“You people are crazy! You should all be locked up! That boy is a fucking monster! Look what he did to my face!”
“You can’t let her call the police, Edward. We just got our son back and they’ll take him away.” Melanie stared deep into Edward’s eyes willing him to find the strength he’d had when she’d first married him, before Jason’s tragic birth had crushed him.
“Don’t worry, Melanie. No one is taking Jason from us.” There was steel in his voice when he spoke. It made Melanie proud. Her man was back.
He kissed his son on the head and stood up to confront the prostitute. Sophia recognized the intent in his eyes even before his hands closed around her throat. She fought for as long as her oxygen held out, which wasn’t long. Soon her consciousness began to fade as pressure from Edward’s hands collapsed her windpipe. Before she slipped away she thought she heard someone playing a flute. Edward heard it too. They all did. Edward could almost imagine Arjunda’s smile. It was the same disturbing rictus that now scarred Jason’s face. The look of something not entirely sane, not entirely human.
***
Killing the whore had been easy. Disposing of the body had been a true chore. Luckily, Edward had his family to help. Melanie and Jason sawed off the head and limbs in the bathtub while Edward wrapped them in plastic and carried them out to the car in a trash bag.
Surprisingly, Edward felt no guilt over what he had done. He even felt a twinge of pride as he watched his son hacking away at the woman’s esophagus trying to chop through her cervical vertebrae to remove her head. Blood splattered his face and chest and covered his arms past the elbows as he worked. The look of determination in his eyes was something new. Until now Jason had always looked like a victim. Now he almost looked powerful. The only part of the whole thing that disturbed him was the erection still throbbing between his son’s legs and that grin that refused to fade.
“We have to crack open her ribcage or else it will fill with gas when she decomposes and float to the top of the Lake,” Melanie said as she sawed off the prostitute’s last remaining limb and dropped into the tub.
“I thought we agreed to bury her?”
“Where are you going to bury her that you can be sure no one will look? Even if you took her out to the desert there are Park Rangers and Highway Patrol Officers cruising out there. All they would need is to see a pair of headlights in the middle of the desert to alert them. Then you’d be fucked.”
“The same thing goes for Lake Mead, though.”
“Yeah, but there are places out there where almost no one goes and it would only take you a few minutes to dump her out there.”
“That’s a long drive though. What if I get stopped by the cops along the way?”
“What about on your job? You do construction right? How often do they pour foundations?
“Every morning.”
“They prep the pads ahead of time though, right? You could slip her in the dirt and smooth it back over and they’d just pour the foundation right on top of her in the morning.”
Edward took a long look at his sweet loving wife. She was way too good at this.
***
Melanie locked the door behind Edward as he set out to dispose of the body. The house was quiet again. There were no more screams. But there was still blood, all over her, Jason, the bathroom. Her son’s room was splattered with it from floor to ceiling.
Jason walked out of the room and stared at his mother. He was still naked and still obviously aroused. His eyes sparkled with hunger like the eyes of some feral beast. Staring at him there, covered in blood, Melanie was once again reminded of how much he looked like a vampire.
“Come here, baby.”
“I’m sorry Mom. I didn’t mean to get us in trouble. I wanted her to feel what I felt. It all felt so good. Painful. Terribly, terribly painful, but still good. I didn’t know the pain could be so good.” He smiled again and his eyes bore down on his mother like twin shotgun barrels.
“Come on, son. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Goosebumps raced up Melanie’s arms when she took her son’s blood-soaked hand. He let out a slight gasp as her flesh made contact with his. Not the agonized moan he usually made when she touched him. This was a gasp of ecstasy. His eyes rolled back in his head and his smile widened. Something about the expression made Melanie’s thighs quiver and a shameful wetness spread between them.
She led him back to the bathroom and could feel his eyes burning into the back of her skull as she led the way. She started the shower and turned back to look at him. The look on his face was unmistakable. Melanie was flattered. It had been a long time since any man had looked at her with lust in his eyes.
Melanie sat down on the edge of the tub as her son stepped in. She began to wash the blood from his arms and legs in long languid strokes, staring in fascination as it turned to streaks of pink and ran from his pallid flesh down into the drain. Jason’s moans became more sensual as the soap and his mother’s smooth palms caressed his flesh. He began to growl low in his throat, purring softly while she worked the lather up his thighs. A drop of semen dribbled from the end of Jason’s throbbing erection as it bobbled inches from his mother’s face. Melanie tried to ignore it as she began to wash his chest, but the boy’s moans, grunts, and gasps were turning her on. She placed the soap in his hands and told him to finish washing himself then she sat back down on the edge of the tub trying to catch her breath.
“No. You wash it for me.” Jason’s eyes were on fire. He placed the soap back in her hands and guided them down to where his manhood pulsed and throbbed, gorged with blood and vibrating with want. Melanie could almost feel his desire crackling like electricity through his skin. It disturbed her and excited her at the same time.
But he’s my son, She thought to herself. My little boy.
Except he wasn’t little anymore.
Melanie thought of all the years she’d devoted to him, sacrificing her own life and career, vacations, any type of social life at all outside of this house, in order to care for him. She had loved him even when his eyes had boiled with hatred, even when she couldn’t hold him, or speak to him. Now that he was finally able to reciprocate that love why shouldn’t she accept all of it? Why shouldn’t she have even the love he would one day give to some unappreciative young whore in the backseat of his father’s car? She deserved it. She had earned it.
Melanie began to wash him. She stroked his cock with all the tender skill and craft the whore before her had. Then, just as Sophia had, she took her son’s cock down her throat.
Jason screamed as the agonizing pleasure fired through his nervous system.
“Yes, mother! Yes! It hurts so much! It hurts so much! Don’t stop!”
Jason came almost immediately, digging his fingers into his mother’s hair and aggressively fucking her throat, moaning in inhuman anguish. Melanie moaned as well as her son ejaculated in her mouth and she sucked down his warm semen. He continued to cum while she slid his cock further into her throat, milking him of every drop of his seed. Jason’s screams now were almost deafening. It was the sound of someone being murdered.
“It’s so beautiful! So wonderful! It’s killing me! I can’t take it!”
Jason’s legs buckled and he staggered out of the shower falling into his mother’s arms and driving her down to the floor. Melanie held him as his body still quaked with aftershocks from the force of his orgasm. When he looked up at his mother his eyes were sparkling again with an almost religious rapture.
“It felt like I was dying. It was so powerful.”
“It’s okay, baby. You won’t die. Did you like it? Did it feel good?”
“It was incredible. Do you want to feel it Mom? Do you want to feel what I feel?”
Perhaps it was guilt, maybe she was just caught up in the moment, but Melanie didn’t hesitate.
“Yes.
***
Melanie felt her vagina tear as Jason forced his fist deeper inside of her. His tongue fluttered
over her clitoris as he tore her open and little prickles of pleasure entwined with the terrible pain. His tongue whipped back and forth across her vulva, the pleasure almost as torturous as his hand punching up into her up to his forearm. Her rectum had already prolapsed under the strain of his other arm, which was submerged in her asshole up to the elbow. She could feel his two fists grinding together inside of her, separated only by the thin wall of flesh dividing anus from birth canal.
It sounded like someone plunging a toilet as Jason worked his arms deeper, thrusting violently in and out of his mother’s twin orifices, ripping up into her bowels and uterus simultaneously. His fists were like battering rams rupturing veins and arteries, pulverizing her female parts. Blood, urine, and excrement poured from her in a steady torrent, splattering the bathroom floor and coating Jason’s arms up to his shoulders as his mother’s bowels let loose under the strain. Her vocal chords were shredded and torn from crying out. It was the first time Jason ever believed that he truly understood his mother. The first time he suspected she might truly understand him.
Melanie’s clitoris was fat and swollen as Jason sucked it the way she had sucked on him. His eyes still sparkled with that feral lust. His alabaster cheeks were stained crimson with his mother’s blood. Her screams became shriller as an involuntary orgasm tore through her and her kegel and sphincter muscles spasmed and tightened around her son’s forearms.
The pain was terrible. But she knew that it could be worse. She knew it was still nothing like what her boy experienced.
“It hurts, baby! Oh God it hurts so bad!”
Yet, she wanted more. Even though she knew the strain would kill her, she wanted to know all the agony her boy knew. There was no way she could look at Edward now anyway, not after fucking their only son. It was better that she die like this, in the arms of the man she’d always loved more than anything else in the world, her beautiful son.
There was a brief thought of what Edward would say when he found her exsanguinated corpse bleeding out on the bathroom floor with anus and vagina distended as if she’d been gang raped by a herd of buffalo. She thought of all the friends who had kept quiet about her past when she’d first announced her engagement to this “Good Christian man” and how they would now tell him all about her years hopping from one bed to the next. They would tell him that he was better off without her and perhaps he would even believe them. But maybe he would still love her a little. Maybe just a little.
Her last thought was of what Edward would do to their son knowing what he had done to her, then there was only pain as Jason bit down on her labia and tore each tender fold of flesh free of her. And more pain as he bit through her clitoris, paused to twirl his tongue around its bulbous head one last time, then tore that away as well.
Melanie’s blood spurted into her son’s mouth just as his semen had erupted into her own mouth moments before. Her body bucked and jerked in a bizarre combination of ecstasy and anguish, trying to decide between orgasm and cardiac arrest, then finally combining those two as well. She smiled up into her son’s beautiful dark eyes and reached out to stroke his pale blood-soaked flesh.
Maybe she had been right about him? Perhaps he was some kind of vampire or demon. Maybe all he had needed was her blood to make him whole and strong, because he no longer looked weak and helpless. With his ghostly white face drenched in blood from his mother’s vagina, his smile a gore-stained horror, he looked beautiful and powerful.
“My son.” Melanie whispered with a proud smile before Jason wrenched his fists out of her anus and vagina taking much of their inner-lining with him. Her heart stuttered to a halt as the shock overcame her.
“Mom? Mom? Don’t go away Mom. I need you. I love you. Mom, please don’t leave me. Please don’t go. I didn’t mean to hurt you that bad. I’m sorry. Don’t go!”
Jason cradled his mother in his arms and kissed her lifeless face, weeping softly as the reality of what he had done sank in.
***
Sweat beaded on Edward’s forehead and his eyes shifted nervously from side to side. Whenever a police car passed him he gripped the steering wheel in a white-knuckled strangle-hold and stared straight ahead. If he’d been a teenaged black kid in an Escalade instead of a middle-aged white man in a Crown Victoria, he’d already be on his knees in handcuffs with a gun pointed at his temple. Even still, he knew he had to get where he was going quickly before his luck ran out.
Edward turned into the construction site, cruising slowly down an unlit street. The electricity had not been pulled to the transformers yet and so the streetlights sat dormant without power. Edward killed his headlights. He doubted that the security guard stationed two streets over would ever get out of his trailer to walk the construction site, but he figured it was better safe than sorry.
At the end of the block there were lots that already had the form boards and post-tension cables installed ready for the foundation slab to be poured. Edward pulled to a halt in front of one and removed his shovel. The moon and stars gave him just enough light to make his way onto the lot without tripping over construction debris.
He had to move a few cables in order to clear a spot big enough to dig a grave. He removed the little plastic chairs that held the cables off the dirt and stuck them in his pocket so he wouldn’t have to look for them when it was time to put them back. Then he began to dig. The top eight inches was all fill so the digging went rather easily. But Edward wanted to be at least two feet deep. It took him an hour to dig through the hard packed sand and rock, another twenty minutes to fit the various body parts into the earth, and another hour to backfill it and smooth out the sand and gravel so it looked undisturbed.
As Edward worked he tried to keep his thoughts averted from the reason for his labor. He fought back the image of the prostitute’s vandalized face torn and ripped into a permanent smile. The horrified look in her eyes. He tried to block out the sound of her agonized shrieks and the feel of her pulse dwindling away to nothing beneath his fingertips as he choked the life out of her. He tried not to imagine his son’s idiotic grin streaked with gore and that drowsy satisfied look in his eyes. The look of a well-fed, well-fucked man reflecting on his good-fortune. All he wanted to think about was how happy his family would be now that Jason was better.
He still could not believe the Yogi had done it. He wished he had been able to thank the little man, but instead he’d had to throw him out. What else could he have done? The man had brought a whore into his home and turned his son into—into what? He wasn’t sure. He was afraid to speculate. He just wanted to get home to his family without getting arrested. Then he would sit and think and figure out how to fix everything. Everything would work out fine. He was sure of it.
Edward finished grading the pad and replacing the PT cables, setting them neatly back on the little plastic chairs, then he stalked back over to his car, sweating and exhausted, and began the long drive home.
There was still blood everywhere when Edward walked through the front door. The carpet was streaked with it all the way up to the front door. He’d assumed that Melanie would have taken care of that while he was out burying the whore’s corpse. But he stifled his annoyance remembering that his wife had just received her first hug from her son in seventeen years.
She’s probably still in there cradling him in her arms. She’s probably even whispering him a bedtime story like she’d wanted to do since he was an infant, Edward thought.
Edward shut the door behind him and walked through the living room into the hallway. The smell of blood was enormous, accompanied by the slaughterhouse stench of meat, organs, urine and feces. Edward paused, recognizing the overwhelming aroma of death. He tried to tell himself that it was from the prostitute they’d just disposed of, but his legs still wobbled as he shambled down the hallway overshadowed by a feeling of dread. Perhaps it was the shocking silence after all the screaming that had so recently filled the house.
“Jason? Melanie?” His voice shook and cracked. There was no rep
ly.
Edward did not know what to think when he pushed open the door to his son’s bedroom and followed the river of blood across the rubberized floor and into the bathroom. His mind refused to assimilate the information being fed to it from his senses. He could see his wife’s body, clearly dead, murdered, the expression on her face one of inestimable anguish. He could see the blood and shit leaking sluggishly from her brutalized rectum, which had been torn open so far that vagina and asshole had become one ragged crater. It looked like someone had blown her open with a shotgun. His mind just refused to do anything with this information. Edward stood there staring at his mutilated wife without a single thought going through his head.
Nearly a full minute elapsed before the first thought occurred to him.
Where’s Jason?
***
Jason knew he had done a terrible thing. Killing his mother was far worse than what he had done to the prostitute. He hadn’t meant to hurt either of them. He had just wanted to share the overwhelming sensations, the pleasure he’d discovered, with them. He wanted them to understand and empathize so that he wouldn’t feel so alien, so alone. But instead he had destroyed them both.
He wandered through the streets with his latex body-bag slung over his shoulder, filled with his few belongings. He wasn’t sure where he was going. He still could not read, so street signs meant nothing to him. The sights and sounds of the outside world were staggering. It was hard to keep the sensations from overwhelming him. Every time a truck rumbled by he wanted to curl up on the sidewalk and scream.
When Jason first realized that he had murdered his own mother, and what his father would probably do to him because of it, his first thought had been to run. Run far away. He packed in a daze, showered again in the gore-splattered tub, then stepped out onto the front porch into the world and froze as an avalanche of sensations crashed down upon him. There he’d stood for nearly an hour, trembling in fear.
His Pain Page 6
