Tales of Male Death

A collection of stories of male death.  

Various authors, very different stories. 

No pictures here except the ones in your imagination.

Click on the titles here to be taken to the start of the story.

If you have stories you would like to submit
Contact me by this email address
carver509@yahoo.com

On the Job Training - Loch Raveena

The Rooster Has Come Home to Roost - Loch Raveena
- Loch Raveena


The Chameleon Drifter -Demolition Daddy II - Max Marshal


In Too Deep - Demolition Daddy III - Max Marshal

The Cartel - Pt. 1 - Kyle Carver
                                         


The Cartel - Pt. 2 - Kyle Carver


On the Job Training - Kyle Carver


The Crossbow - Kyle Carver


Sandy and Jack - Kyle Carver


Military Brawl - Brutal Merc


The Devil's Hands - Brutal Merc

                                                     

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-= This work is copyrighted (Loch Raveena) © 1998. =-
Please do not remove the author information or make any changes to this story. You may post freely to non commercial "free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites. Thank you for your consideration.
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On the Job Training

By Loch Raveena (lraveena@hotmail.com)

This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author does not condone the described behavior in real life in anyway shape or form. Anyone tempted to act out any of the scenarios in this story; should seriously consider seeking professional help.

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When Mark was offered a job at the morgue in the hospital's basement, he reluctantly accepted. He needed a job for spending money while in college, and Burger King was no longer an option.


Mark refused to work fast food again. He was 21 now, and it was time for some kind of respectable job even if it was part-time.


He found that he actually enjoyed working there. He made a couple of friends - surprisingly. There was another guy his age working at the morgue. Phil, 20, was hired a few months before Mark and had trained him on the job. There wasn't much to do really. They stripped the bodies, cleaned them, and laid them out for the doctors. They could refuse to do the really gory ones - the doctors didn't mind. The helpers were young and the doctors realized that many times the job would be unpleasant.


The chief doctor was an understanding fellow and he protected the college helpers from having to see anything really messy. Nobody who wasn't a mortician or rescue worker needed to see anything like that.


They didn't even allow them to be present during an autopsy, although they did allow them to help in preparation and in performing initial medical examinations.


Mark enjoyed the abdominal biopsies the most. He was allowed to perform the tests himself. It entailed plunging a long thin needle into the belly buttons of the bodies to extract fluids for testing. It allowed a close-up examination of navels of all kinds of people - each one was different and intricate and waiting to be explored - males and females, innies and outties, and in-between navels that could be regarded as either.


Phil liked the eyes. The dead staring eyes of his patients awed him. Even if the eyes were closed, the fact that he could open them and they remained open

excited him. The eyes, too, were always different though many often stared off with the same expression of indifference.


Both college students liked their patients to be at least a little older than themselves. A few times a dead young man or woman was brought in, killed in

some violent act or accident. The intimacy of handling their bodies made both a little uneasy, especially when they realized that there was little difference

between them and the patient. It made their jobs seem all the more real - and that was unwelcome, given the nature of their work.


It made them uneasy precisely because it was also exhilarating. One night a young man was brought in, dead of a gunshot wound to the chest. He was 24 and

slender, about the same height and weight as Phil and Mark. Dried blood caked the corners of his mouth. His emerald eyes were wide open and staring without

expression.


Phil pointed a pen-light into them and examined them, taking notes. Mark lifted the kid's T-shirt and placed a long thin needle into his sleek belly, pressing with

increasing force until the needle punctured through the shallow and pink belly button. He could feel the needle driving inside the young male's body with his

hand. The needle passed through a nerve causing the dead body to twitch once.


With the needle deep inside and Mark imagining that it was in his own belly, he extracted a drop of red-yellow fluid from the boy's stomach. When he withdrew

the needle, he intentionally did it slowly, listening to the sound of the needle being withdrawn.


Next, they cut the boy's clothes off with scissors, exposing his athletic body from head to toe. Mark used a sponged and wiped the entire smooth and hairless body down, from chest to toes, while Phil did the head, staring into his dead green eyes the entire time.


Mark was surprised to see white fluid leaking from the boy's penis, which was fully extended. Mark pointed this out to Phil who stated matter-of-factly that most

young males ejaculate upon death.


Mark's blue eyes became distant as he pondered that.


Some time later a 20-year old youth was brought in with a knife protruding from his navel. He had bright orange hair that was cropped short, and his friendly eyes stared widely up at the ceiling with eyebrows raised in surprise. He was dressed in baggy jeans that had slipped below his hips and a cut-off athletic T-shirt.


Mark and Phil both dressed pretty much the same way when they weren't working. The kid was a night clerk in some store when a drugged-up assailant stabbed him.


Mark conducted the abdominal biopsy in the upper stomach while Phil examined the boy's brown eyes. Again, they cut the clothes off with scissors and both instantly saw the white fluid leaking out of his erect penis.


Mark pulled on the blade, slightly arching the boy's body. It refused to budge at first, but then suddenly gave way, the blade coming out with a sticky wet sound. Some blood bubbled out of the small wound and more white fluid leaked out of the boy's dick.


Mark had to stop and force himself to breathe, his hands gripping the gurney as dizziness hit, and then passed.


He couldn't handle this anymore, he realized. He no longer slept at night. When he closes his eyes, the dead bodies always came into focus. In his dreams, they twitched and jerked with each sensual touch, overwhelming him with a profound sexual tension that caused him to collapse in convulsions of ecstasy.


When he opened his eyes, he saw Phil's lingering dark eyes staring into his with a pen-light, turning his head this way and that, as other hands cut the clothes off of his slender body until he was naked. Suddenly, a needle was plunged into his shallow and pink navel, the point striking deeper and deeper while his dead staring eyes saw Phil and another guy taking note of his stiff cock, both of them smiling in wonder, even jiggling it a little.


Then he would awake struggling to catch his breath as though he had been under water for hours.


Mark's life was beginning to be impacted by this job, this nightmare. His grades were dropping and he had broken off his relationship with his girlfriend. He was getting drunk with his friends at night, but then he grew distant when he imagined his own young friends lying helplessly on the gurney, their eyes staring off aimlessly, their slender bellies waiting to be probed.


Then he started to drink alone, and that's never a good thing. He tried to drink himself to sleep. It was time to quit.


Quit, yes, thought Mark, sitting at a bar. Tomorrow, I'll quit. He grinned. "What are you laughing at, asshole?" Someone from across the bar asked menacingly.


Mark turned away, ignoring the drunken cowboy on the other side. Mark downed another shot and turned to walk out. He was blocked by a grinning young redneck with tattooed arms. "Are you deaf, asshole?" The guy punched Mark in the mouth, drawing blood.


Mark could see the man lying on a gurney in his morgue, his body naked and still, his eyes staring, his belly button being probed by a long thin needle, his sex lazily leaking thick white fluid. Mark was saddened by this image but he humorously realized that the fate he had just envisioned awaited the young redneck unless somewhat set him straight.


So set him straight he did, punching the guy in the gut and letting loose on his face. His fury was so swift and sudden that it took the 250-pound bouncer to subdue him, the young redneck staggering away in confusion and defeat. The bouncer picked up the young firebrand who had defended himself with admirable agility and threw him out the door and into the parking lot. "Good night!" said the bouncer, and the redneck and his friends came flying out next.


"You're a fucking dead man!" spit out the redneck to Mark. Mark slowly got up from the pavement and brushed himself off as the redneck walked to a pick-up truck, reached in and pulled something out, and then started walking back. His two friends stood watching Mark without expression.


Mark knew what was in his hand as he walked toward him but his feet were planted. It was like a dream, things were happening in slow motion. The guy outstretched his arm and Mark knew what was coming next.


"Eat lead!" the redneck screamed. BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!


Though Mark knew what was coming, no one could be have prepared for the sudden impact and pain. Three bullets struck Mark in and near his sternum, in his mid-section and he flew backwards to the ground like a rag doll, blood exploding into his mouth and bursting out of it, washing down his cheek, his eyes and mouth opening wide in pain and shock and surprise, his sleek body unbelievably kicking and jerking and arching, his baggy jeans slipping below his waist and his T-shirt riding up to middle section.


Through the pain and shock Mark felt his manhood come alive and burst in orgasm, firing volley after volley as his body contorted and convulsed.


Mark's eyes clouded over and he became still, his eyes still wide open and staring, blood leaking from the corner of his mouth and nostrils and down his boyish cheek. The three rednecks stood gawking at the now-dead boy staring back at them without expression, his slender body motionless, his shallow oval and pink navel peeking out from under his T-shirt, his boxers resting just below his slender hips.


One of the rednecks turned and vomited and...


BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!


All three rednecks suddenly lay thrashing about on the ground, coughing and gurgling. The one who vomited before now vomited blood and went still. Another groped his stomach, his shirt riding up to his chest exposing his torso, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. His body quivered from head to toe and went still, his eyes staring.


The one who had started it all lay helplessly on the ground, coughing up blood and gurgling, his body twitching oddly. He, too, went still, his eyes staring, blood leaking out of his nose and mouth.


The bouncer and bar patrons stood in the crowd looking at the four bodies. The bouncer had seen dead bodies before and he was always amazed at how slender stomachs always managed to be exposed to the elements, mouths and eyes open, any indications of inhibition completely absent.


The next morning Phil came in to work early to find four new clients. The clipboard indicated that they were all young males, ages 19, 21, 22, and 22. Mark didn't make it into work so Phil began examining the bodies by himself, mindful that Mark would be disappointed having missed this bonanza. Phil knew that Mark enjoyed performing those abdominal biopsies, taking his time like he did.


The first body had dark brown eyes that stared off without expression. He was slender and youthful with a bullet hole in his chest. Phil examined the eyes with a pen-light, losing himself in their gaze. Next he performed the biopsy, sinking the needle into the boy's intricate web of a navel, slowly like Mark did. Too bad, his loss, thought Phil, enjoying this procedure more than he liked to admit.


He cut off the boy's clothes next and washed the body with a sponge, taking note of the sperm on the boy's lower abdomen and underwear.


He did the same with next two bodies, their faces angelic in youth and death, their eyes open, both of them with incredible protruding outtie belly buttons. One of them had a bullet wound just to the left of his belly button and it appeared that the bullet had somehow made the outtie protrude a little further. These two were the first outties Phil had seen in here, he thought, his hand reaching down and rubbing his own protruding navel, causing pleasant sensations.


Phil waited a little while before starting on the last body. When it was apparent that Mark wasn't coming in, though, he lifted the sheet covering the fourth body.


Phil froze. The crystal clear blue eyes of Mark, his friend and co-worker, stared back at him with a mixture of surprise and indifference. His mouth was slightly

ajar, a dried trickle of blood caking his friend's cheek.


Phil became dizzy and stood still, catching his breath, not believing what he saw. He had to force himself to remove the sheet entirely and look at Mark's dead athletic body.


Mark's shirt was crumpled a bit, his shallow pink and youthful navel exposed beneath it, his baggy jeans resting below his slender pale hips.


Phil's heart began to race. The two had discussed one night what they would do if the other turned up there dead some time. Phil got hard during that conversation, and Mark did too, he had noticed.


Phil got his penlight and looked deeply into Mark's ocean blue eyes. He spent nearly a half-hour staring into them, his heart racing, his mind wondering, his cock aching.


Next he plunged the long needle into Mark's incredibly shallow belly button, ever so slowly, driving it in deeper, knowing that Mark would have immensely enjoyed this if it had been Phil lying there on the table. He extracted a red-yellow substance from Mark's stomach and slowly withdrew the needle, listening to it, feeling it.


Next Phil cut Mark's clothes off his body. The final cutting was of his boxer shorts, and while removing them, he watched thick globs of semen spill lazily out of Mark's stiff swollen dick.


It was too much for Phil. He fell to the ground, his body wracked by the spontaneous explosive orgasm betraying his own body arousal.


Phil's breathing grew harsh and he couldn't quite catch his breath. He quickly broke out into a sweat and he fumbled about for stability.


Afterwards he stood over Mark's body, swaying a bit. Mark looked completely helpless lying there naked, his eyes opened wide and glistening in the light, his back slightly ajar pushing his slender belly out a bit.


Phil took a sponge and lovingly washed Mark's sleek hard body, his eyes taking in every single detail of Mark's youthful corpse.


The dizziness came back and Phil staggered towards a wastebasket and vomited. He tried to regain his composure, but his stomach seemed as though it were on fire and his whole body was about to be consumed by it. He desperately tried to remove his hospital gear, ripping off his shirt and kicking off his shoes, but he was certain he was going to burst into flames at any second.


Phil tore through the medical cabinets and found morphine. He filled the needle he used to probe Mark's belly and plunged it into his own bulging belly button. "Ahhhhh," he said, his eyes opening wide with the rush of the drug, the pain subsiding and the coolness spreading.


Phil staggered towards Mark and cradled his naked body, his mind growing numb. After a few minutes, Mark slipped from Phil's grip and fell back to the gurney. Phil stood groggy, then stumbled backwards. His skinny body drooping somewhat. Phil laid back on the gurney beside Mark's body and began shuddering. His eyes opened wide as the morphine continued to drain from the needle still protruding from his belly button. He lifted his head and saw the needle in his stomach and said "oh." His head dropped back with a thud. His small stomach panted, but the eyes glazed over. A series of spasms wracked his body - then, and Phil lay dead, eyes dulled and staring, mouth gaping, the needle protruding from his outtie ball of a belly button, his erect penis spurting his seed uselessly, spreading the molten fluid inside his underwear, to cool against his dead body.

---

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The rooster has Come Home to Roost" The Rooster Has Come Home to Roost by Loch Raveena

"The rooster has come home to roost," read the 2-star National Guard general. "The US military for years trained and supported death squads in El Salvador and Colombia - and now shadowy groups have emerged here at home - killing us!" The general put the newspaper down and lit up a cigar. Damn right, the general thought, and you're next!


The general, in his younger years when he was just a major in the real army, was among those special forces who were sent in to Central America to help eliminate the communists who had infested the little minds of little peasants and poor people. Communism was like a disease and it had to be weeded out. Commie bastards were crawling all over the place down there, but he and his comrades had done the job. They were fully-functioning democracies now! How 'bout that? Why wasn't this 'student leader,' who was being quoted in the newspaper, say anything about that?! He's a communist, that's why, and the disease had spread throughout the great US of A. His men were called on to defend American interests in Central America, and now they were needed right here at home.


The operation was black, of course. The press knew how to stay in line, and those among them who grew sympathetic of the red faggots were quietly and quickly made to 'disappear.' The general cackled, then coughed, then sucked on his cigar. "Sergeant!" he barked, and immediately Sgt. Williams appeared in the doorway to the general's office. Sgt. Williams was a good 'ole boy, raised in Missouri and knew what it meant to tend the land, raise cattle, and hump a whore. The general liked him despite his penchant for serious ass-kissing. A general needed his ass kissed, anyway.


"Yes, sir?" Williams asked.

"Get this fucker in here asap! I can't stand to read about this anti-American 'graduate' student, this 'intellectual wonder' as the paper calls him! Get this Giuseppe Firenze in here," the general commanded.

"Yes, sir" said the sergeant who promptly left the general's office. The general could hear the young sergeant barking commands and giving orders like a little general. It pleased the general to have such dedicated young men in his secret unit.


The general looked down at the paper again, his face growing red with anger. People just don't know, he thought. The red menace was back and stronger than ever. College campuses once again were becoming havens for 'young intellectuals,' a code word for communists. Giuseppe - what kind of name was that! A friggin' immigrant! Of course! That was the cause of it all, wasn't it? Mexicans moving in and taking over - and everyone knows that Mexicans are communists. Not even human. Traitors.

Murderers. And this guy, this Giuseppe - what was that, Italian? Probably. Wops were no better than Mexicans. Wops sided with Hitler, then when the Allies began to win the war, the cowards switched sides! Once a betrayer, always a betrayer - even if they did switch to our side.


It was only about an hour later when Sgt. Williams reported that Giuseppe was in custody along with his girlfriend and other friends. How fast, how efficient his unit ran! The general was pleased. But, girlfriend? Yeah, right, thought the general. Everyone knew that communists were really homosexuals. She was probably just a cover.


"Bring in that traitor," the general commanded. Williams disappeared then reappeared leading the 'young intellectual' into the room. The general was surprised by the young man's age - he was older than the average college student. He was about 26, with long jet black hair that was in his eyes and his face, all stringy and twisted into dreadlocks like a Jamaican rastafarian. His face was youthful, his eyes dark, his skin slightly dark in that Mediterranean complexion. He was very skinny, but athletic - like a swimmer…or a surfer. Yes, that's what this 'cool look' was probably all about. He was a pot-smoking, crack sniffing, faggot surfer. He was a faggot all the way!, the general thought.


The general smiled at the lad, and nicely asked him to have a seat. The general saw that Giuseppe was handcuffed and told Williams that handcuffs would not be needed. His eyes told Williams that this skinny little punk could easily be handled without cuffs.


The young man's dark eyes were fearful, but defiant. He pushed his little chest out, the general noted with amusement. The 'boy' sat down with ease, his shoulders slumping.

"We're sorry for having to bring you and your friends down here," the general explained in a soft and understanding voice, "but we're going to need some information." The general went on to explain that they were concerned about the recent disappearances of college students and professors, artists, and other intellectuals. The general assured him that he could protect them if only he told them what their plans were, what activities took place where - so that they could be protected. The young lad said he knew of no plans or activities, but he thanked the general for his concern and for his offer of help. Coy little devil, the general thought.


"How old are you, son?" the general asked.

"28" Giuseppe replied. 28? Wow, the guy looked like he was 26, or even 23, but not 28. It was probably the long hair, the oversized t-shirt and baggy jeans that the man was wearing that made him look so much younger. But 28 was young, the general thought, remembering that he had reached his peak in physical fitness around age 31 - when he could run 12 miles without even breaking a sweat!

"What are you studying?" the general asked.

"Anthropology," the young man replied. "I'm a graduate student."

"Oh? Master's program?"

"Ph.D." the boy answered.

"Really! How nice."


The general stood up from behind his desk and moved to the front, sitting on it. Bending over until his nose was almost touching Giuseppe's, he whispered, "You're going to tell me everything I want to know and you're going to tell me right now, you fucking mogul!" The general glared into Giuseppe's dark eyes, and he noted the black eyebrows and how they involuntarily twitched as the general's words hung in the room like the smoke from his cigar.


"I don't know anything." Giuseppe, said. Sgt Williams silently moved into the room behind Giuseppe, along with Private Bundy, another dependable young man who grew up in Texas and was a Damn Fine American. Big, burly, and always hungry for a fight. Bundy was a brawler. The Guard needed more brawlers like him. The general sighed, sucked his cigar, then whispered "you will, my boy, you will."


Sgt Williams grabbed the dark 'young intellectual' from behind, putting him a deadlock and immediately cutting off his breath. He was yanked backwards out of his seat, the chair spilling over onto its back, the legs facing the general's desk. The boy struggled for breath, his arms reaching up and struggling to remove Williams' arms. Williams kept the pressure on him and placed his knee into the small of the skinny man's back, arching his body.


The stretching and arching of the skinny man's body raised his t-shirt exposing his tiny protruding knot of a navel, exciting the general. Of course, thought the general, the lad had an outtie belly button like all faggots and had no hair on his body! The brawler private stepped forward then and landed a meaty punch right in the boy's stomach and his legs buckled immediately, Sgt. Williams letting the boy slip out of his grip and onto the floor where gasped for breath but couldn't find any.


Bundy the brawler stepped forward again, lifting the little commie off the ground by his shirt and reached back to bash his face with a powerful Texan right, but the kid surprisingly landed a head butt on the private's jaw. The general was surprised to see a wild look take hold in the young man's dark eyes, and watched in satisfaction as the Mediterranean youth showed speed and agility with three quick jabs to the private's nose and then a lightning-quick right that flashed before the private's eyes. A loud 'snap!' echoed in the room as the beefy private stumbled backwards against the wall, blood pouring from between his fingers as his hands tried to cover his broken nose. Sgt Williams immediately tried to subdue the dark haired young man from behind, but the youth's quick kick to his shins left him gasping and the boy then darted for the door.


The commotion in the general's office brought soldiers scrambling into the doorway and the dark haired man they had brought in earlier ran right into them. They quickly subdued him and threw him to the ground, the soldiers kicking him over and over in the stomach and ribs.

"Enough!" yelled the beefy private. "He's mine." The soldiers stepped back as the young brawler with the now-broken nose stepped forward. The general was smiling from ear to ear. How the boy fought! What a complete surprise! The skinny young man broke the Texan's nose! Too bad the lad was a communist!


The Texan private looked to the general for approval and he got it with a nod and sparkling eyes. The old man was loving this, Bundy thought - and so was he. The boy on the ground before him turned out to be a worthy opponent. Too many are not willing to fight - but this kid, this skinny kid, he had balls. He felt the pain in his nose. Of course, the skinny little fuck was gonna pay for it now, though.


The dark haired young man was about to jump up with newfound speed and agility after so successfully feigning injury, but the Texan was wise to him now. His steel toed boot caught him in the belly as he was gracefully rising off the floor, but there was no faking the 'whumph!' that sent air rushing out of the boy's lungs. The boy fell forward hard, groping his little stomach, his mouth wide open trying to suck in air. The Texan landed another steel-toed kick into the boys side, knocking him over onto his back, his black t-shirt crumbling up over his skinny middle section. The private's eyes noted the boy's soft little belly with the protruding navel that he was sure ladies would kill for. Bundy then leaped into the air and brought his full 215 pounds onto the young man's curved and soft little stomach. The dark haired guy's body bounced into the air, then back down onto his back.


The boy's eyes were opened wide and staring up at the ceiling - the private could see them struggling to focus, and it was a sign of victory! He kicked the boy in the side and a sickening 'crack!' filled their ears. The young man was no longer resisting, his stomach - now turning a light blue - was rising and falling rapidly and with irregularity.


The general stepped forward then, placing a hand onto the private's shoulder. "Good, Tex, good boy." Tex stepped back, smiling, savoring his victory. All the soldiers slapped him on the back, saying "tiger" and "wow, did you hear his ribs break, man?!"


The general, bent over the young man like a rooster and looked down into his dark eyes. "Are you ready to answer my questions, boy?" he asked. The dark eyes were focusing and unfocusing - the boy was semi-conscious the general realized. "Damn, Tex, I think you might've killed him."


The soldiers looked at the proud skinny young dark haired man lying at the general's feet. His shirt was crumpled up to his skinny but firm chest now, and the general noted the slender muscles and excellent tone. The kid's clothes did not accentuate his athletic physique, causing them to underestimate the boy's physical abilities. This was important to remember, the general thought. The young man's dark eyes remained fixated on the ceiling, trying to focus but failing to hold it. The boy's breathing grew harsher and more erratic. Both of his hands cradled his little belly, now a darker shade of blue and beginning to bulge slightly, his knot of a navel protruding out a little further.


The general stepped back aghast as the boy's belly suddenly bulged, his navel protruding ominously from his blue stomach. The navel continued to extend outward, growing outwards with a sickly wet sound until the stem showed. It looked like a twig sticking out of his stomach, growing. The stomach retreated, as did the navel, but the navel protruded further now than before. It was almost obscene. Everyone's eyes remained transfixed on the boy's bluish stomach which was still rising and falling rapidly and erratically. "I killed him," said the Texan with satisfaction. "Did you see his belly button? Wow!"


The skinny young man's body suddenly arched, his navel protruding even further, his head turning towards the soldiers, his mouth opening wide as thick dark blood erupted from his wide open mouth, spilling down his cheek. He began to gurgle, his dark eyes continuing to focus and unfocus as they now fixated on the soldiers' shiny boots.


The boy's body jerked then, his hands slipping from his belly and to his sides, the fingers twitching. The boy's body began to twitch violently as he slipped into convulsions, the dark eyes wide open and unblinking. The boy's twitching became less frequent, finally stopping.


The soldiers stood mesmerized by the young man's dead body. His tiny stomach was slightly swollen and blue, his knot of a navel protruding obscenely from his belly with its stem showing - it was extremely sensual and sexually stimulating, even though the soldiers were all straight men. The boy's dark eyes were wide open and staring at the soldier's boots, blood and spittle leaking out of the youth's partially-opened mouth. His legs were bent at angles and his baggy jeans had slipped down just a little below the tan line showing the curves of his hips.


"Bring in the next one," the general commanded. The soldiers all filed out except for Williams and Tex. Another young dark headed youth was lead in, his eyes immediately going to the dark staring eyes of the dreadlocked dead boy, then to his little bulging stomach with the incredibly protruding belly button.

A tingle of excitement pressed against his sex. He could not take his eyes off of Giuseppe's beautiful corpse, those dark staring eyes, the protruding belly button, the way he laid there. As the general began to question him, he only hoped that he could look like Giuseppe did before the day was over.



lraveena@hotmail.com




Demolition Daddy II





The Chameleon Drifter -

- Max Marshal



The video would start with a quick re-cap of the original “Demolition Daddy”, focussing on events leading up to the bathtub murder, and the dumpster-victims’ demise. End the review with the complete final scene of the murdering Drifter being questioned by the Interpol agents.



Scene 1


After tossing the policeman’s business card into the dumpster, with the three dead construction workers, the Drifter turns to watch the agents’ unmarked sedan pull onto the highway. He grins with satisfaction.


The Drifter then comes into Demolition Dan’s office trailer, to search for the drowned investor’s money


Drifter: There’s gotta be some fuckin’ money here somewhere. Fuckin’ somewhere.



Scene 2


Cut to the Interpol agents in their car, assessing the situation.


Agt Orange: Why did we stop at that construction site in the first place? We had no leads to the place.


Agt Blue: My sixth sense... The longer I profile this killer, the more I can get into his head.


Agt Orange: A nice place to visit, I’m sure.


Agt Blue: I saw a construction site. I don’t know what would actually lead him there, but I do know that it appealed to him. I saw it. And I felt danger.


Agt Orange: Danger, right. That’s mild. I thought you were having a heart attack. Was Demolition Dan’s the construction site you saw... in your vision?


Agt Blue: Probably not.


Agt Orange: You spook me when you go psychic on me, like that.


Agent Blue: I spook myself.



Scene 3


Cut to the Drifter, now tearing through all of Demolition Dan’s papers. Under a stack of fitness magazines, the killer happens upon a plastic milk crate full of dead Dan’s muscle-porn videotapes. Out of curiosity, the Drifter pushes a cassette into the machine, and the image of a naked bodybuilder appears on the TV screen. Like the scene that Dan had enjoyed just earlier in the day, this is also a jack-off solo, with the narcissistic muscleman doing a great deal of self-worshipping in a gym mirror. The Drifter gets hard immediately, and quickly pulls his dick from his pants with a spit-slicked hand.


A sudden pounding on the trailer door rudely interrupts him. He opens up to a massively muscled and ruggedly handsome uniform cop.


Cop: You Demolition Dan?


Drifter: Who wants to know?


Cop: Police.


Drifter: No kidding.


Cop: I’m here to investigate an assault charge.


Drifter: Assault?


Cop: Kid, come here!


The eighteen-year-old paperboy who was cruelly raped in the earlier video, sheepishly approaches the hulking police officer.


Cop: Is this the man who hurt you?


Paperboy: No, Officer.


Cop: No?


Drifter: I’ve never seen this punk before in my life.


Cop: Kid, you said that Demolition Dan assaulted you, here in this trailer!


Paperboy: That’s not Demolition Dan.


Drifter: Yeah, right. Listen, I think the lyin’ bastard’s just trying to waste your time… or maybe he wants to get your attention, Officer.


Paperboy: No!


Cop: Fuck!


Drifter: You know, if you want to teach the punk a lesson in civic responsibility, you’re welcome to use the house.


Cop: I’d sure enjoy the chance to exercise some good old-fashioned marshal law enforcement.


Drifter: The punk could use it.


Cop: Boy, how old are you?


Paperboy: Eighteen, Sir.


Cop: Good. Come with me, ya lyin’ shit.


The angry cop drags the twink paperboy towards the half-built house.


The Drifter, meanwhile, has already wiped a stack of papers off the desk and onto the floor, in his continued search for fast money.



Scene 4


Cut to the cop roughly pushing the paperboy into the very room where the three construction workers were undoubtedly murdered. The cop is brutal with the young man, but is very turned on by the fact that the boy seems to be getting off on the hard sexual punishment. He fucks him, and finally rapes the kids to orgasm using his thick hardwood night-stick.



Scene 5


Cut to the Drifter, emptying desk drawers, when he hears the cop’s voice outside. He stands up and goes to the door. He overhears the officer’s final admonishment to the twink.


Cop: Now get outta here before I really give you a taste of what the word “assault” means!


Paperboy: But Sir! Please listen-


Cop: Get lost, ya lying fuck!


The kid takes off at a run. He looks back just once to see the drifter open the trailer door to the policeman. The Paperboy speaks to himself.


Paperboy: I tried to tell you, Officer, he’s wearing the man’s clothes, but that is not Demolition Dan.


Cut back to the two men at the trailer.


Drifter: So, how did you leave the crime scene?


Cop: (Laughing) DNA evidence everywhere. But it’s okay, a cop stepped all through it already. Nothing’s admissible in court.


Both men laugh at the joke. The Drifter senses that he will not easily be able to shake this cop.


Cop: Say, you got a minute to talk?


Drifter: Ah... sure. Come in.


The police officer enters the trashed trailer. Incredibly, warning bells do not seem to ring in his head, even as he comments on the state of the strewn office documents.


Cop: Man, how can you work in here?


Drifter: Oh, yeah. I was looking for a contract. It’s lost. I’m turning the place upside down looking for it... and it’s the maid’s day off. What can I do for you?


Cop: I was wondering what you thought of Colton Spade.


Drifter: (evasive) I don’t know. Why?


Cop: Well, I’ve got a major reno job at my house. I want to tear down a shed and expand my garage.


Drifter: So?


Cop: So? So, it’s work. Do you want to maybe give me a ballpark quote of what you’d charge me? Or would you rather I just hire Colton?


Drifter: Colton... Spade...


Cop: Your only competition in these parts. You are Demolition Dan, right?


The Drifter is feeling trapped. He eyes the officer’s holstered handgun with interest.


Drifter: Right, yeah… a quote. Help me just find a pad of paper.


They both rummage around for a pad of paper, and the cop finds the empty video box featuring the self-worshipping bodybuilder.


Cop: Fuck.


Drifter: That doesn’t look like something I can write on.


Cop: Man, you have good taste.


Drifter: I can’t take credit for taste. I inherited the entire video collection from a guy who was fucked to death.


Cop: Are you a material witness?


Drifter: I’m your prime suspect, Officer.


Cop: Then I’m gonna have to hold you... on suspicion of murder.


By this time the two men are kissing aggressively, and the Drifter is already working at removing the massive cop’s fitted uniform shirt.



Scene 6


Cut to the Interpol agents in the car. Agent Blue is driving, but suddenly his eyes glaze over. He grimaces in pleasure and immediately looks feral. He moans.


Agt Blue: Man, I’m suddenly hard as stone.


Agt Orange: Hey, you okay to drive?


Agt Blue: I’m great! -No! No, I’m not. It’s him! I need to focus on his thoughts. He’s having sex.


Throughout the rest of the scene there are flashes of the Drifter and the Cop having wild sex.


Agt Orange: What can I do?


Agt Blue: Blow me!


Agt Orange: What?


Agt Blue: Seriously, man. You like cock right? Have mercy, please. Don’t think. Just do it. Yeah, go down on it, take it all. Fuck! I have to drive! I have to focus on his thoughts. Find him. Fuck this feels good. I have to zero in on him... Fuckin’ blow me, goddamnit!!


In the wildly speeding car, Agent Orange is feverishly gorging himself on Agent Blue’s meat.



Scene 7


Still in the throes of fucking, the Drifter reaches for the cop’s pistol. The policeman stops him.


Cop: Ah-ah. Over my dead body, man. The thing’s loaded.


Drifter: (reassuringly) Relax Officer, I know guns.


The cop allows it.


Drifter: Ever been shot?


Cop: No.


Drifter: But if you were to be shot... I mean if a bullet finally had your name on it, where would you want to take it?


Cop: No. What’s supposed to follow “ever been shot” is “have you ever killed a man”. It’s protocol.


Drifter: Except, I’m holding the gun, and I’m asking the questions. Where would you want to be shot?


Cop: What kind of question is that?


Drifter: I’ll make it multiple choice: head or chest?


Cop: Does this turn you on?


Drifter: Doesn’t it turn you on?


Cop: I guess I’m new to edge play, but yeah... ‘sorta does.


Drifter: Me too.


The cop has completely surrendered to the Drifter, and is enjoying the feeling of his pistol being gently dragged across his powerful body.


Cop: Yeah.


Drifter: (kissing him) So... head... or chest?


The cop flexes his great pecs as the gun’s muzzle is playfully pressed over his heart.


Cop: Chest.


The drifter pulls the trigger.



Scene 8


On the gun blast, cut to the Interpol agents in the speeding car. Blue gasps in shock, and the car swerves onto the sidewalk before he can slam on the brakes.


Agt Orange: Fuck! You just shot about six steaming ounces down my throat!


Agt Blue: We’re too late. He’s killed again.



Scene 9


Cut to the Drifter parking the cop’s car in the unfinished home’s garage, and covering it with a tarp.


Cut to the drifter laying out the cop’s massive naked body at the base of a churning cement-mixer. He sets the machine to pouring the grey sludge on top of the corpse, just as yet another car pulls up the driveway.


Drifter: No wonder these fucks never got any work done around here. Visiting hours just never end.


This new visitor has a million-dollar smile, and wears a flashy European designer suit. He walks aggressively, and immediately the Drifter is impressed with the man’s go-getter body language... and then there’s the body, rippling under the expensive fabric, straining the seams of the fitted shirt...


As the visitor steps away from his vintage Mustang Convertible, the Drifter quickly checks on the progress of the not-yet cement-covered cop in the trench. He steps a few feet towards the smiling man, just enough to keep the dead cop out of the line of vision.


Nick: Hello!


Drifter: Hello yourself.


Nick: Are you Demolition Dan?


Drifter: Depends who’s asking.


Nick: Nick Stanton. I’m a modelling agent for Blue Studios and Big Blue Productions. I rep Peter Long.


Drifter: You rep Peter... who?


Nick: Long. Young guy, handsome face, black hair, great bod, nice nips, nicer dick... He works for you? You fuck him now and again, for fun... So I’m told. At least, Peter tells me.


Drifter: Whatever you’re told, Mister, you’re on thin ice. What do you want?


Nick: Actually, it may be what you want. Bear with me, Dan. You see, what Peter has told me about you...-is that you’re pretty hard-core, you know what I mean. And that you could use a bit of a financial break.


Drifter: Peter told you that...


Nick: Indiscreet about everything, the boy was, and he told me you’re broke -yes.


Drifter: (glancing back at trailer) Fuck...


Nick: But I have a financial proposition.


Drifter: Yeah? What’s that?


Nick: Porn.


Drifter: Porn?


Nick: Peter says that you live your life like as if it were a porno, so why not get paid for what comes as naturally as breathing to you?


Drifter: And you would just sign me up... on Peter’s word.


Nick: Not quite. I also like what I see... and, well, I’d like to audition you first, you understand.


Drifter: I get it. Audition on camera?


Nick: If you don’t mind.


Drifter: Fine... So, you want a construction scene?


Nick: Actually, that’s sort of Peter’s thing at Blue Pictures... Got any leather or fetish wear?


Drifter: Uniform float your boat?


Nick: Absolutely!



Scene 10


Cut to the Interpol agents, still in their car. Agent Orange is on his cell phone.


Agt Orange: We’ll be right there. Goodbye... Guess what.


Agt Blue: Another body.


Agt Orange: Dead muscleman found drowned in his own tub. The car’s stolen, ID taken, and the housekeeper’s hysterical.


Agt Blue: Let’s check it out.



Scene 11


Cut to the Drifter walking onto an improvised set. Nick has set up portable lights, a video camera is on a tripod, and a portable stereo is already playing a hypnotic, seductive, bass-heavy melody (Enigma). Nick has taken off his jacket, and with his fast-talking mouth in repose, the drifter is better able to appreciate that the talent agent is actually the epitome of everything he might hope to represent in a model. Nick’s bod is perfection.... And then there’s the Drifter himself. He can still smell the cop’s musky sweat on the uniform. He’s so aroused to be wearing it. His cock is hard. He looks amazing. When Nick sees him, he’s almost speechless.


Drifter: I’ll be paid for this scene, right?


Nick: You...Wow. You look...


Drifter: Will I be paid? You have money?


Nick: Yes! Cash! I thought you’d want cash.


Drifter: Good thinking. Let’s roll.


Nick starts the camera. The Drifter starts a slow easy strip. Nick opens his shirt, caresses his own chiselled chest, and twists his large erect nips. As he watches the Drifter, the man’s natural sensuality intoxicates him. He pulls out his cock, and starts to jack off.



Scene 12


Cut to the Interpol agents now at the bathtub crime scene. They look in on the corpse (not shown)


Agt Blue: (to coroner) How long has he been dead?


Coroner: Two, maybe three hours. There’s not much bloating yet because the corpse is very lean. He’s all muscle.


Agt Orange: I’ll say. The corpse has a great body.


Agt Blue: Like all the others.


Agt Orange: All that obvious physical strength, and no sign of a struggle.


Agt Blue: Again, like the others. All dead with little fuss or muss. (Agent Blue suddenly has a flash of a vision… he sees the Drifter. He becomes immediately aroused and anxious.) Excuse me, everybody, we need to photograph the scene. Please clear the bathroom. Seal off this perimeter. No media... Doctor, if you could excuse us.


The coroner leaves agents Blue and Orange alone with the corpse. Blue nearly collapses.


Agt Blue: It’s happening all over again. He’s in my head. He’s naked... he’s... Fuck, I’m hard. I can’t see... there are bright lights. I want to fuck.


Agt Orange: Photograph the body. Distract yourself. You have a job.


Agt. Blue: You were right. The corpse… has a great body.



Scene 13


The Drifter pulls Nick in front of the running video camera with him. Nick does not resist. They kiss deeply. The Drifter completely finishes undressing Nick... they fuck.


At some point in their passionate coupling, they knock over Nick’s briefcase. Several very handsome actors’ head-shots and impressive nudes spill onto the floor.


Drifter: Who are they?


Nick: Your co-stars... maybe.


Drifter: Depending on how they do in their auditions?


Nick: It’s a hard job, but, yeah, somebody’s gotta do it.


Drifter: It must be good to be you.


Nick: I must confess, yes.


Drifter: Hey, Nick... I’ve just thought of an ending for this little video we’re making.


Nick: Yeah? What?


Drifter: I take over your life, and leave you here behind.


While still fucking Nick, the Drifter reaches for the cop’s loaded gun. Nick is paralysed with fear. Involuntarily, he starts to cum for the last time.


Drifter: Let’s make this a snuff flick, Nick!


The Drifter fires the gun into Nick’s heart.


Drifter: Killer ending.



Scene 14


Agent Blue goes weak in the knees and stagger-falls. He catches himself on the side of the bath-tub, but there is a loud splash as his arms inadvertently slip on the ceramic, and he is pitched towards the dead man in the water. The noise attracts attention, and immediately the crime scene is once more full of people.


Reporter: Agent Blue, is it true that you have been tracking this killer for the last two years?


Agt Blue: I said no media!


Reporter: I understand your speciality is profiling, and that you have somewhat of a reputation for being psychic. If you are clairvoyant, Agent, then why have you not caught this killer who is known to have struck in London, Lebanon, San Francisco and here?


Agt Blue: It’s not like that. I empathise with the killer...


Reporter: You have empathy for the killer?


Agt Blue: Get him out of here.


The reporter is just being led away when he overhears an important news scoop...


Agt orange: You’re not going to believe this. Blue, the victim’s phone display shows that the last number that was called from this house was Demolition Dan’s.


Agt Blue: No! Fuck! I knew it all along!


Agt Orange: We were probably speaking with the chameleon drifter himself.


Agt Blue: And I wonder how many bodies we’ll find left in his wake this time.



Scene 15


Cut to the Drifter in the classic Mustang convertible. He’s very handsome in Rick’s designer suit, and he seems to be confirming that fact with a broad smile to himself in the rear-view mirror.


Drifter: Hello, my name is Nick Stanton. I’m a talent agent with Blue Pictures! Hi, I’m Nick with Big Blue Productions... Yeah, Nick, it’s good to be you... so far.




The End

(…for now)


Max Marshal

MaxMarshal@hotmail.com

---

---

Demolition Daddy III

In Too Deep - Demolition Daddy III - Max Marshal

- Max Marshal

The video would start with a re-cap of both Demolition Daddy I and II, establishing the pattern of the Drifter’s murders. The re-cap would also remind us how Agent Blue is tracking the killer using his acute psychic skills and his ability to empathize with the Drifter’s twisted motives. Agent Blue is also uncontrollably aroused whenever the killer strikes…


End the re-cap with Scene 14 (in which Agent Blue is confronted by the aggressive reporter), going into Scene 15 (in which the Drifter drives away in Nick Stanton’s car).



Scene 1


The Reporter (Cole) is quickly following Agents Blue and Orange out of the drowned investor’s house. He is intent on following them. He calls his editor on his cell phone, speaking excitedly as he makes his way to his car. The one-sided conversation continues as he tails the agents’ sedan onto the highway.


Cole: Marty, it’s Cole. Listen, you’re gonna have to give me some slack for the next couple of days. I’m onto something big here…. The murder you sent me out to cover, yeah… I have an amazing lead! …Fuck, Marty, this is exclusive stuff… I don’t care who you have to send to cover the flower show, this is important! …Marty, I’m a goddamned reporter, not a society columnist! …Marty …Marty, calm down! …Marty!


Agent Orange notices the reporter’s car following them.


Agt. Orange: I think we have company.


Agt. Blue: He overheard about the construction site. There’s nothing we can do about the bastard finding the place, so we might as well have him in sight.


Agt. Orange: Just so long as he doesn’t see too much himself.


Agt. Blue: Like what?


Agt. Orange: Like you, that’s what. You, lately, whenever you sense the killer. You go wild. You become a sex maniac.


Agt Blue: I’m making a connection with the Drifter.


Agt. Orange: You’re too connected with the Drifter, if you ask me.



Scene 2


The Drifter is sitting in the parked convertible, looking over a photograph of a very handsome and muscular model. There is a short resume for Ted Nichols, and his address on the back of the picture. The address matches the bungalow in front of which the Drifter has parked the car. He goes to the house and knocks on the door. The man from the picture, now wearing a tank, answers the door.


Ted: Hello?


Drifter: Hi there. You’re Ted, right? My name is Nick Stanton. I’m with Big Blue Productions.


Ted: Oh, yeah. I sent you some stuff. Come in, please, Mr. Stanton.


Drifter: It’s Nick.



Scene 3


Demolition Dan’s construction site.


Agt. Blue: Three big boys in the dumpster, one real massive bloke half-buried in cement, and a golden-boy jock shoved under a few sheets of plywood in the house. What have you got?


Agt. Orange: I’ve got a luxury convertible registered to our stiff in the bathtub, and a cop car hidden under a tarp in the garage.


Cole: So you now have a cop-killer on your hands, then…


Agt. Blue: Call it in.


Cole: I have a few questions…


Agt. Blue: This is now officially a crime scene. You will not touch anything or you’ll have to answer to me. Got it?


Cole: Can I take pictures?


Agt. Blue: You scooped everyone else. Snap away. I don’t care. But listen, if you do any investigative reporting on your own… if you get any leads on this case, I want you to call me. Here’s my card.



Scene 4


The Drifter has already managed to have Ted undress for him. He casually gropes and squeezes the young model’s muscles.


Drifter: Very nice bod.


Ted: Thanks. I work out pretty hard five times a week. I know my chest is a bit over-developed, but I like to work my pecs.


Drifter: (punching the chest meat) You don’t hear me complaining. Nice dick…


Ted: I can top or bottom and I’ll stay hard on camera. I’ve worked on a video once before, and the experience was a turn-on.


Drifter: Good. But I’ll still want to get you on tape.


Ted: Of course.



Scene 5


Agent Blue watches Cole take a few shots of the crime scene.


Agt. Blue: The local police will be here momentarily. Remember, touch nothing.


Agent Blue leaves Cole to join Agent Orange in the garage. Cole, meanwhile, stumbles onto a clue. Near where Nick Stanton’s briefcase was knocked over, a couple of models’ photographs and a business card hare found, slipped under some scrap lumber.


Cole: Woah, very nice. I wouldn’t mind being fucked by you, handsome. And this card belongs to…Nick Stanton, talent management, and impresario, Big Blue Productions. Now what is your business card doing here Mr. Stanton?


The reporter pockets the card just as the Interpol agents re-enter.


Cole: I was just about to call you…


Agt. Blue: You were told not to touch anything!


Cole: Look, I found them for you.


Agt. Orange: Professional photos. Modeling shots. Peter Long… this is the younger muscle-stud in the dumpster.


Agt. Blue: One of our dead hunks was a photographer, then. Or in the porn trade, maybe. Fuck. It’s not much to go on. Obviously, though, it’s the identity our killer has since assumed.


Cole: Why obviously?


Agt. Orange: It would be safer than posing as a dead cop.


Agt. Blue: That’s more than enough sharing with the local media.


The eighteen year-old paperboy arrives. He instinctively senses Agent Blue is in charge.


Paperboy: Something bad has happened here.


Agt. Orange: Yes, you can’t stay here. Move along, please.


Agt. Blue: Wait. You know something, don’t you?


Paperboy: The man dressed as Demolition Dan was bad. He wanted the policeman to hurt me.


Agt. Blue: Is this the policeman?


Paperboy: He’s dead! That man, that man killed him!


Agent Blue suddenly has a flash of the Drifter working Ted’s cock. Immediately his head is swimming. Immediately he is aroused.


Agt. Orange: Can you identify the man?


Again, he sees a vision of the Drifter and Ted.


Paperboy: Yes, Sir.


Flash of the Drifter and Ted.


Agt. Blue: I want to interview this witness… -Alone. We’ll be in the trailer.




Scene 6


The Drifter is deeply kissing Ted. The buff model is eager to be fucked by this commanding man. But the Drifter seems to need to know more about his conquest.


Drifter: So, Ted… (He kisses him) …why porn? -Just because it’s a turn on?


Ted: No, I need the money… for my mother.


Drifter: Your mother?


Ted: Yeah, she’s young, but she has Alszeimer’s disease. Pretty bad case. She’s in a home and I have to pay for it somehow.


Drifter: How noble. I guess I’ll have to let you live.


Ted: What?


The Drifter doesn’t answer. Instead, he covers Ted’s mouth with his own. Then he guides Ted’s head down to his crotch, and feeds him his cock.



Scene 7


Cut to Agent Blue and the paperboy in Demolition Dan’s trailer.


Agt. Blue: How old are you?


Paperboy: Eighteen, Sir.


Agt. Blue: Good. Blow me.


Paperboy: Sir?


Agt. Blue: Don’t talk.


Agent Blue continues to have flashes of the Drifter and Ted having sex. He copies everything that the killer and model do as he savagely fucks the willing paperboy. The two sex scenes are intercut, fading from one to the other, so that the sexual and psychic connection is clear.


The Drifter suddenly has his hands clasped around Ted’s throat. Ted allows it. Agent Blue, likewise, begins to strangle the paperboy, who also allows it. Tension mounts as we wonder if murder is about to be committed.



Scene 8


The Drifter is about to blow his load…


Drifter: Right. The Mama’s Boy gets to live… Fuck!


Ted: Yeah, Fuck!


Both men cum, almost simultaneously.


We see a flash of Agent Blue and the paperboy also climaxing together.


Ted rolls over to the side of the bed and grabs some tissue to clean off the gobs of cum. His chest is heaving as he catches his breath.


Ted: Fucking wild! If you gotta die, that’s the way to go! Man, you’re hardcore! Is that what Big Blue Productions are all like?


Drifter: It’s the direction they’re taking.


Ted: You should meet Zeke. Ever hear of Zeke Dwyer? Man, you’d either fuckin’ love each other or kill each other, but enjoy it either way.


Drifter: Who is he?


Ted: I only played with Zeke and his friends one time. The group action scared me off a bit. Zeke’s a badass who owns the Pit-Bull Gym. He runs a protection racket around here. He also runs all the local steroids and party drugs. He’s a hardcore muscle-freak, with an entourage of muscle-freak flunkies doing his dirty work for him. You should get them on film.


Drifter: What do you mean?


Ted: I mean if you could videotape one of their muscle-sex orgies, you’d have a blockbuster on your hands. Here’s his number. You should call him.


Drifter: Yeah, I’ll call.


A cell phone starts to ring. The Drifter doesn’t realize at first that it is Nick Stanton’s phone, and so he makes no move to answer it.


Ted: Or Maybe Zeke’s already got your number. Gonna get that?


Drifter: Ah, yeah… -Big Blue Productions…


Cut to Cole at Demolition Dan’s construction site. In the background we see that the local uniform police have arrived on the scene. The cops are cordoning off the area with plastic yellow ribbon. Cole is turned away from the action, and is obviously secretive.


Cole: Yes. I don’t suppose it would be possible to speak with Mr. Nick Stanton, now would it?


Cut to the Drifter who doesn’t know how to answer the call. He smiles at Ted casually as he clicks the small flip-phone shut.


Drifter: No one.



Scene 9


Cut back to Cole at the construction site.


Cole: Hello? Goddamnit, I had you, you fucker.


Behind Cole we see the paperboy stumble out of the office trailer. He takes off at a run. Agent Blue slowly staggers down the steps himself and is met by his angry partner.


Agt. Orange: You’re out of fucking control, aren’t you… Aren’t you!


Agt. Blue: What?


Agt. Orange: Did you get the kid’s statement, or did you fuck half the life out of him?


Agt. Blue: He’s alive. The Drifter didn’t kill this time. He…


Agt. Orange: Who? Fuck, I knew it. You’re too close, man. You have to get off this case. It’s fucking you up, my friend.


Agt. Blue: No. I’m closer to him than I’ve ever been. I can feel him.


Agt. Orange: Right. You have a mind-meld whenever the bastard’s either fucking or killing. You two have a real sweet relationship.



Scene 10


Cole has re-dialed Nick Stanton’s phone number. Before the Drifter can even answer, Cole speaks up.


Cole: Don’t hang up this time. I know who you are…


The drifter, still shirtless, is putting his pants on. Ted is in the background wiping off his impressive body with a towel.


Drifter: Yes, this is Nick Stanton. What can I do for you?


Cole: They found your drowned muscleman in the tub. The three big fuckers in the dumpster are, no doubt, Demolition Dan and his men. The slab of meat in the concrete has been identified as a local cop. That leaves the gym-body under the plywood that I’m betting is the real Nick Stanton whose business card I happen to have found. (Cut to Cole at the construction site) I’m Brian Cole, a reporter with the Tribune, and right now I’m one step ahead of the police on this investigation. One giant leap, actually. I found you. Now I want to do your story, in your words. Exclusive. Interested?


Cut back to the Drifter who is idly caressing Ted’s thick pecs.


Drifter: Interested, yes. Look, obviously we have to meet. But this is a bad time. Let me call you back… later.


Cole: Are you with someone now? Are you about to kill again?


Drifter: (Looking hungrily at Ted) -Your number, please.


Cole: 555-….



Scene 11


Agent Blue is still connected to the Drifter. He is in a seemingly drunken state.


Agt. Blue: He couldn’t kill this time. He wanted… he wants to. I know he wants to. He feels cheated that he can’t kill this time. Something is holding him back.


Policeman: Are you all right, Sir?


Agt. Blue: Fine.


Agt. Orange: You mean he’s still with someone.


Agt. Blue: Yes… A young man, buffed out, very hot… They’ve had sex. He wants to kill him, but he’s holding back for some reason.


Agt. Orange: Don’t sound so disappointed.



Scene 12


The Drifter is about to put his shirt on, when Ted takes it from him and throws it on the bed. Ted is still revved up for sex.


Ted: You’re in a hurry, Mr. Stanton?


Drifter: Nick.


Ted: What’s the rush, Nick?


The two men kiss hungrily. Then Ted pulls away, almost teasingly, to ask his most pressing question.


Ted: So, how did I do? Do you have to review the audition tape with someone else, or how do you decide if I get a contract?


Drifter: I’ll have to get back to you.


Ted turns the video camera back on.


Ted: Or we could videotape the sequel right now, Nick. I like the way you fuck, Nick. Yeah… (He places the Drifter’s hand to his own throat) I really liked this part, Man. I thought you were going to kill me for a while.


Drifter: No. Mama’s boy has to live to take care of his Mama.


Ted: (laughing) No, actually. Mama has a million-dollar life insurance policy on her boy. The fucking bitch would probably get to move to a deluxe facility if sonny-boy were out of the way.


Drifter: You called your mother a fucking bitch.


Ted: She’s a fucking constant drain. Yeah, tighter, fuck that feels good.


Suddenly the erotic choking becomes more violent. This time Ted knows he’s being murdered. He can’t help cumming one last time.



Scene 13



Flash. Agent Blue suddenly sees Ted being strangled. He can’t control himself. Agent Blue staggers forward and grabs his partner violently by the throat.


Agt. Orange: Hey! -What the fuck? Get off me! Let go! You’re killing me!


The local police rush to the scuffle just as Agent Orange pulls his gun on his partner. The reporter, Cole, also manages to get off one perfect picture before being waved away by attending policemen.


Agt. Orange: Stand down, man. I’ll shoot!


Agent blue sees Ted ejaculating before going into death spasms. He pushes himself off Agent Orange, and falls to his knees.


Agt. Blue: He did it. He killed him after all.


All of the cops on the scene have gathered.


Agt. Orange: Everything is all right. Go back to work… You are out of control!


Agt. Blue: I’m so close.


Agt. Orange: (disgusted) Cover your crotch. You blew a load in your pants.



Scene 14


The reporter, Cole, is at home when his cell phone rings.


Cole: Yeah, Cole here.


Drifter: Brian, I’ve been busy again. You might want to bring a camera. This corpse is especially photogenic.


Cole: It’s you.


Drifter: I told you I’d call back. I admire your initiative… concealing evidence to get your story. Very ambitious…very cutthroat of you.


Cole: Considering the source, that’s a real compliment.


Drifter: Yes, it is.



Scene 15


The Interpol agents are in their hotel suite.


Agt. Blue: All I’m asking is that you hold off on making your report for just another day or two.


Agt. Orange: You could have killed me today. You might have killed the kid in the trailer… nice use of a crime scene, by the way. You’re dangerous. You’re in too deep.


Agt. Blue: I’m in control. I understand him now.


Agt. Orange: Understand… how.


Agt. Blue: When he killed this last time, I felt it –what drives him: contempt. I felt… He felt this last victim deserved to die. I think if you look back on all the victims, there is a thread of evidence to suggest that they were all somehow contemptible men. Rich, arrogant, power-hungry, vain… whatever, these were not nice individuals.


Agt. Orange: One was a cop.


Agt. Blue: A bad cop.


Agt. Orange: That’s still no reason to kill a man.


Agt. Blue: No. But the Drifter’s a killer, and he has to kill no matter what… because there’s nothing like killing. There’s no greater rush… In one man, you crush out a generation of beliefs and feelings and accomplishments utterly… He’s playing God…but he’s given himself some criteria for his victims.


Agt. Orange: I won’t call in a report tonight, but I have to think about all this.


Agent Blue grabs his black leather coat off the back of a desk chair.


Agt. Blue: Fine. Think. That’s good. I’ll go for a walk. I need to clear my head.


Agt. Orange: And I’m going to bed, so goodnight.



Scene 16


Cole pulls up to Ted’s bungalow, and parks behind the classic Mustang convertible. He gathers up his notepad, his tape-recorder, and his camera before going up the steps to the door. He is about to press the buzzer when the door opens, startling him.


Drifter: Mr. Brian Cole of the Tribune. -How good to meet a representative of the press. Come in, Brian.


Cole: Thanks.


Drifter: You came alone?


Cole: Yes.


Drifter: Are you afraid?


Cole: No.


Drifter: Liar. You’re afraid you’re in too deep.


Cole: Maybe.


Drifter: Beer? I found some in the fridge.


Cole: Whose fridge? Whose house is this?


Drifter: So much for hospitality. The fridge and the house, and the beer belonged to the dead man in the next room. They now belong to me. But tell me what you know, Mr. Cole. Tell me about the police investigation of me, that you have obviously obstructed to get your exclusive story.


Cole: You killed overseas.


Drifter: Quite a bit, yes.


Cole: So there are Interpol agents working your case… as well as the local police, of course.


Drifter: Interpol. Are they good men, in your mind?


Cole: One’s psychic.


Drifter: You hardly believe in that, a facts-man like yourself?


Cole: No… but.


Drifter: What?


Cole: May I ask… how and when did you kill the man in the next room?


Drifter: I strangled him, Mr. Cole, at about seven this evening, I think.


Cole: Then he was right. This Interpol agent must be…is mentally connected to you. Look, I took this picture at around seven. He went crazy and started to strangle his partner. He just went crazy.


Drifter: Crazy, you say. Interesting. I might like to contact my nemesis. You must have his card.


Cole: I do.


Almost in a trance, Cole gives the Drifter Agent Blue’s business card.


Drifter: Thanks. By the way, you’re good-looking.


Cole: Thank you. So are you.


Drifter: I’ll bet you work out.


Cole: Yeah, I train.


Drifter: Good. Would you like to view my last kill now?



Scene 17


Agent Blue turns off the sidewalk and follows a worn footpath in a park. Several men are seen cruising the park. Several men catch his eye, but he keeps walking. Suddenly, he has a flash of the reporter, Brian Cole. He keeps walking. The vision steaks through his mind again… the face of Brian Cole. He closes his eyes for the image to clear. When he opens his eyes again, a young hustler who bears a striking resemblance to Cole confronts him.


Hustler: Hash?


Agt. Blue: What?


Hustler: Can I get you anything?


Agt. Blue: Better watch it. I’m a cop.


Hustler: Sorry, man. I said nothing.


Again, Agent Blue sees the vision of Brian Cole. He stops the Hustler from walking away.


Agt. Blue: Wait. Maybe I’d like some company.


Hustler: Hey, for you, no charge.


Agt. Blue: Got a place?



Scene 18


The Drifter leads Cole into the bedroom. Ted’s muscled corpse is propped up against pillows in the bed. The Drifter has also set up a television set by the dead man, and the audition sex video eerily shows Ted at his most vital.


Cole: Beautiful.


Drifter: You think so? Here, let me fast forward to my late friend Ted’s final moments.


He replays the strangling. Cole watches, rapt.


Drifter: And if you like this sort of thing, I also have Nick Stanton, my current namesake’s death on video. Watch.


He pops in the cassette, which is pre-set to his proposing a snuff flick to Nick Stanton. Cole watches the talent agent take a bullet to the chest. The Drifter comes up behind him and runs his hand down his body to his crotch.


Drifter: Mr. Cole, I think you’re aroused.


Cole: I am.


Drifter: I thought you would be. Reporters are morbid that way.


The Drifter takes Cole into his arms and kisses him. Cole gives in immediately and lets his sports coat fall to the floor. The Drifter tears open the reporter’s shirt and pushes him back on the bed next to the corpse. Cole’s muscled torso actually rivals the dead model’s physique. The drifter starts to undress.


Drifter: This is going to be good.



Scene 19


Agent Blue is in the Hustler’s dingy apartment. The hustler is already lying naked on the bed, watching Agent Blue leisurely strip. The Interpol agent carefully places his folded clothing and gun-belt by the bed.


Agt. Blue: This is going to be good.


Agent Blue can clearly see the Drifter and Brian Cole having sex. He is compelled to act out what he sees. During the sex scene, intercut between the two locations, so that we see both pairs of men in action. As the Drifter and Cole take a particular position, so then do Agent Blue and the Hustler –choreographed sex- Agent Blue always follows the lead of the vision he has in his head.


Cut to the Drifter and Cole.


Drifter: Are you afraid?


Cole: Yes.


Cut back to Agent Blue and the Hustler.


Agt. Blue: Are you afraid?


Hustler: Why should I be?


Cut to the Drifter pulling the policeman’s revolver on Cole.

Cut to Agent Blue pulling his own gun on the Hustler.

Cut to the Drifter firing twice into the resigned Cole.

Cut to the Hustler taking two bullets to the chest. Agent Blue is suddenly aware of what he has done. He stares at the dead Hustler in utter disbelief.


Agt. Blue: No… What have I done…I couldn’t have done this. Oh, God, no.


His cell-phone ringing startles him. He has to compose himself before answering.


Agt. Blue: Hello?


There is a long moment of silence.


Drifter: I could feel you this time. I liked it. That was good. Felt so good.


The Drifter hangs up the phone and Agent Blue slumps to the floor by the bed still listening to the dial tone for about 30 seconds before he also flips his handset closed. He rocks back and forth against the wall. Tears roll down his cheeks.




--OPTIONAL ENDING HERE –


(Could start new video, “Demolition Daddy IV, Killer Workout”)



Scene 20


The Drifter grabs the side of the sheets, and uses them to roll the gunshot corpse of Brian Cole onto Ted Nichols’ cold body. Then he shoves both cadavers off of the bed and onto the floor. He then covers the slightly blood-splattered mattress with the comforter, and finally lies down on the bed himself. He reaches to a bedside table for the cell-phone and the numbers he has collected. He dials.


Drifter: Hello, Zeke Dwyer, please. Zeke, listen my name is Brian Cole and I’m a reporter with the Tribune. I was referred to you by a mutual acquaintance. You should remember Ted Nichols, right? Good. Well, Ted told me that you were the second best lay he’d ever had… after me.


Cut to Zeke Dwyer in his hardcore bodybuilding gym. The Pit-Bull Gym is all free-weights, worn wall-to-wall carpeting, and greasy mirrors. Posters of 1970’s bodybuilders and a few pictures of local title-winners cover the dirty walls. Zeke is talking on his cell phone while curling a dumbbell. His cronies are working out in the background.


Zeke: Second best fuck after me, uh? You must be quite a lay then, Cole. What do you want with me?


Drifter: I want to write a special profile on you. An inside look at a small time hood, the protection racket, the drugs, and your muscle-sex parties.


Zeke: -Small time hood. You’re really working on getting’ on my good side, aren’t ya. Why the fuck would I want you to write about me?


Drifter: Because with the right journalistic spin, I can make you less small time, little man.


Zeke: Obviously, you’ve never seen me, Fucker. I’m anything but little.


Drifter: Little man… that’s what Ted Nichols called your meat. You could show me otherwise.


Zeke: Fuckin’ right. Tonight, the boys and me are havin’ some fun. You can come by my gym, The Pit-Bull, after closing. That’s where we’ll party.


Drifter: Can I bring a friend along?


Zeke: Sure, but I get to go one-on-one with you, Mister.


Drifter: I’m counting on it, Dwyer.


Zeke: Gym closes at 11:00. Come ‘round the back. It’ll be open.



Scene 21


Cut to Agent Blue frantically trying to erase all evidence of himself from the murdered Hustler’s apartment. Agent Blue’s revolver is already wrapped up in the cum and blood drenched bedding intended for disposal. His cell phone rings. He stares at it in horrified apprehension. After four rings, he answers. Throughout the conversation we only hear the Drifter’s voice on the line, as the camera slowly zooms in to a tight close up on Agent Blue’s perspiring face.


Agt. Blue: Yes?


Drifter: Who’d have ever known there was so much blood in him.


Agt. Blue: I’d have never guessed you were the Shakespeare type.


Drifter: I only know a few of the gory bits. Felt good, didn’t it? I thought it felt really good, twice as good as usual, in fact…Twice. I want to feel that again.


Agt. Blue: You sick bastard.


Drifter: Hey, Pot to Kettle…We’re the same, my friend.


Agt. Blue: I’m not like you.


Drifter: The same… You want to feel it again too. And you will…tonight.


Agt. Blue: No.


Drifter: Fine, then you can convince yourself that you’re coming to get me…to stop me. We’re both invited to a party tonight, eleven o’clock... A sex party. Should be fun. Pit Bull Gym is where it’s going down. Come around the back…and come alone.


The camera pulls back to show Agent Blue taking the gun back out of the mess of bloodied sheets. He aims it at the corpse of the Hustler and, on the verge of madness, mimes shooting him once more. Then, hurriedly, he punches numbers into his cell phone.


Agt. Orange: Hello?


Agt. Blue: The Chameleon Drifter struck again.


Agt. Orange: Fuck.


Agt. Blue: Yeah. It’s a mess.


Agt. Orange: Wait, you’re already at the scene?


Agt. Blue: Yeah… I was really close this time.


Cut to Agent Orange sitting up in bed and turning on the bedside lamp. Already, he is taking notes on a pad of paper.


Agt. Orange: (carefully) Were you alone?


Agt. Blue: Alone? Yeah, I was alone.


Agt. Orange: You okay?


Agt. Blue: Look, just get here…Barton Building on Cooper. It’s vacant. Street level, around the back… I won’t be here when you arrive.


Agt. Orange: Where are you going?


Agt. Blue: I have to follow up a lead.


Agt. Orange: Not alone.


Agt. Blue: Alone? No… you meet me. Come to the Pit Bull Gym… at midnight.



Scene 22


It’s the interior of the Pit Bull Gym. The lights are low. Some candles, melted onto the racks of weights, are reflecting their eerie glow into the grimy mirrors. A bath house atmosphere is immediately felt. There are big-muscled men fucking everywhere in the gym, using the racks, benches, and mats. Some men are chained to workout equipment. Other men are fucking in the showers. Still more are fucking in the changing room. The Drifter arrives and surveys the premises. Zeke Dwyer, who has been violently fisting a man on a leg-press machine, notices the guest and confronts him.


Zeke: You’re Ted’s friend. Best fuck he ever had. I’m Zeke.


Drifter: Right…Brian Cole, Tribune. Ironworks by day, bath house at night. Already, I’m impressed.


Zeke: Yeah, well, I’m impressive.


Drifter: Where do you want me to fuck you? Out here?


Zeke: You got balls. No. I have a private office… in the basement.


Drifter: Perfect… for your interview.


They go downstairs just as Agent Blue arrives. He takes in the scene. Quick flashback: he remembers the Drifter as he actually saw him, in his checked flannel work-shit, impersonating Demolition Dan. None of the bodybuilders he sees fucking around him look like this memory of the Drifter.


A massive young punk comes up to Agent Blue and abruptly kisses him. He undresses the Interpol cop, who puts up no resistance. Agent Blue is starting to feel dizzy… he senses the Drifter is near… he senses the Drifter is aroused.


Cut to the Drifter who is finishing strapping the hulking Zeke into a harness. He knows that Agent Blue is near. He sees a flash of what the Agent is seeing. He laughs quietly.


Drifter: Oh, this is going to be good.


Cut back to Agent Blue.


Agt. Blue: Yes… this is going to be good.


The twin sex scenes dissolve back and forth, into one-another, and are also intercut with flashes of the man-sex throughout the gym.


They climax together as the Drifter raises a length of chain across Zeke’s throat, and Agent Blue clasps a thick steel chain worn around the punk’s thick neck. The drifter presses the deadly links down on Zeke, while Agent Blue simply twists the heavy necklace in his fist. Zeke and the Muscle-Punk die at the same time. The Drifter and Agent Blue soak their fresh corpses with cum. Both killers are delirious… drunk.



Scene 23


The Drifter comes back upstairs. The men see each other immediately. Agent Blue pushes his strangled sex-partner into a nearby closet. He turns around just as the Drifter takes him in his arms and kisses him passionately.


Drifter: I have a feeling this is the start of a beautiful friendship.


Agt. Blue: You’re under arrest.


Drifter: Am I? Let’s talk about that when we’re through here.


The Drifter has caught the eye of a couple of musclemen who approach. Before Agent Blue can think or react, another handsome man is kissing him. Then another pair of men comes up to the group. Before long, six buff bodies are writhing on wrestling mats. Throughout the action, the Drifter and Agent Blue lock eyes several times… the sex is intense.


Then the Drifter takes a man, who has been sucking his cock, in a headlock… Agent Blue does likewise with a man who has been gorged on his cock for some time. They break the men’s necks at once. The other two men seem not even to notice. The sex continues. Then the Drifter and Agent Blue strangle these men with their bare hands. As the men go into death spasms, the Drifter and Agent Blue kiss again, more passionately than ever.


Drifter: We’re not done.


Agt. Blue: What time is it?


Drifter: Twenty to twelve. The day’s not over yet… and this has been a very good day.


Agt. Blue: You kill that reporter?


Drifter: You know I did.


Agt. Blue: Good. I didn’t like him anyhow.



Scene 24



The Drifter leads Agent Blue towards another pair of bodybuilders making out by two bench-press racks.


Drifter: (to one bodybuilder) Hey, man, show me what you can lift.


Agent Blue feels out of control, like he is in a bad dream. He has to go along.


Agt. Blue: (to other bodybuilder) Yeah, give us a show of strength. Turns us on.


Drifter; We’ll spot you.


The two bodybuilders willingly lay down on the benches, side by side. They press the impressive weights a couple of times. Then both the Drifter and Agent Blue standing as they are, at the heads of these powerful men, take out their cocks and feed them to sex-hungry mouths. While sucking cock, both men resume pressing the heavy weights. They are face-fucked for a good while, neither man ever stopping the weightlifting.


Drifter: Fuck, man, you’re strong. Gimme one more. One more. That’s it.


Agt. Blue: Yeah, you’re the man. Look at that muscle. Come on.


The Drifter and Agent Blue then gently push the bars away from the racks that both bodybuilders are trying to replace their weights on. The bodybuilders struggle to hold the bars over their heads, but they are weakening.


Drifter: Why don’t you just put that down…


The barbells come down on the men’s necks, crushing them.


Drifter: Killer workout. Let’s hit the showers. You brought your gun, I hope.


Agt. Blue: Yes, but…


Drifter: (kisses him) Showers.



Scene 25


They approach three men having sex in the steamy heat of the showers. Their guns are barely concealed in towels. The Drifter and Agent Blue grope and feel the three remaining men. Two of them share a great double-ended dildo. The Drifter attends to these two, while agent blue feeds a string of pearls up the third man’s ass.


Agt. Blue: Anyone know what time it is?


Pearls: Yeah, nearly midnight.


Drifter: I’m glad you asked. This is getting old, and I wanted to be finished by twelve.


The Drifter walks over to the towels and comes back with the guns. He hands Agent Blue his revolver and kisses him. Then both turn at once and each shoots a man on either end of the giant dildo. Then both take aim at the pearls man and fire. A thick stream of blood rushes down the drain.


Drifter: I have got to fuck your ass, now.


Eagerly, willingly, Agent Blue gives his body over to the Drifter. The men fuck like mad, but never put their guns down. They suck the muzzles of each other’s revolvers, they feel each other’s bodies through the cold steel, and they prod each other’s assholes with the deadly barrels.


Suddenly, they are interrupted.


Agt. Orange: Freeze. You’re under arrest. Both of you, I think.


The Drifter smiles and casually aims his gun at Agent Blue’s heart.


Drifter: Back off, or I’ll kill your partner, partner.


Agent Orange takes a couple of steps back.


Drifter: Good. Now put the gun down.


Agent Orange looks to Agent Blue for some assurance. Agent Blue gives a subtle nod. Agent Orange sets the gun inside an open footlocker.


Drifter: Sucker.


The Drifter swings the gun towards Agent Orange. He squeezes the trigger but the shot goes wild. He has been fired on himself, by Agent Blue. Agent Orange dives to safety.


Drifter: You shot me. You… You need me. We’re connected. We controlled those buff fuckers, and then snuffed them… and then didn’t you feel the rush, man? We were more powerful than them! You and me! And we were connected! We were the same. You fucker! You!


He shoots Agent Blue in the chest. Agent Blue fires once more, hitting the Drifter in the heart.


Drifter: (blood dripping though his teeth) Killer ending.


Both men die. Agent Orange stands and surveys the carnage.


Agt. Orange: You were just in too deep, Partner. In too deep.




The End



"Like seeing the raw side of men.

The basic instinct is so... basic. "  -  Max Marshal MaxMarshal@hotmail.com

---

---

The Cartel - Pt. 1 The Cartel - Pt. 1 - Kyle Carver


Hiding in the underbrush, Devon watched as the guard slowly paced past his hiding place. Checking his watch he noted that he has about 3 minutes between passes. That probably means that if he takes this guard out, that he would only have about half that time before noticed him missing, maybe another three minutes before someone sounded an alarm.



He only needed about ten minutes to get in, set the charges and get out. That looks like about 5 1/2 minutes too long. The only other alternative will be to take out all three guards before going in.



Devon knew that the charges HAD to be placed tonight. The cartel was working around the clock to get enough drugs ready for shipment in just two days. If they do not manage to deliver the goods, they will loose the trust of the mob. Destroying the coke is just a side benefit in this one.


Devon watched as the sentry approached his position. He waited until the sentry passed and then quickly ran up behind him. Grabbing the man by the jaw he twisted his head sharply to the left. The stunned guard reached up to grab Devon's hands and try to break free from the death dealing grip. Failing to hear the crunch of breaking bones, Devon quickly tried to regain his grip on the man's chin and tried again.


A muffled exclamation escaped from the sentry as Devon clasped his hand firmly over his mouth. Taking a firm hold on the man's left shoulder with his right hand, he pulled the man's jaw sharply to the left. Reaching the end of the natural range of twist, the man's neck held briefly as he groaned with pain. Suddenly, with a loud pop, the man's head twisted nearly completely backwards. His legs and arms jerked convulsively. Devon looked into the man's eyes as they lost their focus. The guard's body, now just dead weight, collapsed limply at his feet. Grabbing it by the arms, Devon quickly dragged the body into the underbrush where he had been hiding. The man's head dangled grotesquely from the broken neck.


Working quickly, Devon pulled off his clothes and undressed the body. Slipping on the shirt, he was pleased to see that it fit. The pants fit a little tighter than he would have liked, but they did fit. Strapping on the gun belt with the holster and knife attached, he now looked, at least in this light, like the slain guard - if you didn't get too close.


Hurrying out onto the path, he quickly walked around the to the guard house. Just in time. The other guard had just rounded the other turn and was walking toward him.


Pretending to notice something on the ground, Devon stood looking down, then he motioned for the other guard to come and look. Still staring at the ground, he watched as the other guard walked up to his side.


"What have you got Frank?" he asked, looking at the ground.


"Just this." Devon said. The guard looked up, startled. "You're not Frank - Unnnggghhh!"


Grabbing his tortured navel, the guards hands surrounded Devon's hand still holding the handle of the knife. Devon pulled the blade out of his body. Warm blood flowed freely from the slit. As he started to thrust the blade again, the terrified sentry pushed against his hand. "No, PLEASE, NO!" he said, backing up.


Reaching for his fleeing prey, Devon grabbed the sentry's belt with his left hand, held tight, and pulled on the belt as he thrust with the knife. The blade found it's mark in the young guard's solar plexus.


"Gaaahhhhh!" he gasped, pulling back again.


Devon grabbed the handle of the guard's knife in it's sheath on the young man's belt and removed it. No longer pulling against Devon's hand, the guard stumbled and fell to the ground.


"Help me." He called hoarsely.


Quickly kneeling next to the guard's side, Devon plunged the guard's own knife to the hilt in the man's chest piercing his heart.


"Unnnh." He gasped, now clutching the second knife. His muscles tightened. He grimaced with pain then fell limp, hands falling to his sides. His last gasped breath gurgled in his throat. Grabbing him by the arms Devon dragged him back out of sight. Removing his knife from the man's chest, Devon wiped it on his victim's sleeve, he sheathed the weapon and hurried toward the next guard's position.


As he approached the next guard's area, he could see him nearing the far end of his path. As he watched, he slipped around behind a small truck parked near the fence. Dropping down, he watched the guard approach him from his vantage point under the truck.


As the sentry passed the truck, Devon hurried around and grabbed the hapless young man from behind. Cupping his hand over his mouth he plunged the knife into the center of his chest.


"Unfff." The guard gasped, struggling against Devon's vice-like grip. The knife felt cold inside him. His arms suddenly ached, his shoulder hurt, his fingers started going numb.


Realizing that he was stabbed, he reached for the handle. He was shocked at the pain he felt as he tried to move it. Feeling his sex beginning to arouse, he began to feel the strange sensations growing with it. Strange, wild fantasies flashed through his mind. Steeling himself against the pain he yanked the blade from his chest. A wild rush of pain washed through him. His sex erupted filling his briefs with thick, hot fluid as a crimson river of blood flowed from his chest, down his abdomen soaking through his shirt and flowing over his pants. As he tried to breathe through his attacker's hand, air sucked in through the hole in his chest.. Blood poured into his lungs. He tried to cough. Blood and air bubbled from the hole in his chest. The blessed numbness started rushing inward from his extremities. His hands and feet first, then his legs and arms, - shoulders - creeping up his neck, his scalp felt cold and prickly. The wild passion in his sex was now spent and he went limp - arms, legs, everything.


Devon felt him drift away as his body went limp in his arms. Dragging him behind the truck he retrieved his knife and hurried back to get his bag with the explosives.



Still a lot to do.

---

The Cartel - Pt. 2

The Cartel - Pt. 2 - Kyle Carver


Hurrying across the open space between the gate and the line of parked vehicles, Devon slipped past the trucks and planted one of the smaller charges on one of the big fuel tanks where the burning fuel would be sure to disable the vehicles and block any exit from the compound.


Moving around the side of the main building, a kind of pole barn with plywood and cardboard walls, he attached another charge to the generator's fuel tank. The fire from this one alone would probably destroy the whole building but he had two more charges. These two would blast the main building to pieces. The chemicals and solvents inside will create their own inferno. Finally he set the remote timer for five minutes and pushed the start button. Hiding the transmitter in an old tire leaning against the side of the building.


He started walking toward the main gate.


Suddenly, two men came out of the building . Talking together, Devon hoped they would be too busy talking to notice him walking toward the gate.. He had almost reached the gate when he spotted a figure outside the fence running toward him. He had been behind the truck where Devon had hidden one of the bodies.


"Help! Come here, quick!"


"What's the problem?" Devon asked, stepping up the pace.


"Someone's killed the guards!" he said waiving toward the truck.


"Where?" Devon asked,


"Out there, behind that truck." He pointed.


Hurrying through the gate, he said, "Show me."


Running over to the spot, he hurried up behind the excited young man. As they stepped around behind the truck, Devon quickly cupped his hand over the young man's mouth, pulled him back tight against his chest and with the other hand he drove the knife deep into the powerful young chest.


The young man's strength surprised Devon as he found himself pinned against the truck. The young man struggled to escape his grip.. Devon leveraged the knife around inside his chest trying to do the as much damage as he could. The powerful youth stiffened and abruptly fell limp in Devon's arms, his heart and lungs now scrambled into a bloody mush inside his chest cavity.


Yanking the blade from the lifeless body, he pushed it away from himself and let him fall. Turning to run, Devon turned to see two rifles aimed squarely at his face.


"Hold it!" one of them barked. "Drop it, Don't move!"

"Caught!" he thought, "and in less than three minutes those charges are going to go."

Dropping his knife to the ground and raising his hands, Devon felt his captors frisk him, remove his weapons and tie his hands behind his back. They roughly pushed, punched, kicked and dragged him back into the compound.


"What's going on out here?" barked a tall, muscular uniformed man.

"We caught him out front. He killed at least three guards. We've got two bodies and he's got another's clothes on. We caught him just as he knifed the last one. Poor guy, never had a chance!

"What are you doing here?" "Who do you work for?"Devon kept quiet."Answer me dammit!" The big guard demanded, punching Devon in the gut to emphasize his point."Give me that knife." he demanded.

Handing him the knife, one said, "This is the knife he slaughtered our guys with."Looking at the blood on the knife, he grabbed Devon by the shirt and drew him close as he put the knife to his throat.

"Maybe I should run you through right now, mingle your blood with those you killed.

"Yeah!"

"Kill the bastard!"

"Let me do it!"

The shouts from the gathering crowd encouraged the big guy to keep it up.

"Who are you working for? FBI? DEA? Interpol?"

Bruised and bleeding from the beating he had taken from his captors, Devon just kept silent and stared defiantly into the eyes of his attacker. Still counting the time mentally, he figured that the charges would explode in about two minutes. Where they were standing, less than 20 feet away from the fuel drums, he knew that the whole crowd gathering around him would be standing in the center of an inferno.


"You're all real brave when you've got an unarmed man with his hands tied behind his back!" Devon taunted. "You're all a bunch of cowards! Untie me and let me fight your best man, or are you ALL cowards?"

"I'll fight you." said the tall, muscular guard. "I'll strangle you with your own guts." he snarled, cutting Devon's bonds. Drawing his own knife, he handed Devon's knife to him and backed up. Devon peeled his shirt off and threw it to the ground. The big burly blond pulled his shirt off revealing huge, well defined pecs and massive arms and shoulders. A stunning, rolling six-pack rippled across his abdomen. A golden tan enhanced the whole, massive torso and Devon had to admit that he was impressed. The crowd started shouting and cheering for their man as they formed a circle around the two combatants.


Knowing that he could not escape in time, Devon hoped to gather in as many as he could to watch the fight. Just a few feet away the timer neared the one minute mark...

As the two circled each other, crouched and menacing each other with their blades, Devon left himself wide open hoping that he would be killed before the fire engulfed him.

After a few moments, Devon realized that he had his challenger hopelessly outclassed. The guy was big and muscular, but he was no fighter. He decided to take out one more guard before his own death. Stepping up close at his attacker's next thrust, he grabbed his right wrist and pulled him toward himself. With a savage upward thrust, he drove his blade up under the big man's ribs and through his heart.

The cheering circle fell silent. The tall man grabbed Devon's arm with his left hand and squeezed. Looking into Devon's eyes, his breath hissed through clenched teeth. Devon released his right hand, still holding his knife, and lifted his knife, pressing it deeper into the big man's chest.

Hoping to kill Devon before he died, the big blond stabbed at Devon's abdomen. Devon did not try to dodge the thrust, instead, he stood firm and braced himself for the pain.

The blade entered Devon's lower left abdomen, and emerged from his back near his spine. The circle erupted in a wild cheer, still rooting for their man who now dangled over the precipice of hell on the point of Devon's knife, which was the only thing sealing the gaping hole in his heart and keeping him alive for the next few moments.

Holding his knife as steady as he could, he waited. the burly guard

pulled his blade from Devon and stabbed again, this time destroying Devon's navel and making another exit wound, this time on the other side of Devon's spine. Pulling the blade free again, he summoned the last of his strength and stabbed with a vicious upward thrust, tearing through Devon's solar plexus and upward into his chest, nearly lifting Devon's feet from the ground.

As the blade entered his heart, Devon's swollen manhood began to fire. He groaned, smiled at his attacker and yanked his blade free from the huge chest. The man's bloodshot blue eyes flashed wide with fear, shock and pain. Clutching at his chest with both hands, blood gushed from the gaping hole as he stiffened and fell backward, landing hard. The huge bulge in his pants glistening in his blood soaked pants. Devon reached up and grabbed the knife in his own chest. Pulling hard he yanked the blade from his own heart. Blood gushed and spurted from the hole in his chest. He dropped to his knees. Holding one knife in each hand, he raised his hands over his head. Falling forward, he plunged one blade into each of the huge pecs, the blond's body. He jerked and twitched, still feeling pain. Devon fell, landing with his nose against the big man's belt buckle. He could feel the throbbing cock still weakly pumping as it pressed against his throat.

As the crowd rushed forward toward him as a blast of white hot gas erupted and engulfed them all. A cool darkness surrounded Devon as he lay face down on his victim.

Devon knew his job was done.

---

Winston's Battle


Winston's Battle - Kyle Carver




Ty stepped out of his air conditioned rental car into the hot afternoon sun of the outskirts of Austin Texas. Ty was still agitated over the events of the day before, He was used to watching his victims as they died. He was used to having the chance to tell the intended victim the reason that they were about to die. He also was not happy abut having to kill someone that was not on his list. Yesterday did not go well. Today would have to be better.


Winston Taylor was today's intended victim and Ty was going to enjoy this one. Ty liked his work - when things went well, but today he was going to have some of the fun that he missed out on yesterday. He knew Winston's routine. On Fridays, he would leave work early, come home to the small ranch and get things ready in the stables for the usual visitors that would be here on Saturday morning. He would be alone at the ranch until at least five in the afternoon. It was now a quarter past one - lots of time to play.


Ty knew that Winston was working behind the stable, he could hear him talking to the horses. Opening his trunk, he pulled out one of the cases containing a pair of dueling swords. They were a pair of Japanese military fighting swords. Specially sharpened and cared for with all the love and respect that Ty could give them. This was going to be fun...


Winston was a purist when it came to swords. He was proud of his style, his technique, his speed. He had studied for several years, through high school and through college. He had been in the military and learned more there but he really pissed Ty off when he criticized his style. Told him he was chaotic - undisciplined. Ty was really going to like this. He could feel the sword cutting through his wretched body already. The anticipation was almost too much.


Stepping around the side of the barn, Ty stood looking at his next target. Winston was pitching hay into a feeder. Two horses stood nearby waiting to get to the fresh hay. Winston had pulled his shirt off and was naked to the waist. His strong build accented by the muscle pumping work he had been doing. Dressed in blue jeans and western boots, he looked the part of the rancher life that he had chosen. Pulling his .45 from it's holster, Ty cocked it, making as much noise as he could.


"What? Who..?" Turning from his chores, Winston stared down the barrel of the big gun. Looking at Ty a flash of recognition crossed his face. "Tyler Briggs?" He asked. "What the hell do you want?"


"John Rogan sends his regards. You have an unpaid debt, I'm here to collect." Ty aimed the pistol directly at Winston's forehead.


Winston dropped the pitchfork that he had been using and raised his hands. "What debt? I don't owe Rogan anything. I even got my last paycheck mailed to me after I left."


Ty laughed. "Ha ha ha! This isn't about money. It's about commitment. Nobody quits on John Rogan."


"I turned in my resignation! Rogan accepted it. Nothing was said!"


"What needs to be said to a dead man?" Ty answered. "We can do this the fair way, you get a fighting chance by fighting me, or we can do this the unfair way, I pull this trigger and all of your troubles are over. Which would you prefer?"


"Since you put it that way, I'll take the fighting chance. What do you have in mind." Winston asked.


Opening the black case and revealing the swords inside, Ty motioned for Winston to choose one of them for himself.


Selecting the nearer one of the two, he inspected the blade and whipped it through the air, testing it for balance. "Nice sword." he commented.


Putting his gun away, Ty pulled the other from the case and swished it through the air. "They were a gift from one of my 'clients'." he said.


"Client or target?" Winston asked.


"Whatever." Ty responded.


"Why are you giving me this chance, Briggs? You know I'm a good swordsman."


"Talk's cheap. When was the last time you actually killed someone with your swords, Taylor?" Winston didn't answer. The truth was that he had never killed anyone. He had often wondered what it would feel like to kill a man with a sword, or to be killed by one, but it had never actually happened. Rogan was a madman and he had killed one of the young recruits that had disobeyed one of his orders. He did it as an example, and it worked real well. No one disobeyed again. As for Winston Taylor, he wanted out.


That was two years ago. He had bought this small ranch and started working for a computer consulting firm in Austin, now he was entertaining paying guests on weekends and building his small "Dude Ranch." Things were starting to go well, now - Tyler Briggs shows up.


Winston remembered that Briggs was a fair swordsman, but he lacked discipline. He was Chaotic and careless. He didn't like the idea of playing by the rules. That was the best thing that Winston could think of. Briggs was going to make a mistake. He would be ready. He would know what it feels like to kill. He would win this battle.


"Ready to die?" Briggs asked, tapping his blade against Winston's sword.


"Ready as I'll ever be. Just one thing. I'm not the one who is going to die."


Ty peeled his shirt off and tossed it on the ground. Winston looked at the tight muscles rippling across his body as he stretched and twisted. "Going to be a shame poking holes in that great body." he thought. "Too bad he was such an asshole under all that beefcake."


"Come on," Ty said, "Lets do it."


Clashing swords, they started to fight. The horses bolted, running to the far end of the corral away from the noise of the swordplay. Winston watched Ty's moves carefully. As expected, he was not following any real rules, just fighting and slashing. He was good, no doubt about it, but he was not good enough.


Ty watched Winston's style. Just as he had hoped, he was using that same fancy crap that he had used two years ago at Rogan's. He might be good in some tournament where both fighters follow the rules or loose points, but here in this barnyard, there were no rules but one - survive - any way you can.


Ty played with him for quite a time. They fought their way into the stable and back out the door again. Winston was rather enjoying the whole thing. He planned on waiting until Ty started to show some signs of tiring, and then strike. Ty was planning much the same thing. Looking for that one chance that he might have to dive in through Winston's defenses. Neither man said anything. Both chose to concentrate on the battle at hand.


Suddenly, Ty felt the sharp prick of Winston's sword as it poked into his abdomen. Jumping back quickly, Ty realized that he had been stabbed, almost at the belt line, just left of center. The wound was very shallow, barely half an inch deep, but still enough to bleed.


Winston smiled as he watched Ty recoil from his thrust. He had found an opening in his defense and he had decided to test it. Sure enough, he struck the first blood wound. Ty was visibly angered by the cut. It was not deep and wouldn't need much more than a band-aid, but he planned to strike again soon. This time it would be for real. Ty was going to taste his steel.


Ty realized that it was almost time to strike. He was wounded, albeit slightly, but the next strike could be fatal. He was not going to take any more chances. As Winston started to charge in, He started backing away, planning his move so as to make Winston think he was beginning to retreat from his attack. As he backed away, Winston moved in toward him. Ty backed up a few more steps, picking up the pace until he was almost running backwards. Winston followed, charging in and swinging furiously, hoping to keep him on the run.


Suddenly, Ty stopped his retreat and started his own charge. Kicking the loose dirt into the air, he sprayed Winston with a small cloud of dirt and dust. Raising his arm instinctively to protect his eyes, Winston gave Ty the chance that he had been waiting for. Lunging toward Winston, Ty stabbed hard at him. He felt his sword strike home! Winston gasped with pain. He had been stabbed in the left side, below the rib cage. The upward thrust had punctured his diaphragm and his lung. Ty twisted the blade and rammed it in again, cutting Winston's left lung and jamming the blade into his shoulder blade. The pain shot through Winston's body. As Ty twisted the blade again, Winston dropped his sword to the ground as the pain ripped through his being.


As Winston's sword clattered to the ground, Ty ripped the blade from Winston's body. Winston gasped with the pain and stood unarmed before his attacker.


Ty stepped closer. Placing his sword against Winston's navel, he waited.


"Well, well. What have we here? An unarmed man? Do I let you pick up your sword? . . . Give you another chance?" Ty stood as if waiting for an answer. Winston could feel the blood moving up in his throat. He was seriously wounded but he could survive if...


"Give you another chance???" Ty toyed with the idea. Winston prepared to grab for his sword. Ty watched him as he looked down at the sword. "Should I let you have it back?" he asked. "Fuck no!"


Giving one last powerful lunge, Ty drove the two foot blade to the hilt in Winston's soft, round navel. The handle punched against Winston's abdomen as the blade ripped through his muscular body. Ty let the sword go and stood watching Winston's reaction.


Winston gasped and recoiled with pain and horror. Throwing his head back he screamed with pain. The sword was showing nothing but the handle in his abdomen. Almost a foot and a half of blade stood out from his back. Winston could feel the blood run down his back to his jeans. Opening his eyes, he was shocked to see Tyler Briggs pulling his swollen pecker from his pants. He suddenly became aware of the fact that his own sex was beginning to swell.

Unable to move without a great deal of pain, Winston struggled to stay standing. Ty stepped toward him. As he stood closer Ty started unfastening Winston's pants. Reaching inside, he pulled Winston's swelling cock out of his pants. The feel of another man touching his penis made him shudder. Ty was gentle but firm. He wanted to send Winston home the right way.


Stroking Winston's manhood, and his own, Ty kept watching into Winston's eyes. Slowly, a subtle chance took place. The fear left and the unmistakable look of sensual, erotic pleasure washed over Winston's face. Ty could tell that he was almost to the point of climax. He stopped.


Grabbing the handle of the sword, he slowly pulled the blade out of his gut. As the blade emerged, Winston's sex exploded in a white hot eruption of pure orgasmic pleasure. His body shook and convulsed with the erotic spasms. His thick semen shot upward and stuck to Ty's chest. Ty dropped to his knees and took Winston's throbbing cock into his mouth. Sucking and stroking Winston's shuddering body convulsed violently with the erotic sensations that had turned his fear and pain into the most erotic pleasure he could possibly imagine. Ty tasted the thick, salty fluid as it pumped against the back of his throat. He could also taste blood as it ran down from Ty's skewered navel. As Winston collapsed to the ground and his sex fired it's last hot volley into Ty's waiting mouth, Ty lowered his body to the ground. Winston looked up into Ty's deep eyes. He no longer feared Ty. He no longer feared death.


Ty gently stroked Winston's sides with his hands. Moving upward, he kissed Winston's abs, kissing Winston's abdominal muscles, kissing his chest, his neck. Arriving at his mouth, Ty kissed Winston on the mouth. Winston could taste his own cum - and blood as Ty's tongue wrapped itself around Winston's. Slowly, Ty positioned himself so that his own swollen member was in position. Suddenly, Winston's eyes widened with renewed pain as Ty drove his manhood deep into his navel wound. He could feel the thick fleshy shaft as it tore into and shoved his intestines. He tightened his stomach against the pain. The tightening muscles squeezing Ty's shaft served to excite him all the more. Thrust after thrust after thrust, Ty rammed his manhood into the artificial orifice. All pain had swept away as the curious sensations of death washed over Winston. He was being raped, but he did not care. He was dieing, but he did not care. His own stiff member was being pressed between Ty's jeans-clad legs. He shuddered one last time as he came to one final climax. He could feel Ty's hot jism pour into his waiting abdomen. His muscles squeezed as tightly as they could against Ty's shaft. Ty groaned with pleasure and excitement, pumping his member dry.


Finished at last, Ty withdrew his bloody shaft from the tight hole. Blood and cum oozed out and ran down over Winston's sides. His labored breathing rattled in his throat. Ty reached down and picked up Winston's sword. As Winston watched, Ty placed it over his heart. Nodding to Ty, Winston took one last breath and held it.


As Ty shoved downward, the blade ripped into Winston's chest, through his heart and out through his back and into the ground. Winston barely felt the pain. Slowly the cold sensations of death crept inward from his extremities.


"That was HOT!" Ty said out loud. Ty tried to speak but could not, He smiled weakly. Ty pulled the blade from Winston's chest. Blood spurted from the wound. Ty thrust the blade back into Winston's chest. The tortured heart, now ripped almost in two, stopped. Winston's eyes faded and blood and air bubbled from his throat and the double chest wound.


Ty looked down at his bloodied, cum splattered body. He was satisfied. Another job well done.


"Damn, I love this job!"

---

The Crossbow The Crossbow - Kyle Carver




Sonny stood watching Tim as he leveled his sights on the target. Imagining himself standing there as the target, he listened as the bolt hit the target with a satisfying *thunk*. Walking to the target they counted up the score and filled out their scorecards.


"Did you ever think about what it might feel like to be shot with one of these arrows?" Sonny asked as they retrieved them from the thick padded target.


"Bolts, Sonny, they are called bolts with a crossbow. Arrows are generally longer. They are arrows but they're called that because they're made different. Anyway you wouldn't want to find out." Tim answered.


"OK bolt. Still, I think I would." Sonny said, feeling the tip of one of the target arrows. "It's not exactly like getting shot with a broad head, more like a bullet, small hole, long smooth shaft, and sexy - cool."


"Sexy!?" Tim yipped. "What the hell are you talking about - sexy?"


"Haven't you ever watched a movie where a cowboy or soldier gets shot in the gut with an arrow? He stands there a few seconds, clutching the shaft, grimacing with pain, and then topples over - dead?" Sonny asked.


"Yeah, so what's so damned sexy about that?" Tim asked. "Don't tell me that you never felt even a little aroused watching some guy taking it in the gut?"


"I guess I never thought of it that way. I suppose that since you put it like that, I have kinda thought about it in a way." Tim admitted.


"How about the rest? Didn't you ever hope some guy would get it with an arrow, or sword and even feel a little aroused when it happened?" Tim was quiet. They looked at each other for a long time until Sonny looked down and spotted Tim's crotch.


"Well, I'd say the jig's up, Tim, among other things." Sonny said grinning and pointing at the bulge in Tim's jeans. "Never got even a little horny over some guy taking it in the gut, eh?"


Tim's face reddened. Pointing to Sonny's mound of flesh in his own jeans, Tim said, "You've got a lot to talk about, you've got quite a hard-on started there yourself."


"I admitted it. I get turned on by guys getting it in the gut with arrows. You're the one that was trying to hide it. Ol' Peter there had other ideas." he chuckled. "Why not admit it?"


"It's not something I would feel right about talking about." He admitted. "I've always liked those kinds of scenes, I've even got a collection of pictures that I've put together, but I never felt right about telling anybody about it. I figured people would think I was weird or something."


"Not at all," Sonny said, "I think it's quite normal. I have my own pictures at home too."


Feeling a little relived, Tim started opening up to Sonny about his "secret" feeling, glad to be able to talk about it to somebody. "I imagine that the target is a person when I shoot." Tim said in a low voice. They were the only people there in Tim's back yard, but he still did not feel right about saying it very loud.


"Cool," Sonny said, "I imagine that I'm standing down there in front of the target. You take aim and shoot - Unnnggghhh! Right in my belly button!"


Tim's bulge was beginning to hurt. He never imagined that he would be so aroused by talking to another guy about this! Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he squirmed, trying to move things around in his jeans to a more comfortable position.


Sonny was getting harder too. His pulse was racing and he could hear it pounding in his ears. He made a decision. "Tim," he said, "I want you to do me."


"What? 'Do' you? What the hell do you mean by that?"


"Just that. I want you to shoot me with arrows, bolts - whatever. Use me as a target."


The idea appealed to Tim. He never would have even considered it but they both were feeling a fever that they had never felt before. His heart pounding, he said, "Are you sure?"


"Damn straight," he said, grabbing his rock hard crotch. "I think that would be the coolest thing - Yeah! Three arrows. Can you do it?"


"Three?" He asked. "Yeah, three. First one in the belly button. Wait a few seconds, and shoot another, this one high, maybe in the shoulder, then wait. I want the feel of shooting my wad without ever having touched my cock. Let it go all by itself. Guys do that when they are dying violent deaths. The body tries to spread it's seed one last time! The whole body tries to make it happen. It turns your nervous system inside out. Guys injured in the service sometimes experience this and live." He gasped for breath. "I hear that is one of the wildest possible sexual highs. I want that."


Nearly breathless himself, Tim asked "That's two bolts. What about the third?" "In the heart, man. I want the last arrow to punch through my heart just as the last shot of cum fires. I think that would be the coolest of all!" Sweat trickled down Sonny's face as he spoke. Both young men were nearly insane with a wild lust to do this. Tim shook as he thought about it, Sonny was almost hyperventilating. His scalp tingled and his ears buzzed as he anticipated finally experiencing his life-long fantasy.


"This is crazy!" Tim said. "Lets do it!"


"All RIGHT!" Sonny said. Giving Tim the high five.


They started planning just how it would be done. After several ideas and rejections by one or the other, Sonny suggested that he just walk around in the back yard and Tim could pretend to be an assassin stalking his prey. He would take a shot when he was ready. No warning. Indians never warned the cavalry soldiers before they shot them. It would be so much hotter this way.


Sonny walked down to the target. Standing there, he peeled his tee shirt off and rubbed his belly. Spreading the shirt out on target, he pointed to it and Tim let his first arrow fly. Striking the tee shirt right where Sonny's navel would have been. Sonny jumped as the shirt took the arrow.


"Perfect!" he said, looking at the hit. He fondled his navel thinking about what he was about to feel. Walking from place to place, he was beginning to gat a little afraid that Tim might have lost his nerve and maybe, was not going to do it.


As he walked across in front of the tennis court net, his wait was suddenly over.


At first Sonny thought that Tom might have thrown something that hit him in the stomach, but as he looked down at his stomach, he could see that he had been shot squarely in the navel! In a couple more seconds he started to feel the deep, throbbing pain that emanated from his intestines.


Putting his hand on his belly, he felt the shaft as it moved, deep inside his abdomen. Pressing and releasing, he found that he had control of the amount of pain that he felt. There was almost no blood at all. The shaft filled the small hole at the bottom of his navel. He could feel a prickly tingle inside him that was unlike anything he had ever felt before. He gingerly touched the shaft a few times, each time a little harder. The shaft throbbed with each heartbeat as did the deep waves of pain. His sex throbbed and ached now, almost beyond tolerance. He was just about to say something to Tim when the second bolt struck him in the shoulder.


"Unnnggghhh!" he grunted as the pain of the arrow exploded in his shoulder. There was no question! He was shot!. The pain was intense. The arrow had grazed his collar bone and embedded itself in his shoulder blade. Real pain!


He found that he could not move his left hand, now holding his abdomen around the bolt in his navel. Reaching across with his right hand, he felt the area around the wound. "God, that hurts." he said to himself. He had not expected this much pain. As he strained against the pain, blood started to trickle from both wounds. His exertion raised his blood pressure and he was now bleeding.


As he inhaled, powerful waves of pain tore down through his shoulder and made his abdominal muscles contract. His every breath sent agonizing waves of pain through his whole being.


Suddenly his sex started firing. He felt the tightest squeeze he had ever felt in his groin as his testicles emptied themselves. His powerful contractions ejected hot, thick semen into his jeans. He could feel the hot semen begin to run down over his balls. He moved and the slick fluid made his manhood slide to a new position, causing another round of hot fluid to erupt. The slippery semen felt hot and just a little movement of his body caused things to slide around inside his jeans. He was glad that he had decided to wear no underwear today.


He started to do several pelvic thrusts, moving his shaft against the coarse denim behind his zipper. Stimulated by the sensation, he became lost in what was happening. Nothing else mattered anymore. He was in a paradise that he had only dreamed of, and it was a thousand times more hot than he had ever imagined.


Pumped completely dry, his shaft still tried to shoot. He was feeling a delightful agony as his sex tried to find more to fire. He felt his glands straining, trying to force yet another shot out. He shuddered as the ache within him started to deepen. His shoulder was throbbing and the bolt in his abdomen throbbed with each ejaculation. His abdominal muscles squeezed tight around the shaft in his navel. Each breath brought renewed pleasure/pain as his body screamed out for release.


Suddenly Sonny's mind came back to reality. He realized that Tim was watching and waiting for the moment that he shot his last shot of cum. He was told to shoot for the heart as the last shot fired. Suddenly he felt a rush of terror, knowing that his life was going to come to a sudden, painful end. Opening his eyes from his deep ecstasy, he saw Tim standing about ten feet away, crossbow loaded, cocked and aimed at his chest. Tim's fly had been opened and he could see Tim stroking himself as he watched Sonny weaken. Sonny had dropped to his knees, still swiveling his hips, slipping his still rigid member around inside his jeans. Tim could see the dark stain soaking through the faded denim, marking the fact that Sonny had gotten at least part of his wish. His mind reeled at the wild rush of sensations that flooded through it. Endorphins, the body's natural morphine-like defense against pain, flooded his system. He was in the middle of the highest high he had ever felt. Not wanting it to end yet, he tried to make Tim believe that he was still pumping... A sudden deep fear started to wash through Sonny as he realized that he did not want to die. He wanted this to last forever. He decided to try to tell Tim that he wanted to live to do this again. Opening his eyes again, he saw the crossbow aimed at his chest. Tim was sweating and shaking. He was watching for some sign from Sonny that it was time. Holding on as long as he could, trying not to climax before the time he had chosen, he ached inside. Watching Sonny's closed eyes and his body movements, he could tell that he was deep in paradise.


Suddenly Sonny's eyes opened. He looked directly at Tim as he leveled his crossbow at Sonny's bare chest. Hoping that he could hold on for a few seconds after he was shot, Tim went over their plan in his mind again. He was waiting for the sign that Sonny had come to the end of his climax. It looked like Sonny was trying to speak. "This is it!" he said to himself. Squeezing the trigger of the crossbow, he let the bolt fly.


"Unnnggghhh!" Sonny grunted. The shock of the impact sat him back so that he sat on his heels. He could feel the black shaft that had torn through his heart. It moved with each heartbeat, not like the slight pulsation of the shaft in his navel, this was definite and strong. He had wanted to wait but now he was feeling a new wave of pain and pleasure. His mind reeled at the powerful rush of adrenaline and endorphins surging through his body. His testosterone levels peaked. His muscles hardened and every blood vessel stood out in his neck, arms and across his chest. He was shaking and starting to convulse with the pain. His senses were again turned inward and nothing outside seemed to matter.


"Sonny!, Sonny!" He heard his name. Feeling a poke in his chest, he opened his eyes. Standing right in front of him, Tim stood close. Holding the crossbow, again loaded with a fresh bolt, he was offering the cross bow to him. He was holding it so that all Sonny needed to do was pull the rigger and the bolt would strike Tim right through the heart. Tim nodded as recognition flashed in Sonny's eyes. Feeling incredibly weak, Sonny reached for the trigger.


"Do it, Sonny. I'm ready." Tim pleaded.


Feeling the trigger on his finger, Sonny watched as Tim positioned the crossbow to aim directly at his now bare chested heart. Tim, satisfied with the position, pulled his tee shirt up almost to his neck and nodded to Sonny.


Squeezing the trigger, Sonny watched as the bolt plunged into Tim's chest almost all the way to the feathers. The impact seemed to punch Tim backwards. He dropped the crossbow to the ground and stumbled back, falling flat on his back on the ground. Grabbing for the shaft with both hands, Tim groaned loudly. Sonny could see Tim's turgid shaft standing erect out of his unfastened jeans. Tim grabbed his manhood with his right hand, just as it exploded into action. Thick white gobs shot upward, arced over the top and splatted onto Tim's bare chest. Some of the semen landed on the barely four inches of arrow shaft that still protruded out from his heaving chest. Sonny was aroused afresh by the erotic scene before him. Tim's thick member shot repeatedly. Sonny was amazed at the sheer volume of cum that gushed out. Tim was shaking badly. The powerful ejaculations and the hard landing on his back with the arrow sticking out of his back had ripped his heart open. Blood began spurting out around the shaft of the bolt in his chest. Gobs of semen rode rivers of crimson down across his chest and onto the ground.

Sonny convulsed as the death throes started to overtake him.. His erect member once again found fluid to pump and it started all over again. He could feel blood rising up in his throat as his member started pumping into his jeans again. Groping for his zipper, Sonny pulled his long thick member out of his pants. Thick, sticky fluid covered his hand as he freed his trapped member. Thick, clear fluid was gushing out. Like a fountain of pre-cum Sonny was amazed that he was again ejaculating. His chest ached and burned. His balls felt like they were trying to explode and his blood vessels expanded even more.


Tim lay on the ground enraptured in ecstatic bliss. He could see Sonny, still moving and holding his huge cock. Clear, honey-thick fluid oozed out as he stroked himself. Squeezing himself, Tim felt his sex pumping his last drops of vital fluids out through his member. Convulsing and jerking, he felt his heart being torn by the bolt that had gone all the way in through his chest. The point had struck the ground when he fell and the shaft was bent inside him as he lay helpless on the ground. Sonny was right! This was the wildest ride he had ever been on. He never felt like this about pain before. He relished each wave as it washed over his being. His heart only able to supply a small amount of blood, pumped harder. The pounding organ sent shock waves of pain to his arms, his legs and his back. His head throbbed and he was getting dizzy. As the world swirled around him he grabbed his manhood with both hands and massaged and squeezed his cock and balls. Violent spasms rocked his being as he sat halfway up and fell back down repeatedly, each time falling on the crossbow bolt where it protruded from his back.


Feeling himself beginning to die, and loose consciousness for the last time, he tried to look at Sonny. Sonny was convulsing rhythmically as he lay back. still on his knees and leaning backwards on his heels, he was folded over backwards until the tip of the bolt jammed into the ground. Each time it hit, he raised up again, only to fall back again. As he raised up he opened his eyes. He spotted Tim, who was looking at him. Tim raised his hand in a thumbs-up. Sonny smiled weakly and raised his thumb. Holding himself up as much as he could, he could feel his body growing cold. All feeling faded away and he felt like he was floating. A strange darkness started moving in from all sides.


Tim looked as Sonny lay back for the last time. He saw the three bolts sticking out of his body, the one in his chest had stopped moving. his swollen manhood still stood firm, still oozing that clear fluid that ran down slowly like wax down the sides of a burning candle. He was getting too weak. Falling back for the last time, he felt the shaft push against the wound through his heart. The throbbing pain in his chest stopped. Blood gurgled up in his throat and ran down his cheek into his ear. His pain was gone, His hands fell limply to his sides. The same darkness that wrapped itself around Sonny now folded itself over Tim. "Good bye," he thought "good bye my friend.... See you soon......"

---

Sandy and Jack Sandy and Jack - Kyle Carver



Sandy pulled the weapon from it's scabbard. Jack's eyes widened..

"Wow!" he breathed, "What is it? A short sword, a long dagger?"

"Not sure, the guy that sold it to me said it was in some collection. He needed the money and I really loved it." Sandy caressed the long silvery blade. Touching the very sharp point, he reacted with surprise at the keen edge and point.


"This would glide right through you." Sandy said. "If I had to go I would like this thing run right through me."


"Really?" Jack asked.


"Imagine the feeling," Sandy continued, "You're standing there and some guy presses this into your gut, you would have no time to react, just stand there and watch as he drives it in until the point comes out your back." Sandy rubbed his bare belly, wearing one of those midriff shirts, he looked smooth and cool. Jack looked at his belly and his mind raced at the thought. His sex began to harden at the thought. He thought that he could see Sandy's bulge growing too.


"This really turns me on!" Jack blurted out. He never thought that he would admit this to anyone, he had always been turned on by movie scenes where guys got stabbed, shot with arrows or spears, wow!


"I've thought about this kind of thing a lot." Sandy admitted. I am turned on by guys getting it in the gut, chest, even getting it through the back."


"Can I see it?" Jack asked.


"Sure." Sandy said handing him the weapon, handle first.


"Taking the handle in my hand like that feels so cool, makes me want to run you through, just to know what it would feel like." Sandy's manhood began to throb in his jeans. Imagining the sleek blade entering his soft flesh really was getting to be more of a turn on than he could have imagined. Having Jack standing in front of him, holding the weapon with the sharp point only a couple of inches from his tender belly.


"This is too much!" he admitted. "It would be so cool if you just shoved it through me. Just to do it."


Jack's hands were beginning to shake. The long, sharp weapon, the vulnerable, hard young body just begging to be invaded with the beautiful, cold steel shaft. Sandy rubbed his belly and closed his eyes.


"Too bad it's not legal." Sandy said. His voice was almost a moan. Jack felt his balls tingle. "Oh God, I never felt anything like this before." Jack gasped.


Sandy's eyes snapped open. Jack was rubbing his own belly, sweat was forming on his tanned body. He still held the sword by the handle but the point had touched Sandy's tender abdomen.


"Ooohh. That felt wild! Do that again." Sandy begged.


Jack touched the sharp point to Sandy's abdomen. He watched as Sandy's body quivered. Goose bumps raised on both youth's arms.


Sandy's senses could take it no more. His stomach knotted as he began to feel his testicles burning. He was going to have to do something soon or he was going to blow a load in his jeans.


The sensations exploded unexpectedly. The shockwave of pain searing through his abdomen, the pain of the blade exiting his back, the shuddering gasp, Jack's awed, and confused expression. He had been stabbed!


Stumbling back against a railing, Sandy looked with shock at the handle protruding from his gut.


Jack had let go of the handle and was standing, mouth gaping open, looking at what he had done.


"Oh God, Oh God!" He gasped, "I'm sorry, Oh my God, I'm sorry."


Sandy grasped for the blade. Pulling on the handle, it easily slipped out of the wound a few inches, his body shuddered at the pain. Pulling the blade back in his gut, he started to crave the powerful sensations it produced.


"Here," he said, "Push it in and out, real slow."


Jack couldn't believe it. He grabbed the handle and shoved it in slowly until the hilt pressed against Sandy's tanned belly. Sandy leaned against the railing and breathed heavily as the blade entered his body again. Pulling, he was amazed at the ease that the blade glided with. He began to speed up the rhythm. In - out -in - out - in.


"Finish it," Sandy gasped. "Through the heart." He slid to the floor. As he fell, the blade came completely out of his body.


"Do it here," Sandy urged touching his right side near the bottom of the rib cage. "Stick it in here, go slow, clean through the heart."


"Oh God, Ok, I'll do it." Jack answered.


His hands were shaking badly. He stuck the point of the long weapon into Sandy's side. Sandy gasped as the blade continued in. Bile started leaking out through the wound as he continued slowly in. Sandy could feel the blade cutting it's way through his liver, stomach and piercing his lungs. Any moment now he would feel the sharp steel enter his pounding heart. Jack's shaking hands added to the sensuality. His sex exploded in his jeans, convulsing and throbbing, searing waves of sexual energy enveloped his being. "Ohhhh." He moaned. Jack was having his own problems. His crotch hurt.. His member wanted out of the tight confines, his balls were on fire and every nerve in his body tingled with a strange sensation.


The point of the blade touched Sandy's heart. A new wave of terror and ecstasy washed over Sandy's body. Each pounding beat cut and tore at the vital tissue, shredding the pump to a useless mass of flesh. Sudden waves of cold and darkness washed over Sandy's being. It was over. The darkness and cold welcomed him.


Jack watched as Sandy's stare went vacant. He was awed by the sensations he was feeling. Twisting on the weapon, he saw no reaction from Sandy's still body. The stomach wound no longer bled.


Vague thoughts of reality started to wash into his mind. Arrest, trial, guilty of murder. Life in prison? Death penalty?


"NO" he screamed, ripping the blade from Sandy's body. "NO. They won't do that, I won't let them."


Placing the point of the weapon against his upper abdomen, at the base of the ribs, he looked at Sandy's bloody corpse. "Hold on, Sandy." He said. "I'm coming."


Pulling with all his might, Jack drew the blade deep into his body. Gasping at the pain, he felt the shaft pierce his heart. His sex exploded with incredible violence. Volley after volley fired as he convulsed, kneeling at Sandy's side. Suddenly he stiffened. His body rigid with shock toppled over forward onto Sandy's, driving the point out through his back just inches below his neck.


Twitching and jerking, his body thrashed for only a few moments before laying still.


In the darkness, Jack started searching for his friend.


-End-

---

Military Brawl Military Brawl - Brutal Merc
Fuck, man! This tough Marine here is getting bigger every day...


This whole workout gets me real pumped, fuckin gargantuan biceps bursting my tee shrit sleeves like cannon balls! And these massive 48" pec slabs when I see them in the mirror! I almost shoot my load with this awesome power I'm getting into!


And the fights, man, what a major turn on! Yesterday a cocky Ranger bastard challenged me to a fight, one of those that only ends with the total destruction of one of the opponents. . .


The match took place in an abandoned barn and most of both the ranger's buds and mine were the audience. Fuck man, you could feel that testosterone in the air, aroused violent males in uniform wanting so bad to get each other that they all had huge bulges in their camos.


When I got there the Ranger bastard was already at the center of the barn, exhibing his powerful tanned v shaped torso, hugely muscled. Blond buzz cut hair gave him a wild look, masculine as hell. Shit, my hard marine cock stiffened immediately in my camos.


"Hey Marine pussy!" he taunted, "Tonite I'm gonna have my boots polished with your fuckin blood! Gonna tear you apart and shine my belt buckle with your shredded USMC uniform!"


Than I saw he was wearing a wide leather belt on his camos with a huge cowboy buckle, just like Dolph Lundgren in Universal Soldier!


" I'll fuck you up, soldier boy!" I snarled back, "Gonna break every fuckin bone of that body, sucker, and rip your head off! Stare at your Destroyer, fucker!" - and I ripped my tee shirt to shreds with both hands.


"Fuck!" Those guys in the audience shout excited

"Fucking huge, man!"

"Hey Hercules!"

"This guy is pure Marine Meat!"


Even the Ranger stared in disbelief of what he saw!


We both circled around like two lions in heat fighting for supremacy. Suddenly the Ranger kicked me with his big boot on my legs and I went down. We rolled entangled, boots locked furiously punching each other in wild rage, smashing our jaws and noses in the brutal fight. Two muscle towers destroying each other, fuckin huge alpha males trying to overpower the other! All the guys shout their insults, rubbing their crotches with uncontrolable urges!


The blond ranger fucker reached to get my balls! He clamped me in a strong vice-like grip and I screamed like crazy, feeling my manhood being crushed like that. The motherfucker laughed sadistically :


"So, big marine boy, you're getting hard with this fight, huh? How about I crush your balls right here in front of your buddies?!"


I felt a wave of testosterone fill my muscles and GGGGRRRRRRRRRR! I applied a brutal bearhug to that son of a bitch, raising him in the air, boots spasming. Could feel his huge cowboy belt buckle pressed against my 6 pac like a cattle iron carving my muscled flesh! He was pounding my skull hard, trying to get free from my lethal embrace but I just keep pressssssssssssssssssssssing his lower back, ruining his spine slowly!


"How about now, Ranger stud? Ready to be broken in front of your buddies?!"


The fucker just could shout and groan, trying to release that massive hold, flexing his muscles to the max in order to create some space but no way, his ribs started to snap in a loud CCRRRACCC! and drops of blood started pouring from his mouth.


"Hold, tiger, I'm not done yet with you!" I said, and I grabbed his big boots and his huge belt buckle and lifted him like a barbell over my head, my boots spread apart to take all that brute's weight. The guys watchin couldn' t hold anymore their raging hardons and got into a savage brawl, fighting, horny Rangers colliding with aroused Marines, big muscle studs ripping their uniforms into shreds, trying to release that fuckin pressure.


That 's when I drove the Ranger down , breakin his spine in two over my knee. Fuckin brutal backbreaker, his spine just produced a loud CCCCRRRRRRRRRRRAACCCCC! and the huge ranger roared like a lion , his boots convulsing in violent spasms. And, what the fuck?!, his camos get wet in the crotch!! The motherfucker was oozing precum with all the excitement of being brutalized by so powerful a Marine!


With that sight I get more and more over excited , adrenaline running in my veins. Fuck! Was I getting gigantic! I slammed the tough ranger to the floor and hit double by my huge guns provoking shouts in the virile audience. One blond ranger stood up and got into me, grabbing my biceps with both hands in order to feel the power. The poor bastard couldn't avoid cumming copiously in his camos, the whole muscled body convulsing over his spread eagle boots!!!!


Meanwhile the Ranger was in serious trouble, broken and defeated at my Marine's boots. I raise my powerful leg and BAMMMMMMMMMMMMM!

riffled it to the ranger's abs making his hugebelt buckle to get shoved inside his steel hard 6 pac like he has been shot with a missile! I felt my heavy boot slide thru his muscle gut and go into his innards, pulverizing his intestines, exploding his liver and bladder!!!! His own belt buckle was brutalizing the fuckin ranger! At that very moment he pissed his camos in a river of hot bloody piss, mixed with death cum, clawing my lethal boot with both hands, desperate to survive.


Too late, fuckin bastard! Death throes took care of his broken body, his boots carving the floor in agonizing spasms but, worse than this,his own buddies, enraged by this dishonorable defeat, took the once powerful ranger and started to tear him apart in a sadistic snuff feast. They grabbed his big boots, his wide open muscled arms , his head and ,all at once, they mangled the huge ranger stud, drawing his arms and legs from their sockets . One of them even took off the ranger's belt buckle and with that steel spiked plate split his skull wide open to his square jaw, brains flying all over!


My marine buds, seeing that, grabbed some pitchforks and attacked those brutal rangers, stabbing them in their chests, thighs, throats and in those huge bulges in their crotches. The rangers tried to resist the savage assault, using the booted legs and arms of the mangled Ranger like weapons. But no way ! The tough USMC studs prove their supremacy and in less then 5 minutes they have massacred all the muscled rangers! Puddles of thick cum stained the uniforms of both forces and the survivors gave free release to their sexual pressure, shooting huge endless loads over the defeated bodies of their rivals!


Brutal Merc - brutalmerc@gmail.com



By Brutal Merc
The Devil's Hands The Devil's Hands - Brutal Merc


As they looked at each other's broad, muscular shoulders, huge chests with luscious tits, abdominal muscles of steel, the two young motherfucker's began to curse each other.  Each of them had gorgeous arms, their pride and joy!  Dave's measured twenty inches, and Dan's were not far behind at nineteen inches.  They were perfect boulders of death, rocks of granite muscle just waiting for a muscular throat to crush!  And between their legs was the measure of their manhood!  Dave's cock measured a thick ten inches, while Dan's measured nine!  Often after a particularly hot session of their incestuous relationship, they would rub their dicks sensuously against each other until their horse profanities and curses rang through the room, signaling a cum eruption that was truly unbelievable.  Both boys could shoot ropes and streams of cum, soaking each other in their forbidden man juice.  Then they would clean each other off, slurping the gobs of cum over each other's muscled bodies.  Quite often Dave would piss in Dan's mouth, or they would spray each other with their warm piss fluid.  Yes, sex was the only thing those arrogant bastards thought of.  They couldn't get enough of it or each other!
Both boys were champion bodybuilders, and both had won several teenage bodybuilding contests, out classing the competition totally!  They always wore the skimpiest of posing briefs, in order to show off their massive cocks, which were large even when not aroused.  But it never failed!  No matter what competition they were in, when they were announced as the winners, they couldn't help but get rock hard during the final posing, their pieces of meat jutting straight our from their briefs.  Smiling in utter contempt at the cheering audience, they would thrust their hips as far forward as possible, to show their massive erections!

  At one completion, they were declared joint winners.  It was an all male audience, both gay and straight, but all the men nevertheless were turned on by the beauty of these two motherfuckers.  At the final pose, Dan pulled down Dave's briefs and proceed to give him a blow job as Dave continued to pose!  The crowd went wild and soon many of the men were doing the same!  Dave blew his huge load all over Dan, who then stood and blew his load on Dave.  Contemptuously giving the drooling crowd the finger, they deep kissed and walked off hand in had to their dressing room.  For the next several hours, other bodybuilders and trainers were treated to a suck and fuck fest by the two brothers!  Dave and Dan showed their superiority over the others by berating them and taunting them, totally arrogant and egotistical.  One muscled contestant, as they neared the end of their orgy, had dared to whisper "faggots!"  They silenced him with a beating that left the stud in the hospital for a month, never to pose again!  They were beauties on the outside, but black as death on the inside!

For they had a great teacher in their father Ray!  An arrogant, egotistical bastard, the thirty seven year old Marine had trained up his sons in the way they should go, to become champion death fighters as he had!  Tall, dark, stunningly handsome, incredibly muscular, strong and sexual, this motherfucker let nothing stand in his way, not even the mother of his sons.  He hated and despised women, and when the cunt had done her duty, he conveniently, with the help of his fight buddies, arranged an accident!  Now he was alone with his two sons, to use as he saw fit!
Their world of lust for each other was beyond incest!  It had it's own special arena of masculine sex.  Ray taught his sons the beauty of man to man, male to male sex at the earliest age he could.  From near infancy, the boys slept with him, experienced the thrill and power of his god like body, his huge hairy chest, his twenty one inch guns, his muscled thighs.  And of course, his cock!  From their young years, they saw its majestic beauty, all ten inches of it, as Ray shot his loads of cum over his sons, or into their mouths, his raw profanities quickly becoming soul damning blasphemies as he paved their way to the hell they deserved!  He taught them immorality and amorality, so as the young men grew, they were as sick and as perverted as their deadly father!

As Dave and Dan physically matured, they learned how to take the fullness of Ray's prick into their young mouths, and soon up their hot young asses.  As Ray fucked Dave, Dan would suck Dave's cock and the three of them would explode in orgasmic frenzy!  Soon, the steroids and body building began.  Quickly their bodies burst, turning them into muscleboys of beauty.  Ray was a vicious and hard teacher, and each boy received horrific beatings for not keeping up.  But nevertheless, they adored him and as they got older, and they continued to please Ray, the beatings stopped and were replaced by incomparable sessions of the hottest sex imaginable!  For Ray, who had given himself over to his darkest side, these times were what true perversion was all about.  Jesus fucking' christ, those boys would be his greatest achievement of blasphemy he could undertake!

Ray was no stranger to violence and death.  As a Marine, he was the champion of the underground death fights, and he was undefeated.  Dozens of young men had died at his hands, and he had fucked all of those magnificent dead bodies!  Perverted military men with rich friends would hire him for private parties where he would take out a hunky muscleboy, after wasting his young body.  With his neck snapped or crushed by Ray, the young stud was then the fuck toy for the depraved Marine.  He would take the stud or studs off to a private room, where for hours he would feast on the body in a delirium of orgasmic sex!  For Ray, fucking the dead ass of a man he had just murdered was the height of male power and dominance!  More and more he disdained sex with other living male partners and the few unfortunate ones who did encounter him were taken away and murdered!  Now, for Ray, living men were meant to be killed, and dead men were meant to be fucked!
Once in a hot snuff fest, again privately arranged, Ray watched a drop dead gorgeous black muscle hunk take out an equally beautiful spic.  Ray's cock hardened into steel as he watched the rolling, bouncing muscles of the two motherfuckers, struggling for their lives!  When the black hunk put the spic in a powerful sleeper, Ray grinned in anticipation. It was all over now.  Sure enough, the motherfucking black hunk flexed his bicep against the studs neck, and the spic was soon unconscious.  But it didn't stop there!  Flexing with all his might, he turned the hold into a death sleeper, crushing the neck and throat of the stud until the rich blood flowed from the dead spic's mouth.  Throwing the body to the floor, the black stud's twelve inch cock plunged into the ass of the dead man, and as his profanities rang through the air, he fucked the dead ass maniacally, cumming into the body almost immediately.  Stepping back, he motioned for Ray to join in and Ray's ten incher soon felt the warm dead shit hole.  Oozing with the black killer's cum, the fuck hole was well lubricated for the depraved Ray, and he fucked it with the strength of more than one man!

Very soon, again at a private session, Ray and several other Marine studs, horny as hell, had gathered to watch Ray fist fuck the very same black stud who had killed the spic.  He had a gorgeous black ass and Ray had fisted it many time.  Hanging in a sling, the goddamned motherfucker took the fists of all the Marine studs, some fisting him right up to the elbow!  Then it was Ray's turn.  He expertly fisted the black ape, who cried in sexual delirium as Ray's arm went right up to the elbow.  But the huge black gorilla screamed as Ray's arm continued all the way to his fucking goddamned shoulder!!  Frothing at the mouth, the other Marine's, now totally naked, shouted their profane curses at the black stud and the hunky Ray fisting his black ass!

Ray moved his arm in and out slowly as the black bitch moaned and groaned in hot lust.  Just then, his twelve inch ape cock shot it's fucking hot load, spurting and shooting up over the panting Marines.  Ray, who was standing slightly above the big black hunk who was hanging in the sling, grinned evilly at the other men.
Deep inside the doomed black bastard's body, he opened his fist!

"AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!  OH MY GOD, OH FUCKING CHRIST!  STOP!  NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!

Howling in absolute agony, the tortured stud struggled as then Ray's hand and arm began ripping apart the poor bastard's intestines, until the blood began to flow out of his ass, past Ray's arm.  Now terrible screams of pain spewed from the black ape's mouth and his fantastic muscular rock hard body shook and writhed.  Ray began to curse and blaspheme, as did the other Marine's, as he violently ripped as far as he could into the dying bastard's body.  Shot's of hot white cum began to erupt on his ebony toned body, as man after man popped his huge load of hot fucking man juice!  Laughing and cursing, Ray slowly began to pull his massive, muscular arm from the black bastard's ass.  Shuddering, the black ape passed out, and as Ray withdrew his blood and gore covered arm, blood gushed and poured from the black ass, and streamed to the floor.

Flexing his huge biceps, Ray reared back and plunged his ten inch prick into the hole and began to pound that fucking black ass.  For almost ten minutes he raped that hot near dead body, and the other men around him cheered him on, their own cocks hard again.  As Ray fucked harder, man after fucking man again shot his huge, streaming loads of cum over Ray and the dying, tortured body.  Roaring curses and blasphemies, Ray pumped faster until he screamed!

"AHHHHHH!!  FUCKING GOD, GODDAM ME TO HELL!!  JESUS MOTHERFUCKING CHRIST!  FUCKING GOD!!  FUCK FUCK!!  AAAHHH, FOR CHRIST'S COCKSUCKING FUCKING SAKE!!

His magnificent body covered in sweat and blood, Ray unloaded his male jism into the dying body of the beautiful black hunk stud.  For five fucking minutes he unloaded his cum, ropes and streams of it flowing into the dead body.  As he withdrew from the ass, the other men cheered and high fived him.  They all agreed, this was the best fist fucking, gut destroying, fuck fest killing ever.
Ray smiled at his Marine buddies.  "Let's finish this job!"  Leaning forward, he grabbed  the black fucker's head and pulled it straight back.  With his twenty one inch guns flexed to the max, he snapped the black corpse's neck with a loud CRACK!  Lying heavily in the sling, now just a thing, the black apes body glistened in blood, sweat and cum.  Ray flexed over the body, and spat on it contemptuously.  As he strode away, the MP's arrived to clean up the mess and haul away the body.  An "accident" would be arranged to cover the murderous actions!

And so Ray taught these lessons to his muscular, hedonistic sons!  For they too, had experienced the thrill of fucking a dead body already in their young lives!  Ray had decided they must be exposed to his view of the highest pinnacle of sexual experience.  When Dave was sixteen and Dan was fifteen, they witnessed their splendid bodied father waste a young stud right in front of them in a snuff feast of horrifying violence!  Standing near to the murdering Ray, their huge cocks in full erection, they watched their father destroy the other stud, totally wasting his own beautiful body.  As Ray fastened his bicep of death around the throat of his victim, Dave threw himself down on on the doomed stud's dick, while Dan sucked his Dad's. In just a few moments, the dying fucker's cock exploded in a huge cum load all over Dave's chest! Roaring blasphemous curses, Rays granite bicep tightened all the way into the other man's throat, until the unmistakable sound of PSST! signaled that his neck and throat were totally crushed!  Hurling the corpse to the floor, Ray shoot his streaming load over the dead body, and Dave and Dan, cursing also, shot theirs!

Panting with exhaustion, Ray indicated the body to the boys.  "Party time, boys!"  he growled.  With howls of lust, the two drop dead gorgeous motherfuckers threw themselves down on the dead body and proceeded to devour it.  They drank the flowing blood, kissed the dead lips, ran their hands over the hard muscles of the corpse.  In minutes they were hard as rocks again, and each boy took the dead ass and the blood filled mouth for cum loads of incomparable depravity!  Finally, Ray joined them, and the three of them took turns cumming over and over into the body of the slain young man!
That would be only the beginning of their rabid lust for murder and sex with the dead!  Whenever Ray could arrange it, he would have his boys right there to witness the death of another powerful and handsome stud who stood no chance against their father.  As the screaming muscleboy died, the boys would fall on the dead stud and do their worst.  And again, Ray would join them, as they feasted on the blood and muscles of the dead!

Now he was training his sons for the same work he had triumphed in.  They would enter the Corps when ready and take over for him.  He knew they would be champions.  Fuck!  They had already murdered two hot studs already, as "a trial run!"  Ray, through his connections, had found two gorgeous sixteen year olds for the murderous event, and the muscleboys had no idea what awaited them.  They found out all too soon in Ray's private ring of death.  Their horrible dying screams inflamed Dave and Dan to an hysterical frenzy of violence.  Smashing the bodies of the other young hunks, the two brothers in a short time had broken, bloody bodies lying at their feet.  As their fiendish father cheered them on, the three of them let forth blasphemous, soul damning curses!  As Dave and Dan fucked the dying asses, Ray, now rabid with lust, yelled for them to do it!  Simultaneously, the two brothers snapped the necks of the young studs with a resounding CRACK!  Pulling out of the dead bodies, they stood to shoot their triumphant loads!  As Ray joined them, waves and streams of hot cum burst over the corpses, and father and sons embraced and kissed passionately.  Then, with grim resolve and inflamed lust, they attacked the young sixteen year old bodies again, all three cumming many more times before they were sexually satisfied!

But things were to change for Ray.  Because of his enormous ego, he was often insubordinate and insolent, even to his commanders.  This was because he felt he had an "in" with General Elliot, the often time host of Ray's sex orgies.  He was anxious to introduce his sons to these, so the three of them could off as many studs as they wanted together and then have the bodies. Unfortunately Ray misjudged  his place with the General and he would find he was definitely expendable.  After Colonel Reynolds came weeping to General Elliot that Ray had indiscriminately murdered the Colonel's only nephew, obviously very dear to him, General Elliot made his decision.  Eliminate him, and his two sons!!
The General made a call to two very special men.

MP's Bill Johnson and Carl Saunders were both men to be trusted.  They were the souls of discretion, and excellent at their job.  General Elliot had no second thought about enlisting their help.

Johnson and Saunders looked like brothers.  At twenty four years of age, both were tall, extremely handsome men, with buzz cut haircuts that made them look sexy as hell!  They had blue eyes, and dazzling smiles.  Both men were absolutely stunning specimens of manhood, with rippling, bouncing muscles to be envied by any man, gay or straight.  Each towering over six feet, they turned heads wherever they went, and deservedly so!

They were also lovers, and had been for several years.

Outward looks can be deceiving.  Bill and Carl were vicious brutal killers, who loved bringing violent death and murder to men and whom they chose to kill!  They carried out orders with horrifying violence, and other than sex with each other, only fucked the dead bodies of the studs they killed.  Although no longer participating in the death fights, their assignments as hired assassins brought them great satisfaction, and they were well protected by the higher ups who knew that they could be counted on to perform anything asked of them.  Having both committed murder at age twelve, continuing unrelentently up to the present, they were totally amoral and without a shred of mercy or pity toward their victims.  They had lost track of the number of men they had  killed.  At this time, it was probably in the hundreds!  Like Ray, sex with the dead body brought them to the height of their feelings of fucking male superiority.  They were goddamned, and proud of it!

Now they had a new assignment, one they were so looking forward to, that it made their mouths water!

Ray's family owned a remote but very comfortable lodge deep in the mountains.  It was there that he was taking Dave and Dan for a weekend retreat, and of course, for hot sex!  Ray had been planning to bring a stud for them to snuff, but at the last minute the deal fell through.  Still, between the three of them the days would be filled with sucking, fucking, rimming and of course, reminiscences and new fantasies about their murderous acts.  The three of them together would produce the highest level of sexual violence, even if only in the imagination.
Saturday evening found them together in the living room of the lodge.  It was a beautiful room, with high beamed ceilings and a large stone fireplace.  The boys had built a roaring fire, and in that vivid light they stripped for their very aroused father, oiled their magnificent bodies, and began to strike poses, each one more stunning than the rest!  Almost immediately, curses and vile profanities rang through the room, echoing around them.  As Ray goddamned his gorgeous sons, he stripped out of his clothes, standing majestically in the firelight.  Flexing his arms of death, he looked down at his steel like ten inch cock, and beckoned the boys to it.  Dave fell on the beauty and deep throated it completely, while Dan rimmed his father's muscular ass.  Spreading the cheeks as far as he could, he stuck his hungry tongue in all the way, driving his father wild.  Between the attentions of the two boys, Ray was ready to blast!  And blast he did!  With shouts of "Jesus fucking goddamned christ!,"  the muscular motherfucker shot his load right into Dave's open mouth.  Dave swallowed most of it, but the load was so large that some of it splashed out of his mouth.  Standing, Dave, followed by Dan, emptied their sperm onto their god and their idol!  Ray accepted their worship, and the three collapsed to spend the next part of the evening passionately kissing and talking dirty to each other.

Like the experts they were, Bill and Carl approached the lodge with deadly quiet.  Since it looked dark, save for the glow of the fire, they headed around the back to the rear entrance.  It was open, and soundlessly they entered.  Moving carefully toward the living room, they heard the sounds of Ray and his two sons.  As they approached the room, they stood for a few minutes by a half open door which allowed them to see what was happening without being spotted.

Bill and Carl wern't the kind of men to be surprised, but this time they were!  Taken aback by the beauty of Ray, Dave and Dan, they looked at each other in amazement.  Never before had they seen such three perfect bodies and handsome faces!  The sexual energy came at them like waves!  Both men's ten inch cocks hardened to full erection and they leaned forward to each other and kissed tenderly.
"Which one do you want?"  Bill whispered to Carl.

"The blonde!"  Carl answered.

Bill grinned.  "Always your weak spot man, the young ones!  The dark one is fucking hot!  I'll be happy with him"

Pealing off their shirts, the men stood bare chested, then quietly took off their heavy black boots and camos.  Ray and the boys were cursing so loudly, that the sounds of the two men's movements were completely covered.  Again putting on their boots, they stood naked except for them, two magnificent specimens of goddamned manhood!  Their huge cut cocks jutted up and out from their muscled bodies, and the cum was already boiling in their large and low hanging balls!  They had brought some things with them in a bag which for now they left in the outer room.  Looking in again, the saw and heard Ray and his sons, this time all three of them posing for each other.  Little did the motherfuckers know that damnation was in the very room, and in just a while, their lives and beautiful bodies would be horribly terminated!

As Ray went into a terrific double biceps pose, Dave and Dan knelt at his feet in total adoration and worship.  The cocks of all three men were rock hard and even dripping precum.  As Ray's voice rose in pure blasphemy, Dave and Dan began to kiss his muscled thighs and took turns deep throating his cock.  Bill and Carl needed to make their move, otherwise they'd be shooting their own loads right then and there!

Bill looked at Carl.  "Ready man?"

Carl smiled.  "Jesus fucking christ, yeah!"

As Dan began to rim his father's ass, the living room doors burst open, revealing the huge naked muscle fuckers.  Looks of total shock and surprise overtook the faces of Ray and his sons, and they froze in the middle of what they were doing.

Carl grinned evilly at them.  "We're sorry to intrude on this tender scene!"

Finally Ray found his voice.  "WHAT THE FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!

He barely had time to finish the last words as Bill and Carl swept in the room and stunned the three men.  Ray was knocked out cold by Carl, and two quick kicks to the groin brought both Dave and Dan into line, their screams of pain ringing through the room.  Flashing back to bring their bag full of supplies, Bill quickly handcuffed the two pain filled sons.  It had taken less than ten seconds!

"Fuck man, way to fucking go!  Jesus fucking christ, baby!"  Bill and Carl high fived each other and stood over Ray and the boys, their incredible legs of death spread far apart.  "Man, this is gonna be fucking fun!"  laughed Carl to Bill.  "Goddamn right, motherfucker!  Can't wait to send these fuckers to the hell they deserve.  Fucking sick perverts!"  Bill's scornful voice dripped with loathing.  "Fucking sick father, perverting his fucking sons.  I bet they're just as fucking sick as he is!"

Bill leaned forward over Ray's prone body.  "Time to wake Daddy stud up!"  Carl laughed derisively at Dave and Dan.  "Watch this faggot muscleboys!  Look what we're gonna do to your dirty sucking queer father!"

Bill pulled a small caliber pistol out the duffel bag.  "This ought to get his fucking attention!

Bill pointed the barrel right over Ray's right thigh.  POW!  The bullet ripped open the heavily muscled leg, spraying blood over the floor, and bringing Ray to consciousness howling in agonizing pain!

Dave cried out in horror!  "No, Dad, oh god no!!  Please!"

"Shut up, motherfucker!"  snarled Carl, kicking Dave again in his nuts.  As Dave screamed, Carl cursed him.  "Goddamn you to motherfucking hell, pervert!"

Bill's voice was filled with glee!  "Watch this, buddy boy!"  POW!  Bill shot Ray in the other leg!

"Way to go motherfucker, shouted Carl to Bill.  "Keep fucking going!"  Ray's body writhed on the  floor, and his heavy combat boots thudded a hellish death tattoo.  Time was running out for the arrogant bastard Marine!

With fiendish delight, Bill turned Ray's muscular arm toward him until the mighty twenty one inch bicep was flexed to the limit.  "Take this, motherfucker!"  he screamed,as he put the barrel of the gunny on it and pulled the trigger.  Ray's screams were indeed horrible to be heard, as his pride and joy, his bicep, was destroyed.  Almost immediately, Bill did the same thing to the other arm.  Rays magnificent guns were history, destroyed in an instant by a force as cruel as his!

Kneeling in front of the dying Ray, Bill plunged his thick ten incher right into the thigh wound and began to fuck it as Carl urged him on.  "Yeah, baby, fuck him, fuck the goddamed motherfucker.  Fuck, do it!"  Meanwhile, Carl turned to the pain racked bodies of Dave and Dan, and began to slap and punch them as hard as he could.  Soon blood began to flow from their faces, as he destroyed their handsome features.  BAM!  BAM!  As the boys howled, Carl broke both of their noses, one after the other.  "So much for you, pretty boys!"  he taunted.  "No one will look at you twice now!  But then, you're not gonna have the chance, motherfuckers!"

Bill stood above Ray.  POW! POW!, he had fired right into Rays's nave!  Ray's twitching body began to quiet, as death approached him.  Bill fell on his body.  "Cocksucking pervert!  Motherfucker!  I'm goddamning you to hell!"  as he cursed Ray, Bill shoved his dick right into the shot out navel and began to gut fuck the stud father.  Swearing his head off, Bill humped the body, his own splendid one gleaming in the fire light, revealing his magnificent back, ass and legs.  Carl knelt behind him and began to rim the asshole and Bill groaned in absolute pleasure.
As he fucked Ray, his powerful hands circled Ray's throat, and he began to strangle him.  As he gripped tighter and tighter, he could feel Ray's rock hard cock right under him, the erection caused by the extreme throat pressure.  Sure enough, a few moments later, Ray's cock spurted it's load, covering Carl with hot sperm.  Carl scooped it up and slurped it down.  Bill fucked harder.  "Motherfucker, your last load on this fucking earth!  The next one will be in hell!"

Suddenly Bill cried out in sexual frenzy!  "Time to die, motherfucker!  Oh Christ, Carl, I'm cumming, eat me baby, eat my goddamn fucking ass!  Oh for christ's cocksucking fucking sake.  I'm-----AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

As his load of death burst into Ray's body, he tightened his hands will all his might!  Ray's tongue was completely extended, and his face had turned a hideous purple.  PSSTT!  came the unmistakable sound of the throat being totally crushed!  Blood flowed out of Ray's mouth, and as Bill knelt forward to drink the rich, life giving force, Ray's eyes rolled back in his head.  Ray was dead.

Bill stayed in the body for a while, kissing the still handsome face and the thick lips. He played with the dead tits and stroked his hands over the still massive, hairy chest.  He stood up, Carl right behind him, kissing him tenderly in the back of the neck and shoulders. As Ray's blood dripping cock softened, Carl fell on it and deep throated it to clean it completely.  He stood up facing Bill, his own hard on pressing against his lover.  Bill took Carl in his arms and kissed him passionately, than began to suck and lick the man's huge tits.  Carl couldn't hold back any longer!

"Fucking god, fucking christ, motherfuck!  Fuck, Bill, I'm gonna cum, fuck christ, fuck, goddamn me to hell!"

As Bill stood up, Carl's endless load of male jism flooded over the gorgeous body of his lover.  Ropes and streams of the sperm burst on that body, and both men's voices rose in soul damning curses and blasphemies!  They were men!  They were killers!  They murdered for their own pleasure, flicking their middle fingers in the face of that impotent fucking god, and his jew boy kike son!  Fuck, THEY were the gods:  men among men, totally defiant and unrepentant, knowing they were going to their damnation with smiles on their faces!  They didn't fucking care!  They'd done it all, and they were goddamned proud of it!
Bill took Carl in his powerful arms, and kissed him with the passion of the young god he was!  For ten solid minutes they deep throated each other, moaning in pure sexual lust.  Soon, their cocks were again like pieces of steel, and they drew back from each other with huge grins.  Bill laughed and gestured to the still downed boys.

"Hey man, the party's not over yet  Fuck!  Let's  do it!"

The two rapacious men fell on their young victims.  They took off the cuffs, they were no longer needed.  The groaning boys had just watched their father die horribly and they knew what violent fate awaited them!

Bill viciously grabbed Dave by the hair, and dragged him to the corpse of his father.  His voice rasped at the young man.

"Fuck boy, here's a good fuck hole for your fucking' cock, don't you think, motherfucker?!

Dave's eyes widened in horror.  Carl held up Ray's body, and Bill forced Dave's cock right into the dead bloody mouth of his father.  He screamed in agony as the other men shouted and cursed him, and soon, despite himself, his gorgeous ten incher was as hard as a fucking rock!  Crying and pleading for mercy, Dave resisted, but he could not!  He knew that the blood filled mouth was perfect for fucking and in a very short time, he was ready to blow his wad!  As the two muscle studs tormented him, he shot his huge streaming load right into his dead father's mouth!  Dave's shout's of despair were drowned out by those of the killer stud's, who made the boy milk every last drop of his tremendous load!

"Jesus fucking christ, boy, that's it!  Every last fucking drop!"

"How did it feel to come into Daddy's mouth for the fucking last time, huh cocksucker?"

"Motherfucker, I bet he'll be blowin' you in fucking hell, with satan watching!"

With a roar of hatred, Bill flung Dave's body back to the floor, while Carl fell upon on Dan.  He kissed the thick, luscious lips and then the even bigger and thicker boy tits.  In spite of himself, Dan groaned in pleasure at Carl's onslaught.  Carl looked at Bill, who grinned.

"Do it man!  Fucking do it!"

Carl licked and kissed Dan's gorgeous tits, his rock hard cock against the boy's body.  Very soon, Dan's huge nine inch dick thickened and hardened as Carl continued to make love to him.  Suddenly Carl jerked his head up, grinning evilly at the doomed boy.

"Motherfucker, where you're goin', you're not gonna need these!"

Falling back on Dan's body, Carl gripped Dan's left tit with his teeth and began to chew it as hard as he could.  Dan screamed in horrible pain, and soon some blood appeared.  That did it for Carl!  Biting as hard as he could, he ripped the tit right off Dan's chest, and spit it into the boy's howling mouth!  Moments later, he did the same to to the other tit!  Blood gushed from the wounds, and both Carl and Bill fastened their mouths on the mutilated chest, and greedily drank the streaming blood!  Dan thrashed in agonizing pain, as Bill drew back.  Carl hauled off and slugged Dan as hard as he could, stunning the young boy!

"Shut the fuck up, motherfucker!  Shut your goddamned mouth!"

Kneeling over the prone muscleboy, Carl drew himself up, striking a magnificent double bicep pose.  He jeered at the moaning Dan.

"See these guns, motherfucker?  Look at these fucking arms of death!  Know how many men I've killed with them?  Huh, faggot, dirty, sucking goddamned queer?"  Carl kissed his huge arms.  "My fucking guns are one of the last things you're gonna see before you die!  Yeah baby!"

Bill reached forward and grabbed Dan's throbbing prick.  Shrieks flew from the young man's mouth as his cum load burst forth, a cannon load of hot white male breeding sperm!  Bill and Carl mocked the downed boy cruelly, as the enormous load continued to shoot and shoot!
Dan cried out in agony!

"Oh god, oh christ!  Help, help!"

His face black with hatred and evil, Carl grabbed Dan by the hair and pulled the pounded face into his, hissing in rage.

"No motherfucking god or motherfucking christ is gonna help you boy!  They want you damned!  They fucking want you to go to goddamned hell!  Motherfucker, I'll give you fucking god and fucking christ!"

He leaned over Dan's still body and held up his thumbs!  He whispered to Dan.

"THESE are the last things you're ever gonna see before you go to hell!!"  Carl threw back his head.

"GODDAMN YOU TO HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!"

As Bill cheered, Carl plunged his thumbs to the hilt into Dan's eyes, totally gouging them out!  Dan's screams were among the most horrible the men had ever heard, and they enjoyed every moment of them!  Blood and tissue spurted up onto Carl as he laughed at the thrashing body!  He kept  pushing his thumbs in as hard as he could as the young boy continued to cry and sob in his agonizing pain!  After a few moments, Bill laughed and nudged Carl in the ribs.

"Shut him up, man!"

Carl laughed too.  "This will stop you, boy!"

Suddenly Carl plunged his ten inch dick into Dan's left eye socket!

The screaming stopped.

"Oh my fucking god!"  Carl closed his eyes as he slowly began to fuck the warm brain, finally ending Dan's life!  He rocked back and forth, his cock pushing it's way through the dead boy's head, until he could feel the tip of his cock on the other side of the skull!
With his great strength, Bill flipped Dave over and plunged his ten incher into the young man's ass.  Dave screamed as Bill began to fuck him, and soon the momentum of the two glorious muscular motherfuckers grew and grew.  Curses and blasphemies spewed from the mouths as Carl's cock destroyed Dan's brain, and Bill's huge dick ripped open Dave's ass.  Bill could feel the lubricating blood on his dick and the sensation drove him into sexual euphoria!  Both men were almost incoherent with sexual lust and their cries were as if they were suddenly transformed into primitive men, with no sense of anything, but their own lustful, sexual pleasure!

Carl suddenly gasped.  "Jesus fucking goddamned christ!  Let's cum together!"

Both men reared back and rode their fuck holes as fast and as hard as they could!  Their orgasm burned in their loins, their boiling balls, full of hot cum, were ready to release!  Sweat poured off of their gleaming muscular bodies, and then started the beginning of their stunning sexual high!

Both men screamed!

"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!  GODDAMN!  I'M CUMMMMMMMMMMMING!!  AAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!  OH GOD, ON MOTHERFUCKING GOD!!  FUCK!!  FUCK!!!  GODDAMN MY FUCKING SOUL TO HELLLLLLLLL!!  AHHHHH!!  FUCK!!  FUCK!!  FOR CHRIST'S COCKSUCKING, FUCKING SAKE!  AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

Their spectacular orgasms lasted, it seemed, forever!  Gradually, as the height of the experience began to lessen, the two men threw their arms around each other, and kissed tenderly, their now softening cocks still in the dead bodies of the handsome boys they had just brutally murdered.  They were in ho hurry.  They wanted to savor the moment, the moment of the triumph of death over life, and the tremendous sexual satisfaction it gave to both strong young men!  They held onto each others god like bodies with great tenderness and affection, and as the passion of their kisses increased, their moans of pleasure signalized the new hardening of their hot cock meat, as a new orgasm grew within them.  In minutes, Bill and Carl's hoarse male voices rose together to damn themselves, the dead boys, Ray and finally to blaspheme fucking god and the dirty jew kike boy jesus!  Shots and streams of cum again flooded the dead brain and the dead ass, and for the second time, the corpses received the juices of superior, dominant and brutal men, who acted without mercy or pity in order to achieve the highest level of sexual satisfaction any man can achieve:  sex with a beautiful, muscular, murdered man!  It was their creed, they lived by it, and by christ, if they had to, would die by it!
For almost a half an hour longer, Bill and Carl lay with the two slain boys, caressing the still hard muscles, kissing and licking the perfect skin, and kissing out the blood from the youth's mouths.  They paid tribute to Ray once more, by both in turn fucking his dead ass.  As the three corpses finally cooled, the murderers showered, cleaned themselves, and dressed.  One phone call was made.  In no time at all, the bodies were whisked away.  As Bill  and Carl left the house, Bill threw a powerful grenade through the front window.  The ensuing explosion and fire destroyed the house, leaving no evidence of the murderous evening.

A car accident was arranged.  Nearby was a high cliff and chasm, almost three hundred feet down.  The three bodies were placed inside, and the car was rigged to accelerate over the cliff into the abyss.  It struck the rocks below and burst into flames, burning Ray, Dave and Dan beyond recognition.  Only the flames of hell could have been hotter!

High above the floor of the canyon, at the very edge of a cliff, stood Carl and Bill, hand in hand.  They were watching the burning wreckage with evident satisfaction.  Naked except for their heavy combat boots, their rock hard cocks oozed pre-cum juices, extremely aroused by what they saw and what they knew was going to happen.  They leaned toward other and kissed hungrily, devouring each other's lips and tongues as if they had never met.  Pulling back, both men began to pose for the other, their bouncing, rippling muscles inflaming their lust, and showing to each other the incomparable beauty of their motherfucking bodies!

Slowly each man grabbed his thick cock with his right hand, all the while flexing his huge left gun.  As they stroked, incredibly aroused, their voices rose as one, and the canyon echoed with their profanities and finally their soul damning blasphemies they so loved!  Faster and faster they pumped, until, for christ's fucking sake, their orgasms shot into the air, the ropes and streams of male cum cascading to the canyon floor.  As the arcing shots of life giving male juice reached their climax, both men's feet rose up as far as they could go on the tip of the yawning chasm.  With their arched feet flexed and with curses on their gorgeous lips, the two motherfuckers hurtled forward and threw themselves into the canyon!  Bill and Carls' dying screams reverberated throughout the gorge and lasted until their magnificent bodies struck the cruel rocks far below.  They were completely torn asunder!  Their heads were smashed and ripped off, as were their arms and legs.  Every bone in those stunning physiques was smashed and broken!  They had truly died as they had lived, with the utmost violence and cruelty!
Swirling down into the darkness of eternity, Bill and Carl, hand in hand, awoke to find themselves standing in an enormous room, glowing with an unearthly red light!  They looked at themselves, and were stunned!  They were taller, their bodies even more splendidly muscled, and their cocks easily measured fourteen or fifteen inches!  They were immediately aware of the sights, sounds and smells of that room of the nether world.  Piercing screams of dying men and boys rent the air, and the room smelled of cum, blood, piss and shit!  But the sights!  In a moment, the two muscle studs had raging hard ons with those new cocks, and they were goddamned sure they were going to do something with them!

Bill and Carl were astounded to see rows upon rows, as far as the eye could see, of gorgeous buffed muscle studs engaged in every act of sexual perversion and violence possible!  Hot dudes in leather gear and harnesses were strangling, crushing and fisting to death the most beautiful young studs imaginable!  As the young men died, other equally beautiful studs were sucking off the cocks of the dying boys, only to have their own necks snapped by powerful and muscular motherfuckers, who in turn fucked the dead asses.  Gunshots were fired into the bodies of men to create every imaginable fuck hole possible, and sharp knives plunged through hearts, slit throats and stabbed every where they could, as the agonizing screams of the dying reverberated everywhere!  Guns and knives shot out and cut out the navels of magnificent young men, and hot studs gut fucked the motherfuckers to death.  Hot black studs with shaved heads, and unbelievable muscled bodies, shoved their eighteen or more inch cocks into the mouths of muscular young boys, tearing out their mouths, the blood pouring out in rivers!  Hot Nazi's with hellish shouts murdered hot kike boys, and gorgeous spics with the most sexually attractive tatoos possible killed young spics and blacks with abandon!  Blood was everywhere, piss spurted constantly, and the strong smell of man cum dominated that goddamned room!
Suddenly two stunning young men, not more than twelve or fourteen, threw themselves in front of Bill and Carl and deep throated the two men.  Their bodies were incredible, with muscular development far advanced than their ages.  As Bill and Carl groaned in lustful pleasure, two handsome, dark haired spics, about seventeen or eighteen, came up behind the sucking boys.  They took hold of the boys heads, and began to push them down on the musclemen's now huge new cocks.  Bill and Carl felt the cum rise in their steel hard pricks, and they let loose with the curses and blasphemies that had damned them here!  The harder they pumped their dicks in the boys mouths, the harder the spics pushed on their heads until it was quite evident what was going to happen!  As the orgasms of the two men gathered, the spics pushed down as hard as they could.  Bill and Carl's screams signaled their cumming. They felt the streaming loads from their dicks release at the same time they felt the throats of the sucking boys completely torn out, suffocating them on the huge dicks, the cum and their own blood!  The two men were in spasms of sexual ecstasy as the two spics continued to push the heads of the now dead boys completely down to the base of each man's shaft!  For five full minutes they shot their male jism, totally in the hold of evil sexual euphoria!  Blood poured from the mouths of the corpses, and suddenly the spics lifted the bodies up so the  two men could drink their fill!  Violently, Bill and Carl threw the muscleboys to the floor with a thud.  They smiled at the spics, who then themselves down on the young gorgeous asses!  As Bill and Carl strode away, they could hear the curses of the spics rise over the dead bodies, as they together shot their hot loads!

Scene upon scene of male debauchery was evident.  Powerful men thrust spears through the navels, hearts and groins of screaming young men!  Pistol shots fired into foreheads, through eye sockets, and at the base of the skull.  Handsome musclemen were seen gutting far younger men, slitting open their hot muscled muscleboy chests, and then hauling the organs out of the body, until victor and victim were covered in rich blood!  By the time Bill and Carl had gone very far, their cocks were rock hard again, and they took in the splendors of the room with total pleasure and satisfaction!
As they approached the far end of the room, they saw a raised platform glowing in red fiery light.  Standing on it was the most incredibly built studly black hunk of manflesh they had ever seen.  Stunningly handsome, his perfectly proportioned body boasted a nearly two foot cock, thick, hard and already juicy!  A he flexed his huge guns, his glowing eyes looked at Bill and Carl.  Slowly they approached him, and knelt at his feet in adoration.  He smiled at them.

"Well done, my good and faithful servants!  You have served me well.  The keys to my kingdom are yours!  Go and serve me here as you did on earth!  This is your paradise!"

Rearing back, the Dark God showered his load of beautiful white cum on the two studs.  For ten minutes, they were bathed in the male jism, until they glowed in white!  As their master finished, he kissed them gently and then was gone in a flash of red light.  Bill and Carl kissed each other with the passion of the damned!  Standing back, their bodies were even larger, and they too, had twenty four inch dicks!  Rubbing their master's juice into their bodies, they set out to terrorize the men of hell, killing with violent fury and sparing no one they desired.  Fucking all of the corpses they could, their insatiable appetite continued for eons, when suddenly, there came the Last Judgment.  Because their names were not found in the Book of Life, they were cast into the Lake of Fire, holding on to each other even as they burned in agony, blasphemies on their lips, and were swept along to their eternal and everlasting damnation!

Brutal Merc - brutalmerc@gmail.com