Swan Lake

by Patrick Kill

  SWAN LAKE

  Patrick Kill

  FIRST DIGITAL EDITION

  Swan Lake copyright 2008 by Patrick Kill

  Cover Artwork copyright 2008 by Tom Moran

  All Rights Reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Darkside Digital

  A Division of Horror Mall

  P.O. Box 338

  North Webster, IN 46555

  www.darkside-digital.com

  They say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. But that didn't apply to Smiley. Smiley would fuck anything on two legs, one leg or no legs at all. As long as it was female and had at least one available orifice, he was good to go.

  Although sexual addictions such as Smiley's are not laughing matters, he was beyond denying that it was a problem and had just accepted it as a character attribute or flaw, depending on the kind of situation he got himself into.

  Smiley was only good at three things in life, the three "F" words: flirting, fishing and fucking. And all three of these would ultimately weave a treacherous winding road to our arrival at Swan Lake, an exclusive beauty resort hidden in the deep woods of northern Indiana.

  Swan Lake was not your average resort. It was a rich person's salvation, according to some. The lake resort was frequented mostly by the wives of rich men. The women came from all over the world for an otherworldly beauty treatment. It wasn't plastic surgery, liposuction or facelifts they sought, but a baptism in the lake itself. It was rumored that ugly women had been transformed into beauties by merely taking a dip into this peculiar lake.

  And, although Smiley and I could never afford such a place, let alone be allowed to set foot in such a resort, Smiley performed his magic of flirting with and fucking the resort owner's daughter for clearance. We also used my retarded cousin, Ramona, for leverage, stating that it was our wish for her to be cured by the miraculous waters of Swan Lake.

  Ramona was born a retarded paraplegic mongoloid. The girl had never muttered a single coherent word in her life. Besides blinking and a slight shift of her malformed head, she seldom moved at all. She had to be force-fed soft foods and liquids in order to survive. If God had ever created such a pitifully wretched creature, it was Ramona.

  But one look at the retarded smile permanently etched on Ramona's face, pulled at your heartstrings. And it worked wonders on Heather, Smiley's newfound fuck-buddy who just happened to be the daughter of the Swan Lake Resort owner. Heather took one glance at Ramona and we were granted access for a weekend stay.

  Little did she realize that Smiley was using her to get access to the resort for the sole purpose to mingle with the ladies.

  "I can't believe you're using my cousin as a pawn," I stated.

  Smiley shrugged his shoulders. "Come on," he said, "it's not going to hurt anyone. It was the only way I could get into this place. Can you imagine a weekend with a resort full of gorgeous women?"

  "And because you're horny, you have to drag poor Ramona along for the ride?" I asked. "Haven't you caused enough damage?"

  Although Ryan Smiley was my best friend, there were times I'd never admit it. Especially the first time he met my cousin Ramona at my Aunt Kay's the previous year.

  In a matter of five minutes, Smiley changed the course of all three of our lives forever.

  Two hours into the visit, Aunt Kay asked us to watch Ramona, a twenty-four-year-old with the degenerative brain of a three-year-old.

  And then Smiley got bored.

  I walked into the living room from the kitchen and stopped dead in my tracks.

  Smiley had somehow managed to maneuver Ramona so that she was bent over her wheelchair, drooling onto the seat. Meanwhile, Smiley was pumping his hairy ass into her from behind.

  "What the fuck are you doing?" I yelled.

  "What's it look like?" he replied, shifting his hips in a windmill motion.

  I looked at Ramona as she craned her crooked neck, her uncomprehending eyes rolling around aimlessly in the sockets, but still maintaining the same retarded smile which had become her trademark.

  Ramona's sweat pants were bunched around her ankles, her T-shirt had been pulled over her head. Smiley slapped her on the ass a few times, then continued probing her from behind. "Look, she likes it!" he said, pointing towards her face.

  "Dude," I said, "She smiles like that all the time!"

  Ramona's neck slowly swiveled around to look back at Smiley. A thick string of drool fell to the floor.

  "You like that, don't you, bitch?" he said, reaching around and pinching one of her nipples.

  "Dahhhhh," Ramona replied.

  "That's right," Smiley grunted, "I'm your daddy!"

  "Dahhhhh, dahhhhhh, dooooo" Ramona said.

  "For Christ's sake, get off her," I commanded. "That's my fucking cousin, man!"

  "So what?" Smiley argued, "You let me fuck your mom right on the kitchen table after your sixteenth birthday party. You remember?"

  "Totally different. My mom's a whore, Ramona's an invalid retard!"

  "Have a heart, man," Smiley said, "This might be the only time she'll ever get laid. She may be a retard, but don't retards deserve to get laid at least once?"

  He had a point. In fact, Smiley always seemed to have a point to justify his behavior.

  "Hurry up and get her clothes back on before Aunt Kay shows up!"

  Smiley pulled out. Ramona's wheelchair rolled forward and she plummeted to the floor. Smiley straddled her still-smiling face.

  "Dooooooo, kaaaaaa--" Ramona said, but was interrupted as Smiley shoved his dick in her mouth. Once again, he started bucking his hips. He looked like he was engaged in some perverted game of twister, his body doing push-ups. His mid-section slapped against her face, her head bouncing off the hardwood floor with every stroke.

  "Jesus, be careful!" I said.

  Smiley grunted something. He shook his head, then continued penetrating her face. I looked at Ramona's open-mouthed grin as Smiley's dick jack-hammered away.

  Smiley closed his eyes, pumping harder.

  Ramona lifted her head at the same moment as Smiley climaxed and jerked forward.

  Ramona's head smashed against the hardwood floor with a sickening crack.

  "Oh my God!" I yelled.

  Smiley pulled out and shot a load onto her face.

  "You sick bastard! How could you?"

  Smiley's face lost all its color. He stood quickly, looking like a little kid who had accidentally stepped on a baby kitten.

  Seconds passed, then Ramona started licking her lips.

  Her eyes seemed to shift and focus on Smiley. In all my years, I'd never seen the girl do anything but blink with those wandering, vacant eyes. Now, suddenly, she actually looked like she was concentrating.

  The next thing that happened scared the shit out of me.

  Instead of going into a seizure or dying right there on the spot, like I was expecting, she did something worse.

  She stood up.

  Ramona shuffled her feet across the floor, moving next to Smiley.

  Smiley's jaw dropped. He looked at me, as if to say "help" or "what the fuck do I do now" but no words came out.

  "Looooo-ver!" she said.

  It was her first intelligible words she had ever spoken.

  "Spank me!" she said, plain as day.

  Smiley looked at me and was obviously scared shitless.

  I just stared at her, unable to believe what I had just heard.

  Ramona reached down and grabbed Smiley by the balls.

  All Smiley could do was look down in astonishment.

  Then she twis
ted her wrist. "Mooooooore!"

  Smiley screamed, doubled over.

  Ramona turned towards me and pointed her finger. "You want some?"

  I cringed, watching Smiley's milky load running down her chin. "Me?"

  "You loooooo-ver?"

  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Aunt Kay's car pulling in the driveway.

  "Oh, fuck!" I panicked. "Do something!" I yelled at Smiley.

  "Like what?" he replied, frantically pulling his jeans back on.

  "Hell, I don't know. But if Aunt Kay finds her like this, she'll know!"

  "Oh shit!" Smiley said, buttoning his shirt.

  "Poke me, Smiley!" Ramona said.

  "Oh great," I said, "You changed her from a drooling retard to a sex-crazed, foul-mouthed whore. Nice!"

  "I'm sorry," Smiley said, putting his shoes on. "How was I to know this would happen?"

  "Hurry it up before Aunt Kay starts asking questions," I directed. "Change her back!"

  Smiley finally calmed down, focused, then punched Ramona in the side of the head. A large red mark appeared by her temple.

  "Oh great! Now Aunt Kay's going to see the imprint of your fist on her head!"

  Ramona staggered back and fell over the couch, rolling onto the floor. Smiley jumped on top of her. He took her by the hair and bashed her head against the hardwood floor. After ramming her head against the floor at least a dozen times, he stopped to observe the effect.

  That same retarded smile had crept back on Ramona's face. Everything seemed normal again.

  I helped Smiley put the rest of her clothes back on and positioned her in the wheelchair.

  Aunt Kay walked in and smiled. I smiled back. She lowered a bag of groceries on the table, then proceeded to take off her coat.

  "Look what I got," she commented, pulling out a heavy cast-iron skillet. She handed it to Smiley. "I've been wanting one of these for awhile now."

  "Nice!" Smiley said. "It weighs a ton."

  "So how's Ramona doing?" she asked.

  "Good!" I said.

  Aunt Kay looked at Ramona, then squinted, as if spotting something wrong. She approached the wheelchair, looking alarmed, and I tensed up. Smiley began to fidget nervously, like he was ready to bolt out the door at any minute.

  "What in the world?" Aunt Kay said.

  "Smiley did it!" I blurted out.

  Smiley's eyes widened; he glared at me angrily.

  "What do you mean?" Aunt Kay inquired. She pulled a Kleenex from her pocket and dabbed it around Ramona's mouth.

  She looked at Smiley accusingly. "You gave her a cold?"

  "Uh, what?" he said.

  "She's got a snotty nose, look!" Aunt Kay said, holding up the tissue.

  I cringed, peering at the gelatinous yellowish mass on the wipe. I immediately looked away.

  Smiley cut in. "Oh, yes, I'm sorry. I must have given her my cold. Darn it!"

  "Well, I'll go get her some cold medicine," Aunt Kay said and departed for the kitchen. "And why is her head all red?"

  Smiley pumped his fist in my direction.

  I flipped him off, mouthing the words "fuck you!"

  "Uh," I said, praying that something would come to mind fast. I noticed Aunt Kay had stopped in the kitchen and turned around, waiting for an answer. I looked at Smiley, then blurted out, "Smiley was taking her outside, when the wheelchair got stuck in the door."

  "Well, what happened? Is she okay?"

  "Yeah, Smiley just accidentally dumped her on the ground. We got her back up and she was fine. She just bumped her head, that's all."

  "But she fell hard and the door jamb must have poked her in the vagina," Smiley added, pointing to the ebb of blood now saturating the crotch of her wrinkled sweat pants.

  Oh fuck, I thought, Aunt Kay will never buy that!

  "Oh, OK," Aunt Kay said, "Well, I'll get an ice pack too, then."

  In the wheelchair, Ramona's hand suddenly moved. Slowly, she pulled her sweatpants down in the front. I glanced down and, to my horror, she started finger-banging herself.

  I motioned to Smiley, but he hadn't noticed yet. He was still looking towards the kitchen.

  "Psssst!"

  Smiley looked at me inquisitively.

  I nodded my head towards Ramona in the wheelchair.

  Smiley looked down. He jumped back, as if a rattlesnake had bit him on the foot. He shrieked silently, a look of horror blossoming upon his face.

  "Do something," I whispered.

  Smiley took another quick glance into the kitchen, then swung the cast iron skillet across the back of Ramona's head.

  Ramona slumped forward; her hand fell out her pants.

  A dull thud echoed throughout the house, drawing Aunt Kay's attention. Smiley reacted by banging his hand on the skillet and saying, "Nice skillet, Aunt Kay!" He sounded overly sincere and fake like Eddie Haskell did in Leave It To Beaver.

  After Kay opened the freezer door, Smiley positioned Ramona's head upright once again.

  Kay soon returned to the room and gave Ramona some liquid medicine. She handed Smiley the ice pack. Instead of holding it on Ramona's head, he placed it on his crotch and sighed.

  It was a day I'd never forget. Months later, just when I started to block the whole event out, my Aunt Kay called and asked me to watch Ramona for a weekend. During the conversation, I had learned that she had kicked Uncle Larry out of the house after they found out that Ramona was pregnant. It turned out that poor Uncle Larry was caught by his wife with his pants around his ankles watching a porno in the living room. Ramona was sitting beside him, staring up at the ceiling like usual. But, obviously, Aunt Kay jumped the gun, adding it all up and just figured her husband was the one to blame for Ramona's mysterious pregnancy.

  I wheeled Ramona into our adjoining suites at Swan Lake and locked the door to her room. I gave Smiley a stern look and warned him, "You touch her once this weekend, and I'll beat you so hard that you'll have the lowest IQ of all three of us!"

  He nodded, agreeing. "You ever going to forgive me for that?" he asked.

  "Gee, let me think about it," I replied, "First you rape my retarded cousin and knock her up…cause my Aunt and Uncle to separate. Then poor Uncle Larry's living in a hotel room because of you, facing incest charges. Ramona's three months pregnant. She can't even feed herself, let alone feed a baby. And now my Aunt Kay is looking at having to buy both adult diapers and baby diapers. Not to mention my aunt now has to raise a baby at the age of 55!"

  Smiley nodded his head, obviously thinking about it from another perspective for the first time. "Yeah, but look on the bright side." He paused, as if trying to put his thoughts into words. Then he looked at me and shrugged. "Sorry, I got nothing."

  I shook my head. "You're a dick! I can't believe I'm still covering for you! Why the hell do I even like you?"

  "Chicks, man, chicks!" he replied.

  "What?"

  "How many times have I hooked you up with a girl and got you laid?"

  I thought about it. Probably at least ten times in the past few months. "A few."

  "A few?" he said, smiling. "Dude, if you and I were a hockey team, I'd just have set a new record for the most assists in a single season."

  "And goals, too," I added.

  "Hey, we make a good team."

  I said nothing, but knew he was right. For some strange reason, I couldn't remain pissed at him for a prolonged period. He had a way of growing on you, much the same way a harmless vine grows on a tree, the growth adding character to a just plain old bark-laden piece of would-be firewood.

  "So let's go scope the place out, shall we?" he said, rubbing his hands together.

  * * *

  We caught up with the first tour group. It was made up of Heather who served as the tour guide and twelve other women, all walking around with headsets on. Heather handed Smiley and I a headset and we followed the group outside.

  As I looked at the women's faces, none of them were even remotely pretty. There was a ga
p-toothed red head with dark red freckles plastered across her face. Towards the front of the group, there appeared an elderly woman with a glass eye and a sunken jaw line, obviously lacking a full set of teeth, not to mention the aforementioned eyeball. And then there was the 600-pound porker at the back of the pack, waddling along as she huffed and puffed. She had a triple chin and enough fat that you couldn't tell where her breasts ended and the lard-rolls began.

  But, to my amazement, Smiley was checking her out like she was Brooke Shields in the flesh. Hell, this woman could have ate Brooke Shields for lunch and still had room for Britney Spears for dessert and Angelina Jolie for a mid-afternoon snack.

  Smiley peeled his eyes away from the whale, pulled his headset from his ear, and said, "Can you image fucking her? It would be kinky as hell, like you're fucking a vat of Jello or something. I've never fucked a woman that fat before!"

  I shook off the thought and said, "You're a sick, sick man."

  The group entered a pier that extended about a hundred feet into the lake. Heather's sultry voice kicked in on the headset.

  "Although this is a natural lake, there is nothing natural about it. These waters hold a miracle that no one can explain. Back in 1980, my father and I lived here. Late one night, there was a meteorite that plummeted into the heart of the lake. A purple light was seen in the lake for weeks after. During that time, the lake changed. If you'll notice, there are no ripples in the water. The water is actually thicker than normal water. It's almost gelatin-like. For those of you who want to, stick your fingers into the water and you'll see what I mean."