by Aimee Bender
“Sir?”
She noticed something off to her right, outside.
“Yeah… just a minute.” The clerk wiped the drool from his chin and picked some crust from the corners of his eyes.
“Never mind.”
“Thanks for waking me up then.”
“Fuck you.”
“Fuck you.”
“Good comeback.”
“Fuck your face.”
Emma rolled her eyes.
Through the glass doors of the lobby, Emma had spotted Rogers’ car, exactly where they had left it. She walked out into the humid night. Rogers was asleep in the front seat. Emma could hear his phone ringing. The windows were open. She wondered how the residents and tourists felt safe. She reached through the window and grabbed the phone.
“Hello,” she said.
“I’d like to report an emergency.”
“Zeke?”
“Yeah. Emma? Where are you?”
“Right out front. Our beloved and faithful Sheriff is passed out in his car.”
“Well get him up here.”
Rogers surveyed the crime scene from the doorway. He said he didn’t want to get any closer. He already felt queasy.
“Looks like he’s the victim of a rapid enema machine.”
“A what?” Zeke asked.
“A rapid enema machine. It’s a machine that gives enemas in rapid succession. If it’s turned up too high, it’ll suck the bowels right out.”
“I’ve never heard of one of those. Why would someone need one of those?”
“Well, it’s theoretical, but that’s what it looks like.”
“So you just made that up?”
“I theorized it. We need to get that body out of here.”
“We?”
“Yeah. Well, you guys. I’ll hurl if I come anywhere near it.”
“Aren’t you going to call an ambulance? An EMT? A coroner?”
“Dead. Dead. And dead.”
“Shit.”
“I told you I have a fuckin’ crisis on my hands.”
“Fine. What do we need to do?”
“We need to get it down to the car and then we’ll throw it in the ocean. That’s the island way.”
“Sounds like that’s the lazy way. Don’t you need it for evidence or something?”
“If we see a person with a rapid enema machine, I’ll assume we have our man.”
They rolled Brock’s body onto a tarp and loaded it into the trunk of the car. Zeke wondered why working with the Sheriff felt an awful lot like working with a serial killer.
Once at the beach, they rolled Brock’s body into the water, but the tide kept bringing it back. Zeke was suddenly emotional.
“Let’s go back to the car and hit some Guzzle Green,” the Sheriff proposed.
The others followed, Zeke wiping away tears.
Once at the car, Rogers uncapped a bottle of Guzzle and took a swig before passing it to Emma, who did the same.
“Now,” Rogers said, “you said this thing raped you?”
Emma nodded her head. “I’m pretty sure. My pussy feels sore. Almost raw.”
“But you didn’t get a look at him?”
“It was so dark.”
“I think it’s obvious what we need to do.”
The bottle had made its way back to Rogers and he took another healthy swig. The others stared at him, awaiting his answer.
“We need to gather up all the remaining men on the island and you need to have sex with them.”
“That’s… retarded,” Zeke said.
“We’ll make them all sign releases. You can film it.”
“Now it’s starting to sound profitable. Emma? Are you up for that?”
“My pussy’s really sore but… if it’ll help crack the case of The Impregnator, I’m up for anything.”
“Great.” Rogers clapped his hands together. “We’ll want to get started right away. Naturally, you’ll have to fuck me.”
“Can you get this?” Zeke pulled the camera from the backseat of the car and handed it to Carrie.
“Why? What are you doing?”
“Looking for clues.”
Zeke hopped into the car and pulled away, watching Rogers stroke his comically small penis in the rearview mirror.
Zeke was terrible with directions and spent two hours driving around the island before he finally found the barn. An erection strained against his corduroys as he pulled to a stop. He walked to the barn doors and realized they were padlocked. If he were Brock, he would have just ripped the wooden doors off the barn. Thinking about Brock made him sad. He went back to the car and pulled the keys from the ignition. There were several keys on the ring. Hopefully, one of them would open the barn.
Zeke paused and made sure he really wanted to go through with this. Maybe this was the only way he could go through with it—in the name of research. Clue hunting.
He had never been with a pregnant woman before. It was something he had always fantasized about. When he was young, his mother was pregnant all the time. She had to have children so she could sell them for food. Zeke’s mom and dad thought it was much easier to stay home and fuck and then sell their children than going out to get a real job. Zeke had always thought the pregnant form of a woman was how they were supposed to look.
Now was his chance. A pregnant woman. An absence of cameras. The acquisition of knowledge. It didn’t get a lot more exciting for Zeke.
He unlocked the lock and pulled the door open.
The smell that greeted him was not pleasant.
He was sort of hoping they could do it in front of the other pregnant women, but Zeke didn’t think he’d be able to put up with that stench.
Over the years, he’d learned that women enjoy sex as much as men. And if you have 126 women in a room, the chances were good that at least one of them wouldn’t care who it was she fucked.
He unbuttoned his pants and pulled his colossal cock out. It was fully erect and stood out at a right angle from his body.
“Who wants it?”
Luckily, there was a woman close by so he didn’t have to wander back into the stench of the barn. He let her out of the stall and took her back to the car. What followed was brutal, satisfying, and highly informative.
Fucking in the high noon sun had exhausted Emma. Nineteen guys later, she chugged a bottle of Guzzle Clear and threw herself into the ocean to get the sweat and come off her body. Her vagina was beyond sore. While she didn’t mind all the sex, she wished they had found a suspect.
She had her suspicions about Rogers, but it had absolutely nothing to do with the length or girth of his penis.
On the beach, Carrie stripped off her clothes and waded out to Emma.
“Any luck?” Carrie asked.
“None.” Emma stuck out her bottom lip.
“Who would do something like this?”
“I don’t know. There doesn’t seem to be a lot of people here.”
“Why would someone do something like this? I guess that should be the first question.”
Emma splashed at the warm, clear water. “Money?”
“But if their money’s in tourism and you impregnate or kill the whores who bring the tourists… That just doesn’t seem logical.”
“Maybe someone wants to turn the island into a baby factory.”
“That practice is still frowned upon by the mainstream.”
“Maybe we should just match the DNA from the fetuses.”
“You think this place has a lab or anybody who’d know how to do it?”
“Maybe it’s a spite crime.”
“Like revenge?”
“Could be.”
“Look.” Carrie pointed further up on the beach. Rogers appeared to be arguing with a bald man in a black suit. “Who’s that?”
“That was guy number six.”
“Oh, right. I didn’t recognize him with the suit.”
The men continued to argue, pointing back toward the town and the middle of
the island. Things became more animated and the large man in the suit punched Rogers in the stomach, doubling him over.
Emma headed for the shore on rubbery legs. “We need to help.”
Carrie reluctantly followed her.
By the time they made it up to the beach, the man had already left. Rogers was collapsed on the sand, dramatically holding his head and kicking his legs.
Carrie noticed a strange deformity on his right arm and couldn’t help asking him about it. “What’s wrong with your arm?” It looked like he was missing an elbow.
“Jesus, think you could help me up?”
Emma helped him up while Carrie continued to study the odd depression on his arm.
“So you gonna tell me or not?”
“That.” He pointed to it, spitting sand from his mouth. “I was born without an elbow, that’s all.”
“That’s stupid. I’ve never heard of that.”
Emma placed a consoling hand on Rogers’ shoulder. “Who was that man?”
“That guy… Oh, just an old friend.”
“You know,” Carrie said, “if we’re looking for suspects, you shouldn’t keep things secret from us.”
“It was Dean Mahoney. He’s not a suspect. Is he, Emma?”
“Definitely not.” She held her index and forefinger two inches apart.
“So who is he?”
“He’s just a guy I owe money too, all right?”
“Maybe he’s working with The Impregnator.”
“The only person Mahoney works for is Mahoney.”
Carrie started to say something else when Zeke pulled up in the car, cutting her off.
“I think I have a clue!” Zeke called from the car. He opened the door and stepped out, holding something up in the air.
“What the hell is that?” Emma cried.
“It’s a fetus!” Zeke smiled for the first time Emma could remember.
“Ew, what does a fetus have to do with anything?” Emma asked.
Zeke must have been hitting some sort of Guzzle on the way back. Or maybe he was just excited. He hopped back and forth, holding the fetus around one ankle and waggling it in front of Rogers and the girls.
“Is it still alive?” Carrie asked. “Maybe you shouldn’t be handling it like that.”
“No. It’s okay. I had to snap its neck.”
“Zeke!” Emma cried.
“No, it’s okay, Em. It isn’t human.”
“Looks human.”
“No. It’s not. It’s a demon baby. I had to kill it because it kept trying to eat my heart. See? See?” He held the fetus’s head in his left hand and pulled back its upper lip. Perfectly formed teeth grew from the gums. Most of them were pointed. Then he poked its navel. “See? See here? No umbilical cord or anything. It just fucking crawled out!”
“Out of the pussy?” Emma asked.
“I think it’s called a womb,” Carrie said.
“But it still has to come through the pussy.”
“It’s actually a vagina.”
“Whatever. You’re a fucking prude. I still don’t think Zeke should have killed it.”
Rogers stood behind the girls, chewing on his thumb. He looked nervous or maybe nauseated.
“But if it had been a full grown demon trying to eat your heart out, it would have been okay, right?” Zeke goaded.
“Well…”
“So I was just being proactive.”
“And this is your big clue?” Carrie asked. “You were in the barn with all the pregnant women, weren’t you?”
“I actually took one woman into the car. The barn smelled foul. I don’t think they have any bathrooms in there. And they might have lactation wars when they get bored. Anyway, I’ve always heard that one of the best ways to induce labor was through sex.”
“There are other ways,” Carrie said.
“Look, we all have needs, okay? Anyway, I almost lost my penis as a result.” Zeke dropped the fetus to the ground. “Look at it.” He pulled his pants down and brandished his huge cock.
“My god!” Emma cried.
It was raw and gnawed-looking.
“I hope it heals,” Carrie said. “I hope it was worth it.”
“Regardless, I think we need to have a conference.”
Emma said, “It just won’t be the same without Brock.”
“I could stand in,” Rogers said.
“I think we need to be alone,” Carrie said.
Rogers looked dejected.
“We could use the girl,” Zeke said, pointing to the lifeless-looking woman in the back seat. “They’re all kind of hypnotized or drugged. Maybe we can shock her into remembering something.”
“Maybe,” Carrie said. “Sheriff? Can we get a ride back to the hotel?”
They piled into the car and headed back toward town. Emma gathered up the fetus and held it on her lap like a real baby. Zeke made out with the new girl.
“She’s gamey,” Carrie said. “She’s going to have to shower before the conference.”
“You’re just jealous,” Zeke said.
“Yes. I wish I had a demon fetus growing in me.”
Emma looked at the demon, horrified. “Do you think I have one of these in me now?”
“It’s possible,” Zeke said. “Once we get back, you’ll have to go to the doctor. You don’t want to carry something like that to term.”
“Fuck!” Emma rolled down the window and started to throw the demon out, but Carrie stopped her.
“We might need to examine it.”
“Carrie’s right,” Zeke said before continuing to make out with the girl. She looked mostly comatose. Maybe that’s what Zeke liked about her.
Carrie spotted Dean Mahoney walking on the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street, his back to them.
“Isn’t that…” But before she could even get his name out, Rogers swerved the car and clipped Mahoney. The bumper hit his right knee, kicking his leg out from under him and sending him rolling off into the parking lot of an abandoned convenient store.
“Shit!” Emma said. “You just hit that guy, what’s-his-face.”
“Accidents will happen,” Rogers said. “I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”
“But he could be hurt really bad.”
“Next stop, Labrador Hotel!” Rogers was clearly changing the subject and refusing to talk about it.
Once at the hotel, they grabbed the demon and the woman and headed for the lobby doors. They were locked. A hand-lettered sign was taped to the door on the left. It read: CLOSED PERMANENTLY.
“That’s no good,” Emma said.
“Maybe we can confer in the car,” Carrie said.
“I don’t see any other choice,” Zeke said.
Carrie said, “You’re gonna have to leave Stinky out here.”
“What about shock therapy? What about information? I think she needs to be part of the conference.”
“Fine,” Carrie said. “But there’s no room for Rogers. Besides, he might be a suspect and we might have to talk about him.”
They walked back to the car. Zeke asked Rogers if they could use his car to film Doped Teen 3. He said he didn’t mind, got out of the car, and leaned against the hood. Zeke guessed they would just have to whisper if they needed to talk about him.
The conference was long and vigorous. Emma was sexed out and Zeke’s penis was like raw hamburger so it took them forever to come. The other girl was unresponsive and kept dozing off or passing out. Her vagina was loose and bloody from delivering the demon. The demon lay on the dash the entire time. Rogers stood outside the car and played with himself through the pocket of his shorts while looking back over his shoulder and then pretending he hadn’t been looking.
They were going to question the girl as soon as they finished, but she drifted off and they were unable to wake her up.
Zeke checked her pulse.
“Dead,” he said.
“Dead?” Emma asked.
“Dead,” Zeke repeated.
“The girl. You’re not supposed to be listening.”
“We should call 911 again,” Carrie said.
Zeke found his cell phone in the pile of clothes on the floorboard and punched in the digits.
Rogers’ phone rang and he answered, “Scurvy Island Emergency.”
“Sheriff?”
“Yep.”
“There’s a dead girl in the car.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Shouldn’t we call an ambulance?”
“Are you an idiot? Didn’t I tell you everyone was dead?”
“What about you? Don’t you know CPR or something? Surely law enforcement must learn some of that stuff. Even security guards learn that.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Rogers came around to the rear passenger side of the car, opened the door, and dragged the girl out. He laid her on the ground and began fondling her.
The Grassville Gang, still naked, stood around him and looked down with disapproval.
“Are you even trying?” Zeke asked.
“Why don’t you go take a walk or something,” Rogers said. He continued looking down at the dead girl. He might have been crying. “I know you just want to talk about me anyway. You think maybe I’m this sex monster, this Impregnator… But you’re wrong.”
Carrie said, “I guess we should put our clothes back on.”
Zeke said, “Don’t have sex with the corpse, okay?”
Rogers shook his head. “I can’t promise anything. Remember to take your dead baby with you.”
The remaining members of the Grassville Gang put on their clothes, grabbed their dead demon baby, and headed for the beach. Once at the beach, they walked along in the fading daylight, passing around a bottle of Guzzle Green. Carrie produced a dossier and flipped through it. She always had one of these. No one was really sure where they came from.
“Maybe we should sit down,” she said.
They found a bench. Carrie and Zeke sat on the bench and Emma sat in the sand, facing them.
“So,” Carrie began. “Nearly every male on the island is dead and nearly every female pregnant. We know the perpetrator is someone calling himself The Impregnator.”