3 Grams: An Addictive Novella

by Krihstin Zink

  “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” His backwoods accent rang at my ears while he gripped at my arm.

  He manhandled me as if I had been a turkey leg he needed to eat. His grip tightened and bruised at my flushed skin. I dragged my heels while he yanked me towards the communal showers.

  “Join the other whores,” Shorty Troll said, shoving me into the bathroom.

  FZG and Lena clattered on, like four giddy gal pals, while they showered. For a moment, it felt as if we had held a sleepover of sorts. I didn’t want to ruin the moment, so I stripped and joined them under an Arctic-cold shower head. Frosty pin-like water pricked against my simmered skin. Alec’s lips and touch flashed in my mind as I washed my first forced date down the drain.

  “Why the high-spirts? Did Birdie smoke with y’all again?” I questioned, massaging shampooed circles across my scalp. FZG nodded at Lena and an abrupt burst of laughter shot from her lips.

  “Come on—tell me already.” I gave her the smirk that always made her spill the info.

  A wide grin creased the corners of her lips, before she said, “All right—already. Well, I had to dress like a baby doll while I spoon-fed a grotesque, hairy man. He fucking dressed himself in a diaper and bonnet. Can you believe that shit? He didn’t want to fuck: he only wanted me to tell him what a good boy he had been . . . while I patted his back and fed him baby food.” Lena’s eyes lit up with cheer as she laughed at her first date’s strangeness.

  “That’s some weird-ass shit,” Fi said, shutting her shower head off while Gia and Zora giggled from their side of the shower.

  “Who did you get?” Lena asked, reaching for a bottle of conditioner. She stared, waiting for my response while she massaged from her ends and slowly worked her way to her scalp.

  Alec’s hands and lips—all over me—flashed in-and-out of my mind. For a moment, I felt uncomfortable sharing with my girlfriend that I had enjoyed my first client. His effort to please me mixed with his kind, tender touch stirred an unfamiliar romanticism within me.

  While I massaged conditioner onto my ends, I realized that Alec not only made me forget about Lena . . . but Kendra also became an afterthought.

  “Was he that bad to you? What’s up with your face? You look so damn stunned,” Lena scolded, and then turned to shut the water off. She glared at me as she twisted the excess water out of her hair.

  “No. He wasn’t . . . bad—not at all. Alec’s a young, rich cat who is unlucky with the ladies.” I rattled on like I had a damn high-school crush, as my cheeks began to burn with embarrassment. Confusion creased the corners of Lena’s eyes, and her lips shrunk into fine lines.

  “Seriously? You sound like you have the hots for your client. How did you even acquire all that personal information?” Fi scolded from her dressing area. Gia and Zora’s judgmental eyes watched my every move.

  “Don’t look at me like that. He was young, and I felt bad—so we talked and I helped him through his hang-ups.” I diverted my gaze from the judgmental foursome.

  “Ohhh—so O is the Dr. Phillip of sex?” Fi rushed a comb through her hair as she puckered up her lips into a sassy pout while the other girls kept quiet. I glanced at Lena, and she quickly jerked her attention to dressing herself.

  “You’re not my girlfriend, Fi. So fuck off. Plus, I’m just tryin’ to make the best of this fucked-up situation. Yesterday, we were fucking raped.” That word felt as if a dagger had launched from my mouth. FZG and Lena cringed as our reality snapped us into that moment.

  “We were fucking sold, raped, and today—pimped to the highest bidder. I’m just trying to survive . . . the best I can.” My palms shook while they shielded my face from their shocked stares. Without notice or regard to my failed resilience, a typhoon of emotions panged at my chest; and as much as I fought back the tears I had promised I wouldn’t shed . . . I couldn’t hold them in any longer. After what had felt like hours in hell, I hugged myself while acid-like tears ran from my eyes. I felt too ashamed to even look at them.

  “It’s okay,” Lena whispered against my arm as she hugged me tight. She held me long enough for me to collect my composure.

  As she held me close to her chest, FZGdressed and ready, waited at the bathroom door. Lena squeezed my hand as she led us to our clean clothing.

  “Look at my eyes, babe.” She searched my face, until I found an ounce of courage to meet her glance. Her tender smile and profound gaze, renewed my strengthen.

  “I love you, O.” Lena’s small palms cupped my face while her eyes comforted my troubled mind.

  “I’ve always adored you: I’m sorry that it’s taken so long for me to give you more . . . I just feared losing you.” I didn’t mention Kendra because she needed to be removed from my heart. Lena stood on her tippy toes as her everlasting adoration scorched my lips.

  Birdie whirled into the room, just as I finished combing my hair.

  “Y’all are chatty tonight.” Our savior diva beamed with delight, as we flocked around her.

  We became gossipy Parakeets while we followed her into our sleeping quarters. Once we crowded around one bunk, Birdie sang some Spanish song I had never heard.

  “Besame . . . besame muuucho,” she bellowed while we passed three bud cigs around our group of six. We buzzed, strolling towards are beds.

  “Will you stay the night, Birdie?” Zora squeaked from her pillow before she snuggled in tight.

  “Sure, Doll. What y’all want to chat about?” Birdie drew another joint to her lips and lit it.

  “I want to understand why you can be so calm during all of this,” Lena repeated her interrogation, probing Birdie with questions about her involvement in our sexual exploitation.

  “Who do you think he sold first?” Several of us gasped from Birdie’s unexpected revelation. A contact lens could have fallen in that enormous dormitory, and we would have heard it stick to the floor.

  “Ha. I’ve always been—this—fabulous . . . and he didn’t like it, so he’d pimp me to punish me. It hurt, but . . . eventually I became numb to it. And now, I’m here to morally support his new Dolls. You know—no one wants this fabulous but old Queen.” She paused long enough to puff on her joint before she passed it to Lena, and then continued, “Dolls, I’ve been cross-dressing since I could crawl to my mama’s stripper shoes. No one accepted me, but I didn’t care. My first few clients were disgusting dads from the neighborhood. Of course, my brother never knew that I had blackmailed all of those fuckers—and in the process I had made my own money.” She snapped her fingers in the air, as if to show her brother that he hadn’t won.

  “He hated that I was free . . . my soul was free to be who I wanted to be. And before he pimped me, I had some sugar-daddies who loved chicks with dicks. You know—sometimes guys like it up the ass, and I did whatever felt good at the moment.” Birdie blinked her long feathered lashes, several times, before she pinched her joint out of Gia’s fingers.

  “Looks like we need another one, huh?” She grinned at the three of us who had stayed awake: shortly after Zora cuddled up in bed, Fi had wandered off to hers.

  Gia’s eyes resembled the wide-eyed expression of any shocked pothead, during a drug bust, as Birdie continued with her life-story.

  “Ivan had a need to control me—we had a stripper mama and a missing daddy. No one taught him to be a man. However, Pleasant Grove’s streets trained him how to hate and pimp me. We celebrated our thirtieth birthday in this house because he had sold—that much pussy—to afford this mansion and build this cavernous brothel.” She puckered her full lips as she flicked her joint ashes onto the floor.

  We gawked at her in total disbelief: I had never seen Gia or Lena’s eyes so damn wide. And drool could have poured from their mouths, that’s how dang wide they hung.

  “And now, we’re all here—his dolls to do with as he wishes.” Birdie shrugged, pulling a blunt from behind her wig.

  “Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about, Birdie.”
A wide grin beamed from my face, as I rubbed my hands with excitement.

  With the flick of her lighter, she lightened the mood. Her pampered hand reached and retrieved her smartphone from her pocket. Following a few taps, a Spanish, mellow melody flowed from the cell’s speakers. We smoked her blunt in silence as a lover’s heartbroken confession filled the room with nostalgia.

  Our sexual exploitation nightmare marked us, but we continued to press forward. My life had unfolded into a collection of mostly high-experiences meshed with sex and music. For a moment, my mind wandered while I considered Birdie’s past. Recognizably, I knew I could have never survived the hardships she endured; and yet, her past gave me strength.

  After Birdie’s cell phone died, like a mama hen, she tucked us into bed.

  “Y’all were amazing today, and your debts will be paid in no time—just keep it up. Fuck for your freedom.” Her fingers danced as she waved goodnight, and my chin rested on Lena’s shoulder while we watched Birdie step out of our dormitory.

  Military commands startled us awake, “Get the fuck up, Lil Pussies.”

  Fi pinged her head on her bunk and fell back onto her mattress. “Ouuu,” she complained as she rubbed at her forehead. As usual, Gia and Zora flocked to her aid—until the Camo Swarm of assholes pulled them away from Fi.

  “Let us help her, motherfuckers.” They pushed and wiggled away from our captors.

  Like the seven days before, they rushed us to the bathroom and then to the same damn breakfast: cold oatmeal, warm apples, and hot bottled water waited for us as they pushed us into the cafeteria.

  “Hurry up and eat.” They shoved us into our seats. Instantly, I visualized Michael Myers ass-fucking them while hell’s fire blazed in the background, which caused a smirk to form on my face. I nipped at my final apple bite while I realized that an entire week had passed, and I worried that the email I sent my mother . . . never arrived.

  “That’s enough of that shit, go get ready for your dates.” They removed our trays, and then harassed us with cruel jabs to our backs; but then, Birdie saved us from their abuse.

  “Leave my Dolls alone, fuckers.” She lifted her cocktail dress to chase the camo jerks, until they scattered like roaches from our safety light.

  “You’re our hero, Birdie.” Gia beamed with gratitude while we followed Birdie into our dressing room.

  We had to adapt to that life because we had no other choice: adapting had become the only way we’d survive. Our endurance modes had been activated as we continued to fuck clients and slowly drew closer to our paid debt.

  “Go on, now.” Birdie waved us to complete our everyday routine. We rushed through our showers and then shimmied into our lingerie of the day.

  “Too bad that each client has a different rate.” Fi’s face wrinkled in disdain as she covered her face with the mask we all wore. With each day that had passed, we realized that some clients wanted to just fuck while others desired to playout their weird fetishes.

  Then . . . we also had to endure the ones who released their depravity on us.

  On our third night, a sick fucker had Gia and Zora, bawling for hours into Birdie’s arms. “It was horrible—he thrust his fist in-and-out of us . . . and didn’t stop. He had us on the bed, with our legs in the air, and plunged rapidly in-and-out . . . in-and-out of us—at the same time, Birdie,” Gia had cried while soft sobs whimpered from Zora’s lips.

  Later, on our fourth night, Fi had limped from her client’s room to the bathroom, and complained, “That fucker plugged my ass for over an hour—the worst ass-fucking I’ve ever had.”

  But the worst of them all . . . had been Lena’s greedy, horse-dicked bastard. “He plugged all of me: he fucked my mouth until my throat couldn’t take it anymore, and then he pounded on my pussy until he thrust into my ass . . . it hurt so fucking bad,” she had whimpered, cleansing her soul on my shoulder.

  A person’s first ass-fucking should never be forced—never.

  “Y’all ready to get blazed?” Birdie chirped from her chaise, as she sealed the final lick on a Titan blunt.

  With her summer-red, tattooed lips, she never left any stains on the wrap. A new-to-me strain of bud tantalized at my senses. I had never taken ecstasy, but the lust that I’d heard about would have perfectly described how I felt after puffing on Birdie’s blunt of yumminess.

  Heavy breathing surrounded us as I trailed my index finger from Lena’s lips and then kneeled to the spot I had claimed as mine.

  “Ooo—yes,” Lena whimpered while I lapped at her fresh, peach-like lips.

  We had lacked sensibility that day; and I proudly acted out my first live-porno.

  Her fingers combed through my hair as she moaned for more, “Pleeese, please don’t stop—yes, yes . . . right there.”

  Lena’s core jolted, yearning for her release; and her thighs clamped my ears as she shook beneath me. She relaxed on the plush carpet as I detached my tongue from her.

  “I love you,” she huffed as she wrapped her arms around my neck. Our hug had been short lived, since an untamable desire blazed within her.

  “Recline.” She shoved at my shoulder, panting with desire to taste me. Her gaze fixated on me as she flicked her tongue against her favorite part of my body.

  “Fuck, this is hot.” Fi grinned as Zora and Gia huddled around us.

  I had never climaxed while an audience cheered; and the excitement of their undecided eyes, watching and wanting to join us—boiled my insides with desire.

  Lena’s giving tongue and FZG’s yearning gaze, made for the most explosive orgasm that had ever jolted through me. My thighs shuddered against Lena’s head while I whimpered and thrust at her face.

  An uproar of commotion halted me from my orgasmic haze, as someone yelled, “Don’t move!”

  Confusion disturbed our sexual encounter when a swat team hurtled through the door, as many of them tripped over each other when they realized what they’d interrupted.

  Lena blinked, staring up from my vag, as several officers grew closer until someone ordered, “For fucks sake, compose yourself already.”

  “Come on, hurry up.” They hustled us as we quickly dressed ourselves.

  A firm tone ordered us to take a seat on Birdie’s chaise, “Just . . . go over there for now.”

  Time passed at a slug’s pace, as a slow-motioned reality unfolded while we silently watched the SWAT team escort our captors past our dressing-room door.

  Once they cleared the basement, our rescuers guided us to the surface. Dallas’s warm-and-sticky summer air brought tears to my eyes. I froze with uncertainty when I turned and spotted Birdie handcuffed and kneeling next to the unmasked camo swarm.

  A hoard of mongrels gawked at us from the pavement as we walked past them.

  “She’s not with them; she helped us. Birdie is as much a victim as we are.” Zora reached for Birdie, but then an officer pulled her away as a female officer stepped forward, helping Birdie to her feet.

  Just as her cuffs began to unlock—Shorty Troll blurted out, “That Queen is El Diablo. He needs to be down here with us.”

  Birdie hissed at the troll, but then pleaded, “Please, please I’m the good twin. I promise.” She tried to explain, but the SWAT team didn’t care.

  “No, she’s his twin—please, let her go.” Gia yanked her hand from the officer’s grip and marched toward Birdie as the rest of us piglets followed.

  My heart sank when an officer guided us away from Birdie, and ordered, “We can’t risk it, please follow Sergeant Cole.” I felt consoled when I noticed a soft ray of hope beamed from Sgt. Cole’s eyes.

  “How . . . did you find us?” Zora’s lips trembled as she held back a sob.

  We stared, waiting as Sgt. Cole’s full lips spread into a gentle smile, and then she said, “A Mrs. Santos bugged us until we traced the origins of her daughter’s urgent email.”

  We perched on the steps of an ambulance’s rear doors, gazing in disbe
lief at our unsuspected prison. From the outside, El Diablo had created a well-disguised brothel: brick facing masked the truth behind the doors into our hell.

  In that moment, shock consumed me while I kept silent. For once, in almost a week, I felt alive again; and I had hope that my life would return to normal.

  “Hold still please, let me make sure y’all are all right.” A medic evaluated each of us, and later recommended that we seek a thorough STD screening. The July sun lured me to bask in my freedom while everyone’s words fell on deaf ears.

  No one had ever suspected that a coveted home, in Dallas, Texas, had housed an underground brothel; or that a gender-dysphoric woman with dissociative identity disorder, had commanded such an operation. A year passed before I developed the ability to own what happened to us during those seven days.

  When the police had finally released us from questioning, they returned us to our apartment complex and dropped us off at the curb. It felt surreal, as if at any moment our captors would jump out and reclaim us as theirs to sell.

  Once we had stepped inside our home, I silently watched—in total traumatized shock—as Lena tearfully touched every single thing with a hello—I missed you.

  We survived traumatic sexual exploitation: which over time, brought us closer and helped glue the cracks in our untraditional love. Lena and I struggled through therapy; but with time, effort, and love—we conquered our post-traumatic stress disorders.

  My memories evaporated when a gentle shoulder tap interrupted my thoughts. Instantly, I turned to face my loving Foxy.

  “Are you ready?” Lena looped her hands through my sides. Each day that had passed, she hugged me tighter than before; and our joint, loving adoration grew to a solid bond.

  “Sure.” I turned to take her hand as we walked into the Hope and Healing Center.

  “Hey there. Thank you so much for doing this.” Pam, our counselor, led us to a large conference room.