THE ONCOMING STORM OF SEX AND VIOLENCE
Sheriff Joe woke up to a horrific sight: his daughter crying at the kitchen table.
He looked over at the clock on the wall.
“One o’clock,” he said.
That can’t be right, he thought. Am I dreaming?
His sleep had been an uneasy one.
Usually, he came home from his shift, crashed on the bed, slept like a stone, and then reluctantly got out of bed around three—swearing under his breath the entire time about getting a deputy to cover the late shift.
But, he had tossed and turned most of the morning.
Nodding off and then jolting awake.
Something just felt off today.
“Emily,” he ventured. “What are you doing home from school?”
“I got suspended,” she sobbed.
“Okay,” he said, still groggy.
He wasn’t much of a coffee guy, but kind of wished he had some now.
“How come you got suspended?” He asked, surprised he actually sounded coherent.
“I punched Summer in the face,” she cried.
“Summer?” Joe asked. His mind went blank for a moment.
“Rosie’s daughter?” He asked, now.
“Okay,” Joe said, and then repeated it again. “Okay.”
Joe went to the fridge, opened it, and grabbed a can of Coke.
The caffeine did him some good, but the bitter sweetness of the drink hurt his stomach.
Still he continued to drink it.
“Okay,” he said again, as he sat down at the table. “Why did you do that?”
“Because, Summer did something really mean,” Emily blubbered.
“To you?” Joe asked.
“No! To Martin!” She cried, as if it were the most obviously thing in the world.
He waited, with the patience of a saint, for her to open up to him.
Emily wasn’t usually this emotional, and it hurt to see her like this.
She continued to sob, and Joe desperately wanted to say something to comfort her.
But, Rosie had actually given him some easy to follow to follow advice when it came to dealing with teenage girls.
“Let her cry, ask her questions, let her talk. But, whatever you do, don’t offer her any advice. She’s not looking for you to solve her problems for her.”
After a minute or so, Emily seemed all cried out.
She wiped the tears away from her face, and then said, “Summer littered the school with a bunch of these.”
She took a piece of paper out of her book bag, and slide it over to him.
“Are you sure it was her?” Joe asked.
Emily nodded, and then said, “She admitted it, after I punched her in the face.”
Joe picked up the paper and read:
Your scars on the outside, but mine are deep inside.
“It certainly is very….uh…passionate,” Joe said after he had finished. He had almost said pornographic, but caught himself. “Did Martin write this?”
Emily nodded, and then said, “We were supposed to write an anonymous love poem for our English class.”
“Who did you write about?” He asked.
“Martin,” she answered.
“And was your poem as…passionate?”
“God no!” Emily answered. “It was just kind of stupid and embarrassing.”
Joe breathed a sigh of relief.
“And clearly his poem is about me,” she continued. “But, I don’t think he’d put all that sex stuff in it.”
“Well, teenage boys do a lot of stupid things,” Joe offered, “especially if they’re trying to impress a girl.”
Emily shook her head.
“No,” she said. “Look.”
Emily took another piece of paper out her book bag.
This one was the same as the previous one, but she had painstakingly crossed out all the sex stuff, and put question marks next to the stuff that looked altered.
“Read it,” she pleaded with him.
Without all the sex stuff, the poem sounded brooding and overly dramatic, but also extremely heart felt.
Joe choked up a little, and had to clear his throat.
“See,” she said, looking up at him. Her eyes pleading, hopeful that he understood.
He nearly choked up again.
Here sat his daughter, wanting desperately to believe the best of the strange, awkward boy that she had given her heart too.
So much like her mother, Joe thought.
He cleared his throat again, and then turned the papers upside down on the table.
“Do you like him?” He asked.
“Yes,” she said. “No. Maybe. I don’t know. All the kids at school are calling him Super Perv.”
“God,” she said, touching the side of her face, “maybe if I didn’t have these stupid scars, none of this would have happened.”
“You stop that shit, right now!” He snapped, and then a little softer he said, “Martin doesn’t seem to have a problem with it, does he?”
Emily bent her head low, and shook her head.
“I tried to talk to him, after, and he wouldn’t even speak to me. He just ran away,” she said, and then starting to sob, again.
“Why would he do that?” She cried, a few seconds later.
“He just needs some time to himself,” Joe said, tossing aside his rule of not to comfort here. “Men really don’t really like to share, you know.”
“That’s stupid,” she blubbered.
“Listen, honey,” he said. “Martin has had a very difficult life.”
She looked up.
At least she was listening, and that encourage Joe to continue.
“I probably shouldn’t tell you this,” he began. “But Martin’s mom, she… how to put this politely… she was always troubled.”
He took another sip of his soda, but could already feel his stomach turn.
“Jackie was Rosie’s twin sister,” he continued. “We all grew up on the same street. But, I was never close to Jackie the way I was with Rosie.”
He reached for the soda again, but Emily grabbed it, and put it to the side.
“Er…thanks,” he said.
“Honestly, I don’t know why you buy it?” She scolded him. “You know it hurts your stomach.”
Joe nodded, and couldn’t get over how much Emily sounded like her mother.
“Where was I?” He said. “Oh right, Jackie. The thing about Jackie was she was somebody who always needed to be the center of attention. Most of kids grow out of that sort of thing, but Jackie never did.”
Joe licked her lips, eyeing his soda again, but Emily glared at him—warning him away.
“Things only got worse in high school,” Joe said now. “You know, how Rosie is pretty much a knock-out now? Well she was even more of a knock-out back then. But, Rosie never let it go her head. She was always kind and nice even to some nerdy guy who would constantly embarrassing himself trying to ask her out.”
Joe was lost in thought for a moment, and Emily squeezed his hand to snap him out of it.
“Jackie, was the complete opposite,” Joe said. “She knew was attractive, and took full advantage of it. And as you can image, Jackie became very popular, but for all the wrong reasons.”
Joe looked to see if his daughter was still paying attention. She sat enraptured, and that encouraged him to continue.
“In her senior year, Jackie became pregnant with Martin. The thing of it was, Jackie had a different boyfriend every week, so who the father was, was anyone’s guess.”
Joe fell silent.
Emily squeezed his hand again.
“At first, Jackie loved the attention. Her friends asking her questions about what it felt like, was the baby kicking, and if she got sick in the morning. You know, things like that.”
“But, eventually the novelty of Jackie’s pregnancy tapered off,” Joe said. “Her friends started falling away. And, because she was pregnant, the boys didn’t want to have anything to do with her. I remember she disappeared from school, for a little while, and didn’t finish her senior year. She dropped out of school completely not long after...”
“Now, what I’m about to tell you all comes second hand from Rosie, but she has no reason to lie.”
He sighed again.
“For the first year or so, things were great. Martin’s grandparents took good care of him. But, Jackie got jealous of all the attention they showered upon Martin. So, late one night Jackie took Martin and ran away. Martin’s grandparents didn’t see him for almost three years. The only reason they entered his life again, ended up being because Jackie called her parents begging for money. They agreed, on the condition that they could see grandson again.”
Joe stopped, and shook his head.
“So they went to Jackie’s apartment, and Rosie went with them. The place was a mess, and hadn’t been cleaned in months. When they got there, they saw Martin eating out of the garbage. He was naked, except for a soiled diaper, and there were bruises and welts up and down his back…are you okay?”
Emily had teared up again.
“Do you want me to stop?”
She shook her head.
“Well needless to say, Children’s Services were called immediately, and Martin was placed temporarily in the custody of his grandparents.”
Joe sighed again.
“Then Jackie surprised everyone when she sued for custody.”
“Did she win?” Emily asked.
“She convinced everyone that she had changed, and had recast herself in the image of what a good mother should be. And, to the outside world that’s what she was. But, there were signs that told a different story.”
“Like what?” Emily gasped.
“Rosie would visit sometimes, and Martin would just shake the entire time she was there, or he would look down in shame, his face completely red.”
“What do you think she did to him?” Emily asked.
“The only thing I really know about was what happened about five years ago, when I first became Sheriff. Rosie came over…”
“I remember that,” Emily said. “You told me to go to my room, and then you talked to Rosie in the kitchen. But I sneaked back downstairs, and listened at the kitchen door. All I could hear was Rosie crying.”
“Again maybe I shouldn’t tell you this,” he said.
Tell me, please,” she said.
Joe thought for a moment, and then nodded.
”It was on the car ride over to Jackie’s house that Rosie finally broke down. There are some things I forgot to tell you. Martin’s grandparents had been suing for custody of Martin for a long time, and after they died, Rosie took up the fight. Anyway, on this particular night, Rosie had stopped by her sister’s house, to once again beg Jackie to let Martin stay with her for a couple of weeks. Just so Jackie and Martin could have a break from each other.
Surprisingly, Jackie agreed to this, and let her in.
But, Rosie could tell something was off, almost immediately.
The house felt eerily quiet, and Jackie had this weird grin on her face.
At this point, Rosie gets really scared.
‘Where’s Martin!’ Rosie screamed at her sister.
Jackie only response was to laugh and point up.
Rosie raced upstairs, and she finds Martin in his room.
He’s naked, and he’s…um….masturbating furiously, to the point he was bleeding.
Rosie pleads with Martin to stop, but it was like he’s lost in own little world…”
“Oh my god,” Emily cried.
“Well,” Joe continued. “Jackie comes up, and says to Rosie, ‘Are you sure you want to take him? I mean he’s such a handful.’
Rosie ran, and got me.
I’m going to skip ahead a little, because it seemed to take forever to get Martin to the hospital. We had to get the local law involved, and Child Services, and it was just a big mess. Rosie told me later, that Jackie had confessed that she’d given Martin some Viagra and cocaine, just to see what would happen. Jackie had even laughed about it, telling Rosie she was making a big deal out of nothing.
Martin was put in foster care for a while, despite Rosie pushing for full time custody.
In the end, Jackie eventually got Martin back, like she always did.
Jackie knew how to play the system. Knew how to act like the sympathetic mother. Could get everyone on her side just by shedding a few tears. But, to her credit, I didn’t hear about any other incidents after that, probably because Martin had had a growth spurt in foster care.
And maybe Jackie did change after that. But, I kind of think she just got better at hiding the things she was doing.
Jackie always seemed to have a lot of bitterness and resentment towards Martin, but she couldn’t let him go.
Jackie never had a boyfriend again either, even though she was still a very attractive women, up until the day she died.”
Joe paused, and he could feel Emily’s eyes on him.
“I’m not trying to scare you,” he said. “Or frighten you away from having a relationship with Martin, if that’s what you want. But, the thing of it is, what Martin really needs is be shown that there are good women out there. If all he ever sees is the bad, then he’s going to go down a very dark path. Now, Rosie is trying to help, but it’s probably going to take a while to undo all the damage Jackie did to him.
And if what I have told you is too much for you to handle, or if you’re going to worry about what the kids at school say, then you need to break it off with him, okay.”
Emily hung her head, and slowly nodded.
“Do you think he’ll talk to me again?” She asked.
“Do you want him too?” Joe asked.
She nodded again, this time without hesitation.
“Well honey,” he said. “I don’t see how he can stay away. You make everything better.”
Emily rolled her eyes.
“Don’t be weird,” she said.
Joe stood up, and snatched the can of Coke from her.
“You’re grounded by the way,” he said, taking a sip of his soda. “No phone for the next three days. Hand it over.”
“Oh come on,” she said. “Summer started it!”
“It can be three days or the rest of the school year,” Joe said.
“Fine,” she said, sliding the phone across the table. “This is so unfair.”
“I know you did what you thought was right, but you can’t go around punching people in the face.”
“I’ll bet Summer will never pull this shit again,” Emily said, defiantly.
“Maybe, maybe not,” Joe said. “But you’re almost an adult, and that’s not how adults solve their problems.”
Emily started to say something, then thought the better of it, and instead decided to pout.
Joe took another sip of his soda finishing it, putting the empty can of the table. He resigned himself to the fact he was probably not going to get any more sleep today, and was going to be dog tired on his shift.
Still, he might as well make an effort, and started to head back upstairs.
“Daddy,” Emily cried softly, “Do you think Martin will want to see me again?”
Joe saw his daughter touching her scars again, and sighed.
“I’m not going to lie, honey,” he said. “That’s really up to him.”
* * *
Martin had been wandering around for hours, and now he felt completely exhausted.
He knew he should just go home.
But, Summer was at home, and he really didn’t want to deal with her bitchiness right now. Plus, she was probably the one who had pranked him.
He came to rest on a park bench just outside of the university.
He thought of Emily, and sighed again.
He’d probably blown any chance he had with her, when he’d run away from her.
It wasn’t even the poem that had upset him. That was embarrassing, and everybody at school probably thought he was some weird stalker. But so what. He’d been embarrassed before, almost on a daily basis by his mom.
And he’d been called worse, again almost on a daily basis, by his mom.
No, it was the loss he felt that upset him.
Things had been going so well, well outside of getting beaten up by Billy and Trunk, and dealing with his bitchy cousin.
But things had been going well. He’d even made out of a girl, and she had jerked him off.
He knew, now, that all his good fortunate was simply life playing an elaborate joke on him— just luring him into a false sense of security, so it could shit all over him again.
This stupid thing with the poem was just the start, and he had a suspicion that things were going to snowball from here.
It was the kind of stuff his mom used to do.
She would be just sweet and nice enough, to get him to lower his guard, and then she’d turn around and do something incredibly mean and nasty to him. Then laugh at him, as he suffered.
He was tired of it.
Tired of it all.
And he wanted to make the whole world hurt as much as he did.
“Girl trouble?” A voice said.
He thought he was alone.
Quickly recovering, Martin looked over his shoulder.
A man sat on the opposite bench, directly behind him.
Martin chuckled nervously, and then said, “Life trouble, actually.”
The man nodded.
“You know, I find that most troubles in life start with a woman,” the man said. He turned his head now, and flashed a big toothy grin, showing off his strained yellow teeth.
Martin again laughed, and nodded.
He wasn’t very good at socializing, and was absolutely terrible at small talk.
The man, however, seemed to take his laughter and nod as an open invitation. The man stood, walked around the corner of the bench, and sat down next to him.
If Martin wasn’t uncomfortable before, he certainly was now, as the man sat incredibly close.
He had also spread his legs wide, so wide Martin had to close his own legs just to sit on the bench.
“Henry King,” the man said, introducing himself. Again, he flash his wide toothy grin.
“Martin,” Martin said quietly.
“I can see why you’re having trouble with the ladies, Martin my man,” King said now. “You really don’t put yourself out there do you?”
Martin shook his head.
“Well it’s a good thing I came along,” King said, enthusiastically. “It wasn’t that long ago that I found myself in the same boat.”
Martin instantly rolled his eyes.
Oh he’s some kind of salesman, Martin thought.
Although, he really didn’t look the part.
He wore torn jeans, and a T-shirt with a faded picture of Lon Chaney’s Wolf Man on the front.
His hair hung long and stringy. Not only that, but he hadn’t shaved in a while, so coarse, scruffy facial hair hide his puffy face.
But, his body appeared to be incredibly thin, which didn’t really match his body type. Martin thought the man had been short and stout at one time.
Probably a homeless drug addict, Martin thought.
Although, despite his ratty appearance, the man didn’t smell bad, and looked relatively clean, except for a slight musky odor about him.
“I know what you’re thinking,” King said now. “Why in the world would any woman want a guy like me? Look at me. I’m a mess. I know what you’re think, the girls see me, and they run away as fast as her legs can carry them. And yet, for me they drop to their knees.”
The man flashed his toothy grin again.
But, on a second look, Martin thought it didn’t look much like a grin at all, more like a wolf baring its teeth.
And, the man himself, although likable and friendly at first, now seemed very sleazy.
“I really don’t need any dating advise,” Martin said quietly.
He got up from the bench.
“Sit down Martin, and hear me out,” King said. His voice sounded oddly hypnotic, like a buzzing sound in the back of his mind.
Martin sat down immediately, and now gave the man his full attention.
“Who said anything about dating,” King chuckled. “I’m all about getting laid son, and making the woman beg for more.”
Martin felt a sudden chill run up his spine, despite the warmth of the evening.
“See that girl there,” King said, pointing a long finger toward the campus.
Martin squinted, but it was hard to see anything in the dimming light.
The sun had set, casting a long shadow over the entire world.
The street lights kicked on, a few seconds, spotlight a girl walking across the campus green.
“You can have her,” King offered. “She’ll do whatever you want. Suck you off, get on all fours, ride you until your cock until it’s raw and bloody.”
Martin’s eyes ogled the girl, taking her all in.
She appeared to be one of those feminist types that had taken over the university.
She had shaved her hair on both sides, and what little remained on top had been poorly dyed blue, but the brown roots were already starting to show.
She wore glasses.
Thick black thick frames, but it didn’t look there were any lenses inside the frames themselves.
The girl wasn’t fat, but she wasn’t skinny either, just kind of chubby over all.
But the thing that stuck out most about her was that she seemed to have a permanent sneer on her face.
Her boobs looks nice, though.
Martin felt a bit dubious at the prospect of well...getting to know her. She was more likely to bite his dick off, than have sex with him.
Martin shook his head.
“No,” King said with a chuckle. “I’ll admit, she’s a bit problematic.”
The man leaned in close to Martin, as if to steal a kiss.
“How about we make some improvements,” King suggested.
A suggestion to which Martin eagerly nodded.
The girl had made it half way across the campus, when she abruptly stopped and fell to her knees.
Martin saw something shimmer in King’s hand, and the man now spoke in a low, barely audible tone.
Martin continued to watch, thinking that he must have gone mad.
All the girl’s hair fell out. But a second later, it grew back— only stopping when it reached her shoulders.
Her hair looked a natural brown, now, without a trace of blue in it.
But, that wasn’t the end of it.
King continued to speak, low and barely above a whisper, but whatever he was doing now caused the girl to scream.
A loud, unholy scream, while at the same time she tore at her shirt, and kept tearing until she had exposed her breasts.
Martin’s eyes now went wide, as the girl’s breasts swelled, becoming full and round with nipples that looked hard and sharp.
King continued to speak, and now the girl covered her mouth with both hands.
Martin heard the girl whimper.
Then she gasped, as she dropped her hands to her side.
Her mouth had lost it’s permanent sneer, replaced now by puffy lips that formed an expression that appeared at first bewildered, but quickly morphed into wild hunger.
King gripped the shimmering object even tighter, and continued his sinful murmur.
Martin, almost told the man to stop, but a morbid curiosity rendered his tongue silent.
The girl leaned back, spreading her legs open, as her hand drifted toward her crotch.
Her fingers tore open the yoga pants she wore, exposing the underwear underneath. These, she quickly pulled aside, as she began to play with herself.
The girl moaned, her play became rough, as she furiously stroked her clit.
King laughed, and then said, “There you go, my man, she’s all primed and ready for you. What do you think? You want a piece of that?”
Despite his painfully hard erection, Martin slowly shook his head.
This was all just a little too weird for him. And, Martin’s face burned, in embarrassment for the girl.
“A man of discriminating tastes, I see,” King chuckled, again flashing his wolfish grin.
King now cocked his head to one side, and said, “Well, we certainly can’t leave her like this. That would be cruel...”
On queue, a guy about Martin’s age approached from the opposite direction.
The guy looked like a classic nerd: big square glasses, button down shirt, nose pressed into a book—unaware of the world around him.
King held up the shimmering object again, and silently spoke.
The guy feel to his knees, as if he had just been punched in the gut.
He too screamed, and began clawing at the zipper of his pants.
Again, Martin’s eyes widen, as the guy tore his pants open, releasing the massive cock that had been previous been hidden behind the fabric.
The cock had to be at least a foot long, and a mesh of big, puffy veins ran down the length of the shaft.
The girl sat up, licking her lips at the sight.
She stripped, tearing herself out of her clothes.
Now naked, she dropped to all fours, and crawled towards him.
Her body trembled, as her puffy lips sealed around the bulbous head. Then she swallowed him, whole.
The guy cried out.
She whimpered, as her head bobbed up and down with almost religious fervor.
It wasn’t long before she pulled her head back, gasping for air, as spittle dripped from the corners of her mouth.
Her puffy lips curled into a snarl, waiting for him to make the next move.
She didn’t have to wait long.
He pushed her on her back,
She opened her legs wide, welcoming him.
He was quick to respond, accepting her invitation by kneeing down in front of her.
Her pussy dripped wet in anticipation. So wet, in fact, that her juices splashed against his stomach, as he slipped inside.
She winced, crying out in pain, but at the same time wrapped her legs around him, to pull him in close.
The guy, meanwhile, had a pained expression on his face, but his hips pistoned back and forth in military like precision.
“Faster,” Martin heard King say. “Harder. Don’t let up until she comes.”
The guy may not have heard, but his body obeyed!
The girl moan, then whimpered, then moaned again in a repetitive cycle.
The cycle, only breaking when she suddenly grabbed the guy by his shirt, and pulled him violently down.
Her hips bucked up against him, making a loud smacking sound with every thrust. Both cried out.
But, just as quickly as this sinful act had begun, it ended, leaving both man and woman shaking.
Martin could hear the couple panting.
And watched, as the girl now reached up, and tenderly stroked the guy’s hair.
That should have been the end of it, Martin thought.
But, Henry King had other ideas, and again flashed his wolfish grin, as he held up the shimmering object.
Martin liked to say he was brave at that moment.
That he confronted the man, forcing him to stop..
But, Martin wasn’t brave, and he simply watched as King worked his magic, again.
The guy pulled out of her, causing the girl to cry out.
Martin could see that the guy was still coming, and a thick load of semen spilled out of the tip.
With a grunt, the guy flipped the girl onto her stomach. And then, he plunged the still coming tip inside of her.
The girl screamed.
First out of surprised, and then out of pain, as the guy pushed the rest of his cock in—stopping only when he buried himself balls deep.
The girl’s puffy lips quivered.
While the guy tensed.
His expression was either one of pure torment, or pure bliss, it was hard to tell the too expressions apart. But the bulging muscles in his neck leaned toward the former rather than the latter.
He fucked her with the same military like precision as before, and the girl’s bubble butt trembled with every thrust.
“How about we give them a little privacy?” King chuckled.
And then, to Martin’s amazement, the couple disappeared right before his eyes.
Although, their sinful cries still lingered in the night time air.
“What did you do?” Martin asked in both awe and horror.
“Hid them from prying eyes,” King said, chuckling. “They’re still there, so no need to worry, and the veil will lift come morning.”
“Are they going to be okay?” Martin asked.
The man chuckled again.
“I’d say they’re going to be better than okay,” King said. “Especially after what they’re going to be doing all night. And come the dawn they both might have a new perspective on life…”
Martin just sat in shock, shaking his head.
King touched his shoulder.
“People get hung up on the little things in life, and miss out on the only thing that makes life bearable—hardcore, uninhibited sex.”
The salesman again, Martin though, which triggered him to ask, “Are you the devil?”
“Good guess,” King chuckled. “But no, as I said I’m a guy just like you.”
Martin was a little dubious about that, but still felt compelled to sit and hear the man out.
“Whatever devilish power I have, comes from this little beauty.”
King held up a necklace, the pendant of which was a snake eating its own tail. Although, on closer it look, it looked like the snake was sucking itself off.
“An Ouroboros,” Martin said, transfixed as the pendant shimmered blue in the moonlight.
“That’s right,” the man purred. “Do you know the story behind it?”
“Um…,” Martin said, and thought for a moment. “The son of Loki, god of mischief, grew so large it encircled the world.”
The man flashed his wolfish grin again.
“A bastardization of the story,” he said, slowly. “Still I’m surprised you even know that much.”
“Well, I read a lot of comic books,” Martin confessed.
“Do you want to know the real story?” King asked.
Martin wanted to tell the man, “No.”
Wanted to say he could care less.
That he felt tired, and wanted to go home.
But something deep inside him, compelled him to hear the man out.
Martin nodded, and that encouraged the man to continue.
“This is the symbol of the Yarca,” King said, with reverence. “The Yarca was old, when the world was still young. It is the god of unspeakable things, and it lives deep, deep in each of us. And when it speaks, it speaks to us in a small whisper at the back of our mind.”
“So, it’s some kind of H. P. Lovecraft thing,” Martin said, when King paused to take a breath.
“Teenagers,” King said, chuckling again.
“What it is, isn’t as important, as what it can do for you,” King said, flashing his wolfish grin again.
“What’s that?” Martin asked, as the man had fallen uncharacteristically silent.
“Complete mastery of the flesh,” King said, and continued before Martin interrupted him.
“It can make the old, young; the fat, skinny; a slut, a virgin; and can even make a nun spread her legs.
Martin only half listened, as the snake pendant held his gaze.
“It works on men too,” King said. “If you swing that way. Even a guy with a smallest dick in the world, can have a baseball bat swinging between his legs with this little gem. And he’ll go all night long if you want him too.”
King dropped the necklace in Martin’s hand.
It felt like ice, and the cold snapped Martin out of his trance.
“What?” Martin asked.
He looked up at King, confused.
“It’s for you,” the man said.
“You don’t want it?” Martin asked.
“I don’t need it,” King answered.
“What’s the catch?” Martin asked, now.
“Other than slaying pussy,” King said raising an eyebrow. “If you’re worried about losing your immortal soul, don’t. The Light Bringer and the Prince of Darkness are the ones who cared about your soul. The one I serve cares only about the flesh. If you die while wearing the Yarca’s mark, you will simply be reborn with a body built for fucking, and the place you’ll go is one of almost endless pleasure.”
There was something vaguely familiar about what the man was saying, but Martin drew a blank as where he had heard it before.
Instead, Martin asked, “But why me?”
“I told you, man,” King said. “You’re like me.”
Martin stared down at the necklace in his hand.
It still shimmered, but it had lost some of its charm.
“I don’t know,” Martin confused. “This whole thing seems kind of weird.”
King patted Martin on the back.
“Tell you what, my man,” King said now, back in salesman mode again. “How about a free trial offer. If this little gem doesn’t meet your expectation, then you can give it back. No harm. No foul. Sound good?”
Martin nodded in response.
“Now there are some things you should know…:
Martin rolled his eyes.
Here it comes, Martin thought.
“Now, now,” King said, holding up his hands in a gesture of mock surrender. “Just a little fine print, before I send you on your way.”
King lowered his hands, and flashed his toothy grin again, but it quickly faded.
“The magic is strongest at night, and most potent when the moon is high. Whatever changes you make will fade with the coming of dawn, but you can make them permanent, if you so desire.”
King leaned in, a very serious look on his face.
“And there is one rule you must never break, or it will cost you dearly,” he said.
“What’s that?” Martin asked.
“Always remember,” the man intoned, “never forget...”
King paused, and winced—as if the information he held pained him.
“Always have fun!”
King laughed, and then said, “I’m just messing with you. But you should have seen the look on you’re face.”
Martin laughed, nervously, but secretly he felt creeped out again.
“Well,” King said, patting Martin on the back, again. “I’ll leave you to it,”
The man stood, and turned his back on Martin. Revealing that King’s pants had no backside.
Martin’s lips curled in disgust.
King looked over his shoulder, and flashed his wolfish grin.
“Remember, have fun.”
King said, before fading away in the moonlight.
“Wait,” Martin called out, “What if I want to give the necklace back?”
But, he heard no answer.
Martin found he could move again, and quickly scrambled to his feet.
His steps may have been quick, and yet he couldn’t escape the feeling that he was being watched.
It was only when the university had faded into the background that Martin began to relax.
“You call,” Martin heard a voice at the back of his mind say, “And I’ll find you.”
* * *
Martin felt as if he were in a daze.
As he approached his house, the front door opened.
His cousin, Summer, greeted him, wearing a large bandage on her nose.
“Your g-g-girlfriend p-p-punched me in the f-f-face,” Summer stammered.
Martin barely noticed, and pushed his way past her into the house.
“Martin,” his aunt called out.
His aunt, Rosie, got up from a chair, and rushed to embrace him.
“Are you alright?” Rosie asked. “Joe told me what happened.”
Martin slowly nodded. It hadn’t occurred to him until now, just how warm and soft his aunt felt. Plus, he could feel her big breasts pushing against his chest.
“Are you hungry?” Rosie asked.
Martin gulped, and again slowly nodded.
She pulled away.
“Now, I know Summer did something awful,” Rosie said. “But try to forgive her. She made us a nice dinner, as a way to make up for what she did.”
Rosie turned, and headed for the kitchen.
Martin drooled at the sight of her heart-shaped ass, and how it shook a little every time she moved.
Martin was still drooling as he sat down at the kitchen table.
Roise sat across from him.
Summer slid a bowl over to him, and sat down to next to him.
The scent of potatoes, pepper, milk and fish, assaulted his senses, and made his stomach growl.
“Well someone’s hungry,” Rosie said, laughing at first, until she looked up at his face. Now, she looked worried.
She reached over, and in a very motherly gesture, wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin.
This gave Martin an eyeful of Rosie’s cleavage.
“Martin are you feeling okay?” She asked. “You’re really sweating.”
He nodded again.
She sat back down.
She smelled nice, sweet like apples.
The scent overwhelmed him, and he hungered for more.
Her body was a feast to be had. And, he wanted nothing more than to wrap his lips around her nipples, and suck her dry.
Next to him, Summer crumbled a cracker into her bowl.
The sound roared loud in his ears.
He growled, low and barely audible as a warning.
Summer stopped, and now he could feel her eyes on him.
“Summer, this is delicious,” Rosie said. “Is this salmon chowder?”
Martin wondered what his aunt’s pussy smelled like.
“Fishy like the sea means she’s fresh from fucking.” A voice in the back of his mind told him. “Sweet, like honey, means she needs to be fucked.”
The scent of honey, filled his nostrils now, making him hard.
“The s-s-salmon’s f-f-from a c-c-can,” Summer stammered.
Martin’s eyes widened, watching as his aunt’s cleavage rose and fell with every breath.
“Did you learn how to make this from that show you watch. What’s the name of it again?”
“P-P-Plate Town,” Summer answered, but her focus remained solely on Martin.
“You know,” Rosie said now…
God her lips are perfect, Martin thought. Like a Cupid’s bow.
And Martin longed for a deep, wet kiss. Something to kiss away the pain he felt in-between his legs.
“I know Angelo would love to have some help down at the diner,” Rosie said. “I think you really have the skills to be a great cook, and I’m sure Angelo would be more than happy to show you how to work the grill. Plus, you’d have a little extra money in your pocket, and a great skill to fall back on. People always need to eat...”
“She’s not a f-f-fucking porn star,” Summer blurted out. “S-S-Stop staring at her t-t-tits!”
Summer got up, and ran away from the table.
A few seconds later, Martin could hear her sobbing in the living room.
“I guess this dress is a little revealing,” Rosie said, covering her cleavage with a hand. “Excuse me, Martin.”
His aunt got up, and also left the table.
This time he did not watch her go.
He simply swayed, drunkenly, in his chair, as voices drifted in from the living room.
“Summer,” Rosie said. “He’s a teenage boy, and boys his age do tend to stare...”
“N-N-No boys are staring at me like t-t-that,” Summer answered.
“I know it’s a little inappropriate, but he’s still going through a lot of changes, just like you are.”
“”But I’m not g-g-going around, s-s-staring at c-c-cocks all day, am I!”
“I h-h-hate living h-h-here. I want to live with d-d-dad.”
“Summer, we’ve talked about that. And, you’re eighteen now. You should start thinking about living on your own. Maybe even college...”
“Y-Y-You’re not listening!”
With that Martin’s eyes rolled in the back of his head, and he dove face first into the kitchen table.
“Martin!” A kind voice called out.
He felt a cool hand against his forehead.
“He’s got a fever,” the kind voice said, now. “Summer, help me lift him up.”
“I-Is he all r-r-right?” He heard a harsher voice say, but this voice was not without concern.
“I think he has the flu,” the kind voice answered. “Well keep an eye on him tonight, and if anything changes we’ll take him to the hospital.”
He moaned as they lifted him up.
Warm, soft bodies touched him, and the scent of honey made him dizzy.
“Look,” the harsher voice said now. “G-G-Gross.”
“Honey,” the kind voice answered. “He’s a teenage boy. If he didn’t have an erection, then I’d be worried. Come on let’s get him to bed.”
He moaned as they picked them up.
He wanted to lay down.
Lay down with them.
Feel their warm, soft bodies underneath him.
Now it felt like he was floating. The sensation did not last long, as he suddenly came crashing down onto the bed.
He woke up groggy, and when he looked out the window, he saw why.
It was still dark outside.
He looked at the alarm clock, and saw that it was three o’clock in the morning.
He rolled over, and tried to go back to sleep, but almost immediately winced in pain.
He sat up, and again winced.
When he realized where the pain came from, he quickly unzipped his pants (not even thinking it was strange that he was still dressed).
That helped, and he felt some relief.
But, the relief was tempered by surprise.
His thing, his manhood, lay against his stomach, and the bulbous head come to rest just below his rib cage!
Thick, ropy veins, encircled the length of the shaft.
Martin winced again, and felt his thing throbbing against his chest.
Without thinking, he grabbed the shaft, and began to tug.
The tugging became an almost frantic jerk. But, in the end, it did little good.
If anything it made his erection harder, and more painful.
He gave up, groaning in frustration.
You need a woman, the primitive part of his brain told him, and you need one now.
A heavy, overwhelming smell of honey filled the air, and this scent drove his senses wild—drowning out all rational thought.
He became a creature of instinct now.
His clothes felt stifling, and he quickly shed them.
Now naked, he dropped on all fours.
He followed the honey scent out of the room, and down the hall.
In the hallway, he paused—a moment of hesitation.
The honey scent was strong from the room at the end of the hall, but it was equally strong in the room just to his left.
Ultimately, he went left, as it was closer, and the door hung open.
Silently, he entered, but paused again as he drew near the figure on the bed.
He sat on his hunches, leering down at her, as drool leaked from the corners of his mouth.
The woman lay with her legs spread slightly open.
She only wore panties and a plain white T-shirt, nothing more.
The front of her shirt had stretched to accommodate her large breasts, and the nipples outlined against the fabric.
He wanted her, wanted her bad.
But, he held back, as the rational side of his mind asserted itself.
“Not her, please,” he gasped. “She’s like a mother to me.”
Pain throbbed up and down his shaft in response.
“Maybe just the tip,” he told himself.
Cautiously, he got onto the bed, praying she wouldn’t wake up.
“Just the tip, and no more,” he weakly told himself, even as his strong hands pushed her underwear aside.
Despite the rigidness of his manhood, it was flexible enough that he was able to line it up with the most intimate area part of her body.
He hesitated again, shaking.
“This is Rosie,” he whispered. “She took me in when no one else would. I can’t break that trust.”
His cock, however, had a mind of its own, and thrust his hips forward.
He gasped, as forbidden lips wrapped around his shaft.
He couldn’t breathe.
Underneath him, his aunt moaned, and suddenly bucked her hips up, pushing him in deeper.
“Ohhh Joe,” she moaned softly, “you’re so big.”
She doesn’t know it’s me, Martin thought. Thank god for that.
It proved to be the last rational thought he had, as a more primitive part of his mind took hold again.
She felt so good.
He winced again, but not out of pain, but out of intense pleasure.
And yet he held his breath, as if he had forgotten how to breathe.
He may have hesitated, but his aunt showed no such restraint.
Her hips bucked against him.
Pulling him in, then pulling back, only to pull him in again.
She whimpered, as her pussy lips hungrily devoured every inch of his cock.
Suddenly, she sat up, wrapping an arm around him, and then moaned loudly in his ear.
She pulled him down on top of her, wrapping her arms around him, holding him in a sinful embrace.
They were so close, now, that he could feel her hot, sweet breath on his face, and feel her hard nipples poking against his bare chest.
She used her legs to push against the mattress, and slammed into him again and again in hard rapid movements.
Her breath started to hitch, and then became shaky.
He still could not breathe.
She had taken his breath away.
She cried out, as her body tensed, and then shook.
It all proved too much for him.
He erupted, as a volcano of his seed filled her insides.
And, once the tap opened it didn’t stop until he filled her so full that it ran out of her and down her legs.
“Mmm,” she moaned, a smile pursing her lips.
“That was incredible, Joe,” she mumbled.
Her body lost its tension, and relaxed underneath him. It wasn’t long before he heard her softly snoring again.
Slowly, he pulled out of her.
Once free, he gulped in air, until his breath fell again into a steady rhythm.
The throbbing pain between his legs had mercifully been silenced, only to be replaced by a terrible guilt.
How could he live with himself after what he’d done?
He had violated her.
He’d never be able to look at her the same way again.
And, whatever relationship they had had, was now forever tainted.
A chill ran through him, and something cold pressed against his chest.
He looked down, and then grabbed hold of the necklace.
The pendant felt ice cold in his hand.
But now it shimmered in the moonlight.
The worm turned in his mind, and his thoughts became more sly—more deviant.
Well the damage is already done, he thought. No sense crying about it.
He let the pendant drop, against his chest.
She didn’t know it was me, anyway, he thought. She thought it was Sheriff Joe.
Her head lay turned to the side, and her mouth hung open, as she continued to snooze.
I’ve already violated her once, tonight, he thought, so why stop now.
And her open mouth was as good as an invitation.
He hopped off the bed.
He shook, but not out of fear.
This time, the shaking came from anticipation.
He stroked her hair, as he eased his cock into her mouth—although he now kept his promise of only giving her the tip.
She let out a muffled whimper, as her warm lips suckled him—even in her dreams, she hungered for cock.
He continued to stroke her hair, which only seemed to spur her on. She pulled him further in, and then let her lips slowly drag across the length of his shaft.
Suddenly, she spat him out.
Then flipped on her stomach.
Now, she went down on him.
He cried out, as her head sank all the way down the base of the shaft.
Slowly, she pulled back intensifying the pleasure to the point where it left his knees shaking.
She ended by kissing the tip, and then sat up.
Her eyes were closed, but she had a dreamy look on her face.
He wanted her again.
His erection felt even more massive than before—almost inhumanely so.
“Rosie,” he growled. “Turn around, and get on all fours.”
She sighed, heavily.
“Oh Joe,” she whispered, “You’re so passionate tonight.”
She stole a quick kiss, giving him a peck on the cheek, and then eagerly got into position.
This time, there was no hesitation on his part.
He got behind her on the bed, and pulled her panties down.
She had kind of a big ass, but it had a nice curve to it, and fit her perfectly.
He pushed inside of her.
She cried out, while at the same time grabbing at the sheet underneath her.
He sighed, relishing at how tight she felt.
But, here he paused again, as a depraved idea consumed his thoughts.
“Rosie,” he said, squeezing the curve of his hip, “I want you to cum, and don’t stop coming until I finish inside of you.”
She cried out , and her body shook.
A few seconds later her pussy felt sopping wet.
He fucking her hard and fast.
He didn’t care if he hurt her.
He didn’t care if she woke up.
He didn’t care if he broke her in half.
All that matter to him was the climax, and the pleasurable relief that followed.
She did as she was told, and continued to cum to the point where it left her whimpering, as he had his way with her, and every inch of her body trembled, right down to her quivering lips.
Her pussy wasn’t just wet now, it was completely soaked, and her juices splashed against his stomach over and over again.
He loved that she was putty in his hands. But, he wasn’t done abusing her, yet.
Violently, he grabbed her red hair, while at the same time he pushed himself in as deep as he could go.
She screamed at the sensation.
The scream quickly descended into a mad laughter, as he had fucked her brains out.
He pulled her up on her knees, and then he came—finally bringing her torment to an end.
Now, he treated gentle, showering tender kisses along the nape of her neck, while at the same time fondling her large breasts.
She dripped with sweat, and he had left her panting.
His lips curled back into an arrogant smile.
He had worn her out, and he hadn’t even broken a sweat.
Stranger still, his breath remain steady and calm, which surprised him as he had never been much of an athlete.
It was the power, he realized. The power he had over her.
She suddenly shivered at his touch.
“S-S-So cold,” she cried softly, and her breath came out in sinful white clouds that hung guilty in the air.
Another glimpse of the power.
Sunlight splashed across his face, and he held up a hand to shield his eyes.
Something, at the back of his mind, told him it was time to leave.
He pulled free of her, but did not escape unscathed.
He had filled her with so much cum that a load of it sprayed out of her and onto his shaft.
He wiped his dick across her ass, and then pulled up her panties.
He let her hair go, and hopped off the bed—letting her fall face first onto the mattress.
That voice, the one at the back of his head, became more persistent, telling him he needed to leave.
And yet, he lingered.
Something had caught his eye.
He approached a small, slated table in the corner of the room.
On the table, sat a large piece of paper with the beginnings of what appeared to some sort of comic book.
Some of the panels were inked in, while others remained in blue pencil.
There were no captions or word balloons, but the scene depicted on the page showed a large muscular man standing in a trance, while two busty women fought over him. Clothing appeared to be optional, with only the busty, white haired woman wearing a lion cloth around her hips.
The picture had a ring of familiarity about it. The man looked a lot like Sheriff Joe, only bald, while the white haired female looked like Rosie.
The busty, black haired woman looked just like his mom, right down to the jet black hair.
All were much younger than their years, and more idealized, but it was them.
A faint signature rested at the bottom of the page that read R. Dawning.
Had Rosie been drawing some sort of graphic novel?
He looked up, and on a shelf above the table, were several finished pages.
Some of the pages had dust on them, suggesting that she had been working on this for a long time.
She was good too.
The characters and action dynamic.
The background full of lush detail.
Why had she kept this hidden?
He heard her stir on the bed, and now his survival instincts kicked in.
His heart raced.
He might have been full of bravado before, but now he retreated like a little kid.
Back in his room, he hid under his bed covers.
And, at some point, he fell into an exhausted sleep.
TO BE CONTINUED...