Fat Off Sex and Violence

by McKenzie, Shane

  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, sp
at 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.