He didn’t say a word, but he did give me a hateful look as tears were running down his face. When I helped him sit up, blood and saliva gushed out of his mouth and onto his stomach. His new teeth were too long, which prevented his mouth from closing all the way. He kind of looked like a werewolf. A werewolf that was ready to go knob gobblin’. As soon as I nodded towards his crotch, he leaned forward and sunk his stainless-steel teeth into his penis, then with everything he had he lunged backwards and ripped it completely in half.
When he fell back to the table he yelled out, “I fucking did it, you sick fucking bastard!”
“Well, what about the other half?”
He raised his head up, and as he looked at me with hate, I started laughing because he still had the end of his dick stuck to the top set of his steel teeth. He had no way of dislodging it because he had no tongue or hands. My laughing must have pissed him off, because he lunged forward without saying a word and started tearing off pieces of his stub, piece by piece. He finally passed out from all the excitement that we were having, and as he slept I cauterized his nub. Before I bandaged him up I inserted a catheter so he would be able to urinate during the healing process.
Bill was completely healed within six weeks with the help of antibiotics through an intravenous catheter. Even though he originally thought his suffering would end after he tore off his dick, he had to endure various types of torture for years, and it’s still not over. Just being confined in the cage is excruciating. He has been in there for many, many years. Occasionally when he gets sores from rubbing against the bars, I will either suspend him inside the cage with fishhooks and wire, or I will remove him and stick him on top of the Judas Cradle. Sometimes I let him crawl around on the stone floor like a slug. He also stopped speaking about ten years ago when I showed him his appearance in a mirror. In the back of his mind he probably thought he would be rescued, but he didn’t realize at that time what kind of monster he had become. The revelation that came to him as he stared into the mirror was he would never be able to live a normal life with his monstrous looking deformities; only in a nursing home or a freak-show at a traveling carnival would he be able to exist outside the chamber.”
When Seth finished his story about Bill someone in the chamber started moaning very loud. Seth nodded to Dicky. “It sounds like you’re going to meet the Siamese twins.” Seth walked over to a table where the moaning sound was coming from and pulled a bloody sheet off something. Seth turned his head away from a putrid odor that filled the air. Dicky stood up and gazed at an appalling sight. He could see there were two men lying on top of a table and they had been sewn together with thick, black thread in the sixty-nine position. Both of their arms were sewn to the other ones back as if they were holding each other. The skin on their chest and abdomen was stretched and torn as they had been sewn together as one person. The shaft of each man’s penis was sewn to the other’s lips. The man on bottom was dead and his body was grossly discolored from decomposition. The man on top was covered with sores and bruising where he was lying on the other man’s decomposing body. The bottom man’s head was covered with feces from the man on top. The man on top had scars and severe gashes all over the back of his body from years of torture. Both men had intravenous bags that hung on the nearby wall. The decomposed man’s bag was tarnished yellow and the liquid inside was full of mold; it appeared he had been dead for a while.
The man on top looked up at Seth as he was being displayed like a carnival freak, and as he held his head up, rotted flesh hung from his lips where he had torn it off the other man’s dick. The man tried to speak, but the pain was too horrendous from the stitches that held the rotted skin and his lips together. After the man let out an agonizing moan his lifeless head fell back to the other man’s rotted crotch.
Seth threw the sheet back over the detestable sight, then looked at Dicky. “I can’t stand to look at these two obscene cocksuckers.” He grabbed a whip that was hanging beside the intravenous bags and started beating the man on top through the bloody sheet. During the whipping the man began howling and twitching around from under the sheet like a wild animal trapped in a net. Fresh blood began to stain the sheet, and after a few more pops Seth stopped. “Quit moving, that’s how you killed your buddy! You’re not only a rapist, you’re also a murderer.” Seth looked over at Dicky and laughed. “This fucker couldn’t take the pain from the whip, and when I would give him his daily beating, he would jerk around so aggressively that he would cause the stitches holding them together to tear from their skin, then they would both start jerking around and causing each other such horrific pain that I would have to stop before they tore themselves apart. These two have been in the chamber from almost the beginning. They have endured some unthinkable and barbaric shit together, and sewing them into one being was just another phase of their punishment. The guy on top eventually tore the dick off the man on bottom, causing him to bleed to death. I am kind of aggravated at myself for not paying closer attention to what had happened. In a few days, I am planning on removing the guy on top and stick him in a cell so he can recover. He is not going to get off as easy as his buddy did.”
Passing the Buck
Seth walked over to a body of a man that had been stuffed like an animal and was positioned on all fours like a dog. He sat down on the stuffed man’s back. “Do you think Bill got what he deserved, or was it overboard?”
Dicky didn’t speak.
“You know, we could just skip story time and get on with what I have planned for you.”
“I don’t know what to think. Bill should have gone to prison instead of you taking the law into your own hands.”
“Funny that you say that, pal.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll find out later. I don’t want to ruin the surprise.”
“Tell me. I need to know why I’m here.”
“Drop it.”
He lowered his head.
“Well, if you assume Bill should have gone to prison then I must have really overstepped some boundaries with the carjackers.”
He looked up with a yes expression.
“Yeah, I agree. I shouldn’t have taken them out in my own town, but they weren’t the only ones I’ve taken out in my zip code. Their demise also wasn’t the only time I had pinned a death on another lowlife.”
Dicky’s face was telling on him.
“I know what you’re thinking. No, I didn’t slip up, so there isn’t any evidence or reason that will lead anyone here. Trust me. Nobody will find out about our little secret.”
He took a deep breath and put his head down.
Seth leaned back in his chair to get comfortable.
Seth awoke. He had fallen asleep. He sat up and noticed Dicky was squatted in the corner of his cell taking a shit. “Can’t you wait until I’m not in here?”
Dicky held his head down. “I tried to hold it. What else am I supposed to do?”
“Hurry the fuck up. That’s what you can do.”
He pulled his pants up and eased back over to his dark corner and sat down.
“That’s freakin’ nasty… Not wiping your ass.”
He looked at Seth with confusion.
Seth laughed. “Oh yeah, we’re in the middle of a fucking torture chamber. Ol’ Jerry over there hanging from the ceiling has the same problem.”
Dicky looked at a barbaric sight, then back at Seth. Seth smiled. “I’ll tell you about him later. Now that I’m refreshed and your colon is drained let’s get back to it. The previous story involved a child molester, doing vigilante shit in my own town, and pinning other lowlifes with the crime. This next encounter is a combination of all three. Several years ago I received a notice in the mail from the state that a sex offender had moved into my neighborhood. I looked this guy up on the Internet and found out he had spent most of his life in and out of prison. His name was Kevin and he had just got out of prison after serving only eight years for molesting an eleven-year-old girl, and now he was li
ving down from me in a run-down shack. His criminal record showed he had served six years for molesting another child and he had only been out two years before he molested the eight-year-old. I don’t know why our justice system would ever let a guy like this out of prison. It really irritated me knowing the pervert was in my area, but originally, I didn’t want to draw attention to the area I lived in. Killing the carjackers wasn’t a smart move, but it’s hard just to stand back and watch the wicked take advantage of good people. Over the years all my victims have been spread across the country and the police haven’t been able to determine any type of pattern, except they were all worthless pieces of shit. Most of the lowlifes that I go after I bring back here and they’re not even missed, but occasionally I leave one on the streets with a signature mark or planted evidence just to mess with the police. The two carjackers were the only ones that were from my city up to that point, and I knew if I took a chance at Kevin, even though the police thought the car jackers’ deaths were gang related, that could possibly jeopardize my location. My house isn’t bumped right up to other houses. It’s a 100-year-old farmhouse that sits on thirty-eight acres. At one time, it was secluded back when this was all farm land, but now it sits behind a subdivision built in the seventies, obviously resulting from the town growing through the years. Houses will never be built behind me because the land is in a flood zone and is controlled by the Corp of Engineers. An old cemetery runs from the north side of my property, which is behind and parallel to the newer houses, and it runs about two thousand feet until it stops next to a highway. Portraying the image of being normal and blending in is very crucial. I do everything I can to be low key and average so I don’t draw any attention to myself. To help maintain that image in my immediate area, which is the most important, I will occasionally attend a Neighborhood Watch meeting, and a few times the meeting had been held at my house. I’ve gone to great lengths to ensure my house, yard, and vehicles are as normal as anyone else’s. Only scumbags like you get the pleasure of knowing what’s under it.”
Dicky rolled his eyes.
“What? You don’t think you’re a scumbag?
He glared at Seth.
“All right. Including fuckheads like you that think they’re above the law.”
He jumped to his feet. “What do you know about…,”
“Shut the fuck up! We’re not doing this.”
“No, you know something.”
“I said we’re not talking about why you’re here and what I know. Drop it. You’ll find out later.”
He sat back down and lowered his head.
“One day when I was heading into town I drove past the pervert’s house to see exactly where he lived. His house and yard looked like shit. The perv had trash piled all over his yard and the grass and weeds had grown so tall it looked like a jungle. An old rape style van was parked in the driveway with the hood open and worn out tires and auto parts were piled all around it. His front porch was covered with old furniture, appliances and piles of crap. The screen door was hanging open by one hinge and a couple of his front windows were covered with what appeared to be cardboard. The other windows had dirty sheets hanging in them instead of window blinds. When I drove off I thought about how the guy should be killed just for being such a pig and eye sore.
A few months later when I attended a Neighborhood Watch meeting I found out a lot about Kevin—the agenda was pretty much about him. The people were very upset at not only the fact he was living in their neighborhood, but he would walk up and down the streets at all hours of the night. They said he was a loud mouth and would harass women when they walked down the sidewalk in front of his house. Parents were infuriated because he would go out of his way to try to talk to their kids, especially the girls when they were playing in the area. One of the homeowners said he had talked to the police, but they said they couldn’t do anything because Kevin hadn’t broken any laws, but they said they would patrol more. While I stood quietly in the back I heard a man telling someone the police had told him Kevin had pissed off a couple of local Hispanic gang bangers when he shouted racist remarks at them from his porch. The police had to apparently break up the argument before it got out of hand. The man said ever since the incident the gangbangers have been harassing Kevin by breaking his windows and spray-painting graffiti on his house. During the walk home, I thought to myself how there might be a way I could get the child molester. I knew it could put me in jeopardy, but the principle behind it was more important. The next day I studied the area around his house and I made a detailed plan of how and what I was going to do. Over the next few weeks I took pictures of graffiti around the area and studied them in detail, and I also learned how to reproduce them exactly. Through the course of studying the graffiti I found several used cans of spray paint, which would come in handy. I needed something from the molester’s house, so I took a bag of trash from his driveway.
One night I snuck down to a park where some of the local punks hung out. I had been watching one in particular. I’ve always kept a close tab on the street punks and knew who most of the sorry ones were. Orlando was real piece of shit. He needed to be pinned for a murder because he had been getting away with it for years. He and his buddies were sitting in his car doing whatever assholes do. I was keeping an eye on his cigarette butts that he was tossing out his window—I needed them. Finally, he and his buddies went and hung out around a picnic table that was a short distance away. It was dark enough I was able to walk up to his car without being seen. The only issue was his dome light, so I crawled under his car and shorted out the starter’s positive wire to the car’s frame.”
Dicky started laughing.
Seth was caught off guard. “What’s so damn funny?”
“Not only would shorting out the cable burn you, it would make a lot of noise and possibly catch the wiring on fire.”
Seth sat forward. “Listen here, Edison, it’s not like I stuck the cable directly to the frame. I’m not as much of an idiot as you suspect. If you must know every tiny detail I will tell you.”
“No, I believe you.”
“Apparently not. You must remember something. I try to plan for everything, and over the years have come up with a bag full of tricks. This wasn’t the first vehicle I needed to disable its power. I built a device to do it safely without causing alarm. And speaking of alarm, that’s why I built it in the first place; to disable vehicle alarms. The device is simple. It’s made up of a resistor and two alligator clips. And I’m not talking about an everyday resistor that you buy at Radio Shack; this one is a large industrial type that is designed to handle large currents. I attach one clip to the positive wire at the starter and the other to the frame. The resistor allows the battery to discharge slow enough to prevent the wiring from extreme overheating, and it doesn’t cause any noise or bright flashes from arcing. Now there is a chance the battery can explode, and it did happen on one occasion. With Orlando’s car, it did fine. I just had to wait about five minutes for the battery to discharge.” Seth leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. “You satisfied with that? Can I move on with the story?”
Dicky looked down, shaking his head to indicate yes.
“Thank you. Now back to Orlando and his buddies. They were too busy smoking weed and bragging to each other how badass they were to notice I was sitting in the back of Orlando’s car rummaging through his shit. I had taken plenty of pictures of Orlando over the last few weeks and knew what he wore. I needed things with his fingerprints and DNA, so I bagged up several items that only belonged to him and not his friends, such as two t-shirts and one of his basketball shoes. I also found several cans of spray-paint that were the exact match to the empty ones I had found, so I tossed them in the bag. He was the only one out of his group that drank this orange drink from Mexico, so I took a couple of the glass bottles that were lying in the front passenger side floorboard. He had left his Dallas Cowboys jacket in the back seat, so I tore a large piece of fabric from the corner, then stuck the jacke
t under the driver’s seat. I knew he owned a tactical knife—I had seen him playing with it when I was watching him—and sure enough, it was hidden in the driver side door pocket. I also took some clear tape I had brought with me and ran the sticky side over the driver’s seat to pick up stray hairs. Suddenly Orlando and his buddies came walking up to the car. I ducked down in the back floorboard before they saw me.”
Dicky spoke out. “I bet you got your ass kicked. And now someone has seen what you look…”
“What I look like. If you would shut the fuck up and let me finish my stories you would save us a lot of time. Damn! You’re definitely a mouthy fucker. That’s what I get for trying to tell you all these fucking stories.”
“Then why the fuck are you doing it? Just do whatever the fuck you’re gonna do and get it over with?”
“Like I said earlier, I have something special planned for you. Now shut the fuck up! And as far as being seen, that didn’t happen. I had already made plans so I wouldn’t be caught. Before they had a chance to open the door, I flipped a switch on a remote control I had in my pocket. A loud flash lit up the dark across the park followed by a boom. The douche bags took off running towards a large fire. Before I got out of the car, I took some empty beer bottles I had found in the molester’s trash bag and stuck them under the rear seat. I could see Orlando and buddies standing next to a burning dumpster, so I crawled under his car and removed the resistor, then connected the positive side of a portable vehicle booster to the positive wire on the starter and the negative side to the frame. I planned on doing this in case I had to blow up the dumpster, knowing the police would probably show up, and if Orlando got arrested, it would mess up my plans of passing the buck to him. Before I moved away from his car, I picked up his cigarette butts. When I was a little way from the car I shouted, “Hey! Fuckheads! I called the cops!”
Orlando and his buddies came running when they realized they would be blamed for blowing up a dumpster. I didn’t drive off from where I was parked in a nearby wooded area until they had pulled away. When I pulled out on the road behind them, I saw the battery booster had fallen off and was lying in the road, as I had planned, so I quickly stopped and picked it up. Over the next thirty minutes I followed Orlando around as he dropped his buddies off at their houses. Around midnight Orlando pulled into his garage, and as the garage door closed, I knew all went without a hitch and my plan had a good chance of working. He lived at home with his mom. Her house was in the same subdivision as Kevin the molester’s house, which would give Orlando motive if he was a suspect in the up and coming events I had planned. She also worked the night shift at a local factory, so I knew he wouldn’t have a good alibi. Now that the first phase worked out as planned, I went on home to get ready for the next phase.”
The complete “A Glimpse into Hell” series - 5 books, 195 chapters, 1700 pages, 600K words of pure gore Page 11
