Barry shook his head as he looked at me. “Who gives a shit?”
“I do.”
“It’s not going to magically split down the center like you think anyway. The hook is going to simply rip it off.”
“You wanna bet?”
“What’s the stakes?”
“If it doesn’t rip down the center, creating two halves from base to tip, I will let you skip on out of here.”
“What if it does?”
I patted the cooler. “I’ll toss your shit in the fireplace.”
“That’s fucking bullshit! I have too much to lose.”
“Okay. Instead of doing that, how about adding your balls in here? That way it’ll be a complete set.”
“Get real.”
“I’ll keep it simple then. You will have to tell the police what you did to your wife after I let you go.”
He thought for a minute. “That’s doable.”
“There will be stipulations, though.”
“Of course, you’re going to add some other bullshit.”
“It’s not that big of a deal. You can’t mention any of this. If you do, I will find you again and you will be the one hanging on the wall.”
He nodded. “You’re on.” He tried to pull the hook out of Rodney’s dick. “The fucker is stuck.”
“The hook has a barb. You’re going to have to tear it out.”
Rodney was throwing his head around and moaning as Barry moved the hook around. His facial expression was making my dick hurt. Finally, the barb pulled out, tearing a piece of dick meat with it. I pointed. “What the fuck is that hanging out of his dick?”
Barry looked closer. “A vein.”
“Nice. Now stick it correctly this time.”
The muscles in Rodney’s neck were sticking out as he endured the pain of the hook being shoved back through his penis. Barry wiped his hands on Rodney’s chest, then looked at me. “How’s that?”
I could see that the hook was lined up correctly and close to the base as I had instructed. “Good job.”
Barry picked up the winch. “What do I do with this?”
“It has a bottom plate with holes. Nail it to the floor.” The fishing line was already connected to the hook, so all that was left was to secure the winch.
He knelt. “You want me to do it here?”
“No, back away about ten feet.”
He moved the winch back, then nailed it in place.
“Go ahead and roll up the slack.”
He spun the handle. “Done.”
Rodney’s lower abdomen was being slightly pulled outwards by his penis. I pointed to a steel ring-shaped device that was dangling on the line. “Slide that up to his dick and attach it to his head.”
Barry examined it. He noticed it had a small ring that was welded to a larger one. The fishing line was going through the smaller ring, and the larger one was adjustable. “What the fuck is this for?”
“It’s a cock ring that I designed.”
“For what?”
“For this game.”
“I know that, but what’s its purpose?”
“The larger ring is adjustable and it locks down behind the head. The smaller ring sits on top and guides the string and hook.”
He looked confused. “If you think this will help split his dick in two, it won’t.”
“Get it secured so we can find out.”
He slid it up the line, then locked it in place. “Can I start cranking the winch?”
Rodney was shaking his head and yelling through his stitches. “Please don’t do it! I beg you!”
Barry looked at him. “Shut the fuck up.” He walked to the winch and grabbed the handle.
I sat up. “Go slow.”
“I want to get this done.”
I lit a cigarette. “If you go too fast it will not be as painful. I want it to take at least an hour.”
Barry glared at me. “That’s not fucking fair.”
“To who?”
“To me—I want to get to the hospital.”
“Make it last an hour, and not a second sooner.”
“Whatever. But don’t be mad if it happens before then.”
I pointed to the table. “Go get a tape measure.”
He went and got it, then tossed it to me. “Here.”
I tossed it back. “Go measure his dick.”
He shook his head as he handled Rodney’s penis. “Four inches.”
I laughed. “He’s got an inch on you.”
He glared at me. “Mine is lying in a fucking box! It’s flaccid.”
“His is flaccid as well.”
“What the fuck ever!”
I tossed him a stopwatch. “One hour. That’s a little over an eighth of an inch every two minutes. I want him to scream until he tears out his stitches or dies.”
He shook his head. “You’re fucking sick.” He started cranking the handle very slowly, causing a clicking sound as the winch’s locking mechanism snapped into place. Rodney was moaning as he looked down, noticing the base of his penis and lower abdomen were being pulled out as the line tightened. The hole around the bend of the hook was now oblong, like how a heavy earring stretches the hole in an earlobe. After a few more clicks from the winch the hook jumped forward as it tore through flesh. Rodney was throwing his head around and moaning as blood ran out of the wound. Barry measured the cut. “About a quarter of an inch. I’ll wait about five minutes.” He sat down to rest.
“No time for that.” I pointed to Carl. “He’s stirring around.”
“And?”
“Get your ass up and go stick fifty fishhooks in his ball sack instead of sitting down.”
“Sick bastard,” he mumbled as he walked to the table. He moved some stuff around. “Which ones?”
“The tiny ones.”
“Where in the fuck are they?”
“Red plastic box. Also, grab the piano wire while you’re over there.”
He sat down behind Carl’s rear. “I need a knife to cut the wire.”
I tossed him fingernail clippers. “Go ahead and tie a three feet piece of wire on each hook.”
Barry looked mad. “Wait a minute. Why in the fuck can I use wire for this, but not for Rodney?”
“Stop whining and just use it.”
Carl was looking over his shoulder at Barry, mumbling unrecognizable words through his stitches. His burned skin was peeling and his hands and feet were very swollen. Even though he was in pain, he still had a little spunk left in him and wasn’t going to go down without a fight—he farted in Barry’s face.
Barry stood up. “You nasty fucker!”
I pointed at the floor behind Carl. “Get back down there and finish it up.”
“He’s farting on me.”
“Then move over. You can tie the wire on the hooks without being right up in his ass.”
Barry was bitching as he picked up his stuff off the floor, and as he was bending down, Carl farted again. Barry started to pull the chair out from under him, but I got his attention. “Hold up. What are you doing?”
“I’m going to beat his ass with it.”
“Leave that there—it will make it easier when you’re sticking in the hooks.”
“He’s fucking farting on me.”
“You’ve already said that.”
“Can I do something about it, or will you get mad?”
“You tell me.”
He held his hands out, palms up. “How in the fuck should I know?”
I pointed across the room. “Go read what number seven is.”
He looked confused. “Read what?”
“The rules that I showed you earlier, you no listening fuck.”
He walked over and stared at the paper for a moment, then came back with a poker that had been lying in the fireplace. The red-hot tip was glowing as he shoved it in Carl’s ass, causing rancid shit and flesh smelling smoke to fill the air. At first, the sizzling sound of the heated metal coming into contact with moist butt
hole was louder than Carl’s muffled screams, until he tore his stitches loose, then his screaming was almost deafening until he passed out. Barry pulled the poker out, then stepped towards me with a very serious look. His expression changed when he noticed I had a pistol lying in my lap. I nodded towards the fireplace. “Go put it back up before you make another mistake.”
When he came back he started to sit down behind Carl. I tapped my watch. “Time to crank the winch a few clicks. You’re getting behind. It’s been about thirty minutes.”
“Good. That means I will make the time frame.”
Rodney’s penis was very swollen and soreness had set in. When the hook sliced through his flesh again the stitches in his mouth started tearing loose as he tried to scream. His body was so tense that the hole in his left eye squirted out some fluid. Barry measured the gash. “It’s about half an inch.”
I could see blood and urine dripping out the bottom. “We need to stop the bleeding. Go grab a butter knife from the table and heat it up with the torch, then slide it all the way through the cut so the internal veins will be cauterized.”
Rodney’s eyes rolled in the back of his head when Barry shoved the blade behind the hook. I started laughing when a puff of smoke came out of Rodney’s piss hole.
Barry shook his head as he walked over to Carl. “I’m glad you’re being entertained.”
“Hold up, smart-ass, you’re too slow to do two at once. Stay with Rodney until his dick is split.”
“Sorry I’m not up to your standards, asshole.”
Barry’s comments were starting to get on my nerves. “Hey, I know you’re still pissed about your dick, but chill out.”
“Still? When in the fuck am I supposed to be okay with it?”
“Get over there and crank the winch a few clicks before I give you something to really bitch about.”
Barry was angry as he cranked the winch. I could tell he had moved the hook too much by Rodney’s reaction. I could hear his screams clear as day even though his mouth was sewn closed. He was almost like a ventriloquist the way he was able to throw his voice. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought Don was the one screaming, but he was on the verge of death. I walked over and looked at his penis. The cut was now about two inches long. “You dumbass.”
“Sorry, but I’m sure it hurt like a bitch. And besides, that’s what you’re after anyway.”
I shook my head. “No harm no foul I guess. But let’s wait about fifteen minutes.”
Barry seemed aggravated. “Why?”
“Because I want the numbness to wear off.”
“This is bullshit. I need to get to the hospital. I think you’re stalling on purpose.”
“Hold up, stooge, no one said you get to leave after Rodney’s cock is split. There’s a lot more pain that needs to be dished out, and you’re not going to be done until they’re all dead.”
He shook his head. “What the fuck do you want me to do in the mean time?”
I noticed Rodney’s penis was dripping blood. “Cauterize his wound for starters. After that you can tie the hooks to the wire to make up a little time.”
He heated the knife, stuck it in the wound, then walked off leaving the blade sizzling in the blood and piss.
About twenty minutes later Barry went to the winch. “Wires are done. Can I crank it?”
“Go ahead and rip it, but do it very slowly.”
He turned the winch a few clicks. “Is that enough?”
I was standing next to Rodney. “Not yet.”
“Why do you get to rip it more?”
“I’m not. The closer the hook gets to the end the more his dick stretches.”
“Oh.” He turned the winch. “How about that?”
The tension was so tight that it was causing Rodney’s penis to be stretched to about seven inches. The hook had now split it about two thirds of the way. He was in so much agony that his body was trembling and the veins in his neck were bulging out like a body builder lifting weights. Suddenly his eye squirted again, but like a squirt gun. I pointed to the butter knife. “Reheat it. And make sure you get it real hot—he’s bleeding badly.”
The blade was glowing red. “Is this good?”
“Yes, but make sure you slide it back and forth in the wound.”
When he shoved in the blade, smoke bellowed out at the same time Rodney tore the stitches and rod from his mouth as he let out a horrifying yell. Barry wasn’t fazed by Rodney’s screaming and violent jerking as he worked the knife around. When the bleeding slowed down I pointed to the winch. “Let’s go ahead and rip it apart.”
“Kick ass.” He jabbed the butter knife in Rodney’s thigh, then stood by the winch. “Can I do it fast?”
“No.”
Barry seemed excited as he cranked the winch handle slowly. “What’s it doing?”
“Stretching the shit out of it.”
“How long is it?”
“About nine inches. And I think it’s fixing to…” His penis made a snapping sound as the hook jumped forward, ripping the last of it in half.
Barry was holding his hand over his mouth as he looked at the two halves as they flopped around. “That’s fucking sick.”
Rodney was looking down while crying. I leaned against the wall next to him. “Whatcha think?”
He could barely speak. “Please stop hurting me.”
“That’s not going to happen, but I was talking about the bet. Who won?”
He remained silent.
“I will get Barry to pull your testicles out your urethra if you don’t speak up.”
“You did.”
I looked at Barry. “Did you hear that?”
He was glaring at me. “I already know that, and you don’t have to rub it in.” He looked at Rodney’s penis. “And how in the fuck was that possible? It shouldn’t have done that.”
“You would be right if it was a normal hook.”
He looked confused. “What the fuck does that mean?”
“Didn’t you notice the inside of the hook was filed down to a dull edge?”
He just looked at me.
“I had shaped the edge so it would guide itself, and with enough tension it cuts instead of tearing.”
I could see the anger in his face. “That’s cheating.”
“How’s that?”
“It just is.”
“The name of the game is Two Headed Cock. He now has two dick heads, so you lost and have to spill the beans.”
“I ain’t spillin’ shit.”
“We’ll discuss that later, but first you need to cauterize him before he bleeds out.”
Rodney was still looking down. “I’m sorry for what I’ve done. Please just kill me.”
I leaned towards his ear and whispered. “Sorry isn’t enough for what you did. I’ve decided to take you home with me.”
Barry was kneeling next to Rodney’s penis. “What did you just say?”
“You need to worry about what you’re doing, then get over there and start back on Carl.”
Barry lit the torch and started to use the flame to cauterize Rodney’s penis, but I motioned for him to stop. “Use the knife.”
He looked confused. “What?”
“Heat up the knife like you’ve been doing.”
“What’s the point? His dick is mutilated.”
“I want to see if I can split it in fours.”
He turned red with anger. “This is bullshit! I don’t have…”
“Hush! I’m going to do it in a few months after he’s healed.”
His mouth fell open. “What?”
“You heard me. And you need to speed it up—time is running out.”
He heated up the knife blade, then poked at Rodney’s penis with it.
“Not like that. Grab one of his dick halves and run the blade along the inside of it like you’re spreading jelly on a piece of toast.” I went and laid on the couch.
He felt like vomiting as he handled the bloody pieces of flesh. Rod
ney was so weak that all he could do was moan. When Barry was done, he came to me holding his hand over his bandage. “I’m starting to hurt.”
I pulled a syringe out of my pocket and tossed it to him. “Inject that at the base of your stub.”
He looked at the fluid in the syringe. “What is this?”
“A numbing agent.”
“I don’t know; it might not be safe.”
“It’s the same shit I’ve already used on you.”
“You could have got it mixed up with something else.”
“I doubt it.”
“You could have chosen the wrong one.”
I pulled a hand full of syringes out of my pocket, then looked through them, examining the different fluids by color. “Nope, that’s the right one.”
“See what I mean.” He tossed it back to me. “I’ll pass.”
I stuck it back in my pocket with the others. “Suit yourself.”
“Do you have any Tylenol?”
“Do I look like a fucking pharmacy?”
“Yeah, with all the shit you keep on you.”
I laughed as I pulled a baggy from my pocket. I tossed it to him. “Take one of those.”
“How much more do I have to do when I’m done with Carl?”
“You answered your own question.”
“What does that mean?”
I pointed to Don. “He won’t feel anything else, so he’s done. And I have other plans for Rodney. So, Carl is the only one left in the game.”
Carl was awake, and when he looked at Don, noticing he was dead, he started crying. Barry looked disturbed as he stared at the molesters. “It’s not right what you made me do to them. I feel dead inside.”
“Save the emotional shit for later. Your last participant is waiting to complete his squats.”
He sat down behind Carl with the hooks. “What was it that you wanted me to do?”
“Stick the hooks in the outer skin of his ball sack. And make sure you space them evenly around it.”
Carl was looking back. His face was swollen and covered with blisters that were oozing a clear fluid. His lips were lined with holes and tears, and some of the holes had pieces of broken string hanging from them. The skin on both his butt cheeks were red, and the redness of the skin turned to darker shades of red as it got closer to his burnt anus. His anus was oozing a brownish fluid and it was running down his ass crack before dripping off his balls. He was in a lot of pain, but still angry. “Don’t touch me! You fucking hear me?”
The complete “A Glimpse into Hell” series - 5 books, 195 chapters, 1700 pages, 600K words of pure gore Page 98
