Individually Wrapped Horrors

by Eric Joel Kleinschmidt, Sr.

  “Why?” She approached him menacingly, flashing the knife back and forth. “Are you from the devil?” She smiled down at his withering bloody body.

  “How was she, fucker?” She stuck the tip of the knife in the bloody stump of his cock. “Your little secretary tramp? How was she? Did you have a good time fucking her?” She plunged the knife in deeper. He pooled together all of his remaining strength and screamed one final time. After that, he was reduced to gurgled choking coughs and moans. “I gave you everything I ever had. All of me. Not enough for you though, huh? Never enough for fuckers like you? How many others? How many others were there?” she screamed running the blade in to the hilt.

  “I’m…not your husband,” he croaked. She withdrew the knife brutally and threw it aside.

  “No, you’re not my husband. You’re a fucking dead man.” She seemed to be all drained of her energy as well. She slumped down on the edge of the bed and watched the spurting blood and bodily fluids from the dwindling member decrease until all the remained was a slight trickle. Her husband (aka: Christian) took one final gasping gurgle of a breath and fell silent. The woman walked over to his night stand and pulled open the drawer. She grabbed the little bottle of lighter fluid for his Zippo and popped the top. She doused his body with the entire bottle, took out his Zippo, opened it and lit it and tossed it on the body. He went up immediately. She sat down on the chair against the wall and wept.

  ****

  His eyes were closed tightly. Why? Why did he have his eyes closed so tight? Why was it so goddamned windy? He cracked one eye open and saw for himself. He was up on top of one of the new high-rise apartment buildings, overlooking beautiful downtown New York City, and he was perched precariously on one of the steel support beams at the top of an unfinished section. He reaffirmed his desperately clinging grasp on the beam and held on for dear life. The wind blew in furiously, rippling up his business suit coat and tossing his hair back and forth. He closed his eyes and waited for some type of help to arrive. None did. OK, he thought, somehow, I got myself into this, I can get myself out. Whoever I am! He opened his eyes and looked forward up the length of the beam. It ended abruptly up ahead at another vertical beam going straight down hundreds of feet. No good, gotta try going backwards. He looked carefully over his shoulder. He couldn’t quite see far enough backwards to see where he was, so he loosened his grip minutely. He turned his head slightly farther and another wind gust came in for the kill, grabbing him and nearly ripping him off of his perch. The winds are too strong up here, he thought incoherently, I’m going to die again! Fuck! It suddenly flashed into his petrified mind that maybe that was the answer. To die here would just mean theoretically that he would wake up again somewhere else as someone else. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Maybe he could get the hang of this eternal damnation thing if he could just get on to the next one. This one was obviously not going to work. These thoughts did nothing to release the tension in his chest or make him feel at ease. He was terrified of heights, always had been. Maybe if he could get off of this goddamned beam, maybe he could face a different death somewhere else as this guy. He forced himself to look down. Had to be fifty or sixty stories below him of free fall. Nope, can’t do it. Can’t make myself do that. Fall on purpose? Even if I come back as someone else? Nope! Besides, this is the devil we’re talking about. What if he is waiting for me to commit suicide so he can have me for real? Maybe that’s his game here. Fuck! What do I do? He held fast and hard to the beam, feeling the constant changing pattern of the winds grabbing at him and trying to wrench him free. He closed his eyes. He flashed back to the scene with Jamie and wished he had just gotten over it or let her be. Maybe further back than that. Maybe never have even gone with her to that stupid movie theater. Nothing he could do about it now.

  “Hey buddy! What the fuck are you doing out there?” He gasped and opened his eyes again. Exhilaration rushed through his body—hope! This was his chance to get rescued.

  “I need help! I don’t know how I got out here or why, but I’m real scared, OK? I don’t want to fall! I don’t want to die! Get help!” He yelled at the top of his lungs, clutching even tighter to the beam.

  “OK, buddy! Don’t move! I’m gonna go get somebody! Hang on!” The running sound of boots on metal as the person ran off to presumably bring back help. He held tight with his eyes closed and laughed. Did he actually say “Hang on”? That’s funny. The winds came back, even more violent and clingy then earlier. Time passed very slowly in his new predicament. He passed the time by thinking more about the old school days. He had forgotten all about those stupid mice until that little bitch had brought them up again. The ridicule in her voice, the nasty things she said. Of course he was lewd with the girls, they were all sluts at that school, just not sluts toward him. He couldn’t even get one date that didn’t end in a severe beating. Fuck her! Got what she deserved that little cock tease! The beam felt now like it was rocking or gently swaying in the wind. He had heard that tall buildings and structures, even bridges, were built to sway to absorb the impact of strong winds. That had to be what this was, too. He held on, eyes closed, waiting for rescue.

  A lifetime seemed to go by, then the voice came back, “Hey buddy! Still with us?” The relief was so overwhelming, he nearly cried. Did in fact tear up a bit.

  “I’m here! Get me down, please!” he returned.

  “We got NYFD on it now! They’re rigging up a scaffolding to get up to you! It’s taking time though because of the severe winds! Don’t let go! We’ll get you down!” The man was close, but paying attention to the fire department and what they were doing. He stood quietly just outside Christian’s field of vision. Christian got an idea to help the matter at hand. He had apparently shimmied his way out here, he would just shimmy his way backward until he got to them. He took a deep breath and began to very carefully wiggle himself backward. He began to move. A few inches, next thing a few feet. He was doing it. He was going to make it. He—

  A pain so intense it was like a hot poker spiking his flesh ran up his leg. He stopped immediately and winced sharply. He breathed heavy for a minute, then moved a few inches forward again. He opened his eyes and looked back as far as he could to his right leg. A red jag of sharp metal stuck out from the beam. He had backed right into it and it looked like it stuck him a good one. Enough so, that the blood on the spike was actually dripping off, only to by caught by and carried away by the strong winds. OK, bad news. I’m stuck out here as well as being STUCK out here. Ha, ha, little joke there. Oh, God, you guys please hurry. I think it got the femoral artery. I feel a lot of wetness down on that leg. He looked back toward his leg again and saw the steady tap of blood running down into the cradle of the wind. It was worse than he thought. If they didn’t get a fucking move on, he was done for. The voice came again.

  “OK, man, about five more minutes and we got you! Hold on tight! Don’t try to move!” Christian chuckled to himself. Too little, too late, buddy. Please hurry. He held on still, but began to feel light-headed. The wind licked at his face tirelessly and he felt his grip begin to loosen slightly, when a hand from out of nowhere grabbed the waist line of his pants.

  “Relax, man! No sudden movements! We have to get this harness around you before we can get you back to the building, got it?” Christian nodded weakly, but grateful. He continued to hold as hands and straps worked themselves around his body. He felt redeemed, like maybe he didn’t have to die in this body. Maybe this was his next life. Maybe—

  “OK!” The voice came booming him out of his thoughts. “We’re going to go nice and slow and start pulling you up! Don’t fight or struggle or even try to help! Your best course of action is just to go totally limp! Let us do the work!” He released one frozen fear-gripped hand from the beam and gave a thumb up. “OK!” the man shouted in the direction of the building. A slight tugging sensation as all of the safety harness straps began to snug around his body. He felt a bit more secure and forced himself to go limp. Slowly, almost
regretfully, he began to release his grip on the beam. He felt like maybe in the midst of all of this, he might just take a little nap. That would help him go limp so he didn’t botch this up. He closed his eyes and relaxed the final muscles he had clenched. The harness lifted him inch by inch. He felt the beam go. He was no long touching it. This was the most wonderful thing he had ever felt. Uplifting even, ha ha. Four inches up from the beam and a tremendous gust of wind sent him flying backward, still tethered to the crane, he swung forward now. His eyes opened briefly and he saw himself swinging all those stories up and there went whatever this guy had had for lunch. It spewed out of his mouth, was caught by the wind and flew backward into the faces of his would-be rescuers. A toggle switch was bumped and he dropped three inches back down. Now almost on top of the beam again and still swinging faster and faster in the wind, the bloody spike of metal sticking up from the beam caught him high in the thigh of his left leg. He stuck there hard and stopped swinging. Screaming like never before, the man operating the crane panicked and pressed the up-toggle switch. The crane pulled him upward and the impaled spike ripped his thigh open down to the bone. A tremendous mist of blood joined the vomit in the wind and struck the crane operator in the face. He dropped the controller, which hit the ground hard in a flash of sparks, and the crane dropped the payload roughly thirty feet. Now suspended in mid-air, Christian looked wildly around for something to grab onto. He looked up almost blindly and saw the fine line of beam high above him and knew again that he was fucked. The crane held strong, but the wind continued rocking him. The creaking sound caught his ears over the wind and he looked at the harness. It was coming apart in multiple locations. He scrambled to reach up to grab the main line, but he had no strength left and couldn’t make it. With a final twang, the harness broke and he was in free fall after all. The entire way down, he scrambled in the air and wind for anything to grab, but of course, there was nothing. He saw the sidewalk coming up fast. He had time to think, Jamie, I hope I can meet you in hell, if I ever get back. His body absolutely exploded to jelly when it struck pavement and he felt every millisecond of the impact in slow, eternally slow, motion.

  ****

  Bumping… Something bumping…from…behind… Oh, god, NO! Fuck! He opened his eyes from the terrified thoughts of what he might be experiencing to the actual reality of the pinching bloated feeling of being filled up by something enormous. His vision began to clear and his focus became clear. He was in the here and now and the here and now was him in bed with another man and he was on the receiving end. The thing filling him up down there was a hot burning, tearing sensation the likes of which he had never known.

  “Oh, baby,” came another man’s voice. “I love it when you clench up on me like that. Mmm, that is good loving right there! Woo!” The pushing and filling sensation continued and he couldn’t break the paralysis that held him firmly in place.

  “Oh God, please make it stop! Fucking get off of me!” he yelled to whoever was back there.

  “Oh honey, you said you wanted to play the rape fantasy, but I didn’t know you meant tonight. OK, baby, you want it, you got it.” The pain increased as the rhythm of his back-door lover sped up and the intensity of the thrusts increased. He was really taking a pounding now and more than anything else, he just felt like he needed to take a shit. To shit out this whole entire situation. Christian waited for the other man to stop when a final thrust came accompanied by the orgasmic spasms and the sensation of something running down his thigh. The man grew silent and still, reducing inside him when Christian finally broke the paralysis and threw him off. He was a very large, well-built, very well-hung African-American guy. Christian rolled over on the bed in the fetal position trying his best to overcome what just happened. He closed his eyes and a single tear escaped his eye. “Oh, lover, I hope I didn’t hurt you. I thought it was what you wanted.” Christian sprang up and gave him a dirty look of disgust. “You said so yourself just last week. Come on, Cinnamon, don’t be that way baby.”

  “Don’t ever fucking call me that again!” Christian fired back.

  “Don’t call you what?” He truly looked puzzled and hurt.

  “Sugar! Baby! Honey! Lover! Any of that shit! And definitely not Cinnamon!” He got up quickly off the bed.

  “But, it’s your name, bitch. What the fuck you want me to call you? Steve?” He laughed raucously. The black man got up and walked over to the dresser. He began getting dressed as Christian walked into the bathroom. He slammed the door and sat on the toilet to clean himself up. “Better get a shower while you’re in there, too! You have work in an hour…Steve!” He laughed even louder for emphasis and threw his shoes on. A few minutes later, Christian came out and got dressed.

  “You’re gonna have to drive me. I’m not feeling like myself today.”

  The black man rolled his eyes and said, “Even though you’re a big baby bitch, I still love you and yes, I’ll drive my little man to work.” Christian made a sarcastic face and walked out the door with the other man following.

  They pulled up forty minutes later to a run-down little building on the edge of the city. They got out of the jeep and walked over to the door, the black man leading the way. Christian followed behind cautiously. Inside the building, the two men walked up the stairs to the fourth floor. At a door with bullet holes in it, the black man told him this was it. “Go in there and shine, baby.” The man kissed his forehead, opened the door and pushed him in. The door was closed roughly behind him. “Hope you know what you’re doing, cowboy,” the black man said as he left.

  Christian stumbled around in the dark for a moment, trying to get his bearings. After stubbing his foot three times, he finally just stood still. “Hello? Is anybody in here? I’m here for…um…work?” he said, unsure of himself and this new fuckery. He got very quiet and thought he heard footsteps and whispers. “Who the fuck’s there?” He waited. Nothing. “What the fuck is this?” A cluster of four—or was it maybe five—shadows began to swim toward him in the dark. Flashbacks of doing this same thing to Jamie came to him with painful clarity. “Stay the fuck back,” he said to whatever or whoever was there.

  “Are you Cinnamon?” came a sultry female voice from the darkness. “The one we hired for the night vision rape scene?” He wasn’t sure how to answer that. A large part of him wanted to take whatever measures would get the stink and stigma of another guy off of his body, soul and mind. Another sexy female voice drifted toward him.

  “We really like you. You are the perfect specimen for our video. We promise, you’ll enjoy this more than anything. We aim to please like none other.” He felt somewhat better about this situation, but was still weary.

  “You’ll even have a safe word if it’s not all that you expected. Say the word and we stop immediately.” Another sexy voice crooned. That was that, he was sold. If anything went wrong, he could stop this shit right away. They couldn’t really rape him if he were unwilling. Plus, it beat hanging off the side of a building.

  “I’m Cinnamon. Yes, I’m in. How do we begin?” Their combined voices echoed pleased glee.

  “We already have,” they said in unison. “He’s all yours, girls.” Christian smiled in the dark, but it soon turned to shrieks and grunted moans as he was grabbed by several very large men and his hands were bound and mouth gagged. How was he supposed to use the safe word if he was gagged? What even was the safe word? Shit! He was forced over a rack of some sort that had places to strap his legs up. Something akin to reversed stirrups. His pants and boxers were cut off of him and his legs were strapped into the stirrups. He began then to not just struggle, but struggle for his very life. The rape scene they were doing was not what he thought. Apparently, in this life he was a gay man who fantasized about gang rape and really wanted to try it out. Fuck! His entire back side was lathered up with a heavy supply of lubricant that ran down his ass crack and down both legs. A large group of very huskie men filed into the room. Oh God, there had to be more than fifteen in here now. He stil
l couldn’t see, but the room grew crowded and he felt very claustrophobic. Fingers began tugging at his length as others still began probing inside his anus. Without him meaning to, he grew very hard. He grunted and struggled, but to no avail. He closed his eyes for a moment and felt a sensual feeling rush through his body. His ejaculation spurted against his own leg and began to run down the shaved smooth surface. This was happening and he couldn’t stop it. The first big hairy gorilla to have him stepped up behind him and between his spread legs. He was thrashing and shaking his head. He felt the bulging head of the man’s cock against his bare ass. The big man leaned forward and in a soft, almost feminine voice whispered:

  “Speak now or forever hold your peace… The safe word?” He waited as Christian cried out in a muffled voice and shook his head. “OK, sexy bitch, you got it.” Christian wailed out as the first-of-many twelve-inch members slid fully erect inside him. The burning sensation of his previous experience paled in comparison to this. This was an atom bomb going off in his rectum. Blood began to join the lubricant in the downward flow. The other men in the dark were stroking themselves hard in preparation for their turn. The first in line was brutal and ripped him in places he didn’t know he could rip. The pain seared throughout his entire body. The final climax was a bit of a relief as the hulk pulled slowly out with a plopping sound. He stepped quickly aside and just as fast, the next hulk in line was in him. ripping and tearing. He cried and wailed and moaned in despair, all concealed by the cloak of darkness and the veil of a gag. Twenty-six men in all had their turns. By the final man’s turn, Christian lay strapped in as limp as a rag doll. The last hulk entered him and a tight, clamping feeling gripped his chest. He fought to breathe and to think of how to let them know. He was having a motherfucking heart attack with this beast inside him. He couldn’t fight or struggle anymore, so he did the next best thing he could think of. He died. The final hulk finished inside his lifeless body, pulled out and someone snapped the lights on. Bemused faces stared out from the crowd as the final hulk reached down and took the dead man’s pulse. He looked back up at the crowd, all of them now removing their night vision goggles and looking forlorn.