Fat Off Sex and Violence

by Shane McKenzie

Fat Off Sex and Violence © 2013 by Shane McKenzie

Cover art copyright © 2013 Glenn Chadbourne

All characters depicted in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced in whole or in part without the publisher’s written consent, except for the purposes of review.

For my brother David.

You’ve always been my best friend. I’m just as excited for your future as I am for my own. Go fuck some shit up, man. Celery generals!

As always, I have to thank Jeff, Carlton, and Rose for believing in me and my work. I keep expecting you guys to say no to me, and you just keep saying yes. Love y’all! Thank you to Paul at Thunderstorm for creating beautiful books. Thank you to Chris Morey and R.J. Cavender at Dark Regions Press. Thank you to Don D’Auria over at Samhain. Thank you to Tom and Billie Moran at Sideshow Press. There’s too many authors to name here, but you know who you are, and I love you all. Really I do. Though I will never allow them to read this book, thank you Mom and Dad for supporting your horror-loving son since day one. And of course, my girls. Thank you Melinda for loving me and always having my back. Maxine, if you’re reading this…go to your room. You’re in trouble. But Daddy loves you and couldn’t imagine a life without you.

Bury the Evil

The men dug with furious persistence, tossing spadefuls of earth over their shoulders, faster and faster as the moonlight shone beams of silver down on them. The snores of the beasts tore through the night, nearly stilling the men’s hearts, but they could not stop, must not stop.

“Faster. You must dig faster or we are all doomed,” Cassandra said, pulling her robe tighter to escape the bite of the cold. “Hurry, men. Quickly.”

“Yes, my lady,” they said as one. The arms found new fervor as the spades stabbed into the dirt, scooped it away.

The beasts writhed in their sacks, smacked their mouths. Everyone paused for a timeless moment, glaring at the sacks at Cassandra’s feet.

“Do not listen, only dig. Dig!”

And they did, they dug until only their shoulders and heads were visible from where she stood. “Enough…we must bury them. Must bury them before they wake!”

She peered up at the ancient tree, its branches pulling down the power of the gods and soaking it into the soil at its roots. This tree would hold the evil, she knew. It would keep the evil beneath the surface so that no more innocent blood would be spilled.

The men grabbed the first sack, the beast still snoring, though less frequent, with less volume. They covered the demon with dirt, stomped on the loose earth to pack it tight.

Cassandra’s hands clutched each other at her chest, massaging the perspiration deep into the skin as she watched the second beast be thrown into its grave. Its snores beat at her soul, turned her blood into ice.

“Quickly, please!”

But one man remained in the hole, smiled up at her. The others blinked rapidly, glared at each other and twisted their hands over the wooden handles of the spades.

No.

She moved forward, but not fast enough to stop the man who remained in the hole from unsheathing a dagger from his boot and running it across his own throat. The gash tore wider as he leaned his head back and cackled at the moon, the blood bubbling out and soaking into his clothes.

Cassandra, as fast as she could, plucked the man’s spade from the ground, swung it wide into the faces of the other men, knocking them down before they could join in on the bloodshed. And with every ounce of strength within her body, she hoisted the bleeding man from the hole, tossed him aside before his blood could soak into the dirt, before it could feed the beast.

She shoved mounds of dirt over the snarling demon, covered it completely. “You are finished, devil. And here you will stay…forever.”

Her men groaned from behind her as they got to their feet, rubbing their faces. All traces of the beast’s influence seemed to have vanished, and when their eyes landed on their lady, they rushed over to assist her.

With the earth packed tightly over the graves under the god tree, Cassandra said a silent prayer, shed a tear for all she had lost, and nodded to her men. They lifted their fallen brother from the ground, his blood now a muddy puddle around him, though far enough away that the beast could not feed, and they left the evil behind.

Cassandra could only pray that it stayed buried, that no other unfortunate soul should ever awaken the feedlings.

—1—

Gary flipped to the next page of the Hentai comic and bit his lip. He held the pages open with his left hand—clutching the book at the top of the spine with the heel of his palm pressing the pages open as wide as he could get them—and tugged on himself with his right hand. The flimsy hollow-wood door never closed right, so he had his foot propped up against it just in case someone tried to walk in.

Something about the disproportionate, big-eyed cartoon characters got his heart pumping.

Squeezing himself, a violent shudder ran through him. He didn’t want to finish too fast, still wanted to get to the end, the climactic conclusion of Lusty Bloodsucker. A new shipment Mr. Shipley had gotten in that day, and Gary had already decided that copy was going home with him.

He turned the page, wiped the sweat from his brow. In the small space of the restroom, he kept getting gusts of his own body odor, had to hold his breath as he stroked, which only made him sweat more. Salty drips splashed over his tiny penis, but they just blended into the baby oil he’d already slathered himself with.

A knock at the door. Gary’s stomach plummeted to the floor and he gripped himself, concealing his entire manhood in his palm. “Somebody’s in here.”

“I know that, dumbshit. Hurry your ass up, we got customers.” The voice was thick with phlegm, deep. There was a coughing fit, and then: “And you just bought that comic you got in there with you.”

“Um…okay.” Damnit. Gary was too close to stop now, so he flipped to the end of the comic. An elaborate drawing of a vampire girl lying on her back with a thick, detailed cock spitting cum over her belly, the veins as thick as tree roots, was there to push Gary to the edge. He held in his gasp as he came, grimaced and pressed his hand against the wall, letting the comic flip itself shut. Taking deep breaths, he wiped another thick coat of sweat from his face, and flushed the toilet. As the water swirled, he wondered if each individual little sperm was screaming in terror as it was sucked into the toilet’s gullet.

He yanked his jeans up, wiped his hand on his pant leg, and grabbed the comic. The pages were flipped until he reached the last image again, and he stared at it with jealousy bubbling in his gut.

I’ll never be able to draw this good.

A potent urge to crumble up his personal project, Kronos the Destroyer, and toss it into the garbage filled him to the brim, but he just folded up Lusty Bloodsucker, stuffed it between his lower back and his waistline, and walked out into the comic shop. The air conditioning swept over him and turned his warm sweat into ice water, pulled the gooseflesh out.

Mr. Shipley was there, waiting on him. His thick hairy arms were crossed over his pot belly which pushed his Star Wars t-shirt to the limit. His mustache wiggled and he looked about ready to sneeze, but he pointed a stubby finger instead. “I’m docking your pay thirty minutes and I’m deducting the cost of that comic book.”

“Thirty minutes? I was only—”

“Do you really want to talk about what you were doing in there? Make me sick.” He turned toward the store, then looked over his shoulder. “And go wash your hands for christsake.”

On the other side of the counter stood the four regulars on tournament day at the Rusty Dungeon. The boys watched the exchange between Gary and Mr. Shipley and laughed without even trying to hide their eavesdropping. They elbowed each other, snickered. They each held their game decks, and though they’d been in the store all week buying new packs of cards, Gary knew they were no match for him.

They’ll never beat me.

He washed his hands, wiped them on his shirt.

“Hey, Gary, I heard you can get diseases from public bathrooms,” Sonny said, his braces gleaming. “You sure you should be doing that in there?” He laughed, looked toward his buddies, and they joined.

“It’s the only way he’d ever get one. Gotta have sex to get an STD,” Brett said and snorted.

The Turner twins giggled in unison.

“Fuck you guys. Like you’ve ever had sex with anyone but each other.” Gary wished he hadn’t said it even as the words flew from his lips. The only sex he’d ever experienced was with himself, a visual aide in hand or flickering in front of him.

Mr. Shipley slammed an open palm on the glass display case. “Okay, that’s enough of that.” He waved Gary over and whispered: “These might be high school kids, but they’re still under eighteen, you idiot. I don’t need no child molestation case on my hands, you got me?”

“I wasn’t…I was only—”

“Just drop it already.” He faced the boys. “Okay, you kids know the rules by now, right?”

Sneers contorted their faces, but they all nodded. They flipped through their decks, bounced on their heels.

“So, winner gets a rare character card,” Mr. Shipley said. “This week, we got the Demon Emperor.” He held up the foil card, looked from the boys’ faces back to the card, his smile widening with each glance. “This one goes for two hundred bucks on Ebay, so play to win, boys.”

“That card is mine, fat ass,” Sonny said. “You’re going down this week.”

Gary spat with laughter, then wiped the spittle from the glass counter with the bottom of his shirt. “Please. No. Chance.”

“So, Gary is the champion,” Mr. Shipley said. “You four play each other, single elimination, and the winner plays Gary. Winner of that gets the prize.”

As the boys chose their cards from their decks, Gary got to unfolding the table and setting out the chairs. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling the whole time, knowing the Demon Emperor was as good as his. The same four boys had been trying to beat him for over a year, and they’d never been close once.

Sonny bumped Gary as he walked around the table, then Brett did the same. The Turner twins sat across from them and laid their cards over the table.

Gary just stared at Sonny. He was more filled with shame more than anger from the fear he felt at the promise of this kid kicking his ass. A kid at least ten years younger than him, and half his size.

But he’s got friends. I could take him one on one.

When Sonny’s eyes shot from his deck of cards to Gary, Gary averted his gaze and walked away, got behind the safety of the counter.

“All right, boys. You can begin.” Mr. Shipley hit the stopwatch, coughed and spat the phlegm into a crumpled receipt in his hand.

The boys shuffled their decks and started the game. Sonny shot a quick grin toward Gary, ran his thumb over his throat.

Gary forced a small smile, though his skin burned red.

***

Gary laid his next card on the table. “I play the Elder Wizard.” He slid the card to the space between him and Sonny on the table and chuckled.

The other boys said “Ooohhh.”

“Go ahead,” Gary said. He snorted and swallowed the glob of snot that flooded his mouth. “Beat that.”

“Shut your fucking mouth, fat ass,” Sonny said. “Why don’t you go play with your dick some more?”

The boys started laughing, but Mr. Shipley stepped up. “Keep it clean, boys.”

Sonny flipped through his deck, pursed his lips. A trickle of sweat ran down the side of his face and beaded at his chin. He slammed his deck on the table, bared his metallic teeth. “Damnit.”

Gary jumped to his feet, raised his hands like a victorious boxer. “That’s right. And still the Mystical champion of the world…”

Sonny stayed in his seat, fingers thrumming on the table, ran his tongue over his braces and watched Gary with hard eyes. The other boys looked from Sonny to Gary and back to Sonny.

“All right, here you go, Gary,” Mr. Shipley said. He handed over the Demon Emperor card, then leaned in and whispered: “One of these days, you’re gonna have to let a customer win, you got it?” He rolled his eyes as Gary plucked the card from his fingers.

“Hey, fat ass. Guess you won’t be needing this, huh?” And Sonny tore the Elder Wizard right down the middle, tossed the two sides to flutter to the floor.

“Hey, you asshole.” Gary ran toward the table, caught his feet on something, and fell hard. His mouth bounced off the floor and filled with blood and the taste of dust and shoe rubber. He fought back the tears that begged to spill.

“You little shits. Get the hell outta my store.”

Gary rolled onto his back, saw Brett standing there displaying his outstretched foot with pride. He flipped Gary the bird as the Turner twins laughed.

A crunching pain in his hand.

“Nggh.” Gary pulled his hand out from under Sonny’s sneaker.

“Oh, sorry about that.” Sonny nodded toward the boys and they giggled. “Be seeing you later, masturbator.”

They cackled like a studio audience as they exited the shop, nearly trampling Clay as he entered. “Watch it, shithead,” one of them said.

Clay was shoved to the side—he held a deck of cards in his hand. The boy went to the same school as Sonny and his gang, though he looked far younger. Pushing his glasses up from the tip of his nose, he squinted into the shop, smiled when he saw Gary.

Mr. Shipley walked over like he was going to help Gary up, but he just shook his head. “Even high school nerds bully you, Gary. Show some goddamn spine, man.” He moved back behind the counter, started opening boxes. “And get all that shit cleaned up.”

“Yeah, okay.” Gary rocked himself to his knees, had to pause for a breath, then used the table to pick himself up. He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, stared at the blood for a moment. Dust clung to the front of his clothing, climbed into his nose and tried to induce a sneeze.

“What happened, Gary?” Clay bounced across the shop—always walked on the tips of his toes, which was something that annoyed the hell out of Gary.

“You’re late,” he said. “I won again.”

He blew air through his lips. “I knew you would. You always win.”

“Yeah, well I could have used your help with those guys.” Gary folded the table. “Help me with this.”

Clay set down his measly deck, started stacking the chairs. “What could I do against those guys? You’re bigger than them.”

“You think I don’t know that, Clay? Damn.” He yanked the stack of chairs away, slid them across the floor.

“Hey, don’t drag those. You mess up my floor, I’m docking your pay.”

“Sorry.” He nudged Clay with an elbow. “Help me out, man.”

They carried the chairs and table to the back—Gary’s shirt became polka dotted with sweat stains. Clay’s face turned red and stayed that way.

They stood around for a while with no customers. Mr. Shipley found odd jobs for Gary to do while Clay perused the store. Clay bought a pack of Mystical cards, sat in the corner and studied them, caught a few stink-eyes from Mr. Shipley. Gary drew new scenes for Kronos the Destroyer, one of them depicting his armor-clad hero driving his magical blade into the belly of a Serpent of Satan. He tried to draw a love scene between Kronos and a rescued maiden, but he couldn’t get the proportions right on the woman, and once his paper was smudged with eraser marks, he just trashed it. Clay kept trying to look over his shoulder, but Gary would shift and block his drawing, shoot Clay a dirty look.

After over an hour and no action, Mr. Shipley told Gary to beat it.

“And when I see you tomorrow, I don’t want any bathroom incidents, got it?” His arms were crossed over his belly again.

Gary’s face flushed and he looked at his shoes instead of the gray eyes piercing him. “Okay. It’s not what—”

“Just drop it, Gary. And remember what I said about the next tournament.”

“Yeah, I got it.” Gary stomped out of the shop, let the door swing back at Clay.

Clay caught it and followed Gary into the street. The sun painted the sky with vivid purples and pinks as it descended past the horizon.

“What did you get this time?” Clay shuffled through his cards and hopped on his toes. “Let me see it.”

Gary pulled the Demon Emperor card out, displayed it, but pulled it back when Clay reached for it. “Just look, I don’t need your fingerprints decreasing its value.”

Clay shrugged, smiled as he stared. “Wow, I’ve heard of that one. Did you use your Elder Wizard card to win again?”

Gary tucked his prize back into his deck. “Yep, sure did. But that asshole tore it. Sore loser, won’t ever beat me.”

“What did Mr. Shipley mean about the next tournament?”

“Said he wants me to let the customers win for once.” He snorted.

“Are you going to?”

“Hell no. I’m the champion and the only way to dethrone a champion is to defeat him.” Gary puffed his chest out, took deep rattling breaths.

“Yeah,” Clay said. He fumbled with his deck, looked up at Gary with one eye squinted. “You think maybe you could give me a good card for my deck? My dad won’t give me any more money and my deck sucks. Had to save my lunch money for a week to buy that last pack.” He sighed. “Says I need to stop being a pussy and grow up, get a job and stop wasting my time with kiddie games.”

“Yeah, well…” Gary held his deck tighter. “I can’t just give you cards, Clay.”

“Why not? I mean, I’d trade you, but I don’t have anything you want. And you have so many good—”

“Sorry, man. You gotta work for your deck. That’s what makes it your deck, you know what I mean?” He turned and started walking away.

“Yeah…okay. I know what you mean,” he said. “Where you going now?” His voice got smaller as Gary kept walking.

“Home. I’ll see you later, Clay.” Gary rolled his eyes.

“Hey, Gary?”

“What is it, man? I already told you my comic isn’t ready. You can’t read it until it’s finished.”

“No…it’s just…I graduate in a few months. You think maybe you could come? It’s just going to be my dad, and it’ll sound pathetic if it’s just him clapping.”

“Jesus, you’re a senior? I don’t remember seniors looking so…young when I was in school.” He turned his back and began walking. “Sorry, Clay. No offense, but those things are boring. See you tomorrow maybe.”

“Okay. Tomorrow. Maybe we can play some Mystical together?”

Gary didn’t respond. His knees ached from his fall and his stomach roared. He picked at the scab on the back of his neck as he went. The Hentai comic was tucked in the back of his jeans, and he contemplated whether or not to look through it again once he got to his room.

Almost home now, he was already thinking about what he’d grab from the fridge on his way to his bedroom. He knew Sheila wouldn’t cook anything—hadn’t cooked a decent meal since his dad left. The days of hot meals were replaced by booze and necking with her boyfriend Chester. Which is why Gary stayed in his room most of the time, drew scenes for his comic or played on his computer.

The apartment complex was just to his left. All he had to do was cross the street and...

The sound of shoes shuffling from somewhere up ahead. Whispers, giggles.

Then someone stepped out of the dark, blocked his path.

Gary tried to cross the street, avoid this stranger in the shadows, but he was blocked again.

“Hey, fat ass. Where do you think you’re going?”

***

Gary tensed up, a slight warm trickle soaked into his underwear. “Come on, guys. I’m just going home.”

“No you’re not.” Sonny slammed his sneaker into Gary’s groin.

“Humph…” Gary tasted concrete before he knew he’d fallen. His legs kicked and he sucked for oxygen. Pain twisted into his stomach and his balls throbbed. Their laughter was just audible over the sound of his pounding pulse, and from the corner of his eye, he saw his Mystical deck get scooped up. Loose pages of Kronos the Destroyer blew around, and Gary crawled over and laid himself over the remaining drawings.

But not before Sonny snatched one of the papers from the air as it swirled by him.

“What do we have here?” Sonny handed the Mystical deck to Brett, and then inspected the drawing. “You did this, fat ass?”

Gary stood up, still wincing from his aching groin, his face red and sweaty. He clutched the rest of the comic to his chest. “Give that back, asshole.”

A pair of hands shoved him hard from behind, but he kept his balance. He snorted, swallowed. His breathing became more labored, wet and thick.

Sonny stared at the drawing, laughed, showed it to the others. “You suck at drawing, man. Really.” And he tore it down the middle, tossed it in the air.

Gary seethed as he watched the two pieces of his ruined drawing, his favorite one of course, swirl away in the wind. Took him at least four hours to do that one. He started toward Sonny, but was shoved again from behind.

“Fuck, man. You smell that?” one of the twins said as he screwed up his face and waved his hand over his nose.

The other twin covered his mouth. “It’s him.”

Sonny leaned in, took a big whiff. “Goddamn, masturbator. You smell like my dog’s asshole.”

A chorus of laughter.

Gary snickered. “You spend a lot of time with your dog’s ass, huh?”

His comment was answered with a fist to his stomach. He fell backward, landed hard on his backside, struggled for air, but still managed to keep the rest of his comic tight against his chest.

“What a fucking loser,” Brett said.

Sonny sniffed his knuckles. “Whew,” he said. “You are such a piece of shit, you know that?”

Gary just kept his eyes glued to the street. Sweat ran down his face and neck, dripped down his back. He couldn’t look the kids in the eye. All he wanted to do was go home, eat some junk food, and play video games. In his video game, he was a king. A king that could not be defeated by any man or beast. He was King Kronos the Destroyer. But in life…

“Thanks for the cards, fat ass.”

Sonny spat and Gary flinched when it splattered on the top of his head, trickled down his forehead. He waited until they were walking away before he wiped it off. “Fucking dickhead.”

Rising to his feet, he grimaced at the residual pain that still twirled in his stomach and testicles. He thought about his deck of cards, the deck he’d been building for over three years. All down the drain. He knew he wouldn’t get them back, knew those little bastards were feeling pretty good about themselves for scoring the best Mystical deck in town, probably the state.

“You’re lucky you weren’t alone.” Gary mumbled. “Kick your fucking ass.”

Just for good measure, he checked over his shoulder, saw the coast was clear, then stuck up both middle fingers and waved them in the air. He collected the loose drawings that hadn’t been destroyed or lost, added them to the pile in his arms. They may not be the best drawings in the world, he thought, but they’re good enough to get me a comic book deal. Then I can move away from this shitty town, start a new life.

He trudged across the street, squashed a junebug that was wiggling on its back under the streetlight, walked through the parking lot and into the complex. From midway up the concrete steps, he could already hear Chester’s drunken laughter mixed with snorting giggles from Sheila.

Please just ignore me. Please don’t say anything to me.

He opened the door, stepped in. Cigarette smoke stung his eyes and made it hard to breath. Sheila and Chester sat on the couch in the living room playing grab ass and sucking on beer bottles. Keeping his head low, Gary eased the door shut.

“Well if it ain’t the forty year old virgin.” Chester coughed out a cloud of gray smoke, a smoldering butt hanging from his lip.

Sheila chuckled, cleared her throat. “Hey, honey.”

“Hey.” Gary went straight for the kitchen, set Kronos the Destroyer on the counter, and opened the fridge. The cool air felt good on his sweaty face.

“Hey, man.” Chester’s voice already had the familiar slur. “When’re you gonna start contributing around here, huh? Eating up all your mom’s food.”

“Chester, he don’t—”

“No, no. Don’t defend him, okay? I’m sick of it.” Heavy footsteps.

Gary chewed on his tongue, grabbed a Tupperware full of spaghetti. It had no top and a plastic fork sticking out of it.

“Hey, fucker. You hear me talking to you?” Chester stomped across the kitchen, grabbed hold of the fat on the back of Gary’s neck, squeezed.

“Ah, let go, asshole,” Gary said.

Sheila stumbled into the kitchen, looked like she was holding in a laugh.

“You see what he’s doing to me?” Gary said through clenched teeth.

Chester thumped him in the middle of the forehead. “You crying to your mom, pussy? Huh?”

“Okay, that’s enough. Settle down.”

“No, fuck that. He’s about to eat my spaghetti. The fat fuck is always eating all the good shit.”

“I live here, idiot. It’s our food, not yours.” Gary grimaced, squeezed his eyes shut as the pressure on the back of his neck increased. “Let me go, goddamnit!”

Chester released him with a shove.

Gary stumbled backward, slammed into the open refrigerator door. Condiments and beer bottles crashed to the floor, soaked into the back of his shirt and jeans.

“Now look what you did. You better clean that shit up. And you owe me for the spilled beers, motherfucker.”

“Me? You shoved me, dickhead. And who’s the motherfucker in this house?” Gary tried to stand, slipped, crashed back into the door and spilled more beer.

Sheila burst out laughing, grabbed her knees and squealed. She stumbled backward, caught herself on the counter.

“I hate you. Both of you,” Gary said as he climbed back to his feet.

“Then get the fuck outta here. I ain’t never seen a grown-ass man be such a pussy in my life.”

Sheila howled, fell over and rolled on her back.

Gary stepped on the spilled spaghetti, kicked the refrigerator door shut, grabbed his drawings. “I’m going to my room.”

Chester swiped at his shoulder, missed, nearly slipped on the mess. “You’re gonna clean this shit up first.”

Gary tracked ketchup and mustard and beer across the carpet as he escaped toward his bedroom.

“Get your ass back here!”

Sorry, asshole. I’ve got important duties to attend to.

Gary trotted into his room, slammed the door, slid the four locks in place. He stood facing the door, smiling and waiting. In a few seconds, the door shook from punches and kicks.

“I’ll fuck you up, Gary. I swear to god.”

“Yeah, right. Why don’t you go suck the beer off the floor, you drunk piece of shit?”

The door nearly shook off its hinges. “You wanna live to see thirty, I suggest you move out. I ain’t going nowhere, you understand me, pussy?”

Gary peeled his shirt and pants off, backed up until the backs of his knees hit his bed, then let himself fall. The coolness of the sheets soaked into his warm skin. He leaned over, grabbed the Superman lunch pail from under the bed, yanked a Snickers bar from the stash, and tucked the pail back in its spot.

Caramel stuck to the roof of his mouth, and he worked at it with his tongue as he watched his door rattle. His molars shrieked in pain with every sweet bite, but he ignored that, was used to it. He looked toward his computer in the corner, then flipped through Kronos the Destroyer, sighing as he took inventory of the missing pages. It would take hours upon hours to redo those drawings, but Gary was too frustrated to even attempt any of that right now.

But he read it again, for the hundredth time, and was pretty happy with its progress. The story line was just as good, if not better, than half the comics he read at the Rusty Dungeon, and he knew someone would publish it. It was his ticket out of Sheila’s apartment, his ticket to freedom.

Imagining himself escaping his current life forced him to reach for his drawing pencils and get to work. King Kronos stood in the Forest of Forgotten Souls, swinging his mighty sword at a group of goblins surrounding him, beheading the lead goblin that had an uncanny resemblance to Sonny.

—2—

Gary looked into the mirror hanging from his closet. He hated mirrors, hated what they showed him. The fat of his belly bunched up as he grabbed hold of it, gave it a good shake and counted the seconds it took for it to stop jiggling—too many.

He reached behind his head and scraped his nail across the fresh scab on the back of his neck until he peeled it free, then bent it over and over until it broke, tossed it to camouflage into his carpet.

A cool breeze weaved into the room from the open window. Though he didn’t feel he had time to clean his room, he never got used to the odor in there, figured if he kept his window at least cracked, some of the floating smell would escape into the world and do its part to speed up global warming.

He walked across the room, sat in his computer chair by the window and peered out. His eyes cut across the hallway and locked onto the window opposite his. The silhouette of the girl moved back and forth, her curves clearly visible, and Gary’s pants grew tighter. Just imagining his blond bombshell neighbor caused his hands to shake, his pores to open wide and spit sweat all over him.

There was just the slightest part in her curtains, and as her shadowy figure walked by it, Gary would get a quick glance of flesh, pink and soft and beautiful. He bit his lip, gripped the armrests on his chair. It didn’t look like her boyfriend was home, that lucky bastard. Living a dream and probably took it for granted—Gary hated that asshole’s face.

Then the curtains flew apart. And she stared right at him, mouth agape, eyebrows slanted.

Gary did his best to pretend he wasn’t looking in at her, that he was just observing…what, the hallway? His face cooked in its own juices, burned bright red. “I…I…uh.” He knew she couldn’t hear him, but he sat there frozen, not knowing what to do with himself.

He didn’t need to hear her to read “fuck you” on her lips, pink and plump. She flipped him off and slammed the curtains closed.

Gary slid his window shut, and just before he turned the blinds down, the boyfriend stepped into sight, glanced at Gary before he rapped his knuckles against the girl’s door.

You lucky bastard son of a bitch!

Gary hopped up, staggered to his bed, fell face-first into it.

Oh my god, I’m such a fucking idiot.

His deepest darkest fantasies always starred the blond neighbor. Every one of them. Even when he looked at Hentai, he sometimes imagined it was just a cartoon rendering of the neighbor girl, wide-eyed and ample-breasted.

He never fooled himself into believing he had any kind of chance with her, but he didn’t want her thinking he was some pervert peeking in on her. Which, really, was true, but she didn’t need to know it. A sudden wave of panic smothered him as he imagined the girl’s boyfriend breaking into his room through the window and kicking his ass for peeping in on her.

His hands covered his warm, damp face as he shook his head. The fan in his computer hummed, and he shrugged, dragged himself back to his computer chair.

The screensaver disappeared as he rolled his mouse. He cracked his knuckles, doubleclicked on the World of Fantasy icon, and melted into another world—a world where he was king, where he reigned supreme.

***

The next day was a Saturday, and Gary woke up already late for work.

“Shit.”

Without bothering to shower or brush his teeth, he grabbed some wrinkled clothes from the hamper and threw them on, crept into the hallway outside of his room. He half-expected Chester to be waiting for him, but when he heard the deep snores rocketing from his mother’s bedroom, he knew he was safe.

The mess on the kitchen floor had been cleaned up, and he felt a pang of guilt knowing it was Sheila that had to do it. He checked the time on the microwave clock.

I’m already late, might as well eat something.

He was midway through a bowl of Fruity Pebbles when he heard the bedroom door swing open. Abandoning his breakfast, he trotted to the front door and eased it shut before jetting down the stairs and toward the Rusty Dungeon.

Mr. Shipley was supposed to be getting the new issue of Spider-Man today, so Gary had an extra pep in his step. Even though having to work was a pain in the ass, he always got to read the new comics first, always got first dibs on game pieces. He knew Mr. Shipley was going to be angry, was going to give him an earful, but it was nothing new. Gary would just nod, apologize, promise to do better, just like always.

He had decided to leave Kronos the Destroyer at home today, didn’t want another run in with Sonny, Brett, and the twins. Not only because he feared for the safety of his drawings, but also because he didn’t want to hear any more unwelcome criticism.

But when he stepped up to the Rusty Dungeon and peered in through the windowpane, his stomach dropped and his hands shook as he reached for the door handle.

“What, what the hell is going on?”

Mr. Shipley’s eyes popped up from the catalogue in his hands, showed no sign of surprise or worry. “You’ve been replaced.”

Gary locked eyes with Sonny who stood on the other side of the counter wiping the glass surface down with a paper towel. The new Spider-Man comic lay open beside him.

Sonny only smiled, his eyes ping-ponging between Gary and Mr. Shipley.

“Replaced? By this asshole?” He slammed his palm against the counter, leaving a milky streak. “Why?”

The catalogue slammed onto the glass top as Shipley stood from his stool and marched toward Gary with an outstretched finger. “Why? Are you kidding me?”

Gary backed away, though he tried to keep his facial expression stern.

“You’re worthless. You walk around like everyone owes you something, like you’re better than everybody. But for what? What have you done to deserve any kind of respect, huh?”

Gary collided with the wall behind him and Mr. Shipley’s finger prodded his chest.

“I’m sick of dealing with your bullshit. Always whining about working, always showing up late, always jacking off in the goddamn restroom. You didn’t show up on time today, and Sonny here was at the right place at the right time.”

Brett and the Turner twins stood toward the rear, flipping through comics and giggling.

“Come back tomorrow and pick up your last check. You’re fired. And if you ask me, it’s long overdue.” He pressed his finger harder into Gary’s chest, so hard Gary thought his lung was punctured. “Now get the fuck out of my store.”

Gary’s tongue was a dried slug in his mouth, and he realized his mouth was hanging open. Mr. Shipley began to swim in the tears filling Gary’s eyes, and no matter how hard he tried to suck them back in, one escaped and dripped down his cheek.

“Oh, look at the wittle fat ass cwy baby,” Sonny said, and even Mr. Shipley joined in on the laughter that ensued.

“You’ll all pay for th-this…fuck all of you!” Gary bumped a comic rack as he ran out, knocked it to the ground in a flood of colored glossy paper. As he escaped into the parking lot, Mr. Shipley shouted something about docking pay, but Gary just ran, didn’t look back.

“Gary!”

He didn’t slow, just kept running. There was no destination in mind, just away from the Rusty Dungeon.

“Gary! Hey, Gary, wait up!” Clay’s voice.

Gary turned his head but never slowed. “Not now, Clay.”

But the little shit was quick, caught up to Gary, then jogged beside him with a stupid grin widening his face. “Aren’t you supposed to be working? Are you gonna play in the tournament today?”

“I quit that stupid job,” Gary said as he turned a corner and leaned on the brick wall to catch his breath. “The Rusty Dungeon can…eat shit. And Shipley…can kiss…my ass.”

Clay shoved his glasses back up his nose, squinted. “But what about—”

“Just shut up, Clay, okay? I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay, sorry.”

Gary plopped down on the sidewalk and wiped the sweat from his face with the bottom of his t-shirt. The cotton was soaked with an old gym sock flavor. Clay sat Indian-style beside him.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Well, I was going to the Rusty—”

“Just…nevermind. God.”

“You hungry?”

Gary glanced up at the ten bucks waving from Clay’s hand. “I guess so.”

“I begged my dad so much, he finally gave in and gave me ten bucks for a new Mystical pack. But we can get some burgers if you want instead.”

Gary snatched the bill away. “Let’s go.”

As they dawdled toward Sandy’s Burger House, Gary fumed. Clay chattered away like a gossiping school girl, but it was just background noise. All Gary could hear was the pounding of his pulse, all he could see was Sonny’s silver grin from behind the counter. The dot in the middle of his chest still stung from Mr. Shipley’s finger.

Fucking assholes, all of them.

He clenched his teeth and squeezed his thumbs in his fists.

“…gonna get?”

“What?” They stood in line at Sandy’s and it was more the smell of sizzling meat and salty fries that snapped Gary out of his trance than Clay’s voice.

“What are you gonna get?”

Gary stepped up to the cashier and ordered a double cheeseburger, large fries, and an extra large soda. That left Clay with a whole two fifty for his self.

“Just a plain hamburger,” he said, shuffling his feet and squinting.

Gary didn’t say a word as he scarfed down his food like a high-powered vacuum. A meaty belch gurgled from his throat and he wiped his greasy hands off on his shirt.

“Since you don’t have to work today,” Clay said as he peeled a soggy piece of lettuce from the yellow burger wrapper and popped it into his mouth, “you think we can play Mystical? Just me and you?”

Gary thought about his deck, divvied up among the Rusty Dungeon groupies. A shudder ran through his body and he sat up straighter. “No, I think I’m done with that game.”

“Done? But, but you can’t be done. You’re the champion.”

“Yeah, well, I’m retired.”

Clay crumbled his burger wrapper into a ball and squeezed it like a stress reliever. “Well maybe I can come to your place and you can show me your World of Fantasy character you’ve been talking about. Or maybe I can finally get a sneak peek at your comic?”

“Nah, I don’t really feel like it, Clay.”

“Yeah…okay.”

Leaving his trash on the tabletop, Gary stood and trudged toward the swinging glass door. “See you later.”

Clay nodded, tossed the paper ball onto the table. A quivering smile slid onto his face and he waved goodbye as Gary shoved back outside and headed home.

***

The second he walked into the apartment, a loud pop like a gunshot nearly made him piss himself. He held his hand to his chest and his heart slammed itself against his ribcage.

Chester stood in the living room with a green bottle of champagne in his hands and a smoldering cigarette in his mouth. A stream of foam shot from the top of the bottle and splashed to the floor.

Sheila squealed with laughter as she wrapped her lips around the bottle and sucked the frothy liquid, then plucked the cigarette from Chester’s mouth and slammed her lips against his. They separated with a pop as loud as the champagne cork, and she locked eyes with Gary as he tried sneaking around the corner.

“Honey. Come over here for a second, have some champagne with us.” She nudged Chester in the stomach with her elbow.

He sighed, rolled his eyes. “Come on over here. A little glass won’t hurt you.”

“Don’t feel like it.” And he continued down the hall toward his bedroom.

“Now wait just a goddamn minute.”

“Chester—”

“No, fuck that. Little motherfucker doesn’t have to be rude.”

Gary heard all of this behind him as he wrapped his hand around the doorknob to his bedroom. “Eat shit, Chester.”

The plan was to piss the man off, then escape into his room behind the safety of his locked door, but the hamburger grease on his hand prevented him from gripping it quick enough. His hand slid around the knob instead of turning it, and the next thing he knew, Chester was on him, squeezing him in a headlock.

“What was that, pussy? Huh?” The muscled noose tightened.

Through the blurry haze of his vision, Gary saw Sheila tugging on Chester’s arm. No air could get past the constricting muscle and Gary’s head felt ready to explode. His mouth opened and closed, opened and closed.

“That’s enough!” Sheila tugged hard enough for a tiny burst of oxygen to slide down Gary’s throat, and he soaked it up, held onto it. But Chester’s free hand whipped out and shoved her dead-center in the chest, and she stumbled backward, hit the wall and tumbled to the floor with picture frames raining down on her.

“See what you made me do?”

Sweat drenched Gary’s head now, dripped down his face and slicked Chester’s arm. With a quick hard tug, he slipped free. Chester reached for him again, but Gary threw his door open, spun himself into his room, and slammed it shut. He barely turned the locks in time before a blizzard of fists nearly shook the door off its hinges.

“Get your fat ass out here, motherfucker!”

Hot tears washed his face as he gasped and rubbed his neck.

I hope you fucking die, you son of a bitch!

He didn’t dare say it out loud in fear that the words would give Chester the needed push to successfully break the door down. The Superman tin was pulled from under his bed and his pudgy fist wrapped around a Milky Way. As he chewed he found himself back at his computer chair where power coursed through him and out of his fingertips. Where nobody could overpower him.

With the slamming of knuckles on wood for background music, he launched World of Fantasy, where he would take out his frustrations on the unsuspecting online gamers.

Because in this world, he was king. He was a god.

***

Gary heard his mother knocking at his door, calling his name, but he just turned the volume up on his computer speakers.

“Gary, let me in.”

His left hand worked the keyboard, his right slid the mouse around. King Kronos slashed his enemies with his Sword of Holy Tears. The other players in the massive multi-player online RPG were no match, which of course, they never were. Gary spent more time suping up King Kronos than he ever did with his Mystical deck. His character was at max level, had all the best armor, and the Sword of Holy Tears cut other characters down with ease. And he even made the character look decently close to his drawings, which only made him want to play the game more. He imagined it was a video game version of his comic book, which he told himself could be in his future, along with action figures and feature films.

A heavy knock. “Come on. Quit being a baby and let me in.”

“Just leave me alone.” He cast a fire spell and torched a group of dwarves. “I’m busy.”

“Please, Gary. Chester went to the store to get more beer. It’s just me, honey.”

“Just…hold on a second.” King Kronos ran to his castle where he could store all the gold he’d earned and save the game. Gary typed in a quick message to the other players just before signing off.

King Kronos: Bow down to your master!!!

He dashed across the room, slid the locks back, opened the door.

He squinted and flinched a bit as he looked over Sheila’s shoulder, expected to see Chester there with a face full of blistering rage.

“I told you, he went to the store.” Her breath rushed over Gary’s face.

“Jesus, Sheila. Your breath reeks.” He pinched his nose. “Can you maybe skip one night of drinking?”

She slapped his arm. “I hate it when you call me by my name. And are you seriously going to talk to me about stink? Your room smells like dirty socks and bad meat.”

Gary couldn’t help but laugh. She smiled, wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“I wish you wouldn’t fight with Chester, honey. He’s—”

“If you’re about to say he’s a good man, then bite your tongue,” Gary said. “He’s an asshole, and you should move on.”

She shook her head. “No. I’m not doing this. You can’t keep me from being happy. Your dad—”

“He what, broke your heart?” Gary stomped away from her, plopped down on his bed. “How do you think I feel?”

“You’re a grown man, Gary! Jesus Christ. I can’t baby you any more, you hear me?” She collapsed to the floor, sat cross-legged, massaged her temples.

“What…what are you saying?”

“I think you know what I’m saying,” she said. “I need you to move out, honey. It’s time for you to grow up and for me to have my own life.”

Gary chuckled. “You’re just drunk. Don’t say something you’ll—”

“I might be tipsy, but I’m thinking clear. This isn’t working anymore. You don’t work, you don’t clean up.” She waved her hands in a circle around her. “Just look at your room. It’s fucking disgusting.”

Gary jumped back to his feet. “I do work.”

“What, three days a week? And you spend all your money on…crap.”

He sat on the ground beside her, his knees popping as he knelt. As he grew closer, he saw her hold her breath. “Please don’t do this. I’ll…I’ll give you money. I’ll work more hours, stop buying games and comics, okay?”

She shook her head. “It’s too late for that, Gary. Chester and I want our own lives, our own place.”

“I’m your son, goddamnit. He’s nothing, just some fucking drunkard asshole. You’d pick him over me?” Gary refused to let the tears welling in his eyes to fall. He wanted to look strong, angry.

“Watch your fucking mouth,” she said, jabbed a finger at him. Then her face softened. “Chester…he…he proposed to me. That’s why we were celebrating, honey.”

Gary scooted away from her, furrowed his brow. The tears won the battle, dripped along his acne-scarred cheeks. “What did you say?”

She displayed her hand, fingers pointed to the floor. The tiny diamond sparkled as she beamed and fluttered her eyelashes.

“That’s a cheap piece of shit, just like Chester.” He struggled to his feet, wiped his face with his forearm.

“Hey, watch it. That’s my future… What are you doing?”

“I’m packing, just like you wanted.” He had his backpack open on his bed, stuffed clothing, comics, and candy into it, then carefully placed Kronos the Destoryer and his drawing pencils on top. His chest tightened and his stomach swirled— he couldn’t look at her.

“Gary, I didn’t mean right now. Stop—”

“Why put it off, right?” His voice cracked and he sniffled. “I don’t want to interfere with your celebration.”

He stood there, silent, unmoving, and waited for her to respond. Waited for her to hug him, tell him she was wrong, that he could stay. But she didn’t. She looked from his face to the floor, then turned and walked out of the room.

***

As Gary stomped down the concrete steps, Chester came strolling up the walkway, a case of Natural Light in his hands. The son of a bitch smiled when he locked eyes with Gary.

“So your mom told you the good news, huh?” He chuckled. “Sayonara, shithead.”

It felt like smoke shot from Gary’s ears as Chester laughed, and he tried to take the stairs faster, get the hell out of there. His world had been turned upside down, as if he’d fallen asleep and woke up in the Twilight Zone or something. But as his unathletic legs shuffled past each other, his right foot got caught behind his left ankle, and he stumbled down the last three steps. The Superman tin lunch pail in his backpack jabbed him in the spine, knocked the air from him.

“Uh oh. Baby fall down?” More laughter. “Mama not gonna kiss your boo boos no more, is she?”

“Fuck you!” Snot and saliva coated his words, took away from their effect.

“Ew, you a big boy now.” Chester stepped over him, walked up the first couple of steps, turned back. “Can’t say I’m gonna miss you. You come crying back, I’ll fucking kill you. Understand me?” He didn’t wait for an answer, just turned and walked up the steps, beer bottles tinkling against each other.

Gary struggled to his knees, took a few deep breaths, reached up and grabbed the handrail and pulled himself to his feet. His left knee was scraped free of a few layers of skin—blood dripped down his leg, soaked into his sock. He wiped it, studied the red on his hand.

Chester whistled some happy tune, oblivious of Gary’s existence. Halfway up the stairs now.

Son of a bitch. You ruined my life.

A surge of power and bravery filled Gary up like a hot air balloon, and he bounded up the steps, two at a time, caught up to his stepfather-to-be, grabbed the back pocket of his jeans, and yanked.

“What the f—”

Gary stepped aside, watched as Chester fell backward, hard, the case of beer slamming on his chest and exploding. He rolled over once, tumbled head over heels, then landed on top of the beer, made a sound like a backed-up garbage disposal.

Gary paused for a moment, contemplated running back to his room and locking himself in, a tactic he had used against Chester more times than he could count.

But Chester only rolled to his side, moaned, kicked his legs some.

Hope your fucking neck is broken.

Gary crept down the steps, side-stepped around Chester. That close, he could hear the man struggling to breathe. He wanted to say something, come up with some witty remark that Chester would never forget, but he could only stare as he took blind backward steps away from him.

“…fucking…kill you…”

Gary opened his mouth, closed it. He didn’t want to chance it, say something to trigger Chester’s adrenal gland, so he spun on his heels to run away.

Right into someone. A soft, sweet-smelling someone.

“Watch it, asshole.” She carried a paper grocery bag. “Hey, aren’t you…?”

Jaw dropped, face flushed. “I…you…”

“Yeah, you’re that fucking freak from across the hall.” She moved the groceries to one arm, pointed with her free hand. “You like peeking in on women, sicko? I should call the cops, you know that?”

“No… I…” Gary ran his forearm across his face, shook his head. His brain went dead, refused to tell his mouth what to say.

“You’re…so fucking…dead.” Chester’s voice. Stronger, meaner.

Gary checked over his shoulder, saw Chester climbing to his feet, turned back toward the neighbor girl who had her cell phone out.

The only thing he could think to do was run. He tucked his head and got the hell out of there, the pounding of his heart dwarfing the sound of their yelling as he took off through the parking lot. The people coming and going shot him a few suspicious glances. Turning the corner, he went straight for the woods.

His special place, his hideout.

As far as he could tell, nobody else knew about it. It was a place he could be alone with his thoughts, surrounded by trees, smothered in peace.

His sides screamed, his lungs begged for mercy. But he didn’t listen, pushed himself, willed his legs to keep pumping. He wouldn’t feel safe until he was in the woods, in his little secret clearing.

—3—

The woods felt colder than the apartment complex courtyard did. Gary only brought one other t-shirt, no jacket, and was wearing cargo shorts. Dead leaves and pine needles crunched under his shoes, and he weaved his way through the trees.

He remembered when he found the place—was only thirteen then—adventuring through the treacherous forest, on the search for exotic bugs he could throw into his plastic prison. He liked to shake the cage up, get the bugs excited, watch them tear each other apart. The bugs were even given cool names. Scorch the Scorpion was the champion until he finally died, taken out by Psycho Centipede.

It was that day he stumbled upon the spot, and he could tell in his gut it was a special place. A feeling swirled within him, like the anticipation on Christmas morning, and he didn’t know why. He always imagined it had something to do with the huge rowan tree protruding from the earth right in the center of the clearing. Something about it seemed powerful, ancient. This place made him smile, and he kept returning, used it to clear his head, read comics, practice his gaming strategies, draw monsters and super heroes. Once Chester came into the picture, he found himself escaping to his happy place more often than not.

When he finally made it, he shuffled to the tree, shrugged the backpack off, tossed it to the grass. With the night air poking him with icy needles, the bark of the tree felt warm, inviting. He melted into it as he leaned against it.

Chester’s face popped into his head: the smug smile, the rumble of his laughter. “Eat shit and die.” The words blew from his lips, echoed into the night. The trees swayed with the wind, the crickets played their music.

Then he thought about Chester’s crumbled body, covered in spilled beer and broken brown glass. Damn, it felt good to see that and know he himself had caused it. If it were up to Gary, Chester would have cracked his skull open, leaked gray yolk onto the pavement.

A tiny flicker of panic poked him in the chest. Did Chester follow me here? Did he see which way I went?

In the privacy of the woods, with no witnesses, Gary didn’t know if Chester would ever stop hitting him, would probably pound him until his bones powdered. The man had never hit him before, not with a closed fist. Gary had caught a few slaps, some hard shoves, but mostly harsh words and loud threats—the recent headlock was the worst yet. Sheila had something to do with the tamed violence, he knew. But he could see it in Chester’s eyes, hear it in the intensity of his voice, that if given the chance, he would beat Gary into a pile of quivering flesh and hair.

Gary held his breath and listened, spun his head like a security camera, looking for a dark figure standing between the trees, listening for the snapping of twigs or the crunching of leaves. He saw nothing but trunks, heard nothing but the cricket song and some random bird sounds.

No, he was safe here. He was always safe here.

His stomach grumbled, loud and churning, and Gary rubbed it like it was an injured child. With all the excitement, he hadn’t realized how hungry he was. As it had been more times than he could count, candy would be his supper. Which didn’t bother him all that much. Along with pizza and cheeseburgers, chocolate was one of his favorite foods.

He unzipped his bag, moved his drawings to the side, and pulled out his lunch pail. Only a few chocolate bars left. He chose another Snickers, ripped the wrapper off, bit the bar in half, and chewed with an open mouth. One of his favorite parts of a good candy bar was licking the melted chocolate from his fingers.

A gust of wind cut through the air, peeled his Spider-Man comic away from the stack in his backpack, blew it across the field. He quickly reached over, secured Kronos the Destroyer, pressed the stack of drawings to his chest.

“Shit.” Gary’s face glowed pink as he rocked himself onto his knees, then onto his feet. He chased down the comic, grabbed it just before the wind stole it again. His chest undulated as he struggled for oxygen. But the wind snuck back into the backpack, tossed the remaining comics into the air. They scattered in all directions, vivid colors and text bubbles all over the place.

Gary growled as he picked them all up, stacked them on top of his drawings, his body sweaty even in the chilled night. He grabbed the last one, his favorite Green Lantern, and marched back to the tree. A long sigh deflated his chest as he went to stuff the comics back in his bag. But there was one left, one even the wind wouldn’t dare touch.

Lusty Bloodsucker sat at the bottom of his backpack, the girl on the front licking her fangs, a trickle of blood running from her mouth, over her chin, and down her ample cleavage. The drawing was of a brunette with huge black eyes, but even still, Gary imagined it was his blond neighbor. He imagined her taking his cock into her animal mouth, sinking her fangs into his throbbing vein.

He smiled, bit his lip. His chest tingled at the thought of what he was about to do, part excitement and part shame. Gary couldn’t help but feel that to masturbate here, in his sacred forest, was not a good idea, almost like desecrating an ancient artifact or something. This had always been a place of peace for him, and to leak his semen into its soil was wrong. But right at that moment, the stress in his stomach was heavy like he’d swallowed a bowling ball, and he knew no better way to release the tension.

So he pulled Lusty Bloodsucker from the bag, placed his drawings and the rest of the superhero comics in, zipped it up, unzipped his pants.

Giving the woods another long swiveling stare, he decided he was alone, and his cock stiffened at the news. He peeled the cover back, flipped past the no-nudity-bullshit parts, got to the good stuff, spat in his palm, grabbed hold of himself.

I’m a freak, huh? You’re gonna call the cops on me, are you?

The vampire on the page was on all fours, getting pounded from behind. Gary imagined it was him doing the pounding, closed his eyes and pretended that the violent stroke from his hand was actually the warm pussy of his neighbor, enveloping him, loving him.

The tree grew warmer—hot even—through his shirt. Gary figured it was just his own body heat, kept going and going.

The ground rumbled.

It was so faint, so quick, Gary wasn’t sure if he’d even felt it. He clenched his teeth as he neared the end, turned the page—a close-up of the vampire’s face, eyes wide, tongue lapping up the pearly threads.

“Aannghu…” As the climax tremored through him, he turned to his side. It came in rhythmic bursts, soaked into the dry soil like spilled milk, some splashing over a protruding tree root.

Gary snorted, swallowed, took deep breaths as he collected himself. He sat up, wiped his hand in the grass, leaned against the tree. “Ow.”

There was no question this time, the tree was hot as an iron. And it moved. No, not on its own—the ground shook. Violent tremors tore through the earth, knocked Gary backward. He crab-walked away from the tree, trying to swallow but unable to produce any spit to wet his barren throat.

And then the earth opened up.

Oh, Jesus.

The soil parted—rays of vibrant orange light strobed out, danced in the trees, lit the clearing up like an open fire.

—4—

“No, no, no.” Gary’s head shook from left to right, over and over, without his consent. He told his legs to pick him up, get him out of there, but they refused to obey.

The goriest scenes from every zombie comic he’d ever read, every zombie video game he’d ever played raced through his mind as he watched the small white hands grab at the surrounding earth.

He couldn’t believe that his special place, the only place where he was truly peaceful, could be cursed.

The thoughts sped by in a split second, then turned to a monotone hum as a head emerged from the dirt under the tree’s bulk. The white hands gripped twin tree roots, pulled. Dirt spilled off the top of the head, black strands of hair flowed like oil from the pale scalp.

Then the eyes. They lit the clearing with orange light, on and off as the thing blinked. There was…something floating in the air. Gary could only see it in the light of the thing’s eyes—with every blink, the stuff would disappear and reappear.

It looked like bacon fat hanging there, floating like fog above the loosened soil where the thing emerged, the very spot Gary had squirted his load.

The thing, a girl from what Gary could tell, stood no more than three feet tall. She stretched, groaned, yawned.

Not human. She had the look of a chunky child, maybe a five year old, but as Gary squinted and took her in, he saw something was off. Besides the vibrant orange light emitting from her eyes, which were as big as softballs, she also had skin that was whiter than any human could have, white as bleached bone. Her hair floated around her head, as if filled with helium, and her mouth stretched wide, gave her an almost Pacman look—and as she yawned, mouth unhinged like a bear trap, he saw the teeth. They reminded him of a killer whale’s: sharp cones equally spaced. She wore no clothing, but where her “naughty bits” should have been were just blank voids.

Her head slowly rolled toward Gary, mouth stretched wide into…a smile? It was either that or she was baring her teeth at him, like a rabid dog, inching her way toward him. Then it was an all out run.

“No! No, don’t…” Gary scrambled backward, found his feet, but before he could turn and escape, he was hit by her rushing body, arms outstretched. They hit the ground, and he squeezed his eyes, clenched his teeth, waited for the inevitable bites that were to come, the sensation of being eaten alive.

But he didn’t feel any pain.

“Thank you, Master.” She hugged him, nuzzled her face against his stomach. Her body threw out a scent like earth and rotten eggs.

Gary just lay there, arms in the air, scared to tell her to stop, scared to move at all. “What…what’s going on?” Was that candy I ate laced with something?

She looked up at him, blinded him. “You freed me. And I love you.”

Her smile faded as a deep moan rumbled from her stomach like a dying bear. She stepped away from him, shone her eyes back toward the floating yellow substance by the tree.

“I’m so hungry. Mind if I eat, Master?” She skipped toward the tree, opened her mouth wide, inhaled. Gary’s clothes pulled taught against his body as if a massive vacuum had just been switched on. The floating fat was sucked into her mouth and she chewed, loud and messy. After she swallowed, she sucked more into her mouth, repeated. Her small plump hands rubbed her belly in a circular motion as she moaned.

What kind of demon is she?

She was no zombie, that much Gary was sure about. He considered himself a zombie expert, and though she clawed her way out of the ground, she had no other traits of the undead. No, this girl, this thing, was something else. Something Gary was not familiar with.

The light from her eyes faded, lost its power with every mouthful, until finally dying. Her eyes, now jet black, grew tired, heavy-lidded. She collapsed backward, lay on her back, and snored.

She’s…asleep?

Gary collected himself, stood back up, brushed himself off. He contemplated making a run for it, getting the hell out of there and…what? There was nowhere to go. The only place he could think of was Sheila’s apartment, but he knew what kind of hell waited for him there. Besides, his own mother kicked him out, wanted a new life sans Gary.

Fuck them.

He stared at the demon girl lying in the dirt. Her words massaged his brain.

She called me master. She said she loved me.

Gary wondered what it was he’d stumbled on here. Was she some kind of genie or something. Did he get wishes now?

The idea of being master to a creature from the depths of the earth intrigued him—oh, the possibilities. Maybe now he would have power, maybe now people would stop laughing at him, calling him a fat loser, a masturbator. Now they would have no choice but to respect him.

The girl let loose a thunderous snore, silenced the crickets around them. Gary shambled his way toward her, plopped down, pulled her head into his lap. He ran his fingers through the weightless hair.

“It’s okay. Your master’s got you now.” I am the Demon Emperor.

***

The girl’s massive eyes fluttered open—there was just the slightest orange glow in them, but faint, like a flashlight running out of battery power. She looked up into Gary’s face, smiled, giggled, wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Hi, Master. That was yuuuuummy.” She kissed his cheek with dry hard lips.

“What…um…what are you?” Gary wanted to show the demon that he could be a good master, but he couldn’t help but stumble his words. Her teeth shone in the moonlight, looked like she could bite him in half if she wanted to.

She tilted her head. “A feedling, silly. Don’t you know that?”

“A…feedling? No, I don’t know what that is.” Though she sat in his lap, he didn’t feel any weight, as if she were a living balloon. But just having a girl, or what looked like one, in his lap at all made him shift uncomfortably. “Are you a—”

“I’m a feedling, that’s all. Nothing else.” She pushed her face closer to his and the stench of rotten eggs nearly choked him. “You mean you found me by accident?”

Gary nodded, chewed the inside of his cheek.

She sniffed the air, licked her teeth, squinted one eye. “You were jacking off, weren’t you?”

He shook his head. His skin flared red. The girl smiled wide.

“Yep, I can smell it. I would’ve tasted it, but it’d been so long since I’d eaten, I was too hungry to care.” She hugged him again. “So this is fate that brought my master to me?”

“I…I wasn’t, I mean…I didn’t—”

“I’m so glad you did. It’s one of my favorite flavors, you know.”

Gary scratched the fresh scab on the back of his neck. “I’m your master, right?”

“Yes.”

“You have to do what I say?”

“Yes.”

“Get off of me.”

She rolled away, stood up on her stubby legs.

Gary stood, wiped the sweat from his face. He took another long look at the girl, the creature, this feedling.

“So, why are you glad that I…?” Gary ran his hand through his hair. “How could you smell it?”

“It’s what I eat.” She grinned and Gary took a step back.

“It’s what you eat? You mean like…jizz?”

“No, silly. I eat the energy,” she said. “Sexual energy.” She patted her belly, ran her black tongue over half her face. “So delicious.”

Gary thought back to the floating fat globs that were only visible in the orange light of her eyes. Was that sexual energy? From me jerking off?

The girl’s eyes had increased in strength since they’d been sitting there talking. She stood perfectly still, smiled at Gary as if awaiting the next question—Gary had plenty more.

“So, what’s your name?”

“You haven’t given me one yet.”

“Me?”

Her smile hung loose and became a frown. She sat down and hugged her knees. “You really don’t have any idea what you just got into?”

Gary shook his head.

“What a lucky man you are to stumble on a feedling and not know it. You know people spend their whole lives trying to find us?”

“Us?”

“Oh, we’re everywhere. But only the feedling’s master can see that feedling’s true form. To everyone else, we just look like children.”

Gary’s stomach twisted and roared. He tip-toed around the girl, collapsed beside his backpack where he pulled out his lunch pail, popped it open, tore open a pack of Oreos.

“So?” She blinked her big eyes, the light still growing in intensity.

“What?” A slimy chunk of saliva-coated cookie tumbled from his mouth.

“My name. What’s my name?”

“Didn’t you have a name before I found you? Why were you buried in the ground?”

She giggled. “I’ve had a bunch names, Master. But I’m yours now. The other names I’ve had don’t matter any more.”

“Your last master buried you here, didn’t he?”

“She did. And yes, but don’t worry about that.” She stared, pursed her lips.

Gary looked around. “Umm…” His eyes fell on his Spider-man comic in his bag. “Mary Jane. Your name is Mary Jane.”

She clapped, bounced up and down. “Mary Jane, yippie!”

Gary smiled, popped another whole cookie into his mouth. “So, what does a feedling’s master get?”

“You get to act out your deepest sexual fantasies.” She winked.

“Really?”

“My influence is strong. If I’m hungry, I can make anyone around me act out sexually, and there’s nothing they can do to stop it.”

Gary’s neighbor popped into his head right away. Could this be true? Could Mary Jane actually make the girl of his dreams, the girl of his darkest fantasies, have sex with him? He shuddered at the thought, couldn’t imagine it were possible. He looked down at his stomach bulging over his lap.

“Even with your help, there’s no way a girl would have sex with me. Especially not…her.”

“You mean your neighbor? The blonde with the big boobies?”

“How did you—”

“You brought me back, I’m part of you now. I want what you want, Master. And we’ll have her, I promise.”

“Really?” A grin spread across his face as he chewed another cookie with an open mouth.

I hit the fucking jackpot!

She giggled, fell over backward and kicked her legs.

“What?” Gary said.

“This is gonna be so much fun.” She crawled toward him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “You’re the best kind of master. Know why?”

“Why?”

“Because I’ll have more than enough to eat with you.”

Her eyes shone brighter.

—5—

Gary wanted to try his feedling out, wanted to march right up to the apartment complex, knock on the neighbor’s door, and see what all this master business was about.

“I’m getting hungry,” Mary Jane said. “I think it’s time you fed me.”

“How?”

“Just point to a girl. Any girl. Leave the rest to me.”

They moved through the woods, weaved around trees toward civilization. Gary looked back over his shoulder, saw the rowan tree towering over the woods.

“So why won’t you tell me why your last master buried you?”

“Because it doesn’t matter. She was a bad master.”

“Did you turn on her or something? Bite the hand that fed you?”

She stopped walking, bared her teeth. This was no smile. The orange of her eyes burned brighter. “She let me go hungry. Don’t ever try and starve me, Master. I go a little crazy.”

“Crazy?”

“The brighter my eyes shine, the hungrier I am, and the more ravenous I become. I won’t be able to control myself.”

Gary smiled, reached out and touched her shoulder. “If what you say is true, if you can really make any girl I want do…whatever I want, then I don’t think feeding you is going to be a problem.”

She hopped up and down and clapped. “I just know you’re going to be the best master ever.”

As Gary pushed through the woods, his body spewing sweat from every nook and cranny, a hot mound of soft flesh entered his hand. He looked down and saw Mary Jane smiling up at him, her hand in his, and he felt a sort of companionship spark. He didn’t know if it was part of this influence she spoke of, or if Gary was just desperate for love, but he felt it. He liked being her master.

They walked out of the woods and into the city. From where they stood, Gary could just make out the apartment complex in the distance. He bit his lip, wiped his face with the collar of his t-shirt.

“I’m starving.” Her eyes shone directly into the faces of passersby, but they didn’t react, didn’t even blink. “Things sure have changed around here since the last time I saw it.”

“When was that?”

“You need to concentrate on feeding me, Master. None of that matters to you.”

Gary didn’t think he was ready for the neighbor girl. What if Mary Jane was lying? What if she were setting him up for embarrassment? No, he couldn’t take that. Not again. He had done a good enough job himself at making the neighbor girl think he was a loser.

Watching all the random girls walk by, he didn’t know where to start. On a regular day, he would have taken any one of them. Hell, he’d have taken any of the fat ugly ones just to know the feeling of another human being’s touch. But now, suddenly given the choice of any woman he desired, he didn’t know what to do with himself, wanted to choose the perfect girl.

Then she walked right by him. The woman gave him a curious look, eyed Mary Jane. Gary realized they were still holding hands.

Everyone sees her as a little girl. This woman probably thinks I’m some kind of pedophile or something.

She stuck her nose up and waddled off, her tight jeans showing the roundness of her ass. Her skin was olive, smooth-looking. Long brown hair with streaks of blond flowed in the breeze. And her tits. Jesus Christ, her tits were glorious. Bouncing and shaking with the rhythm of her walking. Her nipples pressed against her shirt, erect from the cool air.

“Her,” Gary said.

“My pleasure.” Mary Jane aimed her eye beams at the woman, got to breathing hard like she was having an asthma attack or something.

And the woman stopped cold.

Gary’s balls shriveled up and hid deep within his groin. He let go of Mary Jane’s hand and rubbed his palms together as he got to sweating some more.

The woman turned, bit her bottom lip, ran her hands over her torso, squeezing her breasts together. She locked eyes with Gary. And moaned.

“Excuse me,” she said. “Who…who are you?”

Mary Jane’s eyes cast an orange glow over the woman, made it look like her skin was made of tangerine peels. She stepped closer to Gary, rubbed her body as she approached.

Mary Jane giggled. She looked up at Gary, motioned toward the woman with her head.

“I…uh…my name’s Gary. What’s your name?”

“Is there someplace we can go?” She shuddered, ran a hand toward the v of her crotch, rubbed it. “God, I just wanna fuck your brains out right now.”

Holy shit!

Gary’s pants grew tighter. He looked around at the other people walking by who eyed the woman, shook their heads. She did nothing to hide her masturbatory massage.

“I don’t…I don’t know. Are you serious?” Gary couldn’t talk without laughing. His face throbbed with the pounding of his pulse. His vision blurred.

The woman stomped her foot, grabbed Gary’s soaked hand, pulled him down the street.

He looked over his shoulder—Mary Jane followed. She snorted and clapped the whole way.

He just couldn’t believe his luck. His virginity had stayed in tact for far too long. It was time to break it off for good.

They turned a corner and entered a hotel. The woman threw a handful of money at the clerk before he had time to say a word. She looked over at Gary, grabbed the back of his head, and slammed her face against his. Her tongue shoved its way past his lips, slithered in circles, bathed the inside of his mouth—didn’t miss a single spot.

Gary could smell his own breath bouncing off her face, but the woman didn’t seem to care. She released his mouth with a loud sucking pop, gazed deep into his eyes.

The desk clerk dangled the key to get the woman’s attention, gave Gary a look and smirked.

He obviously thinks I paid for this girl. And I don’t blame him. No way a fat slob like me could score a girl like this.

Then the clerk looked down at Mary Jane. “She with you guys?”

Gary had to fight the tugging of the woman. “Yes. She’s with me.”

The clerk wrinkled his nose, shook his head, mumbled as he turned away.

The woman dragged Gary down the hall until they finally got to their assigned room. She fumbled with the key for a moment, couldn’t get it to fit, tossed it to the ground, and grabbed Gary’s head again. This time, she yanked her tits out of her shirt, mashed them against his face. Her hard nipples prodded his eyes, and at that very moment, his dick spat a wad into his jeans.

Oh no. Oh God no.

A tiny cloud of yellow substance floated from his groin. Mary Jane inhaled it, chewed it up, swallowed.

She snorted, ground her teeth. “Get in that room and feed me, Master.”

Gary peeled himself away from the woman, scooped up the key. He struggled to slide it in as she wrapped her arms around him from behind, stuffed her right hand into his pants.

When she gripped him, stroked him, another surge threatened to erupt.

No, can’t let loose again. Got to feed Mary Jane.

Gary turned the key and the door popped open. The woman kicked it aside, shoved Gary square in the chest, sending him stumbling backward into the room. His tiny cock pressed against the inside of his jeans, stuck to the fabric from the glue it had extracted.

“On the bed. Now,” the woman said. She tore her shirt off, twirled it over her head like a helicopter blade.

Mary Jane stepped into the room and gently closed the door. She sat Indian-style on the floor, rested her elbows on her knees, her chin in her hands. Her eyes turned the floor, walls, and ceiling a bright mandarin.

The woman wiggled out of her jeans, ripped her panties off and tossed the ragged cloth away. She did a dance, shook her tits, licked the front of her teeth. “You ready for me?” she said, stepped toward the bed. “Cuz I want your cock so bad.”

Gary lay on the bed, his body shiny with never-ending sweat. He crawled backward until the back of his head hit the wall.

The woman crept onto the bed, chased him like a leopard on the prowl. She grabbed the waistline of his jeans, pulled hard. The fabric bit into his waist and he reached down and undid the button and unzipped them before she pulled again. They ripped free, but got caught up on his feet and hung there.

Gary looked down at himself. Looked like a tiny pink straw-mushroom growing from a lion’s mane of unwashed hair. The mustiness of his sweating groin exploded into the air as he tried to kick his jeans free. The familiar embarrassment took him then, and he wanted nothing more than to escape before the woman smelled his crotch aroma and started in on the laughter.

But no. In the orange light of Mary Jane’s eyes, the woman grinned and bit her lip. Then she leaned in.

Oh God, is this really about to happen?

He couldn’t look, raked his nails over his face and almost wanted to cry. Part of him didn’t know if he could go through with it…until her lips wrapped around him. Her tongue basted him, bathed the stink away. Her hand crawled up his stomach, grabbed hold of his shirt. As she squeezed, sweat wrung out of it.

Gary looked toward Mary Jane. She was on her feet now, her hair floating around her face. She inhaled mouthfuls of yellow clouds, chewed as she tapped her feet. Her eyes began to fade.

Wait…what happens when the light fades out? Is this woman going to snap out of it…scream rape or something?

Then violent vibrations took over his body as she worked her mouth up and down, and he no longer cared what happened next.

He finally looked down at her. She had her mouth down to the base, her eyes barely visible over the forest of pubes, but she stared at him, locked eyes with him.

When he came, she didn’t falter. She swallowed it up like cough syrup, wiped her mouth with the back of her arm.

Mary Jane gorged herself, and as Gary watched her, still shuddering from the titanic orgasm, he noticed that with every bite, the feedling seemed to fatten, grew slightly wider with every mouthful. She giggled and groaned. The sound of her chewing filled the air, soaking wet and sloppy.

“Feel good?” the woman said as she swirled her tongue over her pink lips. “Cuz you tasted great.”

I love you, Mary Jane.

Gary lay on an electric cloud. The woman’s saliva cooled on the surface of his cock, threatened to shrink it back down.

“You ready for more?”

“M-more?”

She slapped him. “Yes more. You think I’m done with you, motherfucker?”

The sting of her slap coated his face. She clawed at his shirt, tried to tear it away. Gary fought her, didn’t want his gut bouncing around. He’d hoped he could keep his shirt on through all of this, but the woman wasn’t having it. She tore it, ripped it off.

Potent odor radiated off his acne-covered chest, his stretch-marked stomach. But the woman didn’t care. She straddled him, took him into her.

As she enveloped him, Gary sat up, his mouth hanging open. She shoved him back down, pumped her hips. Her head moved to his chest and she sucked on his nipple, drank the salty fluid that glazed it.

Mary Jane’s eyes barely shone at all anymore as she feasted. Her head looked like it had been injected with fat—a double chin hung from her face. Arms stuck straight out as if she wore a thick winter coat.

The woman rode Gary, fucked him like it was the end of the world. Her tits bounced, slapped her in the chin. She growled, raked red trails across Gary’s chest and stomach.

His sensitive penis could hardly take it. But he couldn’t tell her to stop, so he lay there, enjoyed the moment.

And then the woman stopped. All of a sudden—just stopped. Her eyes went from sexual intensity to lost and empty. She didn’t seem to know where she was, turned her head and looked at the room around her. Her brow furrowed into a mess of wrinkles covered in sweat beads and wet hair.

“Is everything okay?” Just as Gary said it, he heard Mary Jane’s snores.

Oh shit.

The woman’s head whipped around at the sound of his voice, and her eyes widened when she saw Gary pinned under her.

Her bottom lip quivered and she jumped off, landed hard on the floor.

“What the fuck is going on?” She smacked her mouth as if tasting something, and then gagged hard. “What did you do to me, you fucking bastard?”

“Mary Jane?” Gary said. He couldn’t look the woman in the eye. “Mary Jane, wake up.”

The woman followed Gary’s eyes and found Mary Jane sleeping on the floor.

The feedling’s snores roared.

“You brought a little girl here? W-what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“No…it’s not what you think. You…you wanted to. You dragged me here.”

“I what?” She grabbed her clothing, sobbed as she dressed herself, gagged again.

Before Gary could say anything else, she was flying out the door.

“You’ll be in jail, you bastard. I’ll…I’ll make sure you rot in jail for the rest of…of your life!” Her retreating footsteps pounded down the hall and her sobs echoed into the room.

Gary jumped up from the bed, pulled all his clothes on, ran to Mary Jane’s side and shook her. “Come on, we have to leave. Mary Jane, wake the fuck up!”

She snored. No matter how hard he shook her, she didn’t respond.

Gary expected to struggle when he went to lift her body since she was so bloated with sex food, but she was still weightless. He carried her down the hall, moved as quickly as his legs would allow. The woman’s juices dried on his cock, matted his pubic hair, and he couldn’t help but shudder.

That was the most amazing thing that has ever happened.

But Gary did feel bad for the woman. She would be haunted by his fat, sweating body for the rest of her life. But she…she wanted it so bad, wouldn’t take no for an answer.

As these thoughts flooded his mind, his foot got caught on a tear in the carpet, and he crashed to the ground. The air was knocked from his stomach and Mary Jane’s body went tumbling forward. But she still only snored, didn’t even flinch.

Gary hoisted her back up and continued his escape. The desk clerk smiled at him as he passed.

“Hey, buddy,” he said. “Don’t worry, I got your back.”

“What?” Gary paused for a moment, but kept eyeing the door. He wanted nothing more than to be out of that place.

“I see it all the time. Girls trying to cry rape,” he said. “I saw you two come in here, I saw that she wanted it. Don’t worry, buddy.”

Gary snorted, swallowed. “Um…thanks.”

“But, you are a sick motherfucker for bringing your daughter along, you know that? Just fucking sick.”

“No…it’s not what you think. She’s—”

“What, she’s not really a kid? She’s got that Webster disease or something?” He laughed. “Buddy, I’ve heard it all before.”

Gary didn’t say another word, took off into the cool night. He didn’t know where to go, what to do. He looked over at the apartment complex building just a few blocks away. By habit, he nearly ran toward it. But then Chester’s face bared its teeth in his mind, and he headed to the only other place he knew.

Back to the woods.

—6—

When Mary Jane woke up, Gary was ready for her.

“What the fuck was that all about?” His arms were crossed over his stomach. “Do you know how much trouble I can get into now?”

She yawned, scratched her belly. “What are you talking about, Master? Didn’t you have fun?”

“Well…that’s not the point. That lady freaked out. She could bring the cops.”

Mary Jane giggled. “Don’t worry about it. I’m fed and you lost your virginity. What’s not to be happy about?”

Gary slammed his fist into the dirt. “You said she’d want it. I didn’t want to rape anyone. I didn’t want to ruin her life.” Just hearing the words said out loud sent a tidal wave of panic through him.

“Master, you need to relax. That woman doesn’t know who you are. And if she brings the police, I’ll make them fuck each other to death.” She roared with laughter. “It would be a feast!”

“This isn’t funny!”

She flinched, scooted toward Gary and laid her head onto his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I forget you don’t know what to do.”

“What do you mean?”

“You can’t let me fall asleep while you’re…doing the deed,” she said. “When I’m eating, I lose control. I won’t stop until I lose consciousness. You have to take me away when my lights go out…before I pass out.”

Gary shook his head. “But that still doesn’t fix how the woman’s going to feel afterward. I’m not a rapist, goddamnit.”

“My influence won’t wear off until you’re already gone. They won’t remember anything.” She snuggled up to him. “Come on, Master. Didn’t you have fun?”

Gary thought about the events of the last couple of days. He got jumped by a group of nerds, got kicked out of his apartment, had a tussle with his future stepfather, had his gorgeous neighbor threaten to call police on him for peeping…then he became the master of a feedling that eats sexual energy and lost his virginity to a voluptuous knockout. Just thinking about her mounting him, thrusting, breasts bouncing, his pants became tight again and pressed against Mary Jane.

“Oh, I see you did have a good time.”

“Okay, okay, get off me now.”

She stood up, her eyes faint.

“I’ve never experienced anything like that before, okay? It was…exhilarating.”

“You were a virgin, I know that.”

“How did you know that?”

“I told you, I’m part of you. Besides, I could smell it on you.” She giggled when Gary’s face flushed. “Well, you’re not a virgin now, right? I bet none of your friends have ever been with a girl like that.”

Gary thought about Clay, thought about Sonny, Brett, and the Turner twins. No, definitely not.

“Man, they would’ve shit their pants if they saw me with that woman.” Gary smiled wide. “Wish they could’ve seen that.”

Mary Jane clapped, snorted. “I’m going to be hungry again, Master. And again and again and again. The longer we go, the bigger my appetite gets,” she said. “We don’t ever have to stop. You can fuck every girl in town if you want.”

Gary couldn’t help but smile, but it was smothered in guilt. “Look…I just—”

Mary Jane stepped toward him, cupped his cheek. “Master, what have any of these people done for you?”

Gary opened his mouth to reply, but it just hung there, no words spilling out.

“You’ve been laughed at, ridiculed, beaten up. Have you ever been taken seriously? Have you ever been shown love or affection?”

His hands hardened into fists. “No.”

“What do you owe these people? Everyone should have a shot at happiness. Not just the handsome or athletic or rich. Everyone, don’t you think, Master?”

Gary tried to think about someone, anyone, who had shown him any hint of kindness in his life. Sheila was the only face that popped up, but she had replaced him, turned her back on him. There was Clay, but the kid was Gary’s friend by default, didn’t have anyone else to play with, so he followed Gary around like a puppy. It was pathetic, Gary thought, but the boy was all he had in terms of friendship.

He screwed up his face, locked eyes with Mary Jane. “You know what? You’re right,” he said. “It’s my turn to have some fun. My turn to feel happy.”

“Very good, Master.”

Gary’s stomach tingled at the possibilities. Yes, the neighbor girl would be his grand prize, but he would wait. He needed to practice, needed some experience before he moved on to the main event. She would get hers, that was for sure, but Gary wanted to taste some other fruits first.

“Tonight,” he said, “we sleep in the woods. Tomorrow is a brand new day, Mary Jane. And you’ll eat your fill.”

She smiled, slid her black tongue over her teeth. “Very good, Master.”

—7—

Sunday morning.

Gary woke to a sound that didn’t make sense at first. He thought portions of his dreams had shifted from his mind to the real world as he made the transition himself. He had to rub his eyes and shake his head clear of the fog before he realized what was going on.

Mary Jane stood in the middle of the clearing…eating. She inhaled, chewed, swallowed. The floating globs looked a different shade of yellow, darker, lumpier, more misshapen.

Grunting, scraping, snorting from Gary’s right. He blinked the sleep away, then gasped at what he saw.

Animals. Different kinds of animals surrounded them, each paired up with another of the same species, all fucking like mad. A buck with an impressive rack mounted a doe, its front hooves holding the doe by the hips. The doe moaned a guttural sound—the buck’s tongue lolled from its mouth as it pumped with vicious ferocity. At least five pairs of rabbits humped away, their cuteness lost in their lascivious acts. Squirrels and rats and a couple of foxes—mating like their lives depended on it.

As Gary looked closer, he saw the grass underneath the animals was stained red, then he realized the fur in their sex regions was matted with blood.

Mary Jane’s eyes flickered out. Her lids looked heavier as she chewed slowly.

The animals groaned and squeaked and snarled. More blood dripped to the dirt, but they never slowed, never let up even a bit.

Mary Jane collapsed to her backside, mouth still full of food, then finally tipped over. Her eyes clamped shut and the snoring began.

And just like that, the animals separated, dispersed. They limped away in all directions, staggered and squealed. The only evidence of what Gary had just witnessed were the splattered spots around him.

Gary just chuckled. He crawled toward his backpack, unzipped it, pulled out his lunch pail. Two candy bars left—he tore into a Butterfinger and halved it in one bite. Sitting in the backpack just under the tin was Lusty Bloodsucker. The vampire girl on the cover beckoned him, begged him to peel the pages back and slip his hand into his pants. And normally, Gary would’ve done so, one hand gripping his candy bar, the other his cock while he balanced the comic in his lap.

But now…it just seemed childish. He could still feel the woman’s flesh surrounding him, could feel her tongue sliding over him. He wondered who would be next, who in this shithole town would be tasting him today. Three, maybe four girls? His stomach fluttered, his heart pounded. He couldn’t make his smile go away. Tossing the Hentai comic away, he grabbed Kronos the Destroyer and inspected his work, wondered if Mary Jane could somehow use her influence to help him get the comic published.

His eyes rolled back toward the Hentai lying in the dirt. He wouldn’t be needing any more jack-off material, not with Mary Jane around.

With a mouthful of candy, he picked up Lusty Bloodsucker one more time, tore it in half, tossed it over his shoulder.

He had never been happier.

***

When her eyes finally started blinking, Gary burst to his feet.

“Finally. Feels like you’ve been asleep forever.” He bounced from foot to foot, rubbed his meaty palms together.

She yawned, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Are you excited for the day, Master?”

Gary was happy to see her eyes shining bright. “You hungry?”

“Of course I am. Animals aren’t very filling.”

He stopped bouncing and scratched his head. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, Master.”

“If you can eat animal sex, then why did you need me to wake you up? I mean, don’t animals mate all the time out here?”

Mary Jane giggled. “Doesn’t work like that. I need a person, a human. Something with a soul.”

Gary nodded, shrugged. “I have an idea,” he said. “Something to teach these people a lesson.”

“I like the sound of this.”

The idea had struck Gary in the middle of drawing a love scene for Kronos the Destroyer that morning—and he had no problem getting the proportions right this time.

Sunday morning. All the happy little people would be piling into their houses of God. Gary hesitated at first, thought to himself that those specific people never did anything to harm him, never bothered him in any way. But they never went out of their way to know him either, never invited him to any parties or get-togethers, never showed any interest in his life. It’s true, Gary thought, that most of these people don’t even know me. But they’re all the same. I am the master now, and they all must pay. They all must know what it feels like to be embarrassed, to be laughed at.

“Can feedlings go into churches?”

“You read too much fiction, Master. A church is nothing more than four walls and a ceiling, filled with lost souls desperate for answers.” She stood, stretched. “And I’m very curious now.”

There was a moment of silence as they both looked at each other, both smiling. Then Mary Jane ran toward him, dove into his lap, and they laughed and laughed.

***

Cars packed the Saint Ignatius Church’s parking lot. Gary and Mary Jane weaved through them, making their way toward the entrance. The cars were mostly SUVs, station wagons, and vans. Vehicles big enough for a good-sized family. Cross necklaces dangled from rearview mirrors, Jesus Loves You and similar stickers covered the bumpers like cold sores.

“I sure hope they still keep the kids separate,” Gary said. “They used to when I was a kid, made me go to Bible study. But it’s been years. I don’t want anything to happen to the little kids, they’re—”

“Innocent? Nobody’s truly innocent.”

It wasn’t until they actually arrived at the church and saw all the vehicles that Gary even thought about the possibility of kids. The teenagers could all burn in hell. In fact, he’d been thinking about making a little stop at Sonny’s school Monday morning, make them all impregnate one another. But the little kids, they didn’t deserve punishment. Having to live with their shit-for-brains parents was punishment enough.

“Well, if there’s any kids, leave them alone, all right? I’m your master, I command it.”

She chuckled. “Whatever you say, Master.”

They stepped to the front doors, swung them open. The preacher’s voice exploded, his sermon playing loud over some speakers aligned along the walls. He was old, maybe sixty, but his voice had power, rattled Gary’s chest. As they entered, the happy Christians turned to address him. He caught a few smiles, a few nods, but mostly scowls and dirty looks.

He looked down at himself and realized he was filthy, probably brought a thundercloud of stink into the church with him.

But the preacher never faltered, never paused. As he spoke, the people nodded, some wept. They clutched their Bibles, rubbed their thumbs over souvenir crosses. Behind the preacher sat a huge wooden crucifix with an emaciated Jesus hanging from it with outstretched arms. Metal bolts protruded from his wrists and ankles. Blood ran like crooked rivers down his face, arms, and legs.

Yeah, that sure makes me feel cheery.

Mary Jane’s eyes turned the place as orange as pumpkin flesh.

“Just tell me when, Master.” Her tongue slathered her face and she clicked her teeth.

“Let us pray,” the preacher said.

“Wait for it,” Gary said. He eyed the congregation, looked for a nice pretty girl for him to spend some time with while Mary Jane feasted and turned the church into a fuck-fest.

As the preacher said his prayer, every head in the place bowed. Then Gary saw her. A Hispanic girl, maybe early twenties, sitting with an older couple that had to be her grandparents. Her red lips battled her brown, yet pale, complexion. The dress she wore was far too tight for church, Gary thought. No room for the holy ghost in there. But it showed every curve, every bulge of flesh.

“In Jesus’s name we pray. Amen.”

“Amen,” the congregation said.

“Now,” Gary said. He pointed at the girl. “And bring her to me.”

“My pleasure, Master.”

The effect was instantaneous. The preacher glanced up from his Bible, searched the ocean of believers in front of him. Then he dragged his robe up, yanked his entire package out—which hung past mid-thigh—and started bouncing his balls in the palm of his right hand while shaking his dick at the crowd with his left. The woman playing the organ hopped off her chair, crawled to the preacher, and took him into her mouth.

“Holy shit,” Gary said. He slapped Mary Jane on the back and chuckled, but she was oblivious to him now.

The first cloud of yellow substance rushed toward her as she inhaled, and she chewed and moaned.

The preacher grabbed the back of the woman’s head and rammed himself harder into her mouth, surely hitting the back of her throat—the organ-player’s gag echoed off dark wood and stained glass.

And then the church went wild. People tore clothing away, grabbed the closest person and attacked. Old wrinkly flesh flapped all over—suits, flower dresses, button-up shirts, and slacks littered the floor. Young men had the elderly bent over the pews. Young women took flaccid cocks into their willing mouths.

Gary’s body oozed sweat as he saw his chosen girl looking at him. She weaved her way around an obese couple fucking in the aisle. The bald mountain of jiggling flesh held his wife in the air as she rocked back and forth, the fat folds on her back flapping like stingray wings.

The girl walked past an old woman, nude except for the huge white hat atop her fluffed up white hair, who jammed a gold crucifix necklace into her dry cunt. The chain hung out like a metallic tampon string.

Gary’s eyes rolled from the oncoming beauty to Mary Jane, who looked even more like Pac-Man in that moment—Gary couldn’t help but chortle. She unhinged her mouth, snapped it shut, over and over, as the globs of sex food came to her. Her mouth smacked and she sucked her teeth as she masticated.

Then the girl was there. As she walked toward Gary, eyes only for him, she undressed herself. The trail of her discarded clothing lay in her wake, and she wore only her red heels and red lipstick.

Gary pulled his pants down, leaned back. She didn’t say a word, just spread her legs and sat in his lap.

“Mmmm.” Her fingers ran across his scalp as she humped. The wooden bench creaked with the motion of her. She was warmer than the other woman. Red hot. Gary reached up, cupped her breasts, and just like that, finished. He trembled, cried out. The girl tried to keep going, but Gary managed to turn and see that his feedling’s eyes had that dying flashlight look to them, and that she had fattened considerably.

He tossed the girl aside, pulled his pants up, grabbed Mary Jane under her armpits. The doors were kicked open and he zoomed through the parking lot.

I am the master! I’m the king of the whole fucking world.

***

Gary had to see the looks on their faces, had to see the embarrassment he’d caused them. He held Mary Jane’s sleeping body in his arms, sat on the bus stop bench next to the church. His feet tapped and his mouth dried up as he stared at the church doors.

There was an eerie silence, then the doors flew open.

Every face that he saw burned red, gleamed with sweat. Veins bulged on their foreheads. Some couples argued, cussing and spitting in earshot of their lord. One couple had their two kids between them as they exchanged slaps.

Take that. And there’s more coming.

A lot of the women wept, shuddered and stared with wide eyes if someone bumped into them. They all scattered to their cars—doors slammed, tires squealed.

The preacher stood at the door now, jaw bobbing up and down, calling to his flock to come back, to pray with him. “It was Satan’s work. We must pray!”

“Fuck you,” someone said. “You did this. You hypnotized us!”

The preacher shook his head. “No…no it’s not true. The devil. The devil was at work here.”

An angry mob formed around him. Their shouts and grunts became one chaotic jumble of sound, all directed at the man they’d been following for God knows how many years. They grabbed at him, spat on him. He took blind steps backward, back into the church, his sanctuary, but they followed.

Then Gary saw the girl—his girl—step out of the church with her weeping grandmother and stern-faced grandfather. Her red lips trembled and she hugged herself as they swerved around the horde and headed into the parking lot. None of them spoke, just kept to themselves, moved toward whatever vehicle was theirs. The girl kept her eyes on the pavement as she walked, her brow scrunched into a mess of wrinkles.

Gary watched her, thought about her on top of him. If Mary Jane were awake, he would have probably had another round with her. And just as the thought crept into his mind, the girl looked up and locked eyes with him.

Oh shit. Not again.

But she averted her gaze, kept moving. She glanced up at him one more time, blinked, but didn’t say a word.

Gary watched as she and her grandparents piled into a maroon van. The grandfather ripped the plastic Virgin Mary from the dash, tossed it out the window. And then they were gone.

You feel that? It’s called shame. I hope it eats you all alive.

He squinted up at the sun, smiled. A new day. The first day of his brand new life.

He shifted his arms under Mary Jane’s body. Her snores exploded into his ears, but he only chuckled as he looked into the distance, saw his destination.

And walked toward the apartment complex.

—8—

It was early still, so Gary knew neither Sheila nor Chester would be home. And for that he was thankful. He wasn’t going there for them. If it was up to him, he would never see them again.

But he didn’t have any money, and his stomach roared, begged him to fill it with something.

He marched up the concrete steps, swiped the spare key from under the doormat, unlocked the door.

Please don’t let anyone be home.

He clutched Mary Jane tight, winced when a beastly snore erupted from her mouth. “Hello?” He crept into the apartment, pressed the door until it clicked shut. “Anyone home?”

Silence answered him.

Whew.

The ice maker in the freezer dumped a load into the tray—Gary dropped Mary Jane to the floor, grabbed his chest. She lay under him, her face pressed against the carpet. Still sleeping, still snoring.

Gary went straight for the refrigerator. The floor was still sticky from the mess the other night. His shoes stuck to the tile, made a ripping sound with every step. He pulled out a container of lunch meat—honey ham, Chester’s favorite—and started cramming slices into his mouth. As he munched on that, he moved to the cupboard, grabbed the box of Fruity Pebbles, poured himself a bowl.

He left Mary Jane on the floor where she’d fallen, sat at the kitchen table, and shoved a spoonful of cereal into his mouth, followed by another slice of meat.

He kept glancing at the front door, watched the knob to make sure it wasn’t turning. Don’t need a run in with Chester today, he thought. When his food was finished, he tossed the dishes into the sink, went straight for his room.

The smell hit him like a shotgun blast to the face. He pulled the collar of his shirt up to cover his nose and mouth, but an equally potent stench coated the fabric.

I need a shower.

He set his bag down, walked into the hall, checked the front door again. Mary Jane lay flat on her back now, spread eagle—her mouth stretched wide with every snore.

The bathroom looked coated in three layers of filth, grime, and dust. As he turned the shower knob to hot, the water sputtered and the pipes groaned before going full blast, and once the water heated up, he breathed in the steam, and again, smiled. He felt powerful, unstoppable.

He tore his clothes off, looked down at his groin. The curly mess of brown hair was dreadlocked with the two girls’ juices. His penis stiffened, barely stuck out past his unkempt bush as he replayed his sexual adventures over and over in his mind. He leaned against the wall and laughed as he thought about the pandemonium at Saint Ignatius.

Stepping into the shower, he moaned as the hot water rushed over him. He tilted his head back, shut his eyes, exhaled deep as the previous day and night melted off him and swirled into the drain. His mouth opened, filled with water, spat it out. The pubic mess grew heavy as it soaked up the water, and when Gary opened his eyes, he saw Chester’s electric shaver sitting on the soap dish just in front of him.

The shaver buzzed, choked on the water. When he slid it across the hair, it struggled, nearly died, but shaved a stripe through the tangled nest. He snickered as he shaved the rest, then set the shaver back where he’d found it, the matted hair still stuck to it. Gary decided not to clean it off.

He looked down at himself, could actually see his dick now. Still small, unimpressive, but it did look better without the forest of pubes to hide under. Not that it mattered anymore how big he was—the girls wouldn’t care.

As he stood there, enjoying the warm spray, his knees began to wobble, his eyelids became heavy. He sat on the shower floor, leaned against the tile wall, and let the water rain down on him. His head bobbed forward and he relaxed his chin on his chest. Before he knew it, he’d drifted off.

***

Thump…thump…thump.

Gary flinched awake, gasped, swallowed a mouthful of water and choked. He reached up, cut the water off, eased up to his feet. His fingertips and toes had become prunes, and his dick had retreated into his body.

As he stepped out of the tub, he cocked an eyebrow and listened. There was a rhythmic thumping…coming from the living room.

Oh shit, now what?

He wanted to call out to Mary Jane, make sure she was okay. But just in case she was hiding, he didn’t want to blow her cover. If Sheila and Chester were home, they probably wouldn’t take kindly to him bringing a little girl there.

As he dried himself off, the thumping continued. Then a woman’s voice. Moaning…screaming. Sheila’s voice.

He wrapped the towel around his waist, eased the bathroom door open.

Orange light.

No…

His feet were still wet, and he nearly slipped when he stepped onto the kitchen tile.

“Fuck…yeah.” Chester’s voice, the couch squeaking. “You fucking bitch. Take that…take that…”

“Mary Jane?” Gary didn’t need to see it, already knew what waited for him when he turned the corner.

Mary Jane sat in the middle of the living room floor, facing the couch…where his mother was gripping her ankles, ass in the air. Chester stood on the couch, one hand gripping a handful of her hair, pulling, tilting her face toward the ceiling, the other hand gripping her hip. His cock went in and out of her ass hole with violent thrusts. She screamed with each penetration.

“Mary Jane, what the fuck are you doing?”

She didn’t turn to address him, just stuffed herself full of the sex floating around her.

Chester looked up, locked eyes with Gary for a moment. He grinned, stuck his tongue out like Gene Simmons, then pumped even harder. “You fucking like that, bitch? I’ll fuck your son next, you hear me?”

Gary flinched at the ferocity of the words. The air smelled of shit, and just knowing it was Sheila he was smelling, Gary’s hatred for Chester, hatred for everyone, erupted.

He stomped toward his bedroom, kicked the door open. His fingers flexed into fists and his skin spewed sweat. A Punisher sweatshirt was yanked from a wire hanger, and he pulled it on, scooped up a pair of jeans, yanked them over his legs. He swung the strap of the bag holding his comics over his shoulder, then dug to the back of the closet, amongst the boxes and various junk.

And found his samurai sword.

He’d ordered it from Mr. Shipley’s catalogue at the Rusty Dungeon, used four paychecks on it. Raw power surged through his palms every time he held it, and just thinking about Chester behind his mother in the other room made him reach out, grab the hilt, and stomp back to the living room.

Mary Jane’s eyes had faded and she looked ready to pass out. She chewed lazily, blinked like she was drugged.

Chester sat down now, Gary’s mother on her knees between his legs…sucking, cleaning him off.

“Let her go, you son of a bitch.” Gary stepped past Mary Jane, held his sword at his side.

Chester only smiled, puckered his lips and blew a kiss at Gary.

And then his idiotic expression twisted into a sneer. Sheila pushed away from Chester, gagged, looked around the room with rapid blinking eyes, gagged again.

From just behind him, Gary heard the snores. And then from just in front of him, he heard the growl.

“You little motherfucker.” Chester hopped up, his erection bobbing as if agreeing with his rage. He shoved Sheila aside, came at Gary with fists at the ready.

“Stay back,” Gary said. The sword shook in front of him.

“What you gonna do, huh? Ninja me to death?” He lunged, teeth bared.

Gary thrust forward, gasped when the tip of the blade slid into Chester’s left thigh. The flesh sucked the metal into it—blood gurgled out. Chester stared down at it for what seemed like a whole minute before he finally groaned and grimaced.

“You stabbed me…you fucking stabbed me.”

“Gary, what are you doing?” Sheila had one arm covering her breasts while she pulled her shorts on. “What’s gotten into you?”

The sight of the blood bubbling out from where his blade still stuck sent shivers up Gary’s back. He pushed harder—Chester screamed.

“Both of you shut up,” he said. “Things are different now. I’m the master, the fucking king of the world.”

“I’ll f-fuckin…ngghh.”

Gary twisted the blade just slightly. “I said shut up, asshole.” He yanked the blade out, held it over his head as if to split Chester’s head in two. “Get the fuck back.”

Chester hit the floor, pressed his hand to his wound. Sheila grabbed him and they stared up. Chester bared his teeth.

Gary walked around them, picked Mary Jane up by the fat on the back of her neck.

“Who is this little—”

“Shut your mouth, Sheila. You turned your back on me…your own son. For this piece of shit!” Gary pointed at Chester with the point of the blade. “I should kill him right now.”

It was as if the old Gary came roaring back into his mind, and all of a sudden, he was weak again, scared. He looked down at Chester, the bleeding leg, looked at the sword in his own quivering hand, and he wanted to leave, wanted to run away and never look back again. Warm tears poured from his eyes and the whole apartment swam in his vision.

He turned, sword in one hand, Mary Jane in the other, and ran out the front door. A small part of him wanted to jab the sword into the feedling for using his mother to feed on like that, for making Gary see it, smell it.

But those thoughts shut off at once when he saw his neighbor looking through her window at him. Her eyes went from his sword with the dripping red tip to the girl hanging limp from his other hand. She slammed her curtain shut, and Gary knew she was going for her phone again. He thought about storming into her apartment and handling her like he had the last two girls, but he wasn’t in the mood. All he wanted to do was be alone in the woods, away from everyone in the world.

He took off down the steps, didn’t look back as he ran toward his safe place.

***

Gary panted as he zigzagged through the trees. When he reached the clearing, he dropped Mary Jane and collapsed. On the journey, he’d caught curious glances from every person he’d passed, but he never made eye contact, just kept pushing, pumping his legs as hard as they’d go. He saw lots of cell phones being pulled from pockets.

The taste of grass and dirt filled his mouth as he lay on his stomach and wheezed. His sadness spilled out like hot vomit no matter how hard he tried to keep it down. He sobbed, turned the dirt under his face into mud with his tears and saliva.

I’ll never go back home again. This is my home now.

Mary Jane just snored. She’d doubled in size since Gary’s first run in with her: face rounder, arms and legs plumper, torso inflated.

A rustling behind him. Gary rolled over, sat up. He ran his arm over his face, wiped the tears and snot away.

Oh God, it’s the cops. Someone called the cops and they found me.

He grabbed his sword and Mary Jane, ran around the other side of the rowan tree, covered them the best he could with broken branches and leaves.

Then he rounded the tree. He wished it was the cops.

Gary backpedaled for a moment, staring dumbfounded. He spun on his heels to grab his sword, but even with a limp, Chester was too fast. A hard fist caught the back of Gary’s head and he crashed to the dirt, face nearly smashing into the tree. Black dots danced and weaved in his vision.

“Just me and you now, you fat fuck.”

Chester kicked Gary in the stomach—the air exploded out of him. Gary rolled over, clutched his belly, sucked for oxygen that wouldn’t come.

“Not so tough without your ninja sword, huh?” Gary caught a mouth full of knuckles, then another. The pain was so intense, he couldn’t scream, could only stare at his attacker with blurred vision. Blood filled his mouth, choked him—shards of teeth floated in it. “Get up. Get up and fight me like a man, you chickenshit motherfucker.”

The next thing Gary knew, he was on his feet, the front of his sweatshirt balled up in Chester’s fist. His legs wobbled under him, threatened to give out and let him taste the dirt again. Then another explosion of pain—his nose cracked.

The world went black then. Gary thought the ground slammed against his back, but he couldn’t be sure. When he tried to breathe, he choked, nearly drowned. As his vision cleared, he saw the sun above him, thought he felt its warmth basting him.

Then it was Chester’s face, his eyes hard and bloodshot, his mouth twisted. As Gary was yanked back to his feet, he realized the warmth was his own blood coating his face, his piss soaking his pants.

He thought about calling out to Mary Jane, asking her to make it all stop. But what could she do? Even if she was awake, her influence might make things worse.

I’ll fuck your son next…

Gary heard the words over and over in his head.

“If you ever come back to the apartment, ever try to interfere in our lives again, I’ll fucking kill you.” Fist to the stomach. “You understand me?”

Gary stayed on his feet, doubled over, clutching his mid-section. He saw the red stain on Chester’s jeans over his thigh. Then he fell backward, cracked his head against a tree root.

He heard Chester spit, and a thick wad slapped Gary in the side of the face, ran down into the corner of his mouth. It mixed with the blood that ran out of him, into the dirt.

Gary wanted to feel relieved when he saw Chester retreating back into the woods, but he could only feel the hurt. The pain was everywhere, and it was worse than Gary ever thought possible. All he could do was weep and try to breathe.

And that’s when the earth started to shake.

—9—

Gary spat a red wad into the dirt, gripped a tree root for support, yanked his hand away.

Hot. The ground rumbled.

“M-mary Jane?” It hurt to speak, hurt all over. Gary rose to his hands and knees, crawled away as quickly as his aching body would take him.

The earth cracked at the base of the tree, just as it had before. Red light shone out, made the woods look coated in blood.

And then the hands burst from the dirt. Pale like Mary Jane’s, the fingernails black.

Another feedling?

Gary didn’t know whether to be excited or terrified, but at that moment, the latter took over. He tried to rise to his feet so he could run away, but it hurt too bad. A cry belted from his throat, and he nearly vomited from the pain.

Then Mary Jane walked out from behind the tree. She took one look at the red light and grinned wider than Gary had seen yet, jumped up and down and clapped and giggled. “Yippie, yippie. You released him!”

Gary winced. “R-released…him?”

“My brother,” she said.

The boy’s head popped out of the ground, mouth wide, like a great white breaking the surface of the ocean. When he ripped himself free of the soil and grass roots, he stretched, yawned, then was tackled by Mary Jane.

The red light shining from his eyes showed the black substance floating in the air around them, like storm clouds swirling around. The rotten egg scent that wafted from the boy’s body dwarfed that which emanated from Mary Jane.

“I’ve missed you,” Mary Jane said. She kissed him on the face, and though the boy smiled, he shoved her away.

“I’m starving.” His voice was rough, deep. He nudged Mary Jane aside, glanced up at Gary. “Hello, Master.”

Gary tried to speak, but his bloody lips were cemented shut. He blinked, crinkled his forehead.

“You mind if I eat?”

Gary shook his head.

The boy feedling unhinged his jaw, the same way as his sister, but his teeth were sharp, pointed and serrated, flat like razor blades. He inhaled and the black globs rushed toward him, filled his mouth. The creature chewed and grunted, inhaled more.

Mary Jane skipped to Gary’s side, grabbed his hand in hers. She looked up at him, smiled, made no comment about his ruined face. “You are the best master ever.”

“Who…who is he?”

“My brother. But you haven’t given him a name yet.”

“What is he eating?”

“Violence.”

Gary’s eyes widened as he watched the boy gorge on the violence filling the air. He reached up, touched his face. His nose, tender and raw, bent to the left—to touch it was agony. Left eye had nearly shut, right had a cut on the eyebrow and swollen. His mouth was a mess of busted lip, cracked teeth, and blood.

The feedling had plenty to eat.

The red light faded to a dark pink and the feedling burped. He turned, sleepy-eyed, and faced his master. His stubby legs wobbled as he walked, looked ready to give out from under him. Mary Jane stepped forward and wrapped his arm over her shoulder.

“Thank you, Master,” he said. “That was delicious.”

Mary Jane widened her eyes, the orange starting to shine again. “Master? His name?”

A feedling that eats violent energy.

And he belongs to me. I’m his master.

Through the electric pain coursing through him, Gary found a smile. His bag lay just a few feet away, and he glared at it, pictured the drawings that lay within.

Chester will pay. They’ll all pay.

“Kronos,” Gary said. “I’ll call you Kronos.”

The boy grinned. “Very good, Master.”

“I’m Mary Jane. Isn’t he a good master?”

Kronos nodded. “I need to lie down. Sleep,” he said. “But when I wake up, Master, you take me to this…Chester. I’ll feast on his suffering.”

He knew Chester’s name. They really are a part of me.

Gary nodded, stepped toward Kronos, placed a shaking hand on top of his bald, scabrous head. “Yeah, go ahead and rest. I’ll make sure you’ve got plenty to eat when you wake.”

Kronos grinned his shark teeth, curled up into a ball on the spot and was snoring in seconds.

Gary turned on Mary Jane. “Listen to me.”

“Yes, Master?”

“I am your master, and I tell you when you eat, you understand?”

“Why are you upset? I—”

“That was my mother you were feeding on back there! I should make you starve. I should—”

The soft, friendly face of the feedling unfolded into a snarling display of teeth. As she stepped up to Gary, her orange eyes burned brighter. Her tongue slithered out, coated the cone-shaped teeth in saliva.

“Don’t forget what I told you,” she said. Her voice lost its gleeful squeakiness. “You are only my master for as long as I’m fed. You let me starve, you won’t like what happens next.” She snapped her teeth at him, giggled. “My brother’s appetite is much bigger than mine. Much bigger.”

Gary’s lip trembled. Whatever bravery had filled him a second ago disintegrated. He plopped down on the ground, ripped a handful of grass from the dirt.

Mary Jane sat beside him, rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m getting hungry.”

***

Gary had drifted off to sleep at some point. In his dream, he was pinned to the rowan tree by his wrists and ankles, naked. Sheila was there, smiling up at him. Kronos and Mary Jane skipped around her, arm in arm, chuckling. Chester emerged from the trees, samurai sword in hand, blood pouring from his knuckles.

“Sheila? Let me down.”

She only smiled at him, stepped toward Gary—groin-level—and opened her mouth.

“What are you doing?” Gary struggled against the spikes driving him into the wood, but couldn’t budge. He squeezed his eyes shut as his mother took him in.

“Take that, bitch.” Chester’s voice.

Gary’s eyes popped open just in time to see the blade of the sword split Sheila’s head in two. A hurricane of yellow and black rushed from her head and into the air, and the feedlings fed until they towered above the forest.

Laughing all the while.

Gary burst into consciousness and yelped, gasped for breath. Light blinded him at once.

But it was the surrounding forest that caught his attention.

The trees were splashed with blood, some splintered and broken, some fallen over. Littering the ground were the bodies of animals, piled on top of each other, strewn about like discarded plush toys. Their fur was soaked with red and only a few moved, slow and twitchy. Tiny squeaks and grunts were barely audible over the giggling of the feedlings.

Mary Jane and Kronos sat in front of him, chins resting in the palms of their hands. They looked like demonic pre-schoolers. The sun had begun its sink into the horizon, splashing the sky with pinks and purples. But the orange and red light aimed at Gary’s face had his full attention. He squinted, held a hand up to block it out.

“You’re awake, Master,” Mary Jane said. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

“Yes, and I’m anxious to feed,” Kronos said. “These animals did nothing for my appetite. And it’s been way too long since the world has tasted my influence.”

Gary winced as he sat up, hissed between bared teeth. “I don’t know, guys. I’m hurt,” he said. “I don’t know if I can do much tonight.”

Kronos let out a rattling growl. “Did you tell him what happens when we’re not fed, Sister?”

“I sure did. He understands perfectly.”

Their eyes burned a hole into him. “Okay, just let me collect myself,” Gary said.

He whimpered as he rose to his feet, his bones popping as he stretched. It hurt to breath with the tenderized meat of his chest and stomach. He reached up and touched his face—the blood had hardened into scabs. When he touched his nose, he hissed, jerked his hand away from it. Broken for sure. But with his feedlings so hungry and demanding so much attention, he didn’t know if or when he could get it looked at.

“What’s the matter, Master?” Kronos said.

Gary snorted, swallowed. “I got the shit kicked out of me just a few hours ago. I feel like I got hit by a truck.”

Kronos laughed. “Maybe you don’t fully understand the situation. Let me explain some things to you.” He ran his tongue over his teeth. “You are the master of two of the most powerful feedlings this world has ever known. With me, you can get revenge on anyone that’s ever harmed you, sweet bloody revenge. My influence has caused many wars.”

Gary had already been thinking about that. He’d been having his own personal slideshow in his mind: Chester, Mr. Shipley, Sonny, Brett, the Turner twins, the neighbor girl, Sheila…

Revenge.

He thought he’d been getting revenge with Mary Jane’s help, but he realized he was wrong. He was just having fun. Lots of fun, until the run in at the apartment. But with Kronos…the possibilities were endless.

“I can make your enemies tear each other apart. I can make the people who’ve wronged you cut out their own heart, slit the throat of their own child.” Kronos’s eyes burned crimson. “Just lead the way, Master.”

Gary puffed his chest out, ignored the searing pain from his nose and mouth when he smiled wide. He spat a thick red loogy into the dirt. “I’m the king of the fucking world. I’m the master. And we’ll make them all pay. Every last one of them.”

The feedlings howled with laughter, pranced in a circle arm in arm just in front of Gary.

He watched them for a moment and ignored the sinking feeling in his gut.

***

“That fat sack of shit don’t show up for his check, I’m keeping it.” Shipley wiped the handprints off the glass countertop and clenched his teeth.

Sonny and his buddies played their tabletop game at the other end of the store, along with the scrawny one that followed Gary around all the time. They snickered at Shipley’s outburst.

“Probably jerking off to the Powerpuff Girls or something,” Sonny said as he elbowed the other boys.

“Probably yanking it to pictures of She-Hulk.” Brett snorted.

The two tall twins started mock stroking the air. The boys burst out in a chorus of laughter.

“Hey, leave him alone. Gary doesn’t do that,” the scrawny one said.

“Oh, that’s right. You do all the jerking for him, I forgot,” Sonny said.

“Shut up!”

“Ohhhh,” the other boys said.

“That’s enough of that,” Shipley said. He didn’t like these boys any better than he liked Gary, but at least these ones had an excuse for being worthless. They were kids, barely old enough to have hair on their nuts. Gary needed to get his act together before it was too late, though Shipley had a feeling his time had already passed. “Store’s closing in ten minutes, boys. Put it all away, Sonny, and you can go on home.”

The hard wooden stool sent a jabbing pain up Shipley’s back as he sat down, and he winced, ran a calloused hand over his weathered face. He just wanted to close up and get home. He had convinced his wife to squeeze her rotund body into the Princess Leia costume she’d worn on their honeymoon so many years ago.

“I can be Chewbaca,” he’d said, running his hand over the sweater of hair covering his chest and stomach. “Don’t even need a costume. Wrrdddd.”

She had laughed, promised him she’d be waiting for him, full Leia. He knew she’d be ready to pass out from lack of blood circulation since she had just about doubled in size since their honeymoon, but he didn’t plan on letting her wear it for long anyway.

He looked over at the kids, who were taking their time packing their stuff up. Sonny was too busy cracking jokes about Gary to do his job sufficiently, but Shipley was too tired to say anything. The scrawny one kept trying to defend Gary, pushing his glasses back up his nose as the other boys shoved him around.

“Guys, come on. Closing time.” He walked toward the door to click off the OPEN sign. Gary stood on the other side of the glass, smiling in at him. His face was a mess of swollenness and dried blood. “Well look here.” He pulled the door open, opened his mouth to voice his displeasure, but it just hung there.

Gary walked into the store with three things: a boy, a girl, and the most gorgeous redhead Shipley had ever seen. And she hung from Gary’s neck, licked the inside of his ear as they entered.

What in the hell?

Shipley had already disliked the guy, but now it was fueled by jealousy. And though he figured Gary hadn’t shown up because of whatever happened to his face, he already decided he would be keeping the paycheck.

Shipley smiled, crossed his arms. “Hope you didn’t pay too much for her, Gary. Because there’s no paycheck here for you. I told you to be here before closing time, and you’re late.”

“Hey, Gary!” The scrawny boy walked on his toes across the store. He stopped and wrinkled his nose, pushed his glasses back up. “Who is…she?”

Gary only smiled. The children—the boy and girl—stepped in front of him, studied the store. They giggled and whispered to each other. Cute kids, chubby and pink.

“Mr. Shipley, I’m not here about any of that,” Gary said. “I see you’ve got the asshole brigade here with you.” He chuckled. “That’s just perfect.”

The boys spotted him from across the store, grabbed all their gaming equipment and stormed toward him, Sonny in the lead. When the boys saw the woman dangling from Gary’s neck, they hesitated.

Yeah, I know, boys. Just doesn’t make any sense.

“What…what you doing here, fat ass? It’s my job now. And besides, you missed the tournament,” Sonny said. “I know, you were too scared to face me, right?”

“No way,” Clay said. “Gary could beat you any day. Right, Gary?” The boy beamed up at him, but got no response.

Gary patted the children on the tops of their heads, turned to the redhead and shoved his tongue into her mouth. She moaned, swayed her body, grabbed handfuls of his hair and yanked.

Shipley could only gawk. The boys stood in silence, every one of their mouths hanging open. The scrawny kid wiped a coating of drool from his lip.

The little girl had turned and watched with extreme interest.

Then the woman got on her knees, unzipped Gary’s pants.

“Now wait just a goddamn minute,” Shipley said. “Get the hell out of my store with that stuff before I call the cops!”

But the woman didn’t hear him, either that or she didn’t care. Because the next thing he saw was her head bobbing up and down. Gary stared right at Shipley, grinning, eyelids fluttering as the woman sucked.

The little girl started biting at the air and moaning.

What in the flying fuck is going on in here?

The scrawny kid backed away from Gary, joined the other kids as they all watched the show.

The little chubby boy that had walked in with Gary turned and faced them all. He stepped forward, eyed every one of them and chuckled. His voice sounded too deep for a child, almost demonic.

The sound of the woman sucking got Shipley’s attention again. “Gary, get the fuck out of my store!”

He stomped back behind the counter, started toward the phone.

But then he stopped.

He couldn’t remember what he was just thinking—the red hot rage filling his head was all he could focus on. And at that moment, the only thing Shipley wanted to do was beat these kids to a bloody pulp, until their own mother’s wouldn’t recognize them.

He hopped the counter, ready to see them bleed. Ready to hear their bones snapping.

But as he cleared the counter, fists as hard as boulders in front of him, one of the boys was there waiting for him, dove onto him.

Shipley peeled the kid from his torso, lifted him into the air, looked at him in the eye before head-butting him square in the face. The boy wiggled, tried to bite Shipley’s hand with teeth covered in braces, but couldn’t reach. Blood trickled from the space between his eyes.

Shipley head-butted him again, then again. Each time, Braces’s face got redder, changed shape.

A sharp pain in his groin.

“Ahhh!” He tossed Braces into the counter, shattering the glass. It rained down on him, slicing open his face and body.

The other boy had his fist planted in Shipley’s crotch, and as he pulled it away, the other fist hit home. Then another punch and another. Shipley tried to breathe, but couldn’t, found himself on his knees.

Crotch-puncher bared his teeth, growled.

Shipley reached up, grabbed him by the throat and squeezed. Something popped, broke, and Crotch-puncher fell to the ground, twitching and gasping.

Shipley grimaced, looked around the store for the others. Gary stood across the way, but he wasn’t concerned with him at the moment. The redhead was bent over, grabbing her ankles, and Gary pounded away behind her, thrusting into her. She moaned, slapped her ass against Gary’s midsection. Gary’s scrawny friend stood beside them with his hands in his pants, his face red as he worked himself. The little girl sat in front of them, kept biting at the air, over and over.

One of the twin boys had his brother on the ground, repeatedly slamming a chair into his head. The other twin kept trying to stand, but was knocked back to his stomach over and over. Blood poured from his scalp, stained his blond hair red.

Then a deep, twisting pain grinded into Shipley’s neck.

He turned and Braces had a glass shard in his hand—blood dripped from the tip. Shipley wiped his hand over his neck, saw the blood, and rushed toward the boy.

He tackled him, speared him back onto the broken glass display case. Shipley landed on top of him, the glass biting him all over, and slammed a hard fist on Braces’s face, then the other fist. The boy’s face was covered in blood and glass.

Shipley raised another fist, but something crashed into the back of his head, sent him spilling forward onto the ground behind the counter. He looked up with blurry vision, saw the twin holding up the chair, its metal legs coated in blood and hair. Twin cocked the chair back like he was going to throw it, and Shipley grabbed Braces by the hair, yanked him up to block the flying chair. It smacked the kid on the side of the head, bent the chair leg.

Shipley stood, stomped down on Braces’s chest before facing Twin. The little chubby kid stood in the middle of all this, watching, biting at the air, groaning with what sounded like pleasure.

But he looked drunk. He fell face forward, slapped his cheek against the floor.

Shipley growled, stepped onto the shattered counter and faced his remaining enemy.

He glanced back toward where Gary and the redhead were fucking like rabbits, but only the woman remained. She lay on her back, nude, playing with herself and giggling. The chubby kids were gone too, like they’d vanished. But Shipley wasn’t worried about them. All he wanted to do was…

W-what am I doing?

His hands shook. He stood amongst the broken glass of his counter…and he didn’t know how he got there. When he looked down at his hands, he saw they were covered in blood.

Then the pain engulfed his body, and he heard the painful cries from the boys. His neck shrieked with piercing agony, and he reached up, pulled out a shard of glass.

“Oh, Jesus.” He climbed down, ran toward Brett who kicked his legs and clutched at his ruined neck. Blood ran from his mouth.

One of the twins sat on the ground next to his brother, wailed and shook him. “Wake up…why won’t you wake up?”

The woman sobbed from the corner, clutched at her naked body. “What did you do to me?” She screamed as she gathered her clothes.

The cops…I gotta call the cops.

Shipley spun to grab the phone, but paused in mid-stride. The mangled boy lay on his back, choking on his own blood. Sonny was barely recognizable, barely looked human.

Red and blue light splashed onto the walls, tires screeched.

Shipley collapsed backward and held his quivering face in the palms of his hands. He didn’t fight when he was forced to his stomach and his hands were yanked behind his back.

—10—

Gary held a feedling in each hand by the scruff of their necks as he ran toward the woods again, their egg stink suffocating him. He howled with delight, couldn’t stop laughing. Clay chased him.

“Gary, wait up!”

Gary glanced over his shoulder, never slowing his pace. “Get the hell out of here, Clay. This doesn’t concern you.”

But the boy kept following. “Who are those kids with you? Who was that lady? What—”

“Go home, Clay!”

Gary turned the corner, glanced down at the feedlings’ fattened bodies. Something weird was going on with them, something that injected panic into his mind. As Gary had escaped the Rusty Dungeon, he noticed people fucking and fist-fighting in the street, masturbating in their cars or ramming their heads against their steering wheels. It was obvious the feedlings’ influence had reached these people.

Does their influence grow as they get fatter?

Either way, Gary couldn’t get the looks on Shipley’s and the boys’ faces out of his head. Jealousy, confusion. They wanted what he had, and it felt fucking amazing. And his plan couldn’t have worked out any better. The cops had been a surprise, but how perfect was that? Gary had been around the corner by then, stopped his retreat to watch Shipley take the fall for everything.

Take that, you old son of a bitch.

Watching the old guy beat the hell out of Sonny, Brett, and the twins was something Gary would relive in his mind forever. Pure bliss. The little assholes deserved every broken bone, every cut, every bruise. He had been busy feeding Mary Jane, but he saw enough to know that the job got done.

There is nobody in the world that can stop me now.

“Gary, what’s going on?” Clay’s voice, still right behind him.

Gary rolled his eyes. “If you’re coming, just shut up and follow me.”

“Okay!”

They reached the woods, and a sense of safety instantly swept Gary. He heard Clay fall somewhere behind him, call out for help, but Gary didn’t turn to look, just kept pushing forward. Had to make it to the clearing, the sanctuary. His heart pounded, his lungs burned. Sweat coated him like donut glaze.

When he reached his spot, he placed the feedlings face-down on the ground, their snores erupting into the air, and leaned against the rowan tree. He could still taste the redhead’s mouth, still smell her womanhood, feel its moisture soaking into his skin.

Clay stumbled out of the tree line, landed on his stomach—his glasses flew off and tumbled in the dirt. He got on his hands and knees, patted the ground all around him. “Gary? I can’t see. Gary?”

“Will you shut up? God.”

Clay’s boney hand wrapped around the wire frames and he slid them on, grinned, ran toward Gary and sat beside him. “Gary—”

“Clay, I swear to god, if you don’t shut up…”

“Sorry.”

Gary let out a long breath, rubbed his eyes with his sweaty palms, and filled Clay in on what had been going on. He knew if he didn’t, it would be question after question, so he told him everything.

“Wow. That’s why Mr. Shipley was beating up Sonny, Brett, and the twins?”

“Yes, I already said that.”

“And that’s why that girl was naked and kissing you on the dick?”

Gary hid his face in his hands, nodded.

“That’s so cool,” he said. He jumped to his feet. “I wanna try them. Can I use the feedlings too?”

Gary snorted. “I’m their master. Only I can use them.”

Clay had the look of a rugrat on the verge of a tantrum. He stomped his feet, stuck his lip out. “Ah, come on, Gary. You can make them do anything you want, right?”

“So what?”

“So I want a girl too. I’ve never had a girlfriend before, I—”

“No way, forget it. It doesn’t work that way.”

“But you made Mr. Shipley beat up—”

“I said no, Clay.”

“But if you could make them do that, why can’t you make a girl—”

Gary growled. “If you don’t shut your mouth, I’ll make someone kick your ass next, got it?”

Clay clicked his tongue, pushed his glasses up his nose.

“Look, my head hurts, I’m tired. It’s been a long couple of days.”

“What happened to your face?”

“Chester.”

“Your mom’s boyfriend?”

“Her fiancé now,” Gary said through clenched teeth. “He followed me here, beat the shit out of me. That’s how Kronos got here, from my blood I think.”

“What about Mary Jane? How did you wake her up?”

Gary had omitted that part when he’d been filling Clay in. “Can we stop with the questions now? I want to try and get some rest while they’re still sleeping.” He pointed at the feedlings, their bodies inflating and deflating with every ground-rattling snore, then leaned his head back against the bark, let his eyes roll shut. His groin ached from all the sex, the rest of his body sore from Chester’s fists.

“Gary?”

“Clay, I swear to god.”

“Are we gonna use the feedlings on Chester next? For what he did to you?”

Gary let his eyes fling open. He turned to Clay, his mouth a straight line coated in scabby skin. “Oh yeah. We’re going to take real good care of Chester.”

***

Chester limped as he paced the living room, flexing and unflexing his fists. He shot wind through his nostrils like twin air rifles.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Sheila said. “But he’s my son. What do you want me—”

“I don’t want you to say shit.” Chester stepped up to her and she flinched. “That motherfucker has given us too much grief, and I’m done feeling sorry for him. He needed his ass kicked, you can’t deny that.”

She kept her eyes on the couch, scratched at a food stain, shifted her position. “I don’t want him out of my life, Chester. Not completely. Now…I just don’t know. You didn’t have to—”

“He fucking stabbed me!” He pointed to the stain on his jeans. No matter how many times he cleaned the wound and bandaged it, it kept seeping through. “He got off easy if you ask me. I could’ve killed that son of a bitch.”

Sheila still wouldn’t look at him. “And you just left him out in the woods? All beaten to shit?”

Chester had been holding it in, tried his best not to let his anger get the best of him, but this woman just wouldn’t let up. So he hit her. He cocked his hand back and backhanded the shit out of her.

She yelped, held a shaking hand to the side of her face. Her mouth hung open and her eyes squinted as if preparing for the next blow.

“You see what you made me do?” Chester stomped to the other end of the living room, knocked the lamp over. “You think I like this shit?”

“I’m…I’m sorry.”

His eyes felt ready to burst from his head. He could feel the veins bulging on his neck. “I need to go think about…I just need to think.”

“Where are you going?”

Chester had his coat on already and was heading for the door. Sheila was on her feet with crooked wet lines running down her face.

“I need a drink. Maybe ten. I’ll be at Rudy’s,” he said. “Don’t wait up for me.”

And he slammed the door behind him.

***

Gary had Mary Jane and Kronos on either side of him as he stared at the concrete steps leading up to Sheila’s apartment. He gripped his samurai sword and held it at his side. Clay stood behind them, keeping a healthy distance just as Gary had told him.

“Remember what I said?” Gary turned to face his feedlings.

“Yes,” they said in unison.

“Tell me again.”

“Don’t influence your mother,” Mary Jane said.

“But tear Chester apart,” Kronos said. He looked at his sister and they laughed. The light from their eyes mixed into a rusty color as they locked eyes with each other.

Gary looked past the feedlings to Clay who stood by and bounced on his toes. He smiled at Gary when their eyes met. “And what are you going to do, Clay?”

“Stay here,” he said. “Out of the way.”

Gary hadn’t wanted the guy to be there at all, but he couldn’t get rid of him. It was less trouble to bring him along than to try and convince him to go home.

“You see any trouble out here, run up and warn me,” Gary said, then held up a finger. “But only in an emergency.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll have your back.” He pulled his glasses off and used the bottom of his t-shirt to clean them.

Gary nodded, stared at the stairs for a moment before taking them. He looked back and waved the feedlings over.

Mary Jane and Kronos whispered to each other, something Gary had started to notice more and more.

From down the hall came a repetitive knocking sound, mixed with matching grunts. Kronos had his red lights aimed toward the noise, and Gary watched as a small black cloud floated by and into Kronos’s mouth. He chewed messily, patted his belly.

“What the hell was that?” As they stepped closer, Gary saw a man slamming his forehead over and over into his apartment door, his smile stained red from the blood running down his face.

“Just a snack before we get started,” Kronos said. “I’ve got an appetite, Master.”

“Hey, me too,” Mary Jane said.

A man walking a German Shepard below them stopped in mid stride, pulled his pants off and let the dog’s tongue go to work on him. The dog lapped at it, wagged its tail. A yellow blob floated up as Mary Jane inhaled and it disappeared into her mouth.

“You guys, cut it out. Save your appetite,” Gary said. “I want you both to make Chester suffer, want him to wish he’d never met my mother.”

But yellow and black clouds were floating from all around, from places Gary couldn’t see. He knew Mary Jane and Kronos’s influential bubble had expanded, causing anyone in their vicinity to fuck and fight, but he didn’t have time to worry about it. He grabbed hold of Mary Jane’s wrist, yanked her down the hall before she could eat all the sex food in the air.

Gary flinched when a man’s scream exploded, and he turned back to find Kronos still standing, looking down onto the ground floor. He chewed on a mouthful of black violence.

“Kronos, get over here.”

The feedling inhaled another mouthful, followed by more screams and a wet, slurping sound.

Gary stomped toward him, grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around. The feedling’s eyes blinded Gary for a moment, but he saw what Kronos had been feeding on.

The man lay on his back now, the German Shepard with its jaws clamped on the dangling flesh it had been previously licking. The dog yanked, tore a chunk away.

The man screamed and splashed in the spreading pool of blood around him.

Jesus Christ.

Gary forced Kronos down the hall to stand by his sister. He stopped for a moment, took a long look at the two of them. Mary Jane whispered something into Kronos’s ear and he chuckled.

What am I doing?

“Look, you can’t just start killing people. That man didn’t do anything.”

Kronos laughed.

“What about the people in church? What about all the women?” Mary Jane laughed, then whispered into Kronos’s ear again.

“Stop whispering, damnit!” Gary said as he cut the empty air with his sword. He brought his voice down to a harsh whisper. “That was different…that was—”

“We’re hungry, we need to be fed,” Mary Jane said.

“My appetite is much bigger than my sister’s, Master,” Kronos said. “And you know what I eat. You’ve benefited from my tastes already.”

Gary shifted from foot to foot, looked left and right. Screams burst into the air from the distance, some painful, some pleasurable. He wiped the sweat from his forehead.

“I know. I—”

“Then take us to Chester so I can calm these hunger pangs,” Kronos said. “Master.”

The sarcasm in Kronos’s voice was loud and clear, and Gary found himself nervous to even look at the feedling.

I’m the master. He has to listen to what I say.

Gary peeled back the doormat, swiped the apartment key from the ground. He had to concentrate to keep his hand from shaking, leaned the sword against the wall as he slid the key into the lock. The feedlings whispered behind him, but he pretended he didn’t hear it.

He opened the door and gasped at what he saw.

***

Clay hid behind one of the wooden pillars as he watched the dog devour its owner. He didn’t want to move, didn’t want the dog to notice him, though he had an urge to walk over there and help it make its owner stop moving.

To Clay’s right, a man and woman lay naked on the concrete floor near the entrance of the complex. The woman rocked on top of him as they exchanged punches. Her face looked swollen and bloody and a red mist blew from her lips as she panted. The man’s chest and stomach were covered in blood and he thrust his hips upward as the woman jammed a finger between his lips and hooked his cheek until the corner of his mouth split.

Clay licked his lips, hugged the pillar. He couldn’t take his eyes off the couple. He knew this probably counted as an emergency and that he should run up and tell Gary what was going on.

But he couldn’t stop watching. Something about the blood, the sound of knuckles on wet meat, made his groin tingle more. He stayed glued to his spot. His erection pressed up against the wooden pillar, and he grabbed hold of it as he watched the bloody couple. He almost joined them, though he didn’t know which he wanted more: to fuck or to fight. The woman’s breasts were big, her nipples dark, and Clay wanted nothing more than to suck on them, swim in them, but part of him craved to see what color her insides were.

The dog owner had ceased his yelling, but the wet tearing sound persisted. Clay didn’t look, didn’t even move, though he had a yearning to stomp the dog’s skull in. He just watched the woman. She caught another fist in the middle of the face—her head rocked back and she shot an arc of blood into the air, but her hips never slowed.

Clay squeezed his erection until it hurt, leaned his forehead against the pillar.

The woman screamed and shivered, pulled the man out of her, jumped to her feet, and jammed the heel of her shoe into his throat. His body jerked as a white geyser sprayed from his cock and his legs kicked. The woman slammed her foot down again, slid her hands over her blood-slick body, then sat back down on the man’s dick.

Then there was a crack, like breaking wood. Feet dangled just above Clay’s head, nearly scraping his scalp with the long nails that protruded from the ends of the wiggling toes.

Clay looked up and finally let the pillar go, backed away.

An elderly man hung from the banister by a belt wrapped around his neck. His face was the color of freshly cut steak, his eyes an even deeper red. Veins bulged from his head and neck. The man wore nothing but a yellowed wife beater and the belt constricting his throat, and he tugged on his purple cock as his legs beat the air.

Clay smiled, jumped up and grabbed the feet. He dangled and pushed all his weight down until the man’s hand fell away from his erection and hung there.

***

As the apartment door swung open and crashed against the wall, Gary’s hand went to his mouth as the sting of vomit filled it. The light from the feedlings’ eyes lit the interior of the apartment. Yellow and black sludge floated past Gary and into their mouths.

Sheila sat with her back resting on the wall, sitting in a puddle of blood. She wore no clothing except a pair of purple socks that were stained red at the bottom. Her dreamy eyes found Gary, and she smiled, then drove the screwdriver clutched in her hands into herself, between her legs. A choked, quivering mutter escaped her throat.

Gary turned on the feedlings who happily chomped away.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He grabbed Mary Jane by the neck and lifted her into the air. Orange light bore into his sockets, singed his optical nerves. Her tongue slid from between her lips and wrapped around a floating portion of sex, pulled it into her mouth and slurped. “Let her go…stop this now!”

She shook her head.

“I’m your master!” He tossed her aside, went back to grab his sword. He faced the feedlings with the blade shaking out in front of him. “Stop this now!”

They only laughed and kept eating.

Gary’s hands ached from squeezing the hilt of the sword so tight. His mouth filled with the taste of snot as tears streamed down his face. Anger filled him like boiling gasoline.

Sheila looked up at him, that stupid grin contorting her face. Her shoulder worked fast as she fucked herself with the screwdriver.

And then Gary swung the sword. He put enough force behind the swing to decapitate both feedlings. It was like slow motion as the blade sliced through Mary Jane’s neck, but there was no resistance, as if she were a mirage. The flesh of her neck detached from her torso, but as the blade passed through, the flesh mended itself. Gary almost fell over from the ferocity of his swing.

The feedlings laughed and continued their meal, turning their backs to Gary.

He dropped his weapon, ran around and stood between Sheila and them. “You can’t do this…y-you have to st—”

His leg screamed with pain and he fell backward. The back of his head cracked against the floor and black spots swarmed his vision. Then it was Sheila’s face hovering above his. She held a butcher knife in her teeth, the blade slicing the corners of her mouth into a wider grin. Gary reached down and wiped his hand over the pain in his leg, and it came back covered in blood. Then Kronos’s face popped up from over Sheila’s left shoulder. He chewed a mouthful of violence as he stared down at Gary.

“There’s something you don’t understand about us, Gary,” Kronos said. “We don’t have any fucking masters.”

Mary Jane giggled, popped her head up over Sheila’s right shoulder.

Sheila reached down, grabbed the back of Gary’s head, then pulled him toward her breast. The leathery nipple poked past his lips and Gary gagged as he pushed her away.

“Please stop this…I fed you. I did what you said.”

“We only needed you to help get our strength up, Gary. People always fall for that master stuff, every time,” Mary Jane said. “But you had your good moments. The church was a blast, wasn’t it?”

The feedlings’ eyes shone down on him. “But why can I see your true form if I’m not your master? Why doesn’t your influence affect me?”

Sheila pulled the knife from between her teeth, pressed the tip of the blade on Gary’s cheek. The flesh popped as the metal broke the surface and a trickle of blood oozed out.

“I told you, we’re part of you,” Mary Jane said.

“You released us, Gary. With your seed and blood. And for that we thank you,” Kronos said. “Now it’s time for us to have some fun.”

They both laughed.

“So…what now?” Tears rolled down Gary’s face and salty snot stretched between his lips. Sheila pressed the blade harder. “Nghh…what the fuck do you want from me now!”

“We want what you want,” Mary Jane said. “I want to taste that pretty neighbor girl of yours.”

“I want to stuff myself with Chester’s suffering,” Kronos said.

“B-but why? Why help me still?”

“Help you?” they said together, guffawed. They climbed off Sheila’s shoulders and she crawled away, sat back in her blood puddle and jabbed the knife into herself this time.

Gary winced, held his hands up. “Okay, okay. Whatever you want, just leave her alone!”

“I told you, Gary. We only want what you want. What you crave.”

Gary knew Sheila wouldn’t stop, knew his only option was to get the feedlings away from her, far enough that their influence couldn’t affect her anymore.

“Well if Chester’s not here, then he’s got to be at Rudy’s,” Gary said. “It’s a bar…I can take you there.”

“No,” Mary Jane said. “We’re going next door first.”

—11—

Clay dropped from the hanging man’s legs, pushed his glasses back up his nose. The bloody woman still humped the man’s corpse, but now Clay was tired of looking at her. He searched around, found a fist-sized rock that the complex had lined around some plants, stomped toward her, and bashed the side of her head with it. The woman rolled off the man, her hips still moving, humping the air. She looked up at Clay and gurgled and he raised the rock over his head and smashed it down as hard as he could. There was a loud crack and her face sort of sunk in. She stopped making noise after that.

Clay reached down and cupped her ample breast, squeezed it. His hand came away bloody, and he reached into his pants with it.

A growl. Coming from behind him.

Clay turned, rock in hand, and was face to face with the German Shepard. The dog lowered its head, fur matted with gore, and bared its teeth. It took slow steps toward him.

There was a quick spark of rationality in his mind that told him to run, to escape while he still had all of his parts. But that thought fizzled out too quickly for it to register. So, Clay bared his teeth right back at the dog and charged.

The dog’s walk became a run and they approached each other at full speed.

***

They stood in the hall and faced the neighbor girl’s door. Gary could hear the wet sounds coming from inside of Sheila’s apartment, could hear her painful moan mixed with giggles. He shook his head. “Look, I just want to go. Let’s go to Rudy’s, take care of Chester, and—”

Mary Jane’s eyes landed on him, bright and burning. “No. I want her now,” she said. “What’s the matter? I thought you’d be happy about this.”

The neighbor’s door creaked open.

“Feed me, Gary. Feed me or we’ll make your mother disembowel herself,” Mary Jane said.

The neighbor stepped out of the darkness of her apartment and stood in the doorway. She wore no clothing and, though drenched in blood, her naked body was every bit of perfect as Gary had imagined it would be. So many fantasies with the neighbor girl playing the lead role, and now she was all his. Just a couple of days earlier, Gary would have given anything just to get a glimpse of her nude flesh. But now, he only wanted this nightmare to end. Actually wanted his shitty life back.

The neighbor’s red body glistened, and as she smiled out at Gary, she brought her hand down to her thigh and swiped it across, opening a wide, seeping gash. She held a razor blade in her hand, and just as Gary saw the glint of the metal, she swiped it across her other leg. Her legs looked tiger-striped with open wounds but, much like his mother, she only smiled.

“Why are you just standing there?” she said. “Come in here and fuck me.”

Just to hear those words squirt from her lips petrified his cock. Another gurgled groan came from within his mother’s apartment, and Gary clenched his teeth, squeezed his hands into fists.

“Yeah, Gary. What’s the problem?” Kronos said.

“Feed me now,” Mary Jane said. “She smells scrumptious.”

The girl stepped out into the hallway and approached Gary with open arms. The night air twisted her nipples to sharp points, the rest of her beading up into gooseflesh.

Gary could only watch her come, part from revulsion, but mostly because he longed to feel her against him. So many years thinking about her, and here she was. The other women Mary Jane had influenced into fucking him were nothing, mannequins made of flesh. The neighbor was the only woman Gary had ever wanted, and all he had to do was reach out and touch her.

Before he could make a move, she was on him. She pressed her body against his, staining his clothes with her blood. Her stiff breasts mashed against him and, without knowing he was doing it, Gary’s hands ascended from his sides to her body. His fingers glided across the smooth wet skin and he found it hard to breathe.

“Come inside and fuck me,” she said. “Right now.”

She walked toward her apartment, Gary’s hand in hers, and Gary allowed her to pull him. The feedlings trailed behind.

As they entered, the red and orange light engulfed the place, illuminating the plumes of black violence that already filled the apartment.

***

Clay stomped his foot onto the dog’s head over and over. It had been dead many stomps ago, but it was just too much fun to feel it squash under his shoe. The blood-and-hair-covered rock was still clutched in his hand. Blood poured from the multiple bite wounds on his arms, but the throbs of pain were like mini orgasms.

An obese woman grunted and slurped from across the courtyard. Clay looked up from the mutilated dog and started marching toward her. She crawled on her hands and knees leaving twin streaks of blood on the concrete. Her hair was riddled with rollers and she wore a bright blue muumuu. Something dangled from her mouth…small and bloody. As Clay got closer, he saw it was an arm, maybe a toddler’s, broken off at the elbow.

She thrashed her head like a pitbull with a rope, and just as Clay was about to pounce on her, a group of five kids emerged from an open apartment door. They shrieked a battle cry, as if they were involved in some innocent war game, as they swarmed over her like buzzards on roadkill. The kids looked to be around seven or eight, and each one of them clutched some kind of kitchen utensil. Knives, forks, corkscrews and the like were repeatedly driven into the soft flesh of the woman. She fell flat on her stomach, crushing a small girl who bit at the engulfing rolls of pale fat.

Clay almost joined in, but heard so much chaos coming from just outside the complex, he decided to leave the kids to it. He launched his rock at them, giggled as it cracked a small boy in the side of the face. The boy just stood back up, kitchen knife in hand, and slid the metal into one of the woman’s jiggling chins.

As strong as the urge to kill and inflict pain was in Clay’s head, there was an equally potent buzzing in his groin. He reached down and rubbed it. He’d had an erection for so long, his balls ached, and Clay jogged away from the courtyard into the parking lot.

Cars rocked, blood dripped down windshields. A man stood on the hood of a Hummer, a pair of gardening shears in his hands. His cock was longer than Clay’s arm, it seemed, and he watched as the man snipped the tip off like it were the head on a G.I. Joe. Blood squirted, splashed on a woman who rammed her head into the Hummer’s front driver’s window. The man worked his way down his hardened dick, chopping away disks of flesh that rolled across the hood, slid down the windshield like ketchup-dipped pickle chips.

Something smashed his foot, and Clay tried to flinch away, but was held in place. An old man in a motorized wheelchair scowled up at him—one of the wheels crushing Clay’s foot—and waved a metal cane, swung it at Clay’s head.

“I’ll kill you and fuck you and kill you and fuck you,” the old man said. His teeth rattled loose in his mouth, muffling his words.

Clay grabbed the cane and yanked it away. “Shut up,” he said as he chuckled. He shoved the cane straight into the man’s mouth, slammed it hard against the back of his throat. With a jerk of his bitten and bleeding arm, the cane was angled so that it pointed to the sky, then he pushed down with all his weight. The old man gurgled and flailed his arms, though his legs stayed still. A wet splatter followed by the strong odor of shit blew from the old man’s pants at the same time his arms fell limp to his sides. Clay yanked the cane out with a wet slurp—the dentures were stuck to the metal with gore paste.

Beyond the parking lot, people on the street looked in with wide eyes, cell phones to their ears, hands to their gaping mouths. A girl, probably around Clay’s age, shouted into her bubble-gum-pink cell phone, screaming and pointing.

Clay smiled at her. He wanted her. Wanted to tear her clothes off and fuck her until she bled. So he ran at her. She saw him coming, shrieked into her phone and backed away. But not fast enough.

Clay tackled her to the ground, the inside of his pants radiating heat at the anticipation of seeing her naked torso.

And then it was gone. He blinked, caught an open palm to the face and a knee to the balls at the same time. Rolling over, he watched the girl as she ran down the street. He looked at his hands…covered in blood.

“What…wha…Ahhh!” Ragged teeth punctures covered his arms, blood bubbling out of the deep holes, and he nearly lost consciousness from the sudden wave of pain. He lay on his back and rocked himself as he fought to control his whimpers.

He had to warn Gary. Had to show him the destruction the feedlings were causing.

But I can’t go back in there. I’ll black out again.

He winced as he used his arms to push himself back to his feet. Tears welled in his eyes as more blood dribbled down his forearms and dripped from his fingertips.

He looked up to the second floor, knew Gary was somewhere up there. And he ran back into the complex.

***

The scent of sex and blood was in the air, and the neighbor girl led Gary to her bedroom.

Kronos sat down in the middle of the living room, eyes wide and scarlet, and chomped away at the violence hovering about.

The apartment was thick with it, onyx clouds billowing through the air as if something were on fire. There was some yellow mixed in, but it didn’t compare to the vast black. Kronos held his mouth open and inhaled, nearly choking himself with it.

“No fair,” Mary Jane said. “Hurry up and fuck this girl, I’m starving!”

It wasn’t like Gary had a choice. The girl was strong and she tugged him along, her ass cheeks bouncing. And then they entered the bedroom, and Gary saw where all the violence was coming from.

Her boyfriend. Or what was left of him. Pieces of him were on the carpet, most of him on the bed. His blood was splashed over the walls, floor, and even some on the ceiling. A ragged red piece of flesh hung down from one of the ceiling fan blades, an unrecognizable hunk of stringy meat.

The man lay spread out like a starfish. His face was twisted and frozen in a painful grimace, his mouth stretched wide in what looked like a final shriek before death yanked his soul out of his body.

“Don’t mind him,” she said as she lay down on top of his splayed carcass. “He couldn’t satisfy me. Not the way I know you can.”

Her boyfriend’s chest and stomach were opened and scooped out. His intestines lay in a pile beside the bed, the rest of his organs lay here and there. The girl slid her back all over the gory mess and ran her fingernails over her body. Her eyelids fluttered and she licked the air.

“Come to me,” she said. Her hand moved to the dark spot between her legs, and even through all the blood, Gary could see the pink.

“Now, Gary. Do it now,” Mary Jane said.

The urge to turn and run tugged at his mind. He didn’t know where he would go, but all he knew was he didn’t want to be there.

The neighbor reached behind her, snapped a rib away from her boyfriend’s exposed ribcage, and slid it into her gore-coated pussy inch by inch. Her eyes never left Gary’s.

Bile stung his nasal cavity. But then he heard it, coming from the living room.

Snoring.

Kronos is asleep.

The violence-eating feedling had a much bigger appetite than his sister, and Gary could only hope it wouldn’t take as much to fill Mary Jane.

If they’re both asleep, I can rescue Sheila. We can get the hell out of here.

He looked over at Mary Jane whose stomach rumbled like an agitated storm. Her black tongue tentacled out from between her cone-shaped teeth, wrapped around a stray glob of sex, pulled it into her mouth. She nodded toward the girl on the gory mattress.

Gary turned to the neighbor girl, forced a smile as he pulled his pants off. “I’ve dreamed about this moment for a long time,” he said. “I never thought it could ever be possible.”

She pulled the rib out of her and threw it at him. It hit him in the chin and left a wet mark. “Shut the fuck up and do it then.”

He peeled his shirt away, no longer worried about his appearance, and climbed up onto the wet, squishy bed. She grabbed him by the back of his head, rolled him over so she was on top. His sore beaten body ignited with pain, but he bit back his grimace.

The remains of the girl’s boyfriend stabbed and prodded Gary’s back, soaked into his skin.

Then he was inside of her, and the only sensation was her engulfing warmth.

—12—

Chester slammed the empty glass on the counter, called for another as he lit a cigarette. His head buzzed and his vision blurred, and he felt much better about the day’s events. Betsy eyed him from across the bar, a saggy woman twice his age, and he nodded her over. She smashed her Virginia Slim into the ashtray, grabbed her empty glass, and waddled her way toward him.

“You fill this glass and give me an extra twenty bucks, I’ll suck your dick,” she said. “Whattya say?”

Chester laughed, slapped her on the ass. Though her skin was wrapped around bundles of fat that hung down from various places on her body, Chester figured he could spare twenty bucks, clear his head before he went home and faced his fiancée.

“What are you d-drinking?” he said.

“Seven and seven,” she told the bartender. “Jesus, what happened to your leg?”

“Fucking stepson,” he said, then shot vodka out his nose as he laughed. “Stabbed me with a ninja sword.” He slapped his leg, right on the wound, but the pain only made him laugh harder.

Betsy lit another cigarette and shook her head. “You’ve always been a strange one, Chester.”

“And you’ve always been a whore,” he said. “Now hurry up with your drink so I can stuff your mouth with my dick.”

She clicked her tongue. “Asshole,” she said, then tipped her drink back and slurped it down in one gulp. “So we going to the bathroom or your car?”

***

Clay didn’t make it far into the parking lot before he had yanked his pants off. Blood seemed to coat everything around him. Bodies lay motionless on the concrete.

The second he had entered the parking lot, his erection came screaming back, throbbed until it hurt. The breeze tickled it and sent little sparks of pleasure up the shaft.

He spotted a woman lying in the back of a maroon van. The trunk was open and her blood slicked legs stuck out, bending and unbending over and over as if riding an invisible bicycle. As Clay grew nearer, he saw the shiny black tire iron she was using as a dildo. The van rocked with her rhythm.

Clay hopped into the van, his freckled penis bobbed up and down. The woman smiled wide as their eyes met. She yanked the tire iron out and handed it to him. As he smelled it, her feet reached out and hooked behind his hips, pulled him close.

He was in her before he knew it and he didn’t ever want it to stop.

***

Kronos’s snores still rocked the apartment, smashing through the air like amplified thunder. Gary lay on his back as the neighbor girl rocked on top of him. The ferocity in her eyes had relaxed and was replaced by the lazy squint of ecstasy.

Though Gary was living his dream at that moment, minus the open corpse beneath him and the blood covering the girl, he looked past her to Mary Jane who sat just beside the bed. The feedling ate sloppily, her eyes squeezed shut as she gorged herself.

Yes, this girl was the most gorgeous girl Gary had ever seen. Part of him never wanted her to stop grinding on him, taking him into her. But he couldn’t get the image of Sheila out of his head, the screwdriver going in and out of her, the metal stained red, the Philips-head tip thick with gore.

So, as he saw Mary Jane entranced by the meal he was providing for her, he shoved the neighbor girl square in the chest as hard as he could.  She tumbled backward and smashed the back of her head against Mary Jane’s plump face.

Gary’s dick was like a slimy thumbs up. Before he could see what damage he had done, if any, he was off the bed, on his feet, and running out of the bedroom. He heard chasing footsteps and a squeak escaped his throat as he checked over his shoulder. The neighbor girl was on his heels, her breasts swaying, her face twisted into a grimace.

“Get back in here and fuck me!”

As he sprinted through the living room, he saw Kronos, still on his back, fast asleep. The girl reached for Gary and scraped her nails across his ass cheeks.

“Leave me alone!” He turned on her, pointed at her with his slick erection. She looked like a baseball player sliding into home as she glided across the floor on her knees, and in the next moment, Gary’s cock was in her mouth. And just beyond her stood Mary Jane, her eyes fiery and trained on him.

Oh fuck.

As she took steady steps toward him, she hopped up into the air like a baby bird trying to pluck a worm from its mother’s beak and snatched the remaining globs of sex floating there. But Gary could tell from the brightness of her eyes that she was only partially satiated.

The neighbor girl slurped on him, gagged. Mary Jane’s eyes spotlighted the yellow exploding from the blowjob, and as she approached, she ate.

Goddamnit.

Gary grabbed the back of the girl’s head and worked his hips, faster and faster. Yellow globs blew from his groin like exhaust from a smoke stack. Mary Jane’s movements slowed as she continued to eat.

He grabbed handfuls of the girl’s hair, slammed himself into her over and over. Her teeth scraped against him and she giggled and gagged at the same time.

A volcanic shudder ran up the length of his body, from the tips of his toenails to the points of his hair, and he bared his teeth and growled. As the cum sprayed directly down the girl’s throat, a colossal blob of yellow sex swam into the air.

Mary Jane saw it and breathed in, sucking the food toward her at jet speed. It hit her like a cannonball, took her off her feet. She landed on her back, chewing and slurping. Her eyes faded until blinking out, and then the snores came.

And it was music to Gary’s ears. He checked behind him and saw that Kronos, though still lightly snoring, was shifting in his sleep.

Gotta get to Sheila. Gotta get the fuck away from here. Gotta—

“W-what the fuck are you doing in here?”

The burst of sudden voice startled Gary and he blinked away his thoughts and looked down into the wide, bloodshot eyes of the girl. She had her eyes locked on his, then they descended and found his erection. Her lip trembled and her nose wrinkled as she backed away on her hands and knees, then all at once realized she was nude.

“What the fuck did you do to me!”

“It’s not…I didn’t…let me explain.” Gary had his hands out in front of him and he shook his head as he took backward steps toward the door. Kronos shifted again, grunted, then let out a faint snore.

The girl smacked her mouth, tasting it, then retched onto the floor. “You sick motherfucker…you raped me. Why is there blood on me?” She jumped to her feet, screamed, wept as she jetted toward her bedroom.

Time to go.

As Gary’s hand wrapped around the knob, the girl’s shriek ripped through his skull and nearly liquefied his brain. He slammed the door shut behind him and went straight for Sheila’s apartment. His nude body tightened as the cold air of the night hit him.

“Sheila? Where are you?” he said as he stumbled in.

“G-gary?” Her voice sounded weak, barely above a whisper.

Gary was just glad she could respond at all as he shot toward her bedroom.

“Sheila…Mom, I…”

She sat on her bedroom floor, wrapped in her comforter and backed into a corner. Tears and snot made her face shine. When she saw Gary standing in her doorway, a fresh sob rocked her shoulders and she held her arms out.

“Gary…oh god I thought you were dead.” She looked at him with hurt creasing her face. “What…what happened to you? Did Chester do that to your face?”

He ran to her, wanting nothing more than to feel the safety of his mother’s arms, to feel her surrounding him with her unconditional love. Even as he remembered he was completely nude, wearing only the saliva of the girl next door and the blood of her butchered boyfriend, he still wrapped his arms around Sheila and squeezed.

She rocked him, ran her fingertips over his scalp. No sex act could have felt that good. “What’s happening, Gary? W-what’s going on?”

“It’s me. It’s all because of me,” he said, sniffling between each word. “It’s all my fault…I just wanted to know what it felt like…to not be me…to not be made fun of all time. I—”

The front door slammed against the wall.

Oh shit. Now what?

For once, Gary’s worst fear was not that Chester was coming home. Before Gary had time to process what was happening, rapid footsteps pounded toward the bedroom.

“Someone’s inside,” Sheila said.

Gary rolled off of his mother and they both tried scrambling to their feet.

“You motherfucker!” The neighbor girl stood in the bedroom doorway holding a baseball bat over her head. Her immaculate body was covered with an oversized football jersey that hung loosely from her bloody torso.

“Wait…wait,” Gary said as he shielded his mother, standing between her and the crazed neighbor. “You’ve got it all wrong.”

The girl charged, her eyes digging holes into his head as she came. She swung the bat, caught Gary in the left arm.

He cried out, tried to grab the weapon away from her, but she pulled it free and hit him again. The metal made a pinging sound as it struck him.

“Get the fuck outta my apartment!” Sheila tried to force her way past Gary, but he held her back.

“He…he murdered my boyfriend,” the girl said through sobs, then swung at Gary, barely missing his face. “He fucking raped me!”

Gary reached out for the bat again, but stumbled. His forehead cracked against the side of the television stand and his face bounced off the floor. Blood filled his mouth and his vision blurred. And then the pain was there, like a headache on fire. Barely audible above the ringing in his ears was shouting and yelling, and Gary could only watch as Sheila wrestled with the girl—even weak from blood loss she put up a good fight.

And then the room was lit with red light.

***

Clay hit the woman in the face with the tire iron, then again, kept hitting her until she resembled a ruined pile of meat quivering in the back of the van.

He couldn’t remember who she was or why he was in the van with her, but it just felt so damn good to hit her, so he kept doing it.

Outside of the van, he heard grunts and growls, and even though he was having so much fun, he stepped out of the vehicle to see what was going on. He gripped the tire iron, sticky with fluids, and ground his teeth as he stepped down onto the concrete.

Chaos all around. Beautiful chaos. People attacked one another all over the place. There was no prejudice in the violence as women attacked men, children attacked the elderly, animals attacked everyone. Fists and teeth and claws and weapons. Blood everywhere.

Clay laughed, ran toward a man who was stomping the head of a small girl into a curb. The girl held a jagged bottle, and every time the foot slammed into the side of her head, she jabbed at the leg with it.

Clay smashed the tire iron against the man’s face, and when the man stumbled forward, the little girl jabbed the jagged bottle into his neck, twisted it.

The girl rose to her feet, her face looking like leftover lasagna, and stabbed the man’s neck again.

Bored with this, Clay looked around for someone else to play with. He realized he wasn’t wearing any pants, couldn’t remember why, but he ignored it as he continued on.

People outside of the complex in the street rioted. Clay could hardly contain himself as he watched so many potential playmates run by or maul each other.

He looked toward the complex and furrowed his brow. Something nagged at him, as if there was something he was supposed to do.

But he was having far too much fun to worry about anything else but the pandemonium surrounding him.

***

Chester spat a loogey into the urinal, then pissed on it. Betsy was behind him pulling her shirt back on. She wiped the tears from her face and the blood from her lip.

“Don’t you go making a big deal out of this, Betsy.” Chester shook his dick and tucked it back into his jeans. He didn’t bother to flush the toilet as he turned to face the older woman. “I told you I didn’t wanna feel no teeth.”

“You didn’t have to hit me,” she said as she stuffed her flappy tits into the orange spaghetti strap shirt. “It was an accident.”

Chester laughed. “It was a reflex, baby. I didn’t mean it.” But he did mean it. He had wanted to hit something all night, really let someone have it. But not Sheila. As much as she pissed him off, and as much as he truly hated Gary, he did love her. At least he thought he did. He made a promise to himself that he wouldn’t beat on her, not all the time anyway. Not like he had in the past. So feeling his knuckles crunch against Betsy’s face was almost enough to make him cum again. Anyway, the bitch was tough, and Chester knew she could take it much better than Sheila could.

“Well, I’m charging you an extra ten for the punch, asshole.”

Chester chuckled as he pulled the cash from his wallet. “I shouldn’t pay you shit for scraping my junk with your yellow ass teeth.” He tossed the crumpled bills to the floor—one of the fives soaked up some piss where it landed.

“Fuck you, Chester.”

Chester had his mouth open to reply, but the raucous coming from outside caught his attention. “What in the hell?”

Betsy scooped up her money and stood behind Chester as he inched toward the bathroom door. Loud voices and gasping and muffled cussing coming from the bar.

Chester pulled the door open, didn’t hold it for Betsy, and stepped out. Everyone was looking out the glass panes, crawling over each other to see whatever it was that was happening outside.

“What the fuck is going on?” Chester said as he slid into the bar stool behind the huddle of rubber-neckers. He grabbed someone’s full beer from the bar and emptied half of it down his throat.

“Don’t know. It’s like everyone’s gone mad out there,” Rudy the bartender said.

“What?”

Rudy shrugged, pointed out the window.

Chester downed the rest of the beer and headed out the front door. Betsy stood on the sidewalk, her hand covering her mouth.

“What in the hell is…” Chester stood next to Betsy and they both stared without speaking.

It looked like a scene straight out of hell.

Three or four blocks up, bodies flailed and thrashed. The shouts and screams exploded into the air, and even from that distance, Chester could see the blood staining the street and sidewalks.

Sheila…she’s at home.

Chester loved his fiancée, but from the looks of things, she was already dead or she would be soon. And Chester detached himself in that moment, figured he would rather live to love another day than try and save her.

“B-back inside,” he said to nobody. He turned, saw Betsy staring slackjawed into the distance. He shoved her. “Get back inside. Now!”

—13—

Gary lifted himself to a sitting position, but his head pleaded with him to lie back down. He forced himself to his feet and faced the girl and his mother who still fought over the baseball bat.

Kronos stepped into view, smiled at Gary with his Great-White grin. His eyes were like spotlight laser beams, and they flooded the room with red.

Gary stepped forward to help Sheila, but before he could she wrenched the bat away from the girl, clocked her in the side of the face with the butt of it. A tooth spat from the girl’s mouth and thumped against Gary’s forehead.

Kronos giggled, swallowed a black cloud.

Gary turned his attention back to his mother when he heard the hollow thunk, and found her swinging the bat down onto the girl’s head. Blood rushed out from the jagged crack and soaked into the neighbor girl’s blond hair. She moaned, looked like she was doing a pushup as she tried to lift herself. Her teeth were bared and she looked right at Gary as the bat came crashing down again, denting her skull—then she was still.

“Mom…Sheila stop!”

Sheila turned on him. Strands of blond hair stuck to the fat end of the bat and floated like spider webs caught in a breeze.

“Kronos, please stop this,” Gary said. “I’ll take you to Chester. We’ll make him suffer together.”

The feedling chewed and swallowed. His head had fattened to basketball size since his feast in the neighbor’s apartment. His cheeks swelled and his chins had multiplied. Rolls of fat hung from his arms and his belly bulged.

“I see you gave my sister what she wanted,” Kronos said. “How was she, Gary? The neighbor girl?”

The girl’s body twitched just slightly as the pool around her head widened, soaked into the beige carpet. Sheila swung the bat again, completely collapsing the head.

“Please, just leave my mother alone. I’m giving you what you want.”

“No, this is too much fun. She’s coming with us.”

Sheila’s hair hung down over her face, thick with blood. She bounced the bat in the palm of her hand and chuckled.

“And then what?” Gary said. “After I give you Chester, what happens next?”

“We’ll turn your town into a hurricane of sex and violence. A sea of fucking and killing.” The chubby feedling stepped closer. “And when we get our fill, we’ll keep moving, keep feeding until the world is covered in blood and cum. We’ll feed forever.”

Gary could only stare at the feedling. He looked at Sheila who was now fingering the gore on the aluminum bat.

“Will you let me go? Me and my mother?”

Kronos cocked his head, licked his black lips. “You would let us turn your world into chaos without putting up a fight?” He laughed. “How times have changed.”

“What do you mean?” Gary reached down and grabbed the comforter his mother had been using—streaked with her blood—and concealed his nakedness with it.

“You think that’s the first time I’ve given that little speech, Gary? No. But it’s usually answered with promises of my defeat, with threats to stop me and my sister.” His eyes shone right into Gary’s face. “I love a good challenge. But you…you do nothing to save your kind. I can feel your weakness, your selfishness inside of me. I’m ashamed to share your blood, Gary. Master.” He cackled and his body jiggled.

As much as Gary hated to hear it out loud, Kronos was right. Gary didn’t care about anyone except for himself and Sheila. The rest of them could suffer until the end of time for all he cared.

I don’t give a fuck about these people…right?

“I don’t care what you do. Just let us go.”

Kronos’s stomach rumbled. “Take me to Chester, I’m starving.”

Gary took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and pictured Chester’s face. The only reason he had even come back to the complex was to have his feedlings teach Chester a lesson. To show that son of a bitch that he couldn’t push Gary around anymore. He didn’t have intentions of killing him, or for anyone to die, but if that’s what Kronos wants…

Gary tried to justify it in his mind. Was he really okay with being responsible for the deaths of millions? Every man, woman, and child’s suffering? How long would it take for the feedlings’ influence to reach the rest of the world? He could imagine Kronos and Mary Jane, giant fat slobs rolling around among the remaining people, forcing them to beat and fuck each other for eternity.

He thought about what would be left. No more internet, no more comic books, no more video games. There would be nobody to send Kronos the Destroyer to once he finally finished it, though he had already decided he would need to change the hero’s name. It would just be him and Sheila…existing. Avoiding the feedlings and the hell they would bring.

No…I can’t let them do this. Kronos is right, I should put up a fight. I’m the only one that can stop them.

But Chester? That motherfucker deserves it.

Gary walked past Kronos to his bedroom where he threw some clothes on. The t-shirt and jeans he found on the floor were soaked with his odor, the fabric stiff as if starched—Gary knew it was his own hardened filth. But he didn’t have time to think about that now. He went back for his sword, squeezed the handle with both hands.

He snorted, swallowed. “Okay. Let’s go get you fed.”

***

The fist rocked Clay’s face again and the back of his head smacked the hard ground under him. His glasses had shattered and lay in pieces beside him, turning the world into a series of blurred shapes and colors. The man had him pinned under his knees, and no matter how many times Clay hit him, the man wouldn’t budge. Just kept raining down hammer blows. Clay’s mouth and nose filled with blood and he choked on it.

He was in the street now, just outside of the complex. People all around him fought with inexhaustible persistence. Oncoming vehicles were blocked by flailing bodies, but as they hit their brakes, the drivers would launch themselves from the cars and join in on the bloodshed.

Clay heard a high pitched screech, and in the same moment, caught another fist to the middle of his face. His head swung back and he saw the blurred shape of an oncoming car, tires trying to stick to the road as it skidded to a halt.

He watched the approaching hunk of metal as it promised to bring him death, and he laughed as it came, welcomed it, looked forward to the intense pain it would bring when his insides were squeezed out of him, when he was ground into the concrete.

But it passed right over him without touching him, smashed into the man that had him pinned. The bumper collided with the man’s face, caved it in, and rolled him backward. Clay stared up at the undercarriage, hot oil dripping down onto his face and mixing with the open wounds there, tiptapping stings of agony.

The car rocked, then the sound of high heels clicking on the asphalt. The sound moved to the front of the car until reaching what Clay assumed was the squirming body of the man.

Clay crawled out from under the car and his hand landed on a square piece of glass. He squinted one eye, held the glass over the other like a monocle. The woman’s blurry body became clear, and Clay saw that she stood over the crumbled man, held what looked like a tiny silver pistol in her hand, had it aimed at the man’s face. She pulled the trigger over and over until there were only clicks.

Blood pitter-pattered onto the street from Clay’s face, and as he ran his tongue over his ruined lips, he could tell he had lost most of his front teeth. His swollen gums throbbed, but it didn’t stop him from approaching the woman.

“Clay!”

He stopped, turned toward the shouting voice. Whoever it was needed to bleed, that much he knew for sure. A fat man ran toward him carrying a chubby girl in one hand and a sword in the other. The girl swung limply at his side—she looked dead, which Clay found disappointing. Killing her would have been glorious.

“Holy shit, man. What the fuck happened to you?” the fat man said.

A naked woman covered in blood spatter, toting a baseball bat followed behind the fat man, along with a small boy, just as chunky as the girl. As they grew closer, Clay wanted more and more for them to die, wanted to see what their insides felt like oozing through his fingers.

So he ran at them. “I’ll fucking kill you!”

As he approached at full sprint, holding the glass to his eye, the last thing he saw was the woman cocking her baseball bat behind her head.

Then all the lights went out.

***

“No, stop. He’s just a kid,” Gary said as he ran in front of Sheila and grabbed the bat before she bashed Clay’s skull in. He dropped Mary Jane’s sleeping body and his weapon to the street beside Kronos. Mary Jane was already moaning and shifting around.

It’s like the more they eat, the less sleep they need. And they get hungrier every time they wake up.

Kronos looked around at all the violence he was causing. His smile split his head in half, his teeth like spear tips in the moonlight.

“A buffet of butchery,” he said. “So much to choose from.” He sniffed the air, widened his eyes. “Isn’t this beautiful, Gary?” And then the feedling became a vacuum for the endless violence around them. Everywhere Kronos’s eyes pointed revealed the thick brutality swirling there like a storm. And he feasted.

That’s right. Eat up. Eat until you burst.

Gary still struggled with Sheila as she fought him for the bat. Clay lay on the street motionless.

Gary couldn’t believe the hell that had erupted around the apartment complex. After scooping up Mary Jane from the neighbor’s apartment, under Kronos’s orders, they ran past acts of violence that couldn’t have been worse in any video game, in any graphic novel Gary had ever seen. Bodies lay everywhere, every one of them mauled, torn apart. They didn’t pass a single person that wasn’t involved in either mutilating themselves or someone else.

And all the while Kronos giggled, relishing in the pandemonium.

The fattening feedling sucked in a dark cloud of violence from a charred body lying down the street, flames still dancing on its surface. A teenage boy and girl stomped down on it, their feet and calves equally burned—a red gas can dangled from the girl’s hand. As Gary watched, the couple turned on each other. The boy grabbed the girl by the head and slammed it forward into the ground. He tore her skirt away, then his own khakis. As he entered her, the girl turned her head, caught the boy’s pinky finger in her mouth and flayed the flesh away bit by bit with every thrust. She kept her teeth clamped on the gushing finger even as the man slammed his knuckles of his other hand to the back of her head.

Mary Jane.

Gary faced his feedlings. Mary Jane stood by her brother, the orange of her eyes like the headlights of an 18-wheeler. They held hands, grinned hard, spun in a circle and gorged. The growling and screaming and grunting now mixed with moans and wet slapping sounds.

An obese elderly woman slammed into Gary and knocked him to the ground. She had her dress hiked up and her panties to her knees and she slammed her weight down on top of him, clawed at his zipper.

“No…get off me!” Gary could barely breathe under the woman, and a smell like rotten salmon wafted up from her nether regions.

Then a baseball bat nearly took her head off. Blood and saliva rained down on Gary, and he tried to get out from under her, but she still had him pinned. She lifted herself back up, face a mess of blood, lip, and teeth, and went straight back to his zipper, ignoring Sheila who clocked her in the middle of the face again. This time the woman rolled backward, off of Gary.

He rolled out of the way as the bat swung down, barely missing his head. A chunk of cement chipped from the road and the bat dinged like a church bell. The fat woman was on her hands and knees and crawled toward Gary, but collapsed onto her stomach as the bat caught the back of her head. Then again and again and again.

Gary took the opportunity to get to his feet. He checked on the feedlings and they continued their smorgasbord of sex and violence. Their girth continued to grow and they fattened right before his eyes. An orgy of masochism swept the street like a tidal wave. The light from the feedling’s eyes coated the scene with vivid color.

Gary had only been on his feet for a moment before rapid footsteps approached him from his left. Without seeing his attacker, Gary ducked, lost his footing, and found himself back on the ground. What looked like a piece of a yellow car bumper swished over his head, the tip of it stained red. Something hard dug into his back.

“You die…I kill…you die…I kill,” the dark brown man said as he stood over Gary and rubbed his crotch. He raised the bumper over his head.

Gary did a situp, reached behind him—he could have shouted when his fingers tickled the hilt of his sword. He grabbed it just in time to block the oncoming car bumper with it. The blade bit into the yellow plastic, and when the man raised it again, Gary thrust forward, burying the blade into the guy’s stomach.

The man looked down at the penetration, dropped the bumper behind him. He giggled, said something in a language Gary didn’t understand. His hands wrapped around the blade, slicing his palms open, and he stepped forward, pushing the blade deeper.

“Get the hell away from me.” Gary tried to shuffle backward as the man kept coming forward.

“You fuck me,” the man said, then reached down and unzipped his pants. He pulled his dick out and stroked it, used the blood from the lacerations on his hand as lubrication. And he kept taking steps forward, the blade kept pushing deeper.

Gary tried to pull his sword free, but didn’t have the leverage. Blood gushed down on him, soaked his shirt and splashed onto his face. The man’s eyelids fluttered, his tongue lolled from his dark lips. Then he grunted and strands of pearly threads whipped Gary in the chest and chin. He tried turning his head, but couldn’t escape them. And the man sunk down to the hilt of the sword, his arms hanging at his sides and his face drooping from his skull.

Gary let the sword go and the man fell to his side. Just behind him, Sheila continued to rain down blows on the fat woman’s obliterated head. She stood with her legs spread, and Gary gasped when he saw the old man beneath her, licking her sex and gripping her knees.

The red and orange light around them began to fade, but just slightly.

Not yet…keep eating.

Gary jumped to his feet, wiped his chin, and reached for his weapon. Clay’s ruined and motionless body lay just beside the dead cabbie, and after Gary pulled his weapon free, unleashing the pink and purple viscera, he rolled the man’s body over Clay’s.

It’s the best I can do, man.

Sure, the kid annoyed the hell out of him, but Clay was the closest thing to a friend Gary had, and right now, he knew he had to protect what was his.

So he stomped across the street with his sword, held it business-side down. When he reached the old man licking his mother, he drove the sword into his chest, twisted, pulled out, stabbed again. The man coughed blood over Sheila’s womanhood, then fell over dead.

“Delicious.” The raspy voice came from behind him.

Gary turned with his sword ready and found Kronos and Mary Jane watching him, eating. Rolls of fat hung off of them. Their bellies protruded out as if ready to burst, but even as they sucked in more food, he watched them grow more.

A man lay face down behind the feedlings, his intestines spread out like a squashed octopus. Another man gripped the corpse’s hips from behind and rammed his cock in and out of him.

From around the corner, four police cars screeched around the turn and uniformed officers exploded from the cruisers, weapons drawn. It only took a second for them to start firing into the crowd. Nightsticks were pulled out and brought down on the tops of skulls, pepperspray rained down on the rioters. Muffled shouts rang out from the radios inside of the units, begging the officers to respond, to give an update on their status.

It stretched out all around them. The street and sidewalks vibrated with savagery. In the distance, Gary could see plumes of smoke rising into the air and muffled screams. It was clear the feedlings’ influence had expanded and consumed more of the town.

Mary Jane and Kronos stood right in the middle of a never-ending feast, and it didn’t look as if they would ever stop. But their movements became slower and they blinked lazily. The light still faded, though it was bright enough to illuminate the street and reveal the thick clouds of food.

It’s time.

“Are you ready for Chester now?” Gary forced a smile. With bullets flying through the air, he wanted to get him and Sheila out of there.

The feedlings nodded, licked their lips and snapped their teeth.

“As much…as I hate…to leave these delicacies…behind,” Kronos struggled to say through a mouthful, “I want…to taste his…misery.”

“Me too,” Mary Jane said. “His rape…will be delightful.”

Sheila walked over, seeming to tame at the promise of a chance at Chester, as if something deep within her craved it. The bat was dented at the fat end, the gore twisted around it like cotton candy.

“Follow me,” Gary said. He ran toward Rudy’s, hopping over vicious and lascivious acts. His stomach tingled with anticipation.

—14—

Chester shoved people out of his way as he rushed toward the restroom. It was only a matter of time until that riot made its way down the street, he knew, and there was no way in hell he was going to get caught up in it.

The restroom’s got a lock on it. I’ll just wait this shit out.

But as he went, some of the other patrons in the bar caught wind of what he was doing and followed.

Chester quickened his pace. “Get the fuck back. Get off me!”

Hands gripped his shoulder, but he shrugged them off. Rudy stood behind the bar, his face like a statue, no sign of panic. A knife lay among cut up pieces of lime, and Chester snatched it before Rudy could, along with the bathroom key attached to a license plate that hung from the wall.

“Now, Chester. Calm yourself down.”

“Fuck you!” He went for the restroom door, swung it open, faced the other drunkards following him. “Get back. Stay away.”

There was no way he was going to share his hiding spot. Too many drunk assholes meant more chance the rioters would hear them in there, find them. He knew he had a better chance if he did it alone.

He stepped backward into the restroom and grabbed the handle to slam it shut. But it caught on an ashy foot clinging to a plastic flip flop.

“Betsy, get the fuck outta the way. Don’t make me hurt you, you know I will.”

But the longer he wrestled with her, the more people tried to squeeze in.

“Goddamnit.” He grabbed her arm and yanked her inside, then slammed the door and turned the lock.

“Let them in, Chester. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“No fucking way,” he said. “Now you keep your mouth shut and maybe we’ll be okay. Maybe those crazy fuckers will pass us by.”

Hands pounded on the door from the other side, but above that, he could still hear the chattering of the other patrons as they watched the riot rage down the street. And as he listened, the startled voices became…angry. The pounding on the door turned more violent. The door looked ready to crumple as it shook in its frame, but it held. It sounded like a pack of hungry wolves out there, not the drunken idiots he had locked out.

“Fucking asshole!” Betsy stormed past him, threw a sharp elbow into his stomach.

The wind exploded from his lungs, but he still managed to grab her arm and yank her backward. She collapsed and landed hard on the floor. Still sucking for breath himself, Chester bent down on one knee and slammed a concrete fist into the middle of her stomach, then with his other hand, slapped her across the face.

But she…smiled at him.

The bitch meant business only a second ago when she stabbed him in the gut with her elbow, but now…something had changed. She puckered her crusted lips and kissed the air at him.

“You think it’s funny, bitch?” Chester tried to yell and whisper at the same time. He slapped her again, then back handed her. His hand stung from the impact.

The door behind him shook harder and harder. The shouts and growls made him feel like he was stuck in a George Romero movie and made his balls retract into his body.

“Fuck me, Chester.” She lapped up the blood that ran from her nose, clutched at him with chipped red fingernails. “Fuck me until my guts are bruised.”

“Will you stay quiet?” He slammed a heavy palm over her mouth, tried to pin her flailing arms with his knees. He leaned in and whispered, “I told you, I don’t want those crazy bast—”

She bit into his hand, chewed on it.

“Aahngh!” Chester snatched his hand away and jumped to his feet. Blood poured from the hole in the middle of his palm. Flaps of skin and chewed meat hung from it. “You…you fucking bitch. L-look what you did.”

BANG BANG BANG

Betsy writhed on the restroom floor, her hair growing wet from the puddles of piss around her. She shoved her hand down her pants and played with herself.

RATTLE BANG BANG RATTLE

Chester looked back at the door. His plan was fucked, he knew that now. That door wouldn’t hold much longer, and from the sounds of it, the people outside were getting more pissed off by the second.

“Get down here and fuck me!”

Chester winced as his hand throbbed and a whimper escaped his throat. He stared at the door, backed away from it, shook his head.

What the fuck is going on here?

The amount of shouting voices had multiplied, and he knew the rioters were there now. Just outside that door, probably tearing each other apart. Probably already made quick work of the others in the bar and now they were at the restroom door, desperate to see what lay on the other side.

The breath blew out of him as something squeezed his genitals. A sound like a dog’s squeak toy hissed from between his lips. A slimy tongue wiped across his neck and ear.

“Lick my pussy, Chester. Or I’ll tear your nuts off and make you gurgle them.”

She squeezed his balls harder as her teeth snapped over his ear. With a hard yank, the ear tore free. Warmth spilled down his side.

“Fuuuuuck!” Chester managed to stumble away from her, but tripped over his own feet. He was face to face with the door, and a hard slam sent him scurrying away from it. Shadows moved at the space between the floor and the bottom of the door.

“Chester…”

“Ahh!” He hopped to his feet and faced Betsy. She had her shirt torn free and glided the torn bloody side of the ear over her erect nipples. Her crimson tongue basted her lips.

Chester launched himself at her. His shoulder buried into her mid-section and he carried her across the restroom with the momentum of his run. He slammed her into the tiled wall, heard the satisfying crack of her head hitting it.

She clawed at his back, screeched and flailed her limbs.

He shoved off her, squared up, and unleashed a flurry of blows to her face. Even when he was mad, he never really put everything he had into a punch when the receiving end was a woman. As many women as he had hit in his day, he always held back some. He figured a full punch could kill one, and he didn’t want to kill them, just teach them a lesson. Let them know he was the man, and that if they didn’t make him happy, he had the power to show them his displeasure.

But at that moment, he forgot all that. Put his hips into the punches until the front of her skull pushed into her head. Her teeth popped open the skin on his knuckles, but he ignored the pain that came with it. He moved to her stomach, then came up with an uppercut.

Betsy flew back, slid down the wall. A streak of blood showed where she slid and her hair stuck to it, standing up like she had her hands on a static generator.

Chester panted, winced at the sting of his missing ear, torn palms, and open knuckles. His balls throbbed and his stomach turned.

Then Betsy laughed again. It was wet, sloppy, but she was definitely laughing. Her tits sagged over her bulging belly, both covered in blood and a few teeth. She kicked her legs, the rubber of her flip flops squeaking against the tile.

“Thethster,” she said, then coughed. “My puthy’th wet for yer cock, Thethster.” As she chuckled a thick trail of red drool oozed from her ruined mouth. She unlatched her pants and pulled them down her legs.

“You crazy bitch.” He didn’t want to hear her anymore. The sight of her fingering herself with her face looking like roadkill made his stomach roil, and most of all, it pissed him off. Teeth bared, he sprinted at her, thrust his foot into the middle of her face, smashing her head into the wall—his heel caught part of her throat. She made a sound like water draining and slumped over.

She wasn’t fucking laughing any more.

But then Chester heard something else.

Quiet.

The rioters left.

He smiled and pumped his aching fist. The door held after all and the cocksuckers had moved on.

He studied Betsy’s leaking corpse. The bitch looked bad and Chester had her blood all over him.

I’ll just blame it on the riot. There’s gotta be tons of dead folks out there the way it looked in the street.

He decided to just wait a little while before taking a chance of heading out into the bar. He could just sit and—

CLINK

The door shook again. Sounded like something heavy and metal hit and hit it hard.

CLINK

Oh fucking son of a bitch.

They were toying with him now, he thought. Between the metal slamming against the door, he could hear the giggling of maniacs.

Chester shook his head, clawed at his scalp. He paced the restroom, nearly slipped in the widening puddle of Betsy’s blood.

CLINK

“Fuck you!”

And then the door blew open.

Standing in the doorway, the pale yellow light from the bar surrounding her like aura, stood Sheila. Naked and drenched in blood and holding a dented metal bat with both hands.

“Sh-sheila!” Relief swept over Chester like warm water. “Oh Jesus Christ, girl. You don’t know how good it is to see…”

Behind her he could see the bar was filled to the brim with people. And two fat children. The children held hands and laughed, stared in at Chester with hypnotizing eyes.

The boy stepped past Sheila who just smiled and bounced the bat in her hand.

“Hi, Chester,” he said. “I’ve been waiting all night for this.”

“Who, who the fuck a-are you?” Chester had his shaking fists out in front of him.

“I’m the one whose gonna fill my belly with your pain and suffering,” he said. “And the anticipation is killing me.”

“What?”

The fat girl walked up beside him. Her blubber jiggled as she came, and though Chester could tell these two were kids, they were huge, looked ready to pop.

“You like it up the ass, Chester?” The girl stepped beside the fat boy and took his hand again. “I bet you like to suck cock, don’t you?”

Chester snorted, shook his head. “You kids get the fuck outta here, you hear me?” He spat on the floor. “Sheila, get your ass in here and shut that fucking door.” He said the words through clenched teeth, a harsh whisper as if the horde of people behind her still couldn’t see or hear him.

But they could. Every pair of eyes was right on him—but they didn’t make a move. They just watched, stood by waiting for something.

The kids looked past Chester at Betsy’s body. And they started biting the air, chewing on something that wasn’t there. As Chester watched their odd behavior, the kids expanded, like balloons being filled with water.

What in the hell?

“Mmmm,” they said together.

Chester scanned the crowd looking for an escape route. There had to be a way he could zigzag through all those fuckers. Pain pulsated at the side of his head where his ear used to be.

Why aren’t they fighting each other? Why just me?

A familiar face stood out from the ocean of unfamiliar ones. Fat, covered in acne, sweaty, scabbed over and swollen from the ass-kicking Chester had given him. And the fucker still had his sword.

Chester’s chest filled with heat and he thought his teeth would crack from the pressure of his jaw. “Gary? You got something to do with this, don’t you, motherfucker?”

Before he knew it, he was sprinting toward Gary, unable to help himself. And he was going to kill him, that much he knew. He blew past the kids, past Sheila, but before he could make it out the restroom door, something hit him in the stomach, tackled him to the ground. The wind rushed from his lungs and his vision blurred, but when he looked up his attacker was smiling down at him.

An old woman, someone he had never seen before. Blood caked her face and neck and she moved in for a sloppy kiss. Chester was stunned, didn’t think quick enough to move out of the way before the woman’s fetid tongue was in his mouth and her cold deflated breasts rubbed against him.

He shoved her away, wiped his mouth with his forearm. “Get the fuck off me, you old bitch.”

But as he turned his head away from her, a work boot slammed into his face, crushed his nose in. Tears filled his eyes and blood flooded his mouth. Then the tongue was back, sliding over the roof of his mouth like sand paper. Something tugged at his pants.

“Give it to me,” a male voice said.

Chester couldn’t see through the blurriness. He turned his head away from the old woman’s face, shoved her away again, tried to crawl away backwards on his elbows. Rough hands gripped the waistline of his jeans and pulled him. The pants slid down to his knees and the warm stuffy air of the restroom embraced his genitalia. A man the size of a gorilla had a hold of him, his bushy mustache matted with gore. He smiled as he reached for Chester’s groin.

Chester kicked out and caught the guy in the forehead. Sheila stood in the same spot and beamed down on him. Her eyes were wide and psychotic.

“Get away from me…get the fuck away!” Chester kicked the man in the same spot on the forehead, but it did nothing.

A blinding pain took over as the man’s meaty mitt grabbed hold of Chester’s package and squeezed, felt like he was grinding his balls into paste.

A small boy ran out of the crowd, climbed gorilla man’s back like a mountain and launched himself into the air. A pair of big metal scissors shone from the boy’s hands as he soared, strings of meat connecting both blades. He landed on Chester’s stomach and drove the scissors into him, just under his ribcage.

“Ungh…” Chester gasped, and as he tried to breathe, the old woman mashed her tongue into his mouth again. The boy held the scissors, still embedded in Chester’s stomach, and he opened and closed them over and over. Something rubbed against Chester’s penis, but he could barely feel it over the blinding pain in his abdomen. Slamming his teeth shut, he severed the woman’s tongue, which slid down his throat and choked him before he was forced to swallow it. He reached out, grabbed the boy by the throat.

Then he saw Gorilla-Man who had his pants off and was rubbing his hard dick against Chester’s flaccid one like a stick prodding a dead snake.

Behind him, he could hear the obese children laughing…and eating. The wet smacking sounds of their chewing mouths echoed off the walls.

With a surge of adrenaline, Chester crushed the boy’s throat and threw a knee into Gorilla-Man’s swinging ballsack. The boy fell to his side and thrashed and the man fell backward into the crowd, who had advanced past the door and into the restroom.

A teenage boy started it with a kick to Chester’s ribs. Then the blows came from every direction: fists and kicks and teeth. No matter where he moved his face, it was met with more impact. He couldn’t breathe as his chest and stomach were pummeled, and he could only see red spotted with twinkling stars. Metal and wood slammed into him, taking turns with the punches and kicks.

There was a brief pause in which he could only hear the ringing in his ears, the beating of his heart, and the laughter of the fat kids.

His vision cleared for just a moment, and just as he was sucking in a lungful of oxygen, it was cut off by the stinking skin flaps of the old woman’s crotch as she straddled his face. Long silver pubic hair jabbed him in the eyes as his nose and mouth were engulfed in aged pussy flesh. She rocked over him and moaned deep. He looked up at her, worm’s eye view, past her breasts and into her face. She smiled down at him with blood pouring from her mouth.

Something warm engulfed his cock, but he couldn’t see what it was. And then he could only feel the potent torment as unseen weapons opened and penetrated his flesh. Something went into his right oblique, stabbed deep and stayed there. A sharp point ran across his inner left thigh and unzipped it. It came from all over and Chester screamed into the old woman’s birth canal. He tried to push her away but didn’t have the strength—every attempted breath only gave him a mouthful of salty juice.

The pain covered him, was everywhere and pulsating. He could no longer differentiate injuries, just knew he was fucked. Consciousness began slipping away.

Then the old woman shrieked, quivered. It felt like she pissed on his face, and Chester choked for a moment, but then she raised up and his lungs filled with glorious air. He took a long rattling inhale. Every breath was fire.

A woman had been straddling his cock, and even through the pain Chester saw she was gorgeous—she slid him out of her and walked into the crowd. Blood pumped and flowed over his chest and stomach. Pink meat and yellow fat peeked out from open wounds.

Chester opened and closed his mouth. No words would form, only wet empty sounds. He could only get the tiniest bit of air into his lungs—he tried to move but couldn’t.

The mob backed away…all but one.

Sheila stepped forward and let the bat swing like a pendulum, to and fro, at her side. She wore a coating of blood like a leotard, the whites of her eyes and teeth radiant against the crimson of her face.

Chester tried to find Gary in the crowd again, but couldn’t spot him. There was just too many of them, and they all watched as Sheila stood over him, knelt down and took his cock into her. Even though it was limp, she forced it in, then sat down hard.

From behind him, the fat kids walked, hand in hand, back into his vision. They looked drunk, barely able to stand, and their size seemed to have doubled. They jiggled as they stood on either side of Sheila as she grinded on top of him.

“You’re so…delicious,” the boy said.

“Mmmm…yummy.” The girl rubbed her protruding stomach.

They blinked slow, wobbled on their feet.

“Sh…Sheila. P-ple…please…” Every word was anguish.

She raised the bat over her head, both hands on the handle, the fat end pointing down at Chester’s face. With a rock of her pelvis, she drove the bat forward. Chester’s face took the blow and his teeth rattled to the back of his throat. Then she rocked again and he took another hit.

She kept doing it, slamming the bat down like she was churning butter, turning his face into a pile of meat and bone.

She laughed as she did it, and just before everything went black, Chester saw the kids fall over, and the rumbling sounds that erupted from their throats mixed with the shrieks of hell coming to claim him.

—15—

Gary stood in his spot at the back of the bar. He still had a clear line of vision into the restroom where he was able to see everything. The feedlings had directed all of the people’s rage toward Chester, while at the same time not allowing their influence to touch him. And Chester was torn to shreds on the restroom floor, his blood spreading across the tile. Through all the disgust and horror that filled him from watching Chester’s violent death, there was a sense of satisfaction.

But he knew time was short, and if he was going to put an end to all of this, he had to act now.

The people around him were coming to, snapping out of their hypnotized state. They looked at each other, at themselves. Blood and ejaculate were splashed over everyone and as the people realized it, the panic set in. Some felt their wounds for the first time and fell to the floor whimpering or crying. Others noticed their nudeness, filled with shame, and ran out of the bar with arms and hands covering what they could. A few called out for loved ones that didn’t answer back.

Gary didn’t have time to watch this. He weaved his way into the restroom. Sheila sat in the corner, staring at Chester’s mutilated corpse. Her eyes were perfect circles, unblinking, and her head shook from side to side with twitchy slow movement.

“Mom… Mom I’m sorry,” Gary said. He knelt down, kissed the top of her head. “I have to go. I have to take care of this, put an end to it.”

She didn’t respond, didn’t even look at him. Just stared at what was left of Chester.

“I’ll be back for you, okay?”

Kronos and Mary Jane nearly blew the walls down with their roaring snores. Gary still had his sword in hand, and though it seemed the violence had ended for now, he couldn’t make himself drop it. He grabbed the feedlings by their overflowing fat, and lifted them into the air with ease. Even though they had exploded in size, their weight was the same, and Gary flew out the front door of the bar with the feedlings swinging at his sides, their rotten smell as strong as ever.

The cries of the wounded and confused sliced through the air. People stumbled about in all directions.

Gary pushed through them, and headed back to the place where everything started.

I’ll put them back where they came from.

He thought about his spot in the woods, thought about the big rowan tree there. He figured whoever put them there, their last so-called master, put them there for a reason. He always thought the tree looked ancient, powerful.

It’s gotta be the key to all this. Maybe it can keep them under ground, keep them asleep.

It was the only plan he had.

He reached the end of the pavement and strode into the woods. The trees zoomed by, and though the feedlings weighed nothing, the weight of the sword and the act of running as fast as he could filled his lungs with lava. Sweat poured.

In the distance, the tree loomed over the forest. It seemed to be beckoning him forward, rooting for him.

When Gary reached the clearing, he tossed the sword and feedlings ahead of him and leaned over with his hands on his knees. His throat rattled as he sucked for breath. His clothing reeked of his odor and were soaked through with perspiration. Lying on the ground where he’d left it was his bag, his drawings tucked safely within. When this is all finished, he thought, I can still complete my comic. I can still make a better life for myself.

The feedlings still snored, but had already begun their restless tossing and turning.

Oh shit. No time, no time.

Below the tree, amongst its roots, were the large holes where Kronos and Mary Jane had emerged. But now, the feedlings were far too big to fit.

And Gary had no shovel.

He grabbed the sword and slid on his knees to the first hole. He stabbed at the earth, breaking off big chunks of dry dirt, then scooping them out with his hands. He moved as quickly as he could, stabbing and grabbing and tossing and digging. When he was satisfied with the first hole, he crawled toward Mary Jane, dragged her by her floating hair toward the hole.

He rolled her inside, stuffed her in, but she barely fit.

It’s gonna have to do.

With shaking hands he pushed the discarded dirt back into the hole, covered her the best he could. Though her belly extended past the hole, Gary covered every inch of her with dirt. She moved around, mumbled and moaned as he worked, but she never woke. He could only hope it was good enough.

He looked over his shoulder at Kronos. The feedling rolled over from his stomach to his back, smacked his mouth, let out another snore.

I’m not gonna make it.

Working even faster than before, and ignoring the pain in his hands and knees, Gary worked on the second hole. He growled as he tore chunks of dirt away. His fingertips bled and he bent back nails as he worked, but he kept at it.

Kronos snored behind him, but they were becoming faint.

Gary breathed in ragged gasps, and once the hole looked deep enough, he turned to fetch Kronos.

A foot caught him under the chin and knocked him backward. He tumbled into the hole, knocked his head against the dirt wall.

His mouth filled with blood and his vision swam, but he could still see Clay standing over him.

“Hey, Gary. What do you think you’re doing with my feedlings?”

“C-clay? What are you…what are you doing?” Gary thought he was too late, that Kronos had woken up and was influencing Clay. But as the thought entered his mind, he heard another thunderous snore.

“I asked you to let me use them, but you wouldn’t. You just couldn’t share, could you?” Clay bent down, picked up the sword. “You always treated me like shit. Even though I was the only one to ever be nice to you, the only one who ever tried to be your friend.”

“Clay, come on. You have to stop this…we have to get Kronos in the ground.”

“Why would I want to do that?” He stepped forward, kicked a wave of dirt into the hole. “I’m somebody with the feedlings. Not just some loser nerdy kid. I felt powerful with the feedlings around.”

“Clay—”

“Shut the fuck up, Gary. You don’t get to talk now.” He pointed the sword at Gary’s face. “I’m the master now.”

And he thrust the blade down, pinning Gary to the earth wall behind him.

Gary looked at the sword protruding from his stomach. He couldn’t even lift his arm to try and pull it out. He whimpered as his shirt soaked with blood.

“C-clay…you can’t be…you can’t be their…m-master.”

“Oh really?” Clay was on his hands and knees shoving dirt into the hole.

The dirt smacked Gary in the face, covered his bleeding body. Just before he was concealed in darkness, just before Clay shoved that last pile of dirt over his head, he saw the red light igniting the forest.

***

Clay stood there for a minute, wished it could have been different. He always liked Gary, always wanted to be his friend. But now…now he could rule the world. Nobody could stop him.

Kronos sat up, glared at Clay. Just a morbidly obese fat kid, but Clay knew better. The feedling could offer him the world.

“I’m your master now,” Clay said. His body throbbed with agony, as if every bone were shattered, his head especially. Every movement he made, every word he spoke sent tremors of pain throughout, but he had to be strong, couldn’t cry, had to show the feedlings he would be a good master, a strong master.

It seemed like every inch of him was covered with blood, some his own, but most not. He forced himself to step with confidence as he approached Kronos, let the blood oozing from the wounds on his face drip down over the feedling.

Kronos turned to face him, stretched his mouth wide and let the blood rain down and slide into his gullet.

And right before Clay’s eyes, the feedling transformed, his childish, pink exterior melting away and revealing the pale white flesh beneath. Kronos smiled up at Clay, his teeth stretching wide and long into serrated daggers.

“Hello, Master,” Kronos said. “Pleased to meet you.”

Clay reached down and patted Kronos on the head, then moved past Gary’s grave to where Mary Jane lay buried. His pants fell to his ankles as he prepared to wake her, complete his claim on his feedlings.

The world won’t know what hit them, but they’ll all bow down, every last one of them. He would be the demon emperor, and he couldn’t wait to get started.

Shane McKenzie is the author of Infinity House, All You Can Eat, Bleed on Me, Jacked, Addicted to the Dead, Muerte Con Carne, Escape from Shit Town (co-authored with Sam W. Anderson and Erik Williams), Fairy, The Bingo Hall, and many more to come. He is also the editor at Sinister Grin Press. He lives in Austin, TX with his wife and daughter. He has been cumming and bleeding all over everything in hopes he will find the feedlings, but so far no luck. But when it happens…run. Keep up with him at shanemckenzie.org, or send him an email at shane.p.mckenzie@gmail.com.