open and pushed himself inside. He stood facing the woman who had cut off his balls. She wore a yellow sundress with white polka-dots all over it. He flashed her his perfect, new smile.

  “Mandy.”

  “Who the hell are you?”

  “Now, that really hurts, being forgotten. Not as much as getting my balls cut off. No, sir. That hurt a lot more.”

  “You.”

  “Me.”

  “The fuck you want?

  “You wanted me to ‘finish you off’, remember? Quid pro fucking quo ring a bell? I’m here to do just that.”

  “What the fuck?” Mandy said. She took a step back, raising her fists defensively.

  Benjamin closed the door with his foot.

  “Oh no,” he said. “This time, I’m going to do the hitting.”

  Benjamin Melkie hadn’t been a fighter. The few times he’d been threatened, he’d either talked his way out of it or run away. Except that one time, some crazy, mottled bitch beat the shit out of him and mutilated him.

  But, now he had Clay Danger’s balls.

  Mandy threw a fist first, a slow, powerful roundhouse with her weight behind it. Benjamin eased out of the way and clipped her face with an open palm. Mandy looked stunned and just stared at him as a welt formed on her cheek.

  She tried to hit him again, but he danced out of the way and broke Mandy’s nose with an elbow.

  Mandy was no match for the new Benjamin. She could dish it out, but wasn’t so good at taking it. Six good licks and she was unconscious on the floor.

  He tied her wrists and ankles together with faux silk scarves and dragged her to the bathroom, tossing her into the white, claw foot tub. Moments later, Benjamin returned, carrying Mandy’s purse, rooting through it as he walked.

  “Ah. Here we go.”

  Extracting the straight razor, he sliced open Mandy’s dress and peeled the halves aside. She wore white panties that were stained with old menstrual blood. He cut them off her. No unicorn this time. A triangle of brown hair instead.

  “Now, I’ve studied some anatomy books, but to be honest, I’m not entirely sure I know what I’m doing here. But, I’ll tell you what: I’ll try to be careful.”

  Poking his fingers around her abdomen, Benjamin found a likely spot, shrugged and sliced deeply into Mandy’s flesh. Her body jerked and she whimpered. Her eyes fluttered open and she looked terrified.

  He backhanded her with his fist and she was out again.

  “Lie down.”

  Making another cut on the opposite side of the first, Benjamin dug around inside Mandy’s body until he found what he wanted. Pulling an ovary out of each hole he’d made, Benjamin severed them from the fallopian tubes and tossed them in the tub.

  Standing, Benjamin washed the blood from the razor and his hands until there was no trace of it. Pulling a linen cloth from his pocket, Benjamin wiped his prints from the straight razor, the tub, the sink handles and the doorknob.

  “There,” he said to the unconscious and bleeding Mandy. “You’re finished now.”

  He retraced his steps through the apartment, wiping down anything he’d touched. Using the cloth, he lifted the house phone from its cradle and dialed 9-1-1, leaving it off the hook.

  He pulled the door closed with the cloth, then pushed the elevator call button with it wiping his earlier print off in the process. When the doors opened, the woman with the poodle got out.

  “We meet again,” Benjamin said. She grinned at him, blushing slightly. He felt her eyes on him as he walked awa
y. He was two blocks away, whistling carelessly when he heard the sirens.

  EZZIE DOES IT

  Erin Shaw

  “Why?”

  “He makes me laugh. Most days that’s enough.”

  “That’s it; that’s all you can come up with?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t have even said that if you hadn’t pressed me – it’s not something I think on too much.”

  Ezzie stared down at the old man and felt her world spin. She struggled against the rope that bound her arms and legs. She was starting to bleed and the old man knew it. He even let her struggle against her bonds and strain to pull them off as much as she wanted. She bet he really enjoyed watching her breasts jiggle against her chest and beads of sweat fall down her cleavage, her bare chest, and into the crevice of her navel. Despite the vigorous swaying of her tits, however, the old creep seemed more interested in the slit between her legs which was still clothed in her thong underwear. His constant attention made a sick bird twitter in her chest and flutter in her stomach. She strained and screamed and thrashed and all he did was watch her and watch them and continue to look deep in thought. He knew, as she did, that she couldn’t get free, that there was no one coming to find her, that they were all alone.

  “What about her?” Ezzie thrust her chin towards the corner. “If she makes you laugh then I’m a Catholic school girl.”

  “Don’t make fun!” he snapped suddenly, and squeezed her right breast hard. “Just don’t make fun you little harlot…you whore…you little tart. “ He squeezed her harder and she could see the pathetic erection stirring in his overalls like the world’s most geriatric snake. “You use these to get what you want.” He grasped her face in his hands. “You use this to get what you want,” and he slapped an open palm against her pussy hard enough to get her to cry out. “All of this is nothing. It’ll just rot away. Worms’ll be goin’ in that hole a’ yours soon enough. You shoulda seen my Helen in her day. She was something. She knew what class was, knew how to be a lady, never wore a skirt above her knees and never left the house without stockings. My Helen said please and thank you and never uttered a blue word. Not ever. She knew how to please me though.” He sighed and rubbed at his crotch – absently, as though worrying at an old scar.

  “I’ll tell you something, missy – it’s not all them fancy little outfits or that dark paint you put on, or how you shake that little ass of yours, it’s how you treat a man that does it – it’s how you take a little pride in yourself. My Helen knew that and she never had to show her unmentionables to other men for one day of her life. Know you can’t say the same.” He spat on the ground beside her and turned back to the other two. It was too dark in the dusty little farmhouse room for Ezzie to see much of what he was doing. All she could see was a couple of large books and several jars lined up on a shelf. He appeared to be studying them intently.

  Ezzie decided to stop struggling and save her strength. She never thought in a million years that she’d ever wish for her life to go back to the way it was, but now she’d give any fucking thing. She’d been stripping for a couple of years, a little hooking too – just blowing though, no screwing – she didn’t need the shit that went along with that. The club she worked for was on a main highway route and her customers were mostly truckers passing through. She liked this, ‘cause she never liked the thought of the same men watching her too many times. There was something creepy about them getting attached to her. Her real name was Emma Burson, but she thought Ezzie Doesit was a better name. It sounded cute and fresh, just like her. Her life wasn’t so bad before, but she wanted to get out of her parents' place and be on her own a little ways away from them. When she talked to them, she always told them she was a waitress going to night school. She’d tried waiting tables at first, but shit if it hadn’t bored her to tears. Her tits were always getting ogled anyway, so she decided she might as well get some better money for them. As for school – some vague part of her always thought she should, but she was kind of having fun now and she felt free. The thing she had always feared was a cage, being bound to something she couldn’t just up and leave. Now, though, sitting in this douchebag’s attic, with his nasty little self looking at her trussed up body like she was gonna be dinner for five, she wished she had never stripped, wished she’d stayed put and did what her mama wanted her to. That wish was pointless though. She had a feeling he’d have found her anyway, weird as that sounded. When she’d first felt the cloth with the chloroform over her mouth she somehow knew that this was her fate, that she was meant for this all along. Her last words before dropping to the ground were.

  “Wait a sec, I don’t believe in God’

  It seemed to take forever for the old man to do whatever he was doing. He kept picking up jars and swirling them and consulting one of the books with great interest. She stared at them other two up against the wall with vague unease. Her abject horror had abated a few hours ago, though her mouth was still flecked with vomit. She stared at the old man’s back, willing herself to get free, wrap her arms around his neck and snap it just like she’d seen in the movies. Thinking back to how she first met the man, she did recollect one thing that creeped her out. She hadn’t noticed it because she was used to unsavory types and she was used to attention. The old man had looked at her like she was someone else. Hell, she was used to men looking at every part of her separately and men using her to pretend they were with fuckin’ Britney Spears, but this guy looked like he knew her…but didn’t. When he approached her after the show, she half-expected his opening line to be ‘excuse me, but haven’t we met in another life?’ Instead, all he did was take out a roll of wrinkled twenties and look at her with watery eyes. She told him the price and followed him out to his car. She’d just gotten her heels off when he took her down. When she awoke, she was here – naked except for her g-string and tied spread-eagled to a bed. She’d assumed that she was gonna be humped and dumped – possibly strangled in between. She’d never expected this.

  After a long time at his jars, he turned to her and told her about Helen – his wife. He told her how they met and how beautiful she was. He told her about their wedding and went into particularly crude detail about their honeymoon.

  “Normally I wouldn’t talk like this in front of a woman, but I think a little whore like you would be used ta worse. There was no way to talk about it back then so much. Hell, even some a’ my buddies’d blushed if they’d heard what we did. We fucked like rabbits we did and we did things that I didn’t even know existed. We musta’ just made them up, ‘cause my Helen was a virgin – let’s be clear on that point. She even found one of those racy movies – and they were hard to come by back then let me tell you. I tried ‘em on my own later, but they just weren’t the same without Helen. Ezzie decided to make a small effort. It might not hurt. She stuck her breasts out and pouted her lips.

  “You sure you don’t like those videos? I just think you might, honey. Why don’t we make one of our own? Sounds hella good to me, but you’re gonna have to let me loose first. Whaddya say?” She stuck out her crotch and swayed her hips at him. She was utterly surprised when the back of his hand connected with her cheek. She spat blood and looked at him in shock. ‘Take it easy man, I was just…”

  “No more filth from your filthy mouth, whore. This is my Helen we’re talking about. You disgust me, you cheap cunt. Enough talk outta you. I think it’s time for you to do what I done brought you here to do.” As the chloroform sent her sailing again, all she could think of was: I don’t know what he needs me for – he has them.

  When she awoke, she was first aware of searing pain in her abdomen. She strained her head to try to see ‘cause her first thought was that the bastard had gutted her and was watching her bleed out. When she turned her head, her whole world spun and she vomited off the side of the bed. Through teary eyes she could see the man kneeling beside the bed, mopping up the floor.

  “Tsk, tsk, so sorry ‘bout that, I guess I gave you too much of the knock-out stuff. I just
knew that I couldn’t get it all done with a single dose. You should feel better soon.” He caressed her forehead, which was blisteringly hot and soaking wet. “Well hell girl, you gotta fever. I suppose that was bound to happen for awhile. I’ll come back in a couple a minutes with some aspirin and water.”

  “Wha…wha… the fuck you do to me?” Ezzie croaked. Her stomach screamed with every word. “Why…why…” she started to ask, but it hurt way too much. The old man sighed and angled a picture on the nightstand so she could see it.

  “I guess I never told ya how much you look like my Helen when she was a young thing. I shoulda told you before I suppose, but there was so much to be done.” He frowned and looked actually contrite. Even in her current state, Ezzie managed to feel a flicker of pity. She strained her head to look at the photo and she could make out the form of a young woman with a knee-length skirt, stockings, and a high-necked blouse. Her face, though, did bear a resemblance to Ezzie when she wasn’t dressed up for the club. Helen was smiling in a way that Ezzie would have never smiled, though. Helen seemed innocent in a way that Ezzie could never remember. When she looked up at the old man, her eyes were wide with questions. He patted her hand and said, “I shoulda told you that sooner, and I’m sorry. It’s very important and it’ll help you understand, I hope.” He left the room then and Ezzie passed in and out of a pain hazed sleep.

  When Ezzie awoke, daylight was falling across her and she felt hot and cold at the same time. The old man was fixing something for her to drink – telling her that it would help her feel better. Her whole body felt tight and swollen and every move hurt her. She sipped her drink and fell into a deep sleep where the pain only poked at her dully, like a little boy might poke at road kill.

  Hours or days could have passed and she never would have known the difference; she slipped in and out of a haze of pain and nightmares. She dreamed that she’d had a baby, but it was dead and that it was crawling up her leg, trying to find a home for its decaying flesh inside her womb again. She wanted to scream, but the pain stopped her even in slumber.