King of the Perverts

by Steve Lowe

  Good God, is this how rapists rationalize their actions?

  Goddammit, stop this shit! Just give her a quick thump and get the fuck out of here!

  Right. Just do that and it will be all over.

  Pauline is still talking, and I think maybe she’s doing it for the cameras. She knows she’s being filmed. She wants to be a TV star. She’s expecting something to happen. She’s waiting for me to do it. She already knows it’s coming, she said so herself. So what the fuck is my problem?

  Probably, I don’t have any fucking desire to punch a woman, that’s what. Shit. I need another drink.

  No, this is it. Just punch this chick already.

  OK. Here goes. This time for sure.

  I raise my right fist. I try not to think about Uncle Lefty and his missing hand. I close my eyes and swing.

  “Ah, there you are,” Pauline says. “I was wondering if you fell asleep back there.”

  Nothing happens. Did I not hit her hard enough?

  “Come on, I thought you were a tough guy,” she says. “That all you got?”

  She’s looking back over her shoulder with a mocking smirk. Apparently my rough stuff is not very rough at all. I swing again, a little harder, and with my eyes open this time. I connect just below her ribcage, which is quite visible through her skin, like I’m fucking a skeleton covered in a sheet. This time I feel something, a tightening of her asshole. It sends a tiny electric shock through me.

  “Yeah, now we’re talking,” she says. “Come on hardass, hit me.”

  So I do. She squeezes me tighter.

  “Yeah! Again!”

  And I do, again, harder.

  And again. She’s backing into me in earnest now and I wonder if she has any nerve endings at all in her rectum, or if perhaps she’d had a pneumatic tube installed back there at some point. Each blow results in a tighter squeeze and it actually starts to feel pretty incredible, even with three rubbers on.

  I hit her three more times, a quick boxing combo of left-right-left and her body shudders and her asshole clamps down hard on my shaft.

  “Come on, motherfucker!” She sounds angry now, but she continues to ram her sharp pelvic bones into my hips. “Let’s go, bitch!”

  I’m getting close now. Time to finish this shit like Mortal Kombat. I raise both fists and bring the pain. Two perfectly placed shots to the kidneys. The Double Hammer Fist. Game over, motherfucker.

  Pauline chokes on a scream and falls forward. At the same instant, her asshole collapses around my dick like a submarine reaching hull-crush depth. Total rectal implosion. As she pitches away from me, I discover why three condoms at one time was not actually a good idea. Pauline’s rectal muscles have clearly been worked out often over the years and developed impressively. Not only does her clamp-down and roll-out maneuver result in an explosion from me, she takes all three of my rubbers with her. My cock looks like a sausage being pulled from its casing.

  Pauline turns on me fast and I realize that, oops, maybe that last shot was a bit too much. She’s got the eye of the tiger when she turns around and comes for me, anger etched on her worn face. But that’s not all that’s on her face.

  Once the floodgates are open, it’s a bit hard to stop them. Pauline comes for me, but I come for her first. It’s a magnificent arc, a money shot worthy of one of Peter Oh’Tool’s Woodys for Best Facial of the Year. The timing is amazing.

  Poor Pauline is blind. She jerks her head back, squinting against the shot she just took right between the eyes. She reaches for me, but I’m already off the bed and backpedaling for the door.

  “Aw, you mother…”

  She scrambles off the bed and lunges blindly forward, right into the dresser.

  Ouch, that had to hurt. The sound of knee against cheap Sauder furniture is like a rifle report.

  “OW! FUCK!”

  Pauline grabs her right leg and pulls it toward her chest, hopping in place. Her free hand wipes at my semen in her eyes. My triple stack of rubbers dangles from her butt cheeks. She turns and hops toward me, waving her sticky hand in the air, grasping for something to pummel.

  “ARRRR! You sorry motherfucker,” she says. “If you’re still here, you’re a dead man!”

  And that’s my cue to scram.

  The Angry Pirate

  I listen at the door. In the neighboring room, Pauline continues to hop and stumble and throw things. I crack the door open and take a peek just as she comes hobbling out onto the balcony.

  “Shit, she’s coming.” I step back from the door.

  Mongo hops up from the edge of his bed where he’s been laughing and rubbing his hands together. He grabs a small handheld camera and hurries to the door. “Bonus footage,” he says gleefully.

  I want no part of it and jump behind my bed. Mongo opens the door just as Pauline hobbles by, her eyes still squinted shut, my triple-stacker of rubbers hanging from her like a latex tail. Mongo quietly falls in behind her, grinning madly as he films away.

  By the time he returns to the room, I’ve showered, dressed, and laid my suitcase out on the bed. I haven’t begun packing my stuff yet, but that was my intention. I can’t explain what stopped me from slipping out before he got back. I wanted to. Planned on it the second I got away from fair Pauline. But I can’t bring myself to do it.

  Mongo is a bundle of excited energy. “Should have seen disgusting cougar whore,” he says as he hooks the camera up to the laptop on the work desk across from his bed. “Got amazing closeup of condoms in her buttcheeks bouncing around. Is like we script it this way.”

  He looks from me to the suitcase on the bed and his rapey grin dissolves. “What is this we are having here?”

  I’m not sure how to answer him so I shrug my shoulders. “I don’t know, Mongo.”

  “What is not to be known?”

  “I’m not sure if I can do this anymore.”

  Mongo just laughs, but it’s a mirthless sound. “Of course you can. Watch footage from tonight. Will perk you back up for next challenge.”

  “That’s the thing, I don’t want to watch the footage. I’d rather we burn it so it never sees the light of day. Christ, I just punched a woman as hard as I could so she would clench up her asshole to get me off. And then I blew my load right in her face.”

  “Yes, was genius!”

  “Genius? That was nasty!”

  Mongo waves dismissively at me. “Nonsense. Nasty is relative term. Compared to other things in this world, money shot is not nasty. Is beautiful, even. You’ll see when you watch performance. Will make you next great star of porn after contest is finished. And on top of all, I have good news.”

  I can’t imagine any good news coming from him at that moment, but I look at him with morbid curiosity.

  His smile comes back and he rubs his hands together like he was doing earlier when I hightailed it into the room. “Good news is you are now in first place!”

  •

  Peter Oh’Tool’s face is waiting for me on the computer screen and he breaks out in a huge, cheesy smile when he sees me sit down in front of the webcam.

  “Hey, Dennis! Congratulations!”

  “Um, hi, Mr. Oh’Tool. Thanks, I guess.”

  “I just finished watching the raw footage your cameraman sent over and I have to say, your performance so far has been tremendous. It’s everything that I had hoped for when we came up with the concept for this show. Regular Joes like yourself, sexual simpletons, if you will, rising to the occasion to perform like professionals when the pressure’s on.”

  “Ah. Yeah. Cool.” Fuck, I don’t know what else to say. How do you respond to comments like that?

  “And after tonight’s two-for, you’re in the lead, my friend.”

  “Awesome. Wait… what do you mean, ‘two-for’?”

  Peter’s voice kicks up an octave with excitement as he explains. “We had to tweak the order of the challenges a little bit, but you managed to pull off two of them tonight in one spectacular performance.”

&n
bsp; “I did?”

  “Yes, you did! First, you hung in like a trooper and went the distance to finish off that donkey punch but then you went the extra mile and snuck in an angry pirate!”

  “An angry wha-wha?”

  “Technically, there were a couple things not quite right with your angry pirate. You nailed the cumshot to the eyes to produce a squint, but for a proper AP, you were supposed to follow with a kick to the shin to get her hopping around like she has a ‘peg leg’.” He makes air quotes when he says peg leg.

  “Your little bunny did that to herself tonight by running into the dresser, but the result ended up being the same — one pissed off bunny hopping around on one leg while squinting. The angry pirate! After careful consideration by our panel of judges, which consists of me, myself, and I, by the way, it was decided that the result is what really counted. The chick even shouted, ‘ARRR’ at one point. It was perfect! More importantly, it was also hilarious, and if I might say so, darn good television. Let’s see HBO’s Real Sex pull off some shit like that!”

  I still don’t know what to say. Mongo claps his paw on my shoulder and smiles at me like a proud father. These two are happy as pigs in shit, but all I can think about is the ex-con running around outside somewhere wiping my DNA from her eyes and deciding which part of my body she was going to remove first.

  “So, this puts me in first place then?”

  “You got it! You’re one challenge ahead of the pack with five completed. You have five more to go. Halfway there!”

  Which is about twice as far as I actually expected to get about four days ago. Shit, I just might be able win this thing.

  Peter Oh’Tool says, “I gotta run now, but we’re sending over information on the next challenge. With the hot streak you’re on, I can’t wait to see what you do with this one. Ciao, compadre.”

  I get up and walk to the other side of the room while Mongo takes my seat and bangs away at the keys. I stand at the foot of my bed, looking at my empty suitcase. I know the reason why I didn’t start packing now. It’s the reason why I ever agreed to do this show in the first place. Why I talked myself into getting butt-ass naked in front of a bunch of hidden cameras and letting some Armenian mongoloid film me in weird sexual situations with random barflies. The only reason all along.

  I want to win that million dollars.

  And maybe I need to win it. To buy my way out of this fucked up life I’m stuck in.

  To get away from this shithole of a town in this armpit of a state.

  To forget about my disgusting tramp of an ex-wife.

  To start new, in a new place, with a new life. That’s what I really want. All I have to do is endure a little longer.

  I bend down and close my empty suitcase. As I set it back on the floor next to the bed, Mongo turns in his chair and claps his paws excitedly.

  “We have next challenge,” he says. “Dirty sanchez!”

  Interlude 5

  The Phone Call

  It’s late in the afternoon and I’ve only gotten a few hours of sleep. Too much on my mind, I guess. I’ve got so many conflicting emotions going on right now.

  Am I doing the right thing here? Am I doing anything considered right or good?

  Just because Pauline told me to hit her, does that make it right that I did it?

  She’s a grown woman, after all. There are people out there into much more depraved shit than what Mongo and I are doing here. Sadists and masochists out there strapping up in leather and whipping and beating each other, autoeroticism and all that weird basement shit. And those people like it. They want to do it. Consenting adults.

  We’ve been consenting so far, right?

  Yes and no, I guess.

  Danielle didn’t ask to have a cum-and-pubes beard smeared on her face. And Pauline didn’t ask for a money shot to the eye or to be caught on camera hobbling around and ridiculed, at least not in so many words.

  That’s the real problem with this whole thing. It’s not so much about what I did with these women, but rather the way they’re going to be portrayed once the show airs. After what has happened thus far, I can’t imagine any of them will agree to allow the show to go on. Unless maybe they obscure their faces and don’t use their names. Didn’t they have to sign release forms or something? Dixar can’t just put these videos online without getting consent from all the subjects. Shit, I had to sign dozens of releases and insurance papers and agreements not to sue if I hurt myself or got an STD or got some girl pregnant, which was weird because I also had to sign a legal document stating that I would use condoms the entire show and would not ‘be intimate’ without wearing a rubber. But what about the girls?

  I consider asking Mongo about this, but he’s snoring loudly on the other bed, and he hasn’t exactly been very forthcoming about anything so far. The last thing I want to do is poke the hibernating Russian bear. I’m starting to get the feeling he not only doesn’t like me at all, but has other plans above and beyond just trying to get a cut of the prize money. Like maybe something else is going on here I’m not being let in on. This whole thing just feels… off.

  I’m lying on my bed trying to piece things together when my cellphone buzzes. I pull it out and check the number. It’s a local Muncie area code, but I don’t know who the hell would be trying to call me. I sneak out of the room as quietly as possible and head out to the balcony to answer it. Mongo never stops snoring.

  “Hello?”

  Silence for a beat. Then, a girl says, “Um… hi, is this Dennis?”

  “Yes it is. Who’s this?”

  “This is… jeez, I can’t believe I’m calling you. You probably don’t want to ever have anything to do with me again.”

  That scares the shit out of me and I try to place the voice. Is this Danielle or Pauline trying to track me down? Did I give them my phone number? I don’t think I did. The only girl I remember giving my number to was the first one, the lovely Golden Shower Goddess. What the fuck was her name again?

  “Dennis, it’s Tricia. Do you remember me?”

  Fuck, that’s it, Tricia! You bet your sweet, gorgeous ass I remember you!

  “Oh, yeah, of course. How are you doing, Tricia?” Nice and easy. Smooth. Not too excited. That’s the ticket.

  “Oh, I’m fine. I just wanted to call and apologize to you for… you know. The other night. I can’t believe what happened.”

  “Hey, that’s alright, you don’t need to apologize for that.”

  “No, I really do. I had to call you and let you know that that’s not normally me. I don’t know what came over me. I never drink like that. You must think I’m a boozing bimbo or something.”

  “No, I don’t think that at all.”

  “Are you serious?”

  Hmmm… Am I serious? I think I’m serious. I don’t think the pee girl was a drunk or a bimbo. Maybe just an overzealous Ball State sorority girl who couldn’t handle her appletinis, but not a drunken whore by any stretch.

  “Yeah, I mean it. I had fun the other night. The ending just wasn’t expected.”

  I can feel her blushing through the phone and immediately regret saying that.

  “Yeah, I know that was bad,” she says. “But maybe I could make it up to you.”

  Holy shit. Is she asking me out?

  “I’m not asking you out on a date or anything, I just thought we could maybe get together for a cup of coffee or something, you know, to have a normal adult conversation and all.”

  Wow. Totally unexpected. My fingers are tingling. What the hell is that about?

  “Um, yeah, that sounds great. I’d love to.”

  “Well, I have to get to work right now, but I’ll text you tomorrow and maybe we can meet up.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  “OK, talk to you tomorrow.”

  We say goodbye and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming like an idiot. I’m almost too stunned for words. I asked this girl to urinate on my head. And here she is calling me to go out
again. Not a date, but still, just the fact she wants to ever see me again is incredible.

  What does that mean?

  Did she like peeing on me? Or did she just like me pre-pee-pee? Maybe it was both?

  I slip back into the room and find Mongo sitting on the edge of his bed. He’s wearing his rapey grin.

  “What is happening outside?”

  I shrug and try to act natural. “Nothing. Just went out for a second to get some fresh air is all. Couldn’t stand being stuck in here much longer. You fart in your sleep.”

  Mongo doesn’t say anything. He just sits there staring at me with his serial killer smirk. It’s seriously unnerving as fuck but I try to act cool and stroll over to the desk. I sit in front of the laptop and pull up the video for the next challenge.

  I watch it twice, but the dirty sanchez is not at all what’s on my mind.

  The Dirty Sanchez

  We hit a new bar, something even dirtier than the night before. I’m praying Pauline likes her regular haunt and doesn’t barhop. If I see her, my ass is running. That’s all there is to that. Chick just flat scares me.

  No Pauline in sight, which is good, but to be honest, I’m hardly even here myself. I keep getting lost in my thoughts, which are dominated by Tricia. I don’t even know who I’m talking to right now. She’s right across from me at a standup table in the middle of this country and western themed dump we’re in. The place still has a mechanical bull, but it’s in a dark corner and covered in layers of dust. The Russian bull is in the other corner sitting at a booth with a clear line of sight, looking out the corner of his eye every few minutes. He seems much more twitchy and irritated than normal tonight.

  “Hello? Earth to Dennis.” The girl in front of me snaps her fingers in my face and waves to get my attention. When I focus back on her, she brightens with a slightly gap-toothed smile and says, “There you are. Thought I’d lost you for a second.”

  “Sorry…” Shit, I forgot her name already. “… Uh, kiddo. Went a little spacey there for a second.”

  “Yeah, I could see the stars in your eyes, alright.” She winks at me real conspicuous, like she’s letting me in on a joke. I, of course, have no fucking clue what she’s hinting at. I’m not even sure how many vodka tonics I’ve had, and that’s never a good sign. When I start losing track of the V&Ts, crazy shit tends to happen.