Doa Ii

by David C. Hayes

  ~

  With the body prepared for the taking, she ripped off the boxers and saw that its baby had been born. Delighted, the Jackie-thing called out to its offspring, telling her child to come to Momma. From around the corner, the creature came, leaving its slimy trail behind as it slithered into its mother’s arms.

  FAT BOY

  Kelly M. Hudson

  “Hey, Fat Boy!” Dave Richie yelled across the cafeteria, which was something he didn’t need to do considering the person he was yelling at, Tommy Carol, was sitting just one table away.

  Dave was a jock, captain of the football team, and record-breaking, All-State linebacker. He was six feet two, all muscle, shaggy blond hair, and sparkling blue eyes. He had perfect teeth to go with his perfect smile. The only bad thing about Dave was his attitude, but most forgave him because he was just so cool and pretty. He was sitting with his friends, fellow jocks and a cheerleader or two, and Candy Adams, his girlfriend. Candy was the hottest girl in school, with large tits, long legs, straight blond hair that reached down to the middle of her back, and big, brown eyes that would make a priest curse his vows.

  They all laughed along as Dave held out the tray with his lunch on it, leaning over the pack and shoving it toward Tommy’s face. On the tray was a plate and on the plate was a big slice of greasy pizza.

  Tommy slid back in his seat, eyes as big as his belly.

  “Want some real food?” Dave mocked. “I know you do. Look at you, eating that rabbit food. Come on, man! You know you want some of this. It’s the good stuff.”

  Tommy was nothing like Dave or his gang. He was five feet, ten inches tall, weighed two hundred and eighty pounds, had beady black eyes, unwashed, dandruff-flecked hair, and wore thick glasses because he was practically blind. Everything about Tommy was fat. And the zits! They covered his face like ants on a dropped piece of chocolate.

  “No, thanks,” Tommy replied. He said it soft, humbly trying to be nice, showing he was above their mockery.

  “Aw, it’s okay,” Dave said. “I can get another slice.”

  The smell of melted cheese and burnt pepperoni filled his nostrils. His stomach gurgled. Despite himself, he licked his lips. It was all too much. He really did want that slice of pizza, but he knew he better not.

  Dave, having heard Tommy’s stomach and watching the fat kid lick his lips, almost lost his voice he laughed so hard.

  “I knew it!” Dave said. “Come on! You can’t resist this, can you, Fat Boy?”

  He waved the plate closer to Tommy’s face.

  “Go on. Nobody will judge you. We all know it’s a gland problem,” Dave said. His group cackled behind him.

  Tommy was angry. His face rolled up, his nostrils flared, his fist balled at his side. He wanted to get up and punch that bastard right in the face. And how good would that feel? Oh, so very good. He could stand, slug Dave, and then he’d see if all those jocks would still be laughing.

  He studied their leering faces, their mocking stares. All his anger and resolve faded. He knew if he did get up, even if he got a lucky shot in and Dave didn’t get back up and kick his ass, the others would. He would get what, maybe two seconds of sweet satisfaction, before they beat the living crap out of him?

  It wasn’t worth it.

  And on top of it all, that damn pizza smelled so good. He wanted nothing more than to snatch it up and shove it down his throat. He felt like he was starving ever since this diet started. Everyone else could eat what they wanted. Why couldn’t he?

  Dave left his table and sat next to Tommy. He put his arm around him. He held the pizza out. He leaned in close. He put his lips to Tommy’s ear.

  “Go ahead,” he said. “No one will judge you.”

  Tommy licked his lips again. He couldn’t. He just couldn’t. If he did, they’d never stop laughing. But it looked so good. So, so good. Maybe he could take a bite, one little nibble. That would be okay, wouldn’t it? Maybe Dave was right. Maybe no one would judge him, after all.

  He leaned forward and closed his eyes. He opened his mouth.

  Dave shoved the pizza into his face, smearing it back and forth. The jock’s friends roared with laughter.

  Tommy jumped up and ran from the school cafeteria, the cheese and grease on his face absorbing his tears.

  ~

  It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t. Why did he have to be so fat and everyone else didn’t?

  They called him Fat Boy. He could hear it, hanging in the air, chiming like church bells, mocking him.

  Fat Boy!

  He stood in front of a mirror, the door to his bedroom locked. He was naked and, yes, he was very, very fat. Tommy stared at his reflection, the tears he’d been crying wet and shiny on his chubby cheeks. He made sure to look at every inch of himself, to absorb this entire presentation.

  Fat.

  It started with his cheeks and worked its way down. They hung off his jaw, almost like a hound dog. Then, there was the stuff under his chin, around his neck, and rolled above his spine. His shoulders were okay, but down past them, along his arms, it was like he was caked with three layers of Jell-O. He raised an arm and watched the hanging giblets quiver. With the size of the tits he had, Tommy might as well be a girl, and, sitting beneath them, in massive waves, was his belly. It was etched with stretch marks, running up and down like stripes on a tiger. His stomach drooped over his waist, nearly hiding his crotch. In fact, he couldn’t see his own tiny wiener if it weren’t for the mirror. There was a layer of fat above it, covering his penis, hiding it. His thighs were mounds of cottage cheese, the curds only stopped by his knees. Beyond there, he was fairly normal looking, with average calves, ankles, and feet.

  Fat Boy!

  Why was he like this? His Mom always told him it was a glandular problem. But she also used to feed him candy and cakes and cookies all the time. Was it her fault?

  A bubble of snot expanded and popped from his left nostril, a hangover from his crying fit. He let it sit, wet on his upper lip. Why bother? He was already hideous, what would that little more matter?

  Fat Boy!

  Over and over again, he heard it, echoing in his mind. It was all he heard as he stood, ashamed of the way he looked but unable to turn away or do anything about it.

  Fat Boy!

  They hated him. But why? What had he done to them?

  They hated him because he was fat.

  Well, he hated himself, too. There was no way their hatred could match his own.

  “Honey?”

  It was his Mom at the door.

  “Hold on,” he said. He scrambled, finding an old terrycloth robe. Tommy threw it on and answered the door.

  Mom was there, all five feet of her. She was as round as a Butterball turkey, and smiling like she’d just won the lottery. In her hand she held a plate full of steaming, straight-out-of-the-oven chocolate chip cookies. She held them out to him.

  “For you,” she said. “A little reward, because you’ve been doing so well.”

  The aroma went straight up his nose, all the way down his throat, and stirred an insane desire in his stomach. He nearly vomited, he wanted those cookies so bad.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “Go on.”

  He grabbed two fists full and rammed them in his mouth. His Mom set the plate on his desk and applauded.

  “I’ll be back with some milk,” she said.

  He grabbed two more cookies and put them in his mouth, freezing for a second as he caught his reflection in the mirror. His lips were smeared with chocolate and bits of cookie. Tears sprang to his eyes.

  Fat Boy!

  He ate those two cookies, and two more, and two more after that, and on and on until the plate was clean. He cried the whole time, unable to help himself. He wanted to stop, but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

  ~

  The next day, Dave tripped him in the hallway at school. Tommy hit the ground hard and rolled into a ball.

  Dave laughed.

  “Just wanted to see if
you’d bounce,” he said.

  Dave’s friends were there and they laughed. Nobody laughed as hard as Candy did, though. She thought it was plenty funny.

  Tommy stared up at her, eyes full of tears. She stared back and her braying paused for a moment. He felt something between them, a connection, for a fleeting moment...and then it was gone. She laughed again, along with the rest.

  “Ewww!” she said. “Pull up your pants. Crack kills!”

  More laughter. Tommy climbed to his feet, pulled up his pants, and scuttled off.

  ~

  That night, he was in front of the mirror again, naked, staring at himself. He had a knife in his hand. He ran it along the fat of his belly.

  He stuck the tip of the blade against his belly and pushed. The knife cut his skin. He thought of butter. The pain lanced out in a network of webs. He pulled the blade free and stared at the tip. A drop of his blood hung there, blobbing, before finally falling.

  Even his blood looked fat.

  ~

  They did not stop. Every day it was something new. Sometimes they’d bring snacks, like cakes and chocolate bars. Other days they’d simply sit back and chant “Fat Boy!” over and over again, whenever they saw him. And by “they,” he meant Dave and Candy.

  Every day, he cried.

  ~

  One night, his Mom came to Tommy’s room. She had some Oreos and a glass of milk, his usual snack before bedtime. Along with the food, there were two small, white pills with “Vicodin” etched into them. Next to those were two more pills. Xanax.

  “These should help, honey,” she said.

  He obliged, never asking what they were for.

  And, oh, how good they felt.

  ~

  The beginning of the next week, things got worse.

  He walked home from school, like he always did. Alone.

  But not for long.

  Behind him, running up like her ass was on fire, was Candy. She caught up and slowed down, drawing even with him.

  “Hey,” she said.

  He said nothing.

  “What are you doing?” She smelled like cotton candy.

  “Walking home,” he said, his voice shaking.

  “Oh,” she said. Her eyes were so pretty.

  He said nothing.

  “Do you mind if I walk with you?” she said. The sunlight hit her hair just right, making it glow like a halo.

  “O…Okay,” he said, stuttering slightly.

  “So, sorry about Dave,” she said, her eyes sincere, almost misting.

  He shrugged.

  “He can be mean,” she continued, a slight, apologetic smile playing on her lips.

  Tommy liked the way she smiled. “Yes,” he said.

  “He’s just afraid. His dad used to be, um, fat, so I think he’s got a complex or something.”

  He liked the way her nose dipped when she spoke, like a string was tied between it and her chin. “That sucks,” he said.

  “Yeah,” she said.

  They walked in silence for a minute. He tried not to look at her, but he couldn’t help it. His eyes skittered over her body, absorbing every detail.

  “So…” Candy began. She stopped walking. He did, too. “I have a confession to make.”

  “What is it?”

  She blushed.

  She blushed? How could that be? What did she have to be embarrassed about?

  “I kind of have a crush on you,” she said.

  He thought he might cry. He teared up and his heart almost exploded in his chest, it was beating so fast. A rush of pure pleasure roared through his veins. This was better than any food he’d ever eaten.

  “You…you do?” Tommy said. He stuttered again, but he didn’t care this time.

  “Yes.” Her eyes hit the sidewalk. She glanced behind her and back at him again. “Would you come over here? By the house? I want to tell you something else.”

  “Okay,” he said.

  She walked to the side of a house in the suburbs they were winding through. The driveway was empty. No one was home. She stopped at the corner and turned back around. He stopped. She was inches from him. Her body heat floated over, carried by her cotton candy scent. Tommy thought he might faint.

  “Close your eyes,” she said.

  “Why?”

  “I’m going to kiss you,” she said.

  His breath hitched in his chest. He closed his eyes.

  “Step closer,” she said.

  He did.

  “Pucker up.”

  He did.

  “Here it comes.”

  He giggled.

  Something steaming hot, wet, and smelly smashed against his mouth. It was followed by insane laughter.

  His eyes fluttered open. Candy was standing to the side, face in hands, laughing so hard she looked like she was going to puke. Next to her was Dave and, behind him, the rest of the gang. They’d been hiding around the corner of the house.

  Dave held a plastic bag, wrapped over his hand, and in it was a chunk of dog shit. The rest of it was smeared across Tommy’s mouth.

  “Fat boy!” Dave screeched.

  Tommy turned and ran.

  ~

  It was easy to poison his Mom. He just kept feeding her pills. Once he got past the first couple, she kind of lost track, and he continued giving her more and more, until she finally vomited in her mouth and choked to death.

  He was sad, watching her die. But he stood there, like a dutiful son, until it was all over. He shut her bedroom door and locked it.

  He went down to the basement. There was a flight of stairs and, at their bottom, a thick, heavy door. He took the time to clear the room out, leaving only two wooden chairs and some rope. Once he was done, he shut the door and locked it from the inside. He spent thirty minutes trying to force the door open, using every angle possible.

  Escape was not going to happen.

  He smiled, pocketed the key to the basement, and made his plans.

  ~

  Dave was easy to get. Tommy followed him home the next day and waited outside for his chance. He brought along his bike, some rope, and his baseball bat. An hour later, when the sun had gone down and darkness was blanketing the town, Dave brought a load of garbage out to put in the bins. Tommy crept up behind him.

  Crack!

  One blow was all it took.

  ~

  Candy was even easier.

  She went outside later that same night, walked down the street, and ducked behind a tree. She fished out a pack of cigarettes and a match. She lit one and sucked the smoke down. She sighed as she exhaled.

  She never saw the swing.

  ~

  Three hours later, both of them woke up. They were tied tight to the chairs in Tommy’s basement. They were confused and disoriented.

  Tommy sat in his own chair by the door.

  “What’s going on?” Dave said, his words slurred.

  “You’re both my guests,” Tommy said with a smile.

  Candy screamed. She screamed and screamed, her cries echoing off the walls. Tommy kept smiling. It was a queer smile, sort of odd, and slanted slightly to the right. He waited until her voice gave out, and then continued.

  “We’re in my basement. There are no windows. We are deep underground. There is only one door in…and out. I have the key. There is no escape.”

  He stood, waddled over to them, and stuck wet rags into their mouths. When they were good and stuffed, the crying muffled, he used duct tape to seal them, winding the roll around their heads.

  “This is going to be so much fun,” Tommy said.

  ~

  He made sure to go to school, every day. He kept all his routines the same. He could arouse no suspicions. Every night, he came back home and checked on his prisoners. They were still there, still tied, still freaking out.

  He ate anything he wanted that week. He had cake and pizza and candy and potato chips with ketchup. He ate until he was full and then ate more.

  ~

 
Mom started stinking on the second day. He had to seal her room with duct tape and plastic sheeting he found under the kitchen sink.

  ~

  On the third night he visited his prisoners, they were getting pretty desperate.

  “Please let us go,” Dave pleaded.

  He took out their gags and gave them each a deep drink of water—one glass full—and no more. They both stunk of shit and piss, which they had no choice but to sit in.

  “No,” Tommy said.

  “I’ll do anything you want,” Candy said when her gag was removed. “I’ll suck you.” Her face was drawn, her eyes sunken in. “Or, you know, we could do sexy stuff. Whatever you want.” Her breath stank and her voice was lost, like she had been crying from the bottom of a well. There was no hope in it, just the sound of a lost girl calling for help out of habit, not out of belief. That bleakness, combined with the stench of piss, shit, and their natural body odor, almost made Tommy gag.

  “No,” he said.

  He stuck the gag back in.

  ~

  On the fourth day, the police showed up at the school. Tommy acted dutiful and diligent, playing the role just right. They questioned him, of course; they questioned everyone. They did ask him about the bullying. He shrugged it off.

  They left, satisfied.

  Tommy smiled his secret, slanted smile.

  Later that night, when visiting his captives, they both complained of hunger.

  “Please,” Dave said. “A little food? Please?”

  Tommy laughed and shut the door as he left.

  ~

  On the fifth day, a Friday, it was time.

  He woke up that morning and ate like a pig. He stuffed everything that was left in the kitchen, every sweet, every chocolate, every bit of ice cream, into his mouth until he could eat no more. He waited for it to digest. Around noon, he decided to go ahead and do what he’d been dreaming of for the past week.