by Bryan Smith
Hoke had occasionally seen news stories of guys so fat they had to be removed from their bedrooms with heavy equipment. Unfortunate fellas who crushed the scales at a thousand pounds or more. Well, those motherfuckers were positively svelte compared to Gladys Kincher. There was no furniture in this hellish space. There wasn’t room for it, and Gladys would have no need of it anyway. She filled the room. It wasn’t just that she was fat. She was, but she had also grown well beyond the size of any normal human, even ones considered morbidly obese by normal standards. Perhaps some additional side effect of Garner’s demonic influence. The top of her enormous head nearly butted the ceiling. Two of the shiny brown stalactites hung close to her face. Her arms and legs were thick, doughy masses of wattled flesh. The upper arms and thighs were as big around as utility poles. Her obscenely bloated belly and breasts formed a rippling sea of filth-stained blubber. The mottled legs were spread wide, exposing a glistening, hairy vagina. The distended, fleshy folds were almost repulsive enough to put him off pussy forever. Her long hair hung around her face in filthy clumps, obscuring a visage Hoke was certain was several thousand shades shy of angelic.
The giant head tilted down to look at him as the freaks forced Hoke farther into the nightmare room. Her mouth opened and a phlegmy rattle of rancid breath spewed forth. His knees buckled again as her breath rolled over him, but the freaks kept him upright. They were still all around him, doing sickening things to him with their mouths and hands and…other things. He let out a whine as he felt something stiff prod against his puckered asshole. Gladys opened her mouth again and another sound emerged. It took Hoke a moment to recognize it as rumbling laughter. He tried to plant his feet beneath him and halt the forward progress, but it was useless. There were too many of them, and he just had no strength left.
Garner was laughing somewhere behind him again. “Say hello to your new lover, Hoke. Gladys hasn’t been laid in a long time. I’m sure she’ll make it special for you.”
Hoke shook his head and whined. “No…please…no…”
Garner laughed some more.
The freaks stopped pushing Hoke forward. They were at the juncture between the giant’s spread legs now. Bile rose up in Hoke’s throat and dribbled in thin brown streams from the corners of his mouth. The woman with the diseased third breast dropped to her knees in front of him and drew his cock into her mouth. Hoke was crying by now. He had never been so horrified or afraid in his life. But somehow the freak’s swirling tongue brought him back to hardness. Then she slipped away from him, scuttling between his legs on her hands and knees like a crab. The stiff thing prodding at his butt retreated, too. And in a moment he realized they were all moving away from him. He took a reflexive step back and would have kept on going, but Gladys unclenched the fingers of a massive hand and curled them around his back.
Hoke struggled in her grip, but it was useless.
She spread her legs wider and began to draw him toward her.
Hoke screamed.
His hands flailed at her encircling fingers to no avail. A horrible grinding sound emerged from her throat as she slammed him against her.
And into her.
Her fingers began to move rhythmically against his back as she rubbed him enthusiastically against her slimy middle. She groaned and arched her back. His head disappeared beneath a roll of belly fat, and for a moment he couldn’t breathe. Hoke was aware of a sensation like firecrackers going off in his head. He knew he’d probably be better off suffocating at this point, but instinct made him struggle for breath. He turned his head to the side and found a pocket of air. His penis sank into her again and again. He had to wonder how pleasurable it could really be for her. His dick was sort of pea sized for the likes of her. It would do the job for any normal woman—or so he liked to think—but maybe not for this titanic, living atrocity.
An answer to this question was supplied shortly after the thought occurred to him. She pulled him away from her and held him tight in her fingers while she pried apart her glistening, plump pussy lips with the fingers of her other hand. Hoke started shaking his head. She lifted him off his feet and turned him so that the top of his head was facing toward her. Hoke kicked his feet and sucked in a big breath in preparation for a scream. But the sound died in his throat as she rammed him up inside her, up to the shoulders. She drew him out and thrust him back in. Again and again. She moved him up and down and wriggled him around. She pulled him out and rubbed his shiny face against her quivering clit. Then back inside that moist warmth for endless moments.
At some point the thing Garner had hoped for happened.
Hoke’s mind broke.
Permanently.
And by the time Gladys was satiated, Garner had his vessel.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Megan sat at one of the primping stations and ignored the glares some of the other girls frequently shot her way. She was trying to project an aura of calm confidence, but in truth she felt like a clueless first-day freshman at college. She had been told she would be provided an on-site room to share with another girl. At some point someone would take her there. But for now she’d been left here to wait and wonder what came next. Madeline was back in her office, with the door closed. And no one out here would talk to her yet. She couldn’t leave the dressing room to wander about, a fact reinforced by the tall and muscular guard stationed at the door. She felt very alone and scared, and for the first time in a while her thoughts turned back to Pete. She wished Carl would come back so she could ask about him, but she feared any answers he might provide would only break her heart and make her feel even more alone.
The door to Madeline’s office came open and Megan’s head snapped in that direction.
Madeline poked her head out and said, “Yo, Megan. Get your ass in here.”
Megan jumped off the stool and hurried into the office.
Madeline closed the door and smiled. “Have a seat.”
Megan settled into the seat opposite the desk while Madeline sat behind it again. Her new boss opened a drawer and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. She screwed the cap off the bottle and poured a little into two shot glasses. She pushed one of the glasses across the desk toward Megan and held the other between slender fingers.
She raised the glass. “A toast.”
Megan picked up the glass. “To what?”
“Your success, of course. You wowed them out there tonight, Megan.”
Megan knew she had done very well, but chose to be demure about it. She didn’t want to seem too cocky yet. Not around her boss, anyway. “I guess I did okay for a first night.”
“You did better than that, and you know it.”
Megan shrugged and faked a shy smile. “I guess.”
“Oh, you know it as well as I do.” Madeline gestured with the glass. “Now drink up.”
She tossed the whiskey back in a single gulp.
Megan did the same, but struggled not to show a wince as the strong alcohol stung the back of her throat. She summoned another of those shy smiles. “Maybe you’re right.”
“Of course I am. And I have even more good news for you.”
“Oh?”
Madeline poured more whiskey into her glass, but this time she didn’t offer Megan any. “One of our regular clients is smitten with you. This guy’s a real shark, Megan. A financial heavy hitter from Nashville. It takes a real special girl to impress him. Apparently you’re special enough. Not that I’m surprised.”
Megan frowned. “From Nashville?”
Madeline knocked back the second shot of whiskey and made a sound of quiet satisfaction. She set the glass down and leaned back in her chair. “Yes. Some outsiders, a privileged few, are aware of the Sin Den and the things that go on here. We’re an exotic oasis of decadence and debauchery for these people, and we treat them like royalty when they visit. The man I’m talking about has paid for two hours of your time in a VIP room.”
Megan’s heart began to thump harder. She cast a longing glance at the bottle
of whiskey. “I…What happens in a VIP room?”
Madeline stared at her for a long, silent moment.
Then she pushed the whiskey bottle slowly across the desk. Megan grabbed the bottle and splashed brown liquid into the little glass. She knocked it back, and this time the sting wasn’t as bad. She filled the glass another time and set the bottle back down.
Madeline kicked back in the plush leather chair and set her feet up on the edge of her desk. The silk negligee rode up high on her thighs, revealing a tattoo of a thorny vine wound around a dagger, on the left thigh. She folded her hands in her lap and said,“You’re getting another big test on your first night. It wasn’t planned or expected, but it’s happening anyway, and you better be prepared. This man and his friends will make use of you any way they like for two hours. You are not allowed to refuse them anything. They can fuck you. They can get rough with you. Within reason, of course. We don’t want them marking up the merchandise too much. But you might get slapped around some. And you might be made to do a number of things you’d rather not do. But if you perform to their satisfaction, you could be rewarded handsomely.”
Megan threw back her third shot of whiskey and set the glass on the desk. “You mean the Sin Den would be rewarded.”
Madeline smiled and spread her hands. “Of course. I won’t lie to you. All the money goes to us. You have no use for money now anyway. But a successful session in the VIP room could benefit you in other ways, maybe even gain you privileged treatment. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
It all sounded pretty horrible. Megan felt herself edging toward panic at the thought of what these men might do to her, but she knew there was no way out of it. The only way to get through it was the same way she’d gotten through everything else. By just letting it happen and doing her best to adapt as she went along.
She let out a slow breath and tried to sound almost bored as she said,“Well, let’s get on with it then.”
Madeline smiled and reached for the phone on her desk. She put the receiver to her ear and tapped in a four-digit extension.“Hello, Carl? Megan’s ready for her date in room four. Come get her whenever you’re ready. Okay, see you in a bit.”
She set the receiver back in its cradle. “Carl will be here in a minute.”
Megan shrugged.“Okay.”
Madeline slid a manicured nail up the length of her thigh and leered at Megan. “You’re scared shitless, aren’t you?”
No point lying about that.“Yeah.”
“Relax. I’m pretty sure you’ll be okay.”
Megan didn’t say anything.
Pretty sure?
Fuck.
The door to the office opened, and Carl strutted inside, the black stripper he’d made out with earlier clinging to his arm.“On your feet, new bitch. You’ve got work to do.”
Madeline laughed. “Have fun, baby. Knock ’em dead, okay?”
Megan stood and acknowledged Madeline’s comment with a slight nod. Then she followed Carl and the black woman out of the office. Back in the dressing room, Carl laid a wet smack on the woman’s plump lips and smacked her on the ass.“Keep that fine ass of yours warm for me, baby. Daddy will be right back.”
The stripper put a hand to her mouth and giggled.
Megan felt sickened by the display, but didn’t say anything. She followed Carl out of the dressing room and down the narrow hallway. A guard in one of the colorful Sin Den T-shirts trailed along behind them. The big man was bald and sported an immaculately trimmed goatee. A diamond stud sparkled in his left earlobe. He winked when he saw her looking back at him. Megan showed him a flirtatious smile. It couldn’t hurt to ingratiate herself with the help.
Carl led them through a door and down a hallway, the same short and narrow passage Madeline had steered her through hardly more than an hour ago. But this time they walked past the door to the backstage area. The thumping music bludgeoned her eardrums again as they arrived at a place where the corridor turned to the right and abruptly ended. An array of large men who all resembled the man trailing behind her stood in a loose group around the entrance to the Sin Den’s main room. Carl inserted two fingers in his mouth and unleashed a piercing whistle that was audible even over the Guns N’ Roses song blaring from the club’s bone-shaking sound system. Some of the men glanced back at them and stood aside to allow them room to pass. A long-haired man with sleeves of tattoos up and down his arms leered at her as she walked by, licking his lips as he eyed the tight bustier and the alluring thrust of her breasts. She examined the faces of the other guards as she strutted by them and liked what she saw. They were all drooling over her. She flipped her teased-out hair and kept her face impassive. She knew she should feel ridiculous for preening for them, but she did not.
Then they were past them and in the main room. There was a girl on stage. A raven-haired slender thing in leather boots with stiletto heels and one of those black Nazi hats with the shiny brims. She was hot and commanded the attention of many of the men in the audience, but a lot of eyes turned Megan’s way as she strode into the room. Mouths fell open. Some of the men were no doubt recalling her memorable stage debut and thinking with longing of her trim, athletic body and the amazing display of flexibility and brazen sexuality they’d witnessed.
Megan allowed herself a small, enigmatic smile.
It was weird.
She felt a bit like a celebrity.
She avoided eye contact with any of them as she followed Carl past the tables and booths to the long bar at the far end of the room. She didn’t have to look into their eyes to feel their lust. And it was good to seem aloof. It would just make them want her more.
There were a lot of men—and even a few women—at the bar, either sitting on stools or leaning against the gleaming brass rail. Many of them turned to look at her as they walked past, a virtual replay of the reaction her entrance into the main room had earned. Some of what she saw when she looked at the men was surreal. A few of them wore dirty leather dusters and hats. One man stood with his back against the rail and one booted foot propped on a bar stool slat, a glass of brown whiskey clenched between dirt-stained fingers. His duster hung open, and she saw gun belts strapped across his waist, with honest-to-God six-shooters in the holsters. It made her head spin a little. Who in their right mind dressed like that outside of a movie set or costume party?
A woman leaped off a stool and intercepted Carl. “Yo, Carl, how’s about a little private time with the eye candy?”
The woman licked her lips and did a slow, head-to-toe (and back again) inspection of Megan’s body. She had short, slicked-back black hair and wore a beaten-up black leather jacket. Pegged jeans and steel-toed boots rounded out the charming ensemble.
Carl shook her hand off his shoulder and kept moving. “Sorry, Val. The bitch is bought and paid for tonight.”
Val walked along beside him until they reached a staircase at the far end of the bar. “Come on, man. She’s got my motor runnin’ like you wouldn’t believe. I have a thousand bucks cash that’s yours if you say yes.”
Carl smirked and started up the staircase. “Not this time, Val. Call early tomorrow, maybe.”
Val touched Megan’s bottom and squeezed as she started up the stairs.
Megan flinched.
Val laughed.“Tomorrow, baby.”
The woman turned and strutted back toward the bar. The men were guffawing as she approached. She high-fived some of them. Some of that feeling of pseudocelebrity deserted Megan in that moment. Truth penetrated the defense mechanisms her psyche had erected. She was a piece of meat here. A commodity. A thing to be bought and traded. No. That wasn’t quite right. The Sin Den’s patrons would never own her. But they could buy her time for a while. Like any common street whore. The line of thought darkened Megan’s mood considerably as she followed Carl to the top of the staircase.
They reached a small landing, and Megan stared at a black metal door. Carl punched in a code on a keypad to the right of the door, and it clicked open.
He stepped through the opening and disappeared. Megan stood frozen there for a moment. Then she felt the guard’s hot breath against her ear and made herself move again. She was scared, but this was tempered by the certainty that whatever awaited her through that door could hardly be any worse than what she had already experienced. Then she cursed that thought, hoping she wasn’t jinxing herself.
She held her breath as she stepped through the door, thinking, Christ, Megan. Things can always get worse. Don’t you know that by now?
They were in another hallway now. A much wider one than before, with red-painted walls and red carpeting on the floor. Soft red light from overhead. Megan heard the metal door snick shut behind her. The perpetual heavymetal roar of the Sin Den went silent. Completely. There wasn’t even the muffled thump she’d heard from the dressing room. It was a relief to her eardrums, but some part of her found the complete absence of external noise disturbing. It was all too easy to imagine a host of sinister reasons for the eerily efficient soundproofing. This part of the club was like a whole other world, a separate place from that swirling maelstrom of raging male hormones and sex on parade. It was calmer here, at least at first blush, but that didn’t mean it was any less dangerous. If anything, the privacy made it potentially far more dangerous.
There were four doors on each side of the hallway. Megan followed Carl to the second door on the right. The number 4 was painted in black against the red paint beneath. Carl glanced back at her as he paused to extract a ring of keys from a pocket. “Now you treat our guests right, ya hear? Otherwise I’ll have to show you some of the ways I know to hurt a gal without markin’ her up too bad.”
Megan shrugged.“I’ll do whatever they want.”