Doa Ii

by David C. Hayes

  Everything snapped back as the door latches were thrown again.

  Pale, hot sunlight filtered into the room.

  How long had he been out?

  “Momma wants you, don’t fuss.”

  Steve’s legs were cramped and leaden as the brute pulled him from the cage and dragged him back down the hallway. He could hear music playing, a janky staccato rhythm of drums and warbling accordion like some twisted circus was underway in the distance.

  The man pushed him to the floor and stepped on his back as he slid a steel door to the side. The disjointed music washed over Steve’s overloaded mind. The mother’s chamber was lit up in blinking Christmas lights, red, blue, and green flickering everywhere. The massive woman was splayed out on her platform, legs out, bloated feet planted on the strained wooden steps. The dwarf’s face buried in the woman’s cunt, head shaking back and forth, tiny hands massaging the dappled flesh of her enormous thighs as she moaned and fondled her seeping breasts.

  The other man moved out of the corner and grabbed Steve’s left arm, and the two hauled him to the foot of the stairs. They pulled back on his shoulders, holding him in a kneeling position. The pain of blood rushing back into his legs spun Steve’s mind away from the horrific scene and back to his own tortured body.

  With a guttural howl, a geyser of fluid pushed out around the dwarf’s head and the woman’s entire body quaked with pleasure. The dwarf lapped at her pussy with fervor, and as her wailing ceased, the diminutive pervert leaned back, stumbled down the steps, and turned to look at Steve.

  The dwarf’s face was spattered with sticky yellow puss, his eyes wide, a crazed smile revealing a mouth devoid of teeth. With pudgy hands, the demented dwarf wiped the woman’s vaginal fluid off his cheeks, and flung it on Steve’s face with a high pitched squeal, his feet shuffling in a gleeful soft shoe routine.

  “Help momma sit up, boys.”

  The two men pushed Steve to the ground, and the dwarf jumped onto his back, mounting him like a toy pony. The men strained as they pulled the woman upright, propping her up with some sort of plank behind the mass of her torso.

  “Look up here, mister.”

  The dwarf pulled back on Steve’s hair, and the full view of the woman shut out the pain in Steve’s body.

  Milky, viscous fluid oozed from her pussy, small tendrils clinging to the matted hair carpeting her pubic area. The agitated skin of her thighs, scaling and flaking off, reminded Steve of the lepers he saw on his last trip to Egypt. As his eyes moved up, over the mound of her body, the smile on her face brought back the chills of shock, her festering tongue darting in and out over her lips. Nausea twisted his gut again. She shifted her bulk slightly, the platform groaning in protest, looking directly into his eyes, and the rumble of a wet fart bubbled out from under her. On his back, the dwarf shook with laughter as the hot, beefy smell of her putrid insides wafted down.

  “That’s better,” she said with a smile. “Momma needs a woman child, and you gonna give it to me.”

  Peels of laughter filled the room; the boys caressed her tits, the dwarf jumped up and down on his back, convulsions twisting Steve’s insides.

  “Bring him up here, boys, momma wants a fucking, and you needs a sister!”

  The dwarf dismounted him as her two sons came around and hoisted him up by his now-numb arms and hauled him closer to the gaping, festering pussy of their mother. As Steve was dragged closer, he noticed squirming maggots in the crusted pubic hair surrounding the dark red and swollen lips of her cunt.

  “You gonna fuck me good, or else.”

  The men lifted him off of the ground, his shoulders sending out electric waves of pain that made Steve’s head spin further into delirium. They set him down on the steps, off balance, and he fell forward onto her enormous belly, the heat from her foul sex close to his protesting, retracting cock. There was no way he was going to get hard enough to fuck this disgusting beast, and the thought that they may kill him seemed a welcome relief.

  Steve squirmed to get his face out of the folds of her belly, and terror rocketed through his body as the boys pulled his legs apart. Another set of hands, tiny ones, began manipulating his cock.

  They were going to force him hard.

  Steve focused on the rotten, caustic smell of her body.

  The decomposing bodies of the cage room.

  The thoughts of these horrendous people butchering him.

  Despite the horrors of his situation, his body was responding to the dwarf’s hands.

  He felt himself growing hard, the toothless mouth of the diminutive sex slave pulled his scrotum in, the thick tongue swirling around his balls as the two hands slid back and forth faster on the shaft of his growing erection.

  “Yea, get him, Rufus, get him going good!” The woman’s voice wheezed, her body rocking back and forth like a sweaty water bed below him.

  He fought his body’s reaction, but as the dwarf moved his mouth from Steve’s balls to his cock, slurping up and down the entire length, the first spasms of orgasm began to pulse through his member.

  The men yanked him up, his cock flipping out of the dwarf’s mouth, and forced him into their mother. The woman’s pussy was hot like an infected wound, sopping wet, and gritty. They rocked his body back and forth into her, and Steve began to weep, screaming as his body took over and released his load of cum into that disgusting filth hole that bore these monsters.

  The woman groaned, slapping the sides of his head, and then pushed him back against the men.

  “Now that’s a fucking, boys!”

  They threw Steve to the floor, as he slammed into the wood, screams of pain and horror gurgled up from his very core. He rolled to his side and saw the two men pumping their cocks, standing on either side of their mother’s face, her tongue running over her lips, hands manipulating their scrotums. The dwarf stood in front of her pussy, one hand ramming up and down on his erection, the other slapping, then rubbing, the woman’s clit.

  Clarity shot into Steve’s mind.

  Their focus was on each other, not him.

  This was it.

  Steeling his core, Steve squirmed further away. They didn’t see him move.

  He would get away, or die trying.

  All four of the disgusting swamp dwellers were moaning, moving in time with the blaring music, eyes closed in incestuous ecstasy.

  Steve rolled over and exploded onto his feet. Without glancing back he stumbled through the open doorway into the hall. His legs protested, but adrenaline was pumping now. He bounced from wall to wall, almost falling as he willed his legs forward faster.

  Bursting through a door, he slipped and slammed into a large table strewn with blood soaked clothes.

  Down another hallway, through another door, and suddenly he was in what looked like a regular, filthy, backwoods home, complete with a large entry door that was open.

  As Steve pushed through the dilapidated screen door, he heard screams and howls behind him.

  He forced himself out into the oppressive heat and took off straight across the littered yard, running as fast as he could.

  A narrow path cut through the underbrush, weaving left and right, up a slight incline that rose the burning in his thighs from an ember to a raging fire.

  They were behind him now, crashing through the woods.

  He leaned forward and pushed harder. Branches reached out and tore at his arms and legs, and he burst into a small clearing. The tall grass cut at his skin, and Steve ran faster, even as the pain of the foliage’s razor edge catching on his cock leapt up into his chest.

  Back in the woods, he heard them closing in behind him, shouting and yelling for him to stop.

  He splashed through a low, muck-filled swamp and up another small rise, the sounds of his pursers now on either side of him. He turned, and tumbled down the other side of the berm, splashing into hot, stinging water, wrestling with the weight of his body to get his face up and out of the depression.

  He was at the side of a r
oad.

  Rolling onto his back he pushed himself upright again, and clamored to the gravel at the side of the shimmering tarmac. The hot blacktop scorched his feet, but a smile burst onto his face.

  He was a runner, he could get away.

  Spinning around he saw his pursuers stop at the tree line, staring. Without pausing he turned, legs beginning to run as the roar of an engine snatched his gaze away from the monsters he was escaping.

  The truck’s bumper hit him in the hip, shattering bones, and sending Steve into the air. He came down again into the water filled depression and felt his legs snap as he flipped up and then crashed down again on his back, looking up into the sky.

  The smell and smoke of burning rubber registered to him, and he saw a man looking down, saw his mouth moving, but could not hear what he was trying to say. It was like his head was encased in thick, buzzing cotton.

  The woman’s filthy spawn appeared behind the guy looking down and talking to him.

  A shock of fear sparked in his muddled mind as the two men began beating the guy who was trying to talk to him, and Steve tried to yell, to point, but nothing seemed to be responding in his body.

  They were punching and kicking at the truck driver as he fell to the ground. Steve couldn’t hear anything, but he knew they would kill him.

  The men turned and reached down, hauling Steve up and out of the water.

  Steve’s head flipped back, lolling, and he felt a quick pinch before the world blinked out.

  ~

  When the world slowly returned through shimmering clouds, Steve felt pins and needles in his arms and hands. His head was heavy like stone. He slowly began to move, his hands seemed to work, but were bound to the table with rough rope. His neck was sore, but he could lift his head slightly. What he couldn’t do was feel his legs. The pain of lifting his head threw his mind into an exploding field of stars.

  He could hear music, slightly muffled, somewhere in the distance. The sound of latches being through, the groan of a heavy door, and the music became clearer. It reminded him of a slightly askew circus tune.

  Two men appeared on either side of him, smiling, but their smiles weren’t happy. There was something sinister…

  The events of the last couple of days flew back to him in a churning mess of fear. The men’s laughter filled the room, and Steve realized exactly where he was. One of them leaned in close, rank breath, hot and moist, on the side of his face.

  “You gonna have to get better, momma needs a fuckin.”

  “And we needs a sister,” the other one said, and they both let loose a boisterous, wheezing laugh.

  Steve’s screams rose up, but were drowned out by his captor’s laughter, the swirling music, and the howl of the beastly woman he knew rested down the hallway on her demented stage of perversion, waiting for him to service her.

  GIVE ME SOMETHING GOOD TO EAT

  Shane McKenzie

  Dan tightened the ropes around his son’s wrists, then walked around the chair to face him.

  “Are they tight enough?” Esmeralda asked.

  “They should hold.”

  Esmerelda bit her lip and turned her gaze away from Corey.

  Dan wrapped his arms around his wife. “I pray to God they hold.”

  Their son’s face dripped sweat as his eyes bounced from parent to parent. “Please. You don’t have to do this…”

  Esmeralda buried her face into Dan’s shoulder. He reached up and squeezed the back of her neck, his eyes on Corey’s feet, unable to look him in the face.

  “I’m sorry, Corey. We have no choice.”

  Dan led his wife up the stairs and out of the cellar, leaving the light on for Corey and ignoring his pleading. It never got easier, year after year, keeping their only child locked away like that. But it was something that needed to be done. Their lives depended on it. Everyone’s did.

  Dan locked the cellar door, taking deep breaths to collect himself before turning to face his wife. He had to stay strong in front of Esmeralda. The woman seemed especially on edge lately, and he worried her composure would shatter if he let her see how stressed he truly was.

  “The pumpkin?” he said.

  “On…on the counter…”

  The kitchen smelled of cinnamon and charred pumpkin. The jack-o-lantern sat atop the counter, just as she said, the candle already burning within. The face was simple: triangularly cut eyes and nose, a smile with four square teeth. The flickering flame within cast dancing shadow demons on the walls.

  He scooped up the pumpkin and he and his wife headed toward the front door.

  The other parents would be waiting outside.

  They walked to the curb and placed the pumpkin there, signaling to the others that Corey was secure. Other jack-o-lanterns lined the sidewalk—one for each home. The street was alive with orange, writhing light.

  Their neighbors, Preston and Walter, walked out just a few seconds after Dan and Esmerelda and set their pumpkin in its place. Their adopted daughter, Sonia, had only been with them for a year, and it was their first Halloween as a family. The balding men embraced each other and wept as they stared at their jack-o-lantern, taking turns lifting their eyeglasses to wipe the tears beneath.

  “You guys stay strong,” Dan said. “The night will be over before you know it, and we can all get back to our normal lives.”

  The men said nothing, didn’t turn to acknowledge Dan. They just stared at their pumpkin, sniffled and whimpered.

  Dan eyed the street, counting the jack-o-lanterns. Couples stood at the end of their driveways, nodding to one another as they made eye contact. Everyone knew what had to be done. Dan pursed his lips and gave each one of them a nod. Esmerelda wrapped her arms around him and squeezed. He squeezed back, resting his chin on the top of her head.

  The sound of shuffling footsteps grew louder as they approached from his left.

  Simon trudged toward them, the moonlight behind deepening the shadows on his heavily-lined face. His back was hunched and a shaky hand repeatedly rubbed the back of his head, which hung limp from his neck. When Simon reached Dan and Esmerelda, he finally let his eyes roll up from the cement.

  “I need to talk to you, Dan. It’s the McKrackens.” When he said the name, he jerked his head to the rear.

  Dan peered over Simon’s shoulder toward the one-story brick home of the McKrackens. The curb was empty and dark, no pumpkin in sight.

  Not again, Dan thought.

  “You talk to them yet?”

  “I was hoping to have you along ’fore I tried it. Never know, know what I mean?”

  Dan nodded and gave Esmeralda a tight squeeze. She kept her arms locked around him, looked up into his face. “Dan?”

  “It’s fine,” he said, doing his best to hide the panic threatening to cave in his chest. “I’ll go talk to them. I’m sure they’re just behind, lost track of time. No big deal.”

  Esmerelda nodded but kept her face pinched as she unwrapped her arms from his torso. Dan kissed her three times before walking down the street with Simon. He had to force himself not to look back at her again.

  The two walked in silence until they reached the empty curb in front of the McKrackens’ home.

  Simon cleared his throat. “They got twins, don’t they?”

  “They sure do. Good boys…nice boys.”

  “Not tonight they’re not.” Simon ran his hand over his face as he glared at the home’s dark front patio. “What in the hell are we gonna do if—”

  “Let’s just hope it’s a misunderstanding, that they just—”

  “A misunderstanding? The sun’s almost down, there’s no fucking time for a misunderstanding.” Simon sort of whisper-yelled the last sentence.

  Dan held up his hands and nodded. He sucked in a stomachful of cool oxygen and marched toward the front door. The air smelled of grass and burning pumpkin. Dan couldn’t help but remember the McKracken boys mowing his lawn—front and back for five bucks each—every other week. Good boys. Nice boys.
>
  Simon followed closely behind, cursing under his breath. He had been there the last time a parent buckled under the pressure. He knew what this meant.

  Dan rapped his knuckles against the red wooden door, checked his watch, then turned to look at the sky. The last of the sun hovered just over the horizon. They had to do this quick if they weren’t already too late.

  “Hello? Anybody home?”

  “No time for this shit!” Simon pounded his fist against the door then jumped back when it creaked open.

  They locked eyes for a brief moment before entering the home.

  Dan felt the energy in the air change. The sun had sunk. The night had risen. Halloween had begun. The air was as thick as caramel, and as they stepped into the home and down the front hall, he could smell it. The meaty scent of fresh blood.

  Oh Jesus…

  “Something’s wrong,” Simon said.

  “I know.”

  They crept past the living room and into the kitchen, then stopped cold. Simon gasped, and slammed his knuckles against the countertop.

  “Fuck! This is so… fuck!”

  The McKrackens lay facedown on the tile in a pool of their own blood. The puddle continued to widen as Dan and Simon stared. The blood ran along the grout lines in red zigzag patterns.

  “Stupid fucking bastards,” Simon said as he paced the living room. “One day a year. One day a fucking year! Now look at ’em.”

  “Simon—”

  “No. No, these fucking assholes are putting us all in danger. Goddamnit! How stupid can you be, huh? How fucking stupid!”

  “Simon, they’re already—”

  “You remember what happened the last time, Dan. You remember. Ah shit, Dan, I don’t know if I can handle another night like… Stupid fucking bastards!”

  “Simon! They’re dead. Cussing them out won’t change shit, okay? We need to warn the others.”

  Dan did remember the last time it had happened. Would never forget it. He’d seen more than six of his friends and neighbors die that night. They’d found Bill and Donna—Dan and Esmerelda’s best friends at the time—sprawled out on their lawn. Bill’s throat had been scooped out so that his spinal cord shone in the moonlight. Donna lay on her back, her arms tense, fingers digging into the grass. Her eyes bulged, jaw moving up and down like she was trying to speak but only hoarse whimpers oozed out.