
Copyright © 2011 Dick T. Gear. All rights reserved.
Unless otherwise indicated, all materials on these pages are copyrighted by Duplicitous Press. All rights reserved.
STUMPED is a novella that is full of violence, dark comedy and cynicism beyond the norm. Do not continue reading if you are uptight about erections, tits, head punching, insults, mean-spiritedness, foul human behavior and hilariousness. Instead, you might want to check out Pride and Prejudice.
In other words, continue reading at your own risk.
The Sick Fuck Chronicles Book One: STUMPED
I like fucking old broads. Grabbing them by their flapjack titties and just banging away until they goddamn scream. You know, old bitches haven't usually been done by a younger guy like me and so they dig that shit. Really, this one today is the perfect example.
Right now she's slobbing on my cock like she's trying to eat a goddamn bagel or something. Okay, so old bitches don't give the best head. But it's fun to watch them try.
"Easy with the teeth," I tell her.
She tries to oblige, pushing her wrinkled old lips out and sucking in the choppers, but it's still hurting my dick. Finally I just push her backwards. The pale flapjack titties flop against her belly as she sits down hard on her ass. "Ouch."
"Sorry," I tell her. But I'm not. Not really. A black cat runs by me in a blur. I sneeze. "Fucking cats. I have allergies you know."
"I can put Twinkles downstairs in the game room." Her mouth is still wet and slimy from gagging on my dick. I get hard again.
"Doesn't matter. The dander's still there even after you physically remove the animal. It's in the air, particles and shit." I grab her by the hair and swing her around so her ass is to me.
She's still wearing her old lady panties. And her old lady bra that looks like it was built to contain a goddamn army. The thing is like an off-yellow white color and maybe three inches thick. I rip the clasp off and watch as her huge tits spill out. I reach around and grab one tit.
She moans. I can see the back of her head, how her hair is thinning and gray.
She's got brown mottled spots on her back and neck. "Shit, you really are fucking old."
"Oh god."
I grab her panties and roughly pull them down around her ankles. She's got cellulite up her thighs and her ass is pockmarked with it. I spread her ass cheeks. "Not too bad. You ever been ass-fucked before?"
"No. Does it hurt?"
"Probably doesn't feel like a summer's breeze," I say, not sure what that even means. "But we're gonna find out."
"Be easy."
"Okay grandma." She's not my grandma. It's just funny to call them that.
I can't believe I met this old bitch in a fucking deli this morning. I really do have a talent for this shit. Helped her carry her stupid bags to her car, then somehow talked my way into going all the way back to this ramshackle house in the middle of the boonies, made some small-talk about her dead husband and shit...next thing you know, bam. I'm about to fuck her ass.
"This is gonna be good," I say. Maybe not for her, though. But for me.
Definitely. I grab her hair and start really going to town. She's hissing and shuddering, maybe I'm drilling a little too hard, getting excited. Getting rough.
"Wait..." she says.
"Fuck that. I'm just about done here."
I'm getting ready for the final thrusts. A bit of a smell is reaching me, like just a nastiness. Maybe some shit is leaking out---hell, I don't really care what it is because I'm about to drop a load in her old butt.
"I'm gonna cum grandma!"
"You're hurting me---"
Just then I hear footsteps from the basement.
I turn as the door opens and this huge guy walks out.
I have to say, for the first time maybe in my whole life I'm shocked. This guy is about six foot five and wearing knee high boots, a white apron, sleeves rolled up, and his face...
"Jesus man, don't do anything crazy," I tell him.
He grins. The guy's holding a fucking cleaver. Yeah. A cleaver.
Grandma whatever her name is turns her head and looks at him. "You see what he did Timmy? He raped my ass! He fucked me even though I begged him not to."
Timmy, if that's what this giant's name even is, lets out a bellow and comes at me. I try to run but grandma grabs one of my arms. The bitch is stronger than I gave credit for, she's got a vice-like grip.
Next thing I know, the crazy dude's got hold of my other arm and the cleaver comes swinging down.
In an instant, my right hand is GONE.
Just gone. Fucking blood everywhere.
And then I pass out.
I wake up and my wrist is throbbing. That's the first thing I notice because the pain is absolutely blinding. And I'm handcuffed on my good hand. Chained to one of those huge old antique beds. The room is pretty small and completely bare. Just me chained to the side of the bed. Oh yeah, and I'm naked.
Nice.
Looks like they've stuffed a bunch of gauze and shit into the wound, the giant gaping hole. I can barely look at it and the pain is so bad I dry heave for a moment.
I scream for help. That lasts all of about ten minutes. I don't really have the energy to do much more. I feel faint again.
"Jesus. Please let me fucking go."
The door opens and granny walks in. She's fully clothed now, wearing a long brown skirt and a white blouse. Even some makeup, like an old clown. Pretty creepy if you want to know the truth.
"Hi, Allen. That is your name, right?" She asks in a sweet sing-songy voice. Not how she talked when I met her at the deli. It's freaking me out too, because I realize that she lied about everything. Lied about nobody else being in the house, lied about probably even the fact that she'd never taken it in the ass. She took it in the ass like a fucking pro!
"So you got my license."
She smiles wider. Comes closer. "How's your poor hand?"
"Ummm...it's gone. My wrist fucking kills and it's probably infected. Good chance I'll be dead by tomorrow unless someone takes me to the damned hospital."
This makes her chuckle. "Oh dear."
"Is that all you've got to say about it? Oh fucking dear?" I'm starting to get emotional. This isn't like me at all.
"Sorry about your itty bitty hand, Allen, but we had to send you a message."
"Oh yeah?"
She sits down at the foot of the bed and grabs my bare leg. "You have to know that we're in charge, honey. You do as I say."
"Fuck you. You're an ugly old bitch. How long did it take you to get that cum out of your ass hon?"
She looks a bit hurt. "Oh Allen. That's not very nice. You raped me."
"I most certainly did not. And even if I did, who gives a shit? You cut my goddamn hand off!"
"Now I don't care for your language Allen. Not at all. And unfortunately it seems you still haven't quite learned your lesson." She turns her head to the open door. I can see a dark hallway and nothing else.
"TIMMY!" She shouts.
My fucking nuts shrink to the size of pinheads when she says that name.
"Hey, hey, hey! Wait. Wait a second." I'm babbling now. Please god, not Timmy. "Listen, I'm sorry. I really am. Okay?"
She shrugs. "A little bit late for that, now, isn't it?"
The hallway darkens even more as a shadow approaches. And then he's there, taking up the entire doorway with his hulking frame. He's still got that apron on and his boots. His head is bald, did I mention that? And his eyes are wacky, like out of proportion or maybe slightly crossed. But he's not dumb. I can tell he's completely aware of what he's going to do.
The cleaver's in his hand, of course.
I'm bucking and screaming like I've never screamed in my life. The bed is actually moving across the floor I'm fighting so hard.
Granny's laughing hysterically at this. She finds it funny I guess.
And Timmy's coming toward me.
I spit in his face. It doesn't matter at all. Doesn't make him mad or anything. He grabs my good hand and presses it against the wall, then lifts the cleaver high in the air.
"Just the thumb if you can, dear," she says, like a schoolteacher explaining physics to a particularly dumb student.
"FUCK YOU!!" I yell, like it's the last words I'll ever utter. Who knows, maybe it will be.
"Tut-tut, language. I warned you." She sighs. "The thumb and the pinky," she says.
Timmy gives a nod and then I hear a loud thump. My eyes are closed. Strangely, all I feel is a sudden numb cold that shoots from my hand all the way up the length of my arm. Thank you Lord, for sparing me the pain. I know it will come eventually but not just yet.
Another thump.
"Timmy! You weren't supposed to do that. Terrible, terrible, terrible. I only wanted two fingers taken off."
Timmy whines. "He was moving." His voice sounds thick and low, yet somehow immature. I fucking hate these people. They've taken my hands. Christ.
Shortly thereafter, I pass out again.
When I wake up, the room is dark.
I'm still tied up. The pain is incredible now and I can't help but scream. I scream for hours until my vocal chords give out completely and all that I can do is whisper. But I keep whisper yelling anyway. There's no choice.
I fall into some kind of waking dream but am startled into consciousness when the door opens again and SHE comes in. She's wearing a nightgown and nothing else. It's see-through and I can tell her titties and bush are exposed. The light from the moon is enough to see what's what.
"I need water."
"Later," she says, her voice husky.
"I know what you want. You want me to fuck you."
She laughs. "No, that's how it used to be, Allen. Now I'm going to fuck YOU."
I moan, but not in a good way.
She kneels down and pulls something from beneath the bed. It makes a scraping sound on the floor. Some kind of chest or trunk, I think. "Please, what the hell are you doing this for? Whatever I did to you, honey, it wasn't this bad."
She looks up from the trunk or box and stares at me with cold, dead eyes. "I do it for the same reason you fuck old ladies and treat them like dogshit, Allen. I do it because I like it. It makes me cum."
"Christ. You crazy..."
She gives me a look. A look that says, you've still got two fingers left. Not to mention toes and teeth and a cock and balls. Just how much more do you want taken away?
I get it. I shut my mouth.
"Now you're understanding," she laughs. When she gets up slowly, I see she's holding a large black dildo.
"Oh no. Come on. No. Please don't...grandma...wait, what's your name?"
"You forgot. I told you but I lied anyway. My name is Katrina."
"Katrina. I really wish we could do something else. Like, that's not my thing, you know?"
Her eyebrow shoots up. "If this is too big for you, we could use Timmy. He's much smaller."
I groan and my stomach lurches. "No. No, not Timmy and not...that...dildo."
"I promise I'll be gentler than you were with me, okay?"
I take a deep breath. This is getting bad. I mean, in some ways I'm more okay with getting my hands taken off then being fucked in the ass with a dildo. See, I have this thing....a fear, a phobia about my ass. I don't want it being screwed around with by anyone. Even when I take a shit, I'm very gentle with it. I use wipes. It's pristine and even in the past I never let girls go there with fingers or licking. Nothing.
But Katrina, if that's even her name, doesn't care. She's a lunatic.
She walks beside me and then grabs my shoulder and roughly turns me onto my side. I yelp as my hands, or what's left of them---my stumps---hit the bed and the wall.
And then the dildo is going in my ass.
The pain and pressure is immense. And she's enjoying my screams and cries of pain. I feel bile rising up my throat and then I vomit. It splatters the wall.
"Ew." She releases the dildo and I hear it fall to the floor and roll, possibly underneath the bed again.
"I'm sick. I'm dying. And you're fucking me in the ass with a goddamn black dildo. You sick bitch."
"Language---"
"I don't care. Who gives you the right to do this to people? Huh?"
"Who gives you the right to fuck and rape women?"
"I don't rape anybody."
"Degrade them, then."
"I'm sorry about that. Lesson learned." I hold up my stumps.
"I'm not trying to teach you a lesson, Allen. I've done this to boys who genuinely helped me carry groceries home for no other reason than they were nice young citizens trying to do a good deed."
"And what's the deal with Timmy?"
"Timmy was my first."
"The first guy you did this shit to."
"Yes."
"How many have there been?"
"Oh, I don't know. Thirty or forty. Not all of them got the full treatment. The full experience you're getting."
"Lucky me."
"It's almost over now, Allen. Don't worry."
"You're going to kill me?"
"It's almost over."
Soon after that, she leaves.
Somehow I manage to fall back asleep again. When I wake up, light is streaming through the bedroom window. The sheets are a mess. Like, not just all untucked and everything but bloody and pussy and smelly. "Oh, you fucking b---" I don't say it. What if she's in the hallway, listening? Ready to call that crazy attack dog Timmy on me? I try to sit up in bed but I'm far too weak.
This might be my last day on this earth. Oh well, no big loss to the world, I guess. I spent most of my life fucking women, using them like cum towels and then laughing about it with my boys.
I wonder what Tad would say about this shit.
He might laugh at me, I think.
The door to the room opens and Katrina's standing there with Timmy. "God, just kill me already."
She smiles. "Sorry. It's over."
Timmy's not wearing his apron and boots anymore. No cleaver. Instead he's in a fancy suit and tie. He's carrying a rolled up piece of black cloth or something in one giant hand. As he approaches my bed he lets it unfurl. It's a mask or hood of some sort.
"What's that for?" I say. My voice has come back a bit. It still sounds like I drank gravel last night.
"Not to worry, Allen. Just relax."
A moment later the hood's on my head and they undo the handcuff. And then Timmy picks me up and starts walking with me.
I can feel him carrying me through the house. "Remember what I told you, darling," Katrina calls after us, and I'm not really sure who she's talking to---Timmy or me.
Before long, we're outside and then I'm hefted down into something enclosed. I can smell mustiness and dirt and leather. And then a slamming sound and it comes to me that I'm in some huge trunk of a car.
The car starts and we're driving.
I think about how we got to her house in the first place. We drove about twenty minutes outside the city. I remember asking her why she went to a deli so far from her house and she said it was because she liked to come into the city once a week, just to see people and so forth.
We took so many back roads that I'd probably never be able to find the house again even if I wanted to. It was miles out in the middle of nowhere, and she probably took a lot of weird turns and side streets for that exact reason.
I wonder where I'm being taken now.
About an hour or two later---I lose track of time---the car stops. The engine's still running.
The trunk opens and then I'm being hefted out and thrown over Timmy's shoulder. After a bit of walking, he lays me on the cold ground. Snow is on my face and stinging my poor stumps.
"Bye Allen. Nice to meet you."
I almost tell him to fuck off but who knows what he'd do. "You too, Timmy," I say instead. Funny, part of me almost means it. No. That can't be true. What the hell am I thinking. Fucking Stockholm syndrome.
The car drives away. I shake the hood off my head and look around, blinking.
I'm in the woods but when I stand up, clearly can see a hospital the length of a football field away. Of course I'm naked and handless, so as I walk over, people start screaming and before long the cops are there.
They ask me what happened and I suddenly realize I don't want to tell the truth.
For whatever reason. Well fuck, it's humiliating. I got kidnapped after banging a seventy year old broad and then her and her crazy boyfriend cut my hands off...
Instead, I just say that I got jumped in an alley, beaten up and taken to an unknown location and that I don't remember anything else after that. It's not a total lie.
They run tests on me, figure I've got head trauma or something. Then they do emergency surgery on my hands.
I'm in a nice drug haze for the next few days and my family and friends visit a few at a time. Their faces are ashy and shocked when they see me and what's been done to my hands.
But the docs explain that with new prosthetic hands and shit, like with bionic fingers and all kinds of stuff, I'll still be able to drive a car and do most of the old stuff I did in the past.
About a week after I've been admitted to the hospital, Tad shows up. He's been by a bunch of times before but always with a lot of others too.
This time it's almost end of visitation hours and he's alone.
"Yo, Allen, what the hell is up," he says, sitting down in the chair beside my bed.
I shrug. My hands still look like mummified and shit with all the bandages and dressings. Tad is tall, lanky, dark haired. We were the milf hunters, me and him.
Banging old chicks and then trading stories and laughing about it. Sometimes we even did it as a team and fucked them at the same time.
"Just hanging out. They say I can go home next week probably."
Tad nods. "Good. You know how much tail you're gonna get with this sob story about your hands, right?"
"Um. Yeah, I suppose so."
"You suppose?" He laughs and opens a bag of Skittles. "It's a damn goldmine.
Old ladies will weep and then take a load right in the face." He mimes a load spraying into some old chick's eyes.
I can't really laugh. Not yet. I just try to smile a bit.
He pops a skittle in his mouth and then holds the bag out toward me. "You want?"
"No thanks."
"Dude, I'll feed you. I don't mind."
"It's okay. Not hungry at the moment."
Tad sits back and watches the TV up on the wall. Oprah is interviewing Johnny Depp about Pirates of the Caribbean 7 or some shit.
"Look man, what happened to you? Like, what really happened?"
"I told you, I got jumped."
"In the alley by Josem's Deli? Are you kidding me?" he laughs. "I know, bro. I know that's your spot for bagging milfs and gilfs and shit."
"Yeah. So?"
"So, tell me exactly what went down." He's staring at me now, his dark eyes intent.
"I really don't remember, bro."
"Bullshit. Don't lie to me. Someone getting even with you for nailing their grandmother or something?"
I react a little, involuntarily. He's pretty damn close to knowing the truth. "I told you---"
"Don't fucking lie to me, man. This shit affects me, too. What if it's someone that I sparked? We did a lot of teamwork and whatnot. I could be next. I like having my fucking hands."
"It's not anyone you know. Now lay off me, asshole."
"Fine." He throws a few skittles in his mouth and leaves.
I'm released into the care of my mom and dad the following week. It sucks. The last thing I want is to be back under my parents' roof, but that's going to be how it is now.
The days and weeks pass by in a haze of boringness and pain. Doing rehab on my injuries, being fitted for new prosthetic hands, sleeping, eating, listening to my parents bitch and moan at each other as usual.
I almost prefer being at Katarina's and Timmy's house. At least there it was different.
Tad and my other friends don't visit me as much after awhile. I can tell that I creep them out with my fucked up hands and I don't really laugh at their new stories. In fact, sometimes I kind of want to grab one of them and bring them up to that house and show them just how funny this shit is when you catch some payback.
Maybe they sense my feelings, maybe they just get bored of me. Whatever it is, after awhile the only one who even calls me anymore is Tad.
But what the hell can I do? My hands are still a mess, I'm using plastic hands that fit on over my stumps but they don't really function like the robotic ones will when they're ready.
One day I'm sitting on the couch watching Clueless with Alicia Silverstone. I used to HATE this fucking movie, like, with a passion. I always liked Tarantino shit or Goodfellas or some sick Japanese horror movies. But now I'm not really too into that stuff. Having some sicko cut off your hands will do that to you.
Anyway, I'm kind of into the movie, it's the part where she starts becoming all charitable and shit. I've got a big smile plastered on my face and suddenly my cell rings.
I look at it. It's work.
"Shit." I sigh. "Ma!"
She yells back from the other side of the house. "What?"
"I got a phone call. I need you to help me answer it!"
The phone keeps buzzing. Ma takes her time and finally comes in. "Who is it?"
"None of your business. Just answer it and put the Bluetooth in my ear for me."
She does and then leaves, muttering.
When I finally answer, it's my boss, Jacko. His real name is Jack but we always call him Jacko. "Buddy, how you holding up?" he says.
"Eh. Not too bad." Damn, I really want to get back to the movie. The part where she gets her two nerdy teachers together is coming up.
"Hey man, your disability is going to be up at the end of next month."
"Right. I forgot."
"And you said you'll be getting your---whatever---the hands will be operable in like two or three months, right?"
"Yeah."
I need my hands for my job. I do sales for a tech company and there's a lot of typing and computer stuff along with phone work that require some hand coordination.
"So we don't want you to lose your job and insurance and everything," Jacko says.
"Right..."
"If you feel up to it, corporate is cool with you coming in and just doing some odd jobs around here until you get your new hands."
I sigh. I'm not going to be able to enjoy Clueless now that I've got this on my mind. "What kind of odd jobs?"
"Does it matter? You need the insurance."
"Yeah."
"Can you start coming in next week?"
Alicia Silverstone is paused in mid-sentence on screen, her young pink face staring off into the distance. She's wearing a beret or some shit and that little fat friend of hers is scowling at something. The one who became hot later in life---oh, right, Brittney Murphy.
"So, can you do it Allen?"
"Yes. I can do it. I don't really have a choice."
"See you Monday then."
Monday comes along sooner than I'd have liked. Mom drives me into work, which is humiliating. More humiliating was last night, how I woke everyone up screaming at the top of my lungs. I was shouting, "don't fuck me in the ass with a dildo!"
I wonder if they know there's more to the story than what I've admitted to...
Before the whole kidnapping thing, I was a top salesman at Deretek. Deretek sells shit to other computer companies, but I won't bore you with the details. Suffice it to say, they fucking love me there.
And of course I fucked like eighty percent of the female employees, even the fat ones.
When I get in, I see that my usual desk is being sat in by some douchey looking guy in a button-down shirt and tie. I head into Jacko's office. Yes, I'm a bit self-conscious about my hands, or lack thereof. The prosthetics I'm wearing don't really even look remotely real. People stare. Jacko's staring right now. He gawks at my hands while saying hello.
"Allen, my man! Good to see you!" He reaches out to shake my fake hand.
"Dude are you stupid?" I say.
"Sorry, I forgot..."
"Whatever."
He gestures to the chair next to me. "Go ahead, sit---aw shit."
"What?"
Jacko points to his hand. "Do you mind if I use mine?"
"Use yours?"
"Yeah, like does it offend you when I use my hands and shit? No offense meant."
"God you are a fucking tard, Jacko. Really, man." I sit down and cross my legs.
"You shouldn't say 'tard in the office, Allen."
"Since when?"
He stares at me evenly. "In fact, you're actually kind of lucky your hands got chopped off and whatnot."
"Oh, yeah, I'm really lucky."
"Like three days after the...the accident or whatever...a couple of chicks went to HR and filed sexual harassment complaints against you."
"WHAT?"
"Three chick---girls---you know, ladies who work here.."
"Jacko, you fucked almost the same ones that I did, man. And I get thrown under the fucking bus?"
He holds up his hands and then looks sheepishly at them. "Sorry." He puts them down.
"I told you already, it doesn't offend me when you use your hands. Okay?"
"Okay, okay, chillax bro."
"So who went and filed?"
"I can't reveal their names..."
"Fuck you, tell me."
"I can't say...but I'll use their...ahh...the little codenames, the ones we made up."
"Fine, fine. Tell me." I wave my stump at him.
"Horseface, Donkey, Chubbs."
"Samantha, Heather, Reeba."
He nods, his face dead serious. "But they backed off once we heard about the hand thing. Nobody wanted to go after a crip...you know...an injured party."
I sigh. "Whatever."
"My point is, Allen, you can't be saying tard and shit all over the place. And we have to stop fucking the workers."
"Have you?"
"Have I what?"
"Stopped fucking the workers?"
"I'm down to just one." He leans back, pleased with himself.
"Who?"
He doesn't answer. His eyes dart all over the place.
I point my stump at him. "Which one, Jacko?"
He shrugs. "It's not important."
"Fucking tell me. Use the code."
"Chubbs."
I shake my head. "You idiot."
"Not cool. No more derogatory terms okay?"
"What's my job?"
"And it's especially important given your new position at the company."
"Just tell me."
"You'll be assisting Eddie Mercanto."
"Who?"
"You know, Unsteady Eddie?"
I groan. Unsteady Eddie is the retarded guy who cleans the office. He walks around singing and emptying bins and shit, while we all laugh at him to his face.
"I'm not doing that. Give me something else."
"There is nothing else."
"I'll lick envelopes."
"We can't afford to have someone holding them for you."
"Fine." I stand up. "Where do I go?"
Jacko runs a hand through his dark hair. "I think he's on the fourth floor, eating his ham and cheese sandwich."
"You know what he eats?"
"He tells me. Everyday. He doesn't do that with you?"
"Never."
"Maybe he doesn't like you very much."
I don't bother responding. I leave the room, all too aware of everyone's eyes following me as I leave the office. None of my boys even say one word. Not T-Bone, Ray Ray, or Tommy Bones. They just stare at me. Fuckers.
I go up to find Unsteady Eddie.
He's eating, finishing off his sandwich. The food is all over his face too, mayo and mustard, all of it. Of course, I'm even worse than him so I can't really laugh about it like I used to. Nowadays someone has to feed me. Usually mom.
Eddie's all alone in the lunch room. When he sees me, his eyes widen.
"Ah, ah, ah...ah, ah!" He yells, standing. Mayo is dripping down the corner of his mouth. "Ah!" He points. "Allen!"
"Yup, it's me all right."
Eddie is not only way retarded, he's also Mexican or some shit. Totally foreign and short and kind of smelly, with a bad accent. He loves talking about The Fresh Prince of Bell Air. This is going to be hell.
"Eddie, how's it going?"
He points at the empty brown bag and plastic wrapping on the table. "I was eating my sandwich, Allen."
"Yeah, I heard. Big news around the office. Word is it's ham and cheese."
He nods and grins. Flecks of ham and bread hang on his giant yellow choppers.
He's also got a thick black mustache with some food in it.
"Allen, you coming with me today?"
"Yes, I'm working with you for awhile. Helping you."
He laughs and tries to give me a high-five. I show him my stump and he leans forward, stares wide eyed at the plastic hand that's just hanging on to it, all crooked and shit.
Eddie points. "What---what---what---"
"I lost my hands, Ed."
"Where?"
"What do you mean, where?"
"Lose your hands?"
"Yes."
"Where did you lose them, Allen?"
"You've got to be fucking kidding me. I---they got cut off."
He just stares. "How?"
"I don't really remember."
Eddie looks at me with his dark brown retarded eyes. He smiles. "You don't remember?"
"Right. I can't remember what happened to my hands. Some guys beat me up."
"You do too!"
"Shut up, Eddie."
"YOU DO TOO KNOW!!" He shouts. His face is getting red.
Goddamn nutcase. "Shut your mouth, bro."
"You know!" He grabs my wrist and starts pulling me towards him.
"Dude, what the hell?" I rip myself away from his ultra-strong grip.
He starts to calm down. He seems confused now. "Uh-oh. Got to get to cleaning!"
"Right."
I follow him out of the lunchroom.
Over the next week I follow Unsteady Eddie around like a pathetic sidekick. The thing is, I can't really DO anything. They stuck me in this job so that I wouldn't be fired.
Eddie doesn't care, and he doesn't really need an assistant. So mostly he just talks and I listen.
And everyone else avoids me. I mean, nobody will say even a word to me. Like I don't exist. Fuck them. Most of those chicks I fucked and dropped loads in their stupid faces anyway.
A funny thing happens one day.
Me and Eddie are sitting in his little maintenance closet, he's getting some garbage bags or some shit. And I start telling him what REALLY happened to me.
What starts the whole thing is that I actually forget about my hand situation. I try to pick up a spray bottle because I know he needs a refill, and suddenly I realize my hands are GONE. Fucking gone forever. And I start crying and shit, snot running out of my nose.
Eddie puts a smelly brown hand on my shoulder. "Hey, hey, All---Allen. What wrong man?"
"Fuck it. Fuck it bro." I blow my nose on my own shirt using my stump and teeth to kind of pull it close to my face.
"You mad at me Allen?"
"No. Why would I be mad at you?"
"Because your hands."
"You didn't do anything to my hands."
He cocks his head, smiles. "You remember!"
"Dude, I don't have fucking amnesia."
"What?"
"I remember what happened to my hands. I know who cut them off, Eddie."
"Who?"
"It doesn't matter."
"WHO?"
"Barack Obama."
He giggles. "That's funny."
"Yeah, you get my jokes, don't you?"
He nods. "Tell me who," he says again.
Pushy fucker. But then I think about it. Look around. We're in a smelly little closet. Me and a retarded dude. He's never going to tell anyone, and even if he does, who would believe or even understand him?
And it's been eating at me. The dreams are getting worse and worse. Dreams---
Christ, these are the worst nightmares I've ever had by far. Timmy and Katarina do shit to me at night in my head that's a million times worse than what they actually did to me.
It's getting so I hardly can close my eyes anymore. I'm exhausted.
"Eddie, let me tell you what happened bro."
"Okay Allen," he grins.
"I met a really old lady, and she took me back to her house and I started to fuck her."
Eddie's laughing hysterically.
"You ever fucked a real girl before?" I ask him.
He smiles. "YES...."
"I don't believe it."
"Daddy took me to a lady."
"Prostitute? Okay, got it. Anyway, moving on, I was banging this old broad at her house. And right when I'm about to finish, her crazy friend comes in with a knife and cuts my fucking hand off."
Eddie's face changes. His jaw drops open. "No!"
"Yes, Eddie."
He stares at my hands. "Cut your hand off?"
"And then they held me, they tied me to a bed and the old lady used a big black stick to fuck me in the ass. You hear me, Eddie? I got raped. And they cut my damn hands off." I start to blubber.
Next thing I know, Eddie is holding me close, bear-hugging me against his dark blue work shirt that smells like fresh garbage and urine. It doesn't matter. I cry and weep and he comforts me like a little lamb.
After that, me and Eddie are pretty much just like two peas in a pod. We eat together---Eddie holds my food for me---we work together, share inside jokes. I'm enjoying myself so much that I'm totally not expecting or even wanting a change in my work routine.
And then Jacko calls me into his office one Friday afternoon.
He motions for me to sit in the chair and close the door.
"How's things with you and Unsteady Eddie?"
"His name is just plain Eddie."
"Oh." Jacko purses his lips and nods as if he understands. But he doesn't understand shit, not like Eddie does.
"You still fucking the employees?" I ask.
Jacko can't meet my gaze. "None of your business."
"It's not just Chubbs anymore. Your back on the sauce---you're fucking a whole bunch of them aren't you Jacko?"
He grits his teeth. "What's your problem Allen? You came in here with a fucking chip on your shoulder man. I brought you in to give you good news. We're moving you back to sales."
"How? I can't use my hands and the new prosthetics with the bionic parts won't be here for at least another month."
"We'll work it out. Corporate says they want you in management and we'll have someone assisting you in the menial stuff you can't do at the moment."
"Corporate said that? Why?"
Jacko taps the desk, then gets up, stuffs his hands in his pockets and stares out the window. "Sales are way down. Ever since you left. Like we dropped off a fucking cliff.
Unbelievable."
I can't help but smile. "Weird."
"Fucking coincidence is what it is, but they're putting the pressure on me. So they want you taking charge of the sales group. You know, you still report to me though Allen."
"Oh of course, of course."
"Remember that Allen. You report to ME."
I grin. "Sure, Jacko. Whatever you say."
The following week I'm moved into a corner office and my assistant comes in to introduce herself while Eddie helps me set up my stuff. That was one of my demands, I wanted Eddie to be by my side when he wasn't doing his trash runs and mopping the floors. Corporate agreed to it because they were convinced I could save our floundering sales force.
"Eddie, could you put those books in the bookcase, make it look like I read and shit?" I say as he holds the box full of books that we brought in from home.
Eddie laughs and nods. "Yes. I put them away for you."
I sit down at my desk and spin around in the chair a few times. That's when the new girl enters. She's hot, that's the first thing I notice. Big old titties, and she's showing them off with a low-cut blouse, nice tight black pants. I can practically see camel toe. Not too shabby. Jacko probably hired her for himself, he must be pissed now that corporate gave her to me.
"Hi, I'm Nadine," she says, waving. Her eyes flick down to my stumps but then back to my face.
I introduce myself. "Don't feel bad about noticing or staring at my hands---where my hands used to be."
"I don't. Feel bad. Mind if I ask what happened?"
Eddie grins. "They cut 'em off!!"
"Ed, take it easy."
"And put a stick in his ass!"
I try and laugh, shake my head. "Ed's a little slow. He doesn't really get it."
Nadine gives a tiny smile. "Well. What did happen?"
"I don't really remember."
"Yes he does!"
"Ed, knock it off."
Nadine sighs. "Need help putting your office together?"
"That would be great. Then we have a big sales meeting, I need to knock some skulls."
A few hours later I call everyone together. The entire sales force is about twenty people, many of them chicks that I fucked once upon a time. Most of them hate me, they look at me with complete disdain. The few who went to HR and filed the sexual harassment complaint are sitting right up front together. Horse face, Donkey and Chubbs. I smile at them widely as I begin the meeting. Ed had to stay back at my office, I couldn't chance it that he'd start yelling about me getting fucked in the ass with a stick or something.
"The reason I got brought back in this leadership position is because sales have gone in the shitter this quarter. You all are ruining the company."
People roll their eyes, snicker, whisper.
"Hey," I say, walking back and forth, my fake hands swinging at my sides.
"Don't take my word for it. Go in and ask Jack about it. He'll tell you. Everyone's jobs are on the line. Now, one thing I know is sales. When I was here selling, I was at the top of the leader board every damn month. And it made my coworkers try harder and dig deeper."
"Oh you went deep all right," someone says, just loud enough for me to hear.
I look over and see Chubbs sitting there with a smug look on her face.
"In any case, we're going back to basics," I say. "We're going to start the Leader Board again, right up on the wall there. And every day we're going to give prizes to the top sales people and the bottom feeders will have to do the grunt paperwork that everyone hates. That's the punishment for not making money for the company. Got it?"
Everyone just stares at me.
"Well, you will get it," I say. "Meeting adjourned."
Over the next month, I start cracking the whip on everyone. I stand in the sales room where all the cubicles are and I walk around, watching everyone, making sure there's no goofing off. Eddie comes along with me, and he's got a good eye. When someone is just fucking around making jokes or taking too many smoke breaks, Ed starts pointing and screaming. "NO! BACK TO WORK! NO!! NO!!"
It's so incredibly embarrassing that pretty soon nobody wants to take breaks at all anymore. And the sales have increased like two hundred percent since I started my new position.
On top of that, Nadine is sending me some pretty strong signals. Like one day, I'm having Eddie massage the stump of my right hand. It still gets pretty sore, especially with the prosthetic piece always being on it.
Nadine walks in with a sales report and sees him rubbing my stump.
"Oh, sorry to intrude."
"It's fine, you can leave that right on my desk, Nadine."
"Oh, okay." She smiles and walks over, places the big report gently on the desk.
"How's it look?"
"Amazing," she says. "Your team is crushing, Allen. Corporate is going to be really happy. This week is the biggest week the sales group has EVER had. In like the history of the company."
"Wow."
Ed grins. "Back to work everyone!"
"That's right, Ed. Very good. Back to work."
Nadine watches him go to town on my wrist.
"Gross, huh?" I say.
She looks at me dead in the eye. "Not at all. Kind of...sexy actually."
"Don't give me that crap."
"Do you want me to rub the other one?"
I feel my dick stand to attention like it's at Buckingham Palace. "No, that's okay," I say. "Ed would be sad if I took any duties away from him."
"I could rub something else then."
"No, you work for me. It would be sexual harassment."
Nadine laughs. "What?"
Eddie laughs too. His teeth are yellow and his breath smells like eight day old baby diapers but I'm used to it.
"Sexual harassment, Nadine. Ever heard of it? Just around the time of my kidnap---my accident, whatever...some girls at the office brought a complaint to HR
about me."
"You're not inappropriate with me."
I wink. "That's because I learned my damn lesson. No more shitting where I eat."
"I know the sexual harassment laws, Allen. It has to be unwanted sexual advances that create a hostile work environment. But I'm the one saying I want to massage you, so it's okay."
"But that's your word against mine," I tell her. Eddie stops rubbing my stump and puts my fake hand back over my wrist. "If we start banging, the higher ups will be only too happy to give me a ticket to Unemployment City."
"Unemployment City? Is that some kind of phrase you just made up?" Nadine asks, coming closer. I can smell her perfume and her titties are clearly visible through her low-cut blouse. I can practically see her nips poking out.
"You know what I'm talking about. They'll fire me if we fuck each other. I'm on thin ice around here."
"THIN ICE! YOU FALL INTO THE LAKE!!" Eddie shouts.
"Not now, Eddie," I tell him. He shrugs and leaves the room.
Nadine folds her arms. "I know you want me."
"You don't know me, Nadine. I'm a nasty guy. I used to bang older women just so I could tell stories about them to my bros."
She laughs. "Like a milf hunter or something?"
My eyes widen. "You know about that stuff?"
"I've seen porn before. Wow, you really must have dated some old ladies if they'd never heard of milf hunting."
"And that doesn't disgust you."
"You're a guy, guys are disgusting. Nothing new there."
"My left stump IS kind of sore," I admit.
"Let me rub it and make it all better," she says.
Next thing I know, Nadine is sitting on my lap and massaging my stump. Her huge tits are right in my face.
"You might be an angel," I tell her.
Shortly thereafter, Nadine and I are seeing each other regularly. We spend almost all of our free time together. She feeds me, rubs my stumps---all the stuff Eddie used to do. But I still have Eddie doing a bunch of other tasks because we're friends, and I don't just drop my buddies when I'm in love. We're like one big, happy, crippled and retarded family.
Everything in my life is going good.
Maybe too fucking good. I'm finally happy. In fact, if you ask me I'll tell you straight up that I'm GLAD my hands got chopped off and all that shit. Because I'm a way more content person now than I was when I had my hands.
And then something horrible happens.
It's two days before I'm scheduled to get my new robot hands and I'm really excited. Not only that, but I've been promoted to head of the entire division. I'm taking over Jacko's office but first I have to tell him the deal.
He's been a real pain in the ass since I took over sales and had so much success. I hear stories about him making fun of me behind my back, pretending to be me and eating with his hands hidden under his sleeves so that food gets all over his face. Pretending he has stumps and shit.
So I don't feel too bad about what I have to do right now when I walk into his (my) office without knocking. He looks up from something and I can tell he's been jacking off to internet porn.
"Haven't you ever heard of making a fucking appointment?" he says.
"I know you're not doing anything important," I say.
"As a matter of fact---" he says, but I run to his computer and spin it around using my stump. There's a document up on the screen.
"I know you're surfing porn, Jacko."
"Fuck off, I'm reviewing this SOP for Roger at corporate."
I gesture at the screen, my fake hand dangling. "Pull up your internet, motherfucker."
"No."
"Do it or I'll call IT and make this public."
"What is your damage, man?"
"Do it. Open Internet Explorer."
He opens the browser.
"Now, go into history."
"This is totally over the line."
"Fine, I'm calling IT."
"Okay. Okay, I was surfing porn, happy?"
"Show me the sites. Open up your history, dickwad."
He clicks on history and I see a laundry list of sites. Chubby chasers, black ho's sucking dick, and even some tranny porn.
"Didn't know you were into dicks, Jacko."
"I'm not, it was an accident. She looked like a chick until I clicked the link."
"Uh huh."
He gets up and points at the door. "You've had your fun, now I'll ask you kindly to get the hell out of my office."
"That's the thing, Jacko. I've been sent to tell you the new deal. Corporate promoted me this morning. To Head of the Division."
His eyes widen. "And they didn't tell me?"
"My first task is to tell you that you've been demoted to a sales associate."
"Bullshit. They can't do that."
"Oh yeah. They can. Chubbs went and filed a complaint against you. So did Pumpkin Tits."
"Goddamn it." He puts his face in his hands and starts to cry.
"I'm gonna need you to pack your shit and move to the cubicle next to Ray Ray."
A few hours later, Eddie and Nadine help me to start moving all of my stuff into the new office. Everything's going perfect. Nadine and I have already gone to HR and let them know we're seeing each other, it's all out in the open.
Nadine's perfect for me. She LIKES it when I bust nuts in her face. But she's more than just some stupid cum rag. She's funny. She gets my sick humor. I enjoy spending time with her.
In fact, I'm staring at her heart-shaped ass as she unpacks one of my boxes and getting yet another erection the size of the empire state building when my phone buzzes.
It's a text. And then another. And another.
And it all goes to shit.
"Eddie, could you bring me my phone?"
"Yeah, yeah yeah!" Eddie screams, then wrangles my phone out of it's holster and holds it up to my face.
The first text is from Tad.
YO, I'M AT JOSEM'S DELI BRO AND I THINK I MET SOMEONE WHO
KNOWS U.
My mouth goes dry.
The next text is from Tad as well.
I'M GONNA FUCK THIS OLD BIDDIE. WE'RE HEADING TO HER PLACE.
"Jesus! Jesus Christ!"
Nadine turns around. "What's wrong?"
"I need you to text someone for me. Quick."
"Okay..." Nadine takes the phone and I tell her what to type.
"Tell him to get the hell out of there ASAP. But first, tell him to text us back the street names as he goes by them. We need to know where she's taking him."
"What's going on Allen?"
"Just do this, I'll explain everything later," I tell her.
Pretty soon, the texts start coming back with street names.
"Tell him to make sure she doesn't notice him using his phone if possible."
A few more texts come in with street names and then nothing.
We wait for about an hour and then I know it's over. They've got him.
I'm getting really worked up, shaking, sweating, crying. I can hardly talk.
"Baby, you need to tell me what's happening," Nadine says.
"Eddie, take off for a minute. Go eat your ham and cheese, bro," I tell him through my tears.
"HAM AND CHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESE!!" He screams happily.
"God I wish I could be as clueless and happy as that dude," I say, watching him go.
When the office door closes again, Nadine grabs my stump. "Tell me what the fuck is going on."
So I do. I break it down for her. I've never told her the true story even though I've always known she'd understand. But it's just too painful and I hate thinking about what was done to me.
But now's the time. To say she's shocked is an understatement. Her hand is over her mouth the whole time. And when I'm done she comes and hugs me. Strokes my hair and whispers that everything's going to be fine. "You need to call the police," she says, eventually.
"No way. I don't want to tell anybody what happened to me."
"But your friend is going to get killed."
I shake my head. "Fuck that. This is my chance."
"To get revenge?"
"Yup."
She folds her arms. "You can't do that. It's dangerous. You might get killed.
And if you end up hurting one of them, you could go to jail, Allen."
"All I ask is that you drive me to the road leading up to the house."
"No. I can't be part of this," she says. "You need to call the police."
I realize that as wonderful as Nadine is, this might be the end of us. Because I am going to get the fuckers that did this to me.
But I can't drive. So I get Eddie to drive me. I've seen him driving himself to and from work, as bizarre as it seems. He can actually do it.
His GPS is some state of the art voice activated shit and so I can verbally plug in the addresses that Tad texted my phone. From there, I can only hope that my memory will kick in and I'll be able to get us the rest of the way to Katarina's hell hole.
But what about once we get there? With no hands, I can't really use a weapon.
I don't know, I just know I'm going to do something.
"Where we going, Allen?"
"Just drive. It's a dangerous place. You aren't going in with me."
"Okay Allen. Be care-careful."
"Yup."
As we get closer, it's like a waking nightmare. The roads start to look familiar.
I'm breaking out in a cold sweat like James Brown sang about.
Finally, we get to the last street name that came through the texts he sent. "Stop at this corner," I say.
We're deep in the woods, now, and all these old winding roads look the same to me. Which way, that's the question. Which way.
Finally, a memory comes to me, from deep in my subconscious or some shit.
I have a vivid flashback of me and Katarina in the car on the way over to her house, the bags of groceries in the backseat and me checking out her giant hanging old lady tits as she drives. And I can SEE the road that we're on at this very moment in my mind's eye.
"Turn left," I tell him. "Left."
And then we go the rest of the way with me directing him, like I'm in some kind of trance.
Is it weird that as we get to the long driveway that leads to her house I have a hard-on again?
"Stop the car here and let me out," I tell Eddie.
"Why?"
"Because I have business to attend to. Personal shit."
Eddie stares at me with his lip hanging. "Is this where you hand was cut?"
"Damn you're pretty fucking smart for a 'tard."
Eddie shrugs. "What if they cut off you FEET?"
He's got a point. I turn around and look in the back of his van. There's all kinds of maintenance stuff in there, including tools and hammers and stuff. "Eddie, do you have something sharp back there?"
Eddie smiles. "YES! Yes Allen!" He clambers into the back and starts throwing stuff around, making a big racket. Finally he pulls out a thin metal saw blade that looks just perfect for my needs.
"What about duct tape?"
"Quack quack Allen," he shouts, and then produces a big roll of the stuff.
"That's right, duck tape," I smile.
"Now what?"
"You tape that freaking blade to my stump, and tape it good and tight. Use the whole damn roll."
"Okay, good and tight!"
Eddie does as I say and before too much time has gone by, I've got a nice weapon for my right hand. I practice swinging it a little bit, but quarters are tight and I don't want to accidentally stab Eddie.
"You pull the car out to the street and wait for me," I tell him.
"Right here," he says.
"Wait right there for me and if I don't come back in two hours, drive to work and tell Nadine that the kidnappers are going to kill me."
"Okay Allen! Have fun!" He calls after me as I get out of the car and head up the driveway on foot.
When I reach the house, it's bigger than I remember it. The thing is like four stories and stretches back away, so that it's hard to tell just how many rooms or square footage there must be inside.
There is only one car parked in the semi-circular driveway, and I recognize it from when I drove in it with Katarina the day she kidnapped me.
There's no way I'm going in the front door.
Instead, I move through the woods near the house and circle around back. I try and peer into the windows but there's just darkness. Finally, I see an open bulkhead that must lead into the basement. As I cross to go down the steps, I hear someone laughing and I nearly piss myself.
I know that voice. I wouldn't forget the sound of that voice if I lived a thousand years. Fucking Timmy.
I grit my teeth.
"Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah! Do her good! Do her gooooood!" I hear him say as I slowly creep down the bulkhead stairs. I peek into the basement and see that Timmy is putting on his boots and apron. The basement is large and filled with all kinds of torturous implements. Ropes, whips, straps, canes and knives align the walls, hang on hooks and pegs.
There's a large television monitor and clear as day I can see Tad boning Katarina.
This must be a live feed from upstairs, which is how Timmy knew to come up and get me at just the right moment last time.
Timmy's eyes are glued to the screen as he puts on his right boot. "Oh, get her good, right there! Ha!" he shouts.
Tad is onscreen, buck naked, fucking Katarina's mouth like she's one of those plastic sex dolls. He has her by the back of the head with his hands and is thrusting into her mouth so that she gags and looks to be having trouble breathing.
I feel a surge of happiness at seeing him do this. I hope she fucking chokes on his dick, I think.
But Timmy is getting prepared to interrupt Tad's fun with his trusty meat cleaver.
The giant picks it up and is about to start heading to the stairs when I jump from the stairs and swing my saw blade. Quicker than I would have imagined, Timmy must have heard or sensed something because he moves just as I arc the blade down to his throat and it catches his shoulder.
Blood sprays across my face and Timmy cries out in pain.
He falls to the floor and his cleaver flies out of his grip.
"How you like it, you big fat fuck!" I shout. The feeling of joy is overwhelming.
I glance up at the monitor and see Katarina trying to call for help from her maniacal butler, but having no luck. Tad jerks her head back around and starts cumming all over her shocked and horrified face.
Timmy stares at me, for a moment he doesn't move. "No!" he says.
"Yes!" I reply, bringing my blade down in a stabbing motion. Timmy holds up his huge arm and it glances off his wrist. He shrieks in pain. This gives me an idea. I hack at his wrist three or four times. "You see how it feels to have your hands cut off motherfucker!"
By the time I'm done, half his hand is on the floor and he's blubbering. Blood is spurting in bursts across the room.
"How you like that, Timmy?" I say. "Tell me!"
"Please, please, no more!" he says. "It hurts."
"Damn straight it does."
I kick him two or three times in the face until his nose breaks. "Shit, I could get used to this." But no. Timmy's a mess and he can't do much to me now. He's lying in a pool of blood. He might even die soon.
I bypass him and walk upstairs for the main course.
When I reach the living room, Tad is pulling on his pants while Katarina tries to wipe his jizz off her face. She seems confused and shaken.
"You like that, Granny? How'd my shit taste? Like fucking hot sauce, right?"
Tad says. "I eat so many buffalo wings, girls tell me my shit tastes like damn hot sauce."
Katarina begins to sob.
"Hey, come on, it aint that bad," he says, pulling his shirt on over his head.
Just then, I enter the room. "She's crying because you were supposed to have had your balls cut off by now."
Both of them jump, startled. She screams. "Where is Timmy?"
I laugh and hold up my saw blade wrapped stump. "I fucking chopped that little bitch up. He won't be coming in to save your ass."
Tad stares at me. "Dude, are you insane?"
"I told you to leave as soon as possible. What were you thinking going home with her?" I tell him. "This is the lady who kidnapped me you idiot!"
He laughs. "Her? This old biddie?"
She shakes her head. "Don't listen to him," she tells Tad, pointing at me. "He's crazy. He was crazy when I fucked him months ago and he's crazy now."
"If I'm so crazy, how did my hands get chopped off?" I say. I turn to Tad.
"Come downstairs, I'll show you their sick fucking dungeon."
Tad starts backing away with his hands up. "Dude, I don't want no part of this shit. This one's on you." And then he's running out the front door and down the driveway.
I look at Katarina. "Well, what should I do with you, huh?"
She stands up shakily. There's some cum drying on her old wrinkled chin. "You shouldn't have hurt Timmy. He's like a child."
"Fuck you. Now I'm calling the shots."
Suddenly Katarina smiles at me. A strange, seductive smile. "We could have some fun, you and I. You could finish what your little friend started. I'll let you have your way with me. A nice angry fuck."
I have to admit, I'm getting pretty chubbed up. It might be nice to go to town on her and then just leave her to deal with that mess downstairs. But no. It's not right.
I've still got Nadine. I can make things right with her, go back and apologize. I don't need this wacked out shit.
I shake my head. "Sorry grams. You're too old for me. I got a nice sweet young thang back in town. So, fuck this noise. I think I'll call the cops on you. See what they can dig up in this place. Probably a whole bunch of skeletons and shit buried in your back yard."
Katarina backs to the couch and sits heavily on it. Her old lady stockings sag around vein ridden ankles. "Just go then. I don't care anymore. But you're missing out, Allen. I can teach you so much."
"Nothing I want to learn though."
"I'd like to learn." The voice is familiar but somehow not familiar at the same time.
I spin around and see Eddie coming out of the basement. He looks...different.
And he's holding a gun.
"Eddie, I told you to wait for me outside, man."
"I know, but I was curious." He shrugs.
"Why don't you sound..."
"Retarded?"
"Ummm...yeah. You sound totally different."
Eddie grins. "I'm not fucking retarded, I just pretended to be to get that cake job I've got. How many retards do you know drive their own vans and shit?"
"Oh fuck." I feel dizzy.
Eddie looks at Katarina. "Some setup you got here, ma'am. You looking for some young male help?"
She grins. "Absolutely."
"Eddie---" I say.
He points the gun at me. "Shut it, Allen. I've had enough of rubbing your damn stumps and being told what to do."
"Hey, I treated you pretty fucking good."
"Oh well. Thanks but that's old news. I work for someone else now."
Katarina smiles brightly. "I do have need of some assistance at the moment. A little pest I need you to take care of, honey."
Eddie cocks the gun now and aims at my head.
"Don't kill him," she says softly. "I need him. Safe. With me. In the bedroom."
I grit my teeth. Here we go again.
IF YOU ENJOYED STUMPED, CHECK OUT WHORED (BOOK 2 OF
THE SICK FUCK CHRONICLES) AVAILABLE NOW ON AMAZON
AND BARNES AND NOBLE!

