Fat Off Sex and Violence (16 page)

            Gary let the sword go and the man fell to his side. Just behind him, Sheila continued to rain down blows on the fat woman’s obliterated head. She stood with her legs spread, and Gary gasped when he saw the old man beneath her, licking her sex and gripping her knees.

            The red and orange light around them began to fade, but just slightly.

           
Not yet…keep eating.

           
Gary jumped to his feet, wiped his chin, and reached for his weapon. Clay’s ruined and motionless body lay just beside the dead cabbie, and after Gary pulled his weapon free, unleashing the pink and purple viscera, he rolled the man’s body over Clay’s.

           
It’s the best I can do, man.

           
Sure, the kid annoyed the hell out of him, but Clay was the closest thing to a friend Gary had, and right now, he knew he had to protect what was his.

            So he stomped across the street with his sword, held it business-side down. When he reached the old man licking his mother, he drove the sword into his chest, twisted, pulled out, stabbed again. The man coughed blood over Sheila’s womanhood, then fell over dead.

            “Delicious.” The raspy voice came from behind him.

            Gary turned with his sword ready and found Kronos and Mary Jane watching him, eating. Rolls of fat hung off of them. Their bellies protruded out as if ready to burst, but even as they sucked in more food, he watched them grow more.

            A man lay face down behind the feedlings, his intestines spread out like a squashed octopus. Another man gripped the corpse’s hips from behind and rammed his cock in and out of him.

            From around the corner, four police cars screeched around the turn and uniformed officers exploded from the cruisers, weapons drawn. It only took a second for them to start firing into the crowd. Nightsticks were pulled out and brought down on the tops of skulls, pepperspray rained down on the rioters. Muffled shouts rang out from the radios inside of the units, begging the officers to respond, to give an update on their status.

            It stretched out all around them. The street and sidewalks vibrated with savagery. In the distance, Gary could see plumes of smoke rising into the air and muffled screams. It was clear the feedlings’ influence had expanded and consumed more of the town.

            Mary Jane and Kronos stood right in the middle of a never-ending feast, and it didn’t look as if they would ever stop. But their movements became slower and they blinked lazily. The light still faded, though it was bright enough to illuminate the street and reveal the thick clouds of food.

           
It’s time.

           
“Are you ready for Chester now?” Gary forced a smile. With bullets flying through the air, he wanted to get him and Sheila out of there.

            The feedlings nodded, licked their lips and snapped their teeth.

            “As much…as I hate…to leave these delicacies…behind,” Kronos struggled to say through a mouthful, “I want…to taste his…misery.”

            “Me too,” Mary Jane said. “His rape…will be delightful.”

            Sheila walked over, seeming to tame at the promise of a chance at Chester, as if something deep within her craved it. The bat was dented at the fat end, the gore twisted around it like cotton candy.

            “Follow me,” Gary said. He ran toward Rudy’s, hopping over vicious and lascivious acts. His stomach tingled with anticipation.

—14—

Chester shoved people out of his way as he rushed toward the restroom. It was only a matter of time until that riot made its way down the street, he knew, and there was no way in hell he was going to get caught up in it.

           
The restroom’s got a lock on it. I’ll just wait this shit out.

           
But as he went, some of the other patrons in the bar caught wind of what he was doing and followed.

            Chester quickened his pace. “Get the fuck back. Get off me!”

            Hands gripped his shoulder, but he shrugged them off. Rudy stood behind the bar, his face like a statue, no sign of panic. A knife lay among cut up pieces of lime, and Chester snatched it before Rudy could, along with the bathroom key attached to a license plate that hung from the wall.

            “Now, Chester. Calm yourself down.”

            “Fuck you!” He went for the restroom door, swung it open, faced the other drunkards following him. “Get back. Stay away.”

            There was no way he was going to share his hiding spot. Too many drunk assholes meant more chance the rioters would hear them in there, find them. He knew he had a better chance if he did it alone.

            He stepped backward into the restroom and grabbed the handle to slam it shut. But it caught on an ashy foot clinging to a plastic flip flop.

            “Betsy, get the fuck outta the way. Don’t make me hurt you, you know I will.”

            But the longer he wrestled with her, the more people tried to squeeze in.

            “Goddamnit.” He grabbed her arm and yanked her inside, then slammed the door and turned the lock.

            “Let them in, Chester. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

            “No fucking way,” he said. “Now you keep your mouth shut and maybe we’ll be okay. Maybe those crazy fuckers will pass us by.”

            Hands pounded on the door from the other side, but above that, he could still hear the chattering of the other patrons as they watched the riot rage down the street. And as he listened, the startled voices became…angry. The pounding on the door turned more violent. The door looked ready to crumple as it shook in its frame, but it held. It sounded like a pack of hungry wolves out there, not the drunken idiots he had locked out.

            “Fucking asshole!” Betsy stormed past him, threw a sharp elbow into his stomach.

            The wind exploded from his lungs, but he still managed to grab her arm and yank her backward. She collapsed and landed hard on the floor. Still sucking for breath himself, Chester bent down on one knee and slammed a concrete fist into the middle of her stomach, then with his other hand, slapped her across the face.

            But she…smiled at him.

            The bitch meant business only a second ago when she stabbed him in the gut with her elbow, but now…something had changed. She puckered her crusted lips and kissed the air at him.

            “You think it’s funny, bitch?” Chester tried to yell and whisper at the same time. He slapped her again, then back handed her. His hand stung from the impact.

            The door behind him shook harder and harder. The shouts and growls made him feel like he was stuck in a George Romero movie and made his balls retract into his body.

            “Fuck me, Chester.” She lapped up the blood that ran from her nose, clutched at him with chipped red fingernails. “Fuck me until my guts are bruised.”

            “Will you stay quiet?” He slammed a heavy palm over her mouth, tried to pin her flailing arms with his knees. He leaned in and whispered, “I told you, I don’t want those crazy bast—”

            She bit into his hand, chewed on it.

           
“Aahngh!”
Chester snatched his hand away and jumped to his feet. Blood poured from the hole in the middle of his palm. Flaps of skin and chewed meat hung from it. “You…you fucking bitch. L-look what you did.”

            BANG BANG BANG

            Betsy writhed on the restroom floor, her hair growing wet from the puddles of piss around her. She shoved her hand down her pants and played with herself.

            RATTLE BANG BANG RATTLE

            Chester looked back at the door. His plan was fucked, he knew that now. That door wouldn’t hold much longer, and from the sounds of it, the people outside were getting more pissed off by the second.

           
“Get down here and fuck me!”

            Chester winced as his hand throbbed and a whimper escaped his throat. He stared at the door, backed away from it, shook his head.

           
What the fuck is going on here?

           
The amount of shouting voices had multiplied, and he knew the rioters were there now. Just outside that door, probably tearing each other apart. Probably already made quick work of the others in the bar and now they were at the restroom door, desperate to see what lay on the other side.

            The breath blew out of him as something squeezed his genitals. A sound like a dog’s squeak toy hissed from between his lips. A slimy tongue wiped across his neck and ear.

            “Lick my pussy, Chester. Or I’ll tear your nuts off and make you gurgle them.”

            She squeezed his balls harder as her teeth snapped over his ear. With a hard yank, the ear tore free. Warmth spilled down his side.

             
“Fuuuuuck!”
Chester managed to stumble away from her, but tripped over his own feet. He was face to face with the door, and a hard slam sent him scurrying away from it. Shadows moved at the space between the floor and the bottom of the door.

            “Chester…”

           
“Ahh!”
He hopped to his feet and faced Betsy. She had her shirt torn free and glided the torn bloody side of the ear over her erect nipples. Her crimson tongue basted her lips.

            Chester launched himself at her. His shoulder buried into her mid-section and he carried her across the restroom with the momentum of his run. He slammed her into the tiled wall, heard the satisfying crack of her head hitting it.

            She clawed at his back, screeched and flailed her limbs.

            He shoved off her, squared up, and unleashed a flurry of blows to her face. Even when he was mad, he never really put everything he had into a punch when the receiving end was a woman. As many women as he had hit in his day, he always held back some. He figured a full punch could kill one, and he didn’t want to kill them, just teach them a lesson. Let them know he was the man, and that if they didn’t make him happy, he had the power to show them his displeasure.

            But at that moment, he forgot all that. Put his hips into the punches until the front of her skull pushed into her head. Her teeth popped open the skin on his knuckles, but he ignored the pain that came with it. He moved to her stomach, then came up with an uppercut.

            Betsy flew back, slid down the wall. A streak of blood showed where she slid and her hair stuck to it, standing up like she had her hands on a static generator.

            Chester panted, winced at the sting of his missing ear, torn palms, and open knuckles. His balls throbbed and his stomach turned.

            Then Betsy laughed again. It was wet, sloppy, but she was definitely laughing. Her tits sagged over her bulging belly, both covered in blood and a few teeth. She kicked her legs, the rubber of her flip flops squeaking against the tile.

            “Thethster,” she said, then coughed. “My puthy’th wet for yer cock, Thethster.” As she chuckled a thick trail of red drool oozed from her ruined mouth. She unlatched her pants and pulled them down her legs.

            “You crazy bitch.” He didn’t want to hear her anymore. The sight of her fingering herself with her face looking like roadkill made his stomach roil, and most of all, it pissed him off. Teeth bared, he sprinted at her, thrust his foot into the middle of her face, smashing her head into the wall—his heel caught part of her throat. She made a sound like water draining and slumped over.

            She wasn’t fucking laughing any more.

            But then Chester heard something else.

            Quiet.

           
The rioters left.

           
He smiled and pumped his aching fist. The door held after all and the cocksuckers had moved on.

            He studied Betsy’s leaking corpse. The bitch looked bad and Chester had her blood all over him.

           
I’ll just blame it on the riot. There’s gotta be tons of dead folks out there the way it looked in the street.

           
He decided to just wait a little while before taking a chance of heading out into the bar. He could just sit and—

           
CLINK

           
The door shook again. Sounded like something heavy and metal hit and hit it hard.

           
CLINK

            Oh fucking son of a bitch.

           
They were toying with him now, he thought. Between the metal slamming against the door, he could hear the giggling of maniacs.

            Chester shook his head, clawed at his scalp. He paced the restroom, nearly slipped in the widening puddle of Betsy’s blood.

           
CLINK

           
“Fuck you!”

            And then the door blew open.

            Standing in the doorway, the pale yellow light from the bar surrounding her like aura, stood Sheila. Naked and drenched in blood and holding a dented metal bat with both hands.

            “Sh-sheila!” Relief swept over Chester like warm water. “Oh Jesus Christ, girl. You don’t know how good it is to see…”

            Behind her he could see the bar was filled to the brim with people. And two fat children. The children held hands and laughed, stared in at Chester with hypnotizing eyes.

            The boy stepped past Sheila who just smiled and bounced the bat in her hand.

            “Hi, Chester,” he said. “I’ve been waiting all night for this.”

            “Who, who the fuck a-are you?” Chester had his shaking fists out in front of him.

            “I’m the one whose gonna fill my belly with your pain and suffering,” he said. “And the anticipation is killing me.”