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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

The Artists - 16. A Few Months Later

This chapter contains a graphic description of a murder. You’re forgiven if you skip over that part, but don’t complain to me if later chapters don’t make sense.

Six and Cheri had just come out of the shower and were cuddling on the bed seemingly not caring that Casey was watching what they were doing. They were, of course, naked and they were softly kissing and their hands gently stroked and petted their bare skin, but they didn’t have erections leading Casey to believe they’d taken care of that in the shower. The two of them were always doing that, taking care of each other without him.

Well, they did have sex with him. In the past two and a half months, Six came up to his room some evenings after the kitchen had been cleaned up or he’d go down to Six’s. They slept together most nights, but Six was the one who slept with Cheri; seemingly accepted by her weird mother better than he was. Yet, he knew having sex with either of them was mostly a one event show since he didn’t have a dick. He dreamt of the day he could fuck Cheri, but knew she’d most likely be completely out of his life by then. It would be some other boy, a boy like Six maybe; or quite possibly it would be Six.

“Is that all you two are going to do?” Casey asked.

“If you go take a shower, you might be able to join us,” Cheri said.

“And get all hot and sweaty again?” Casey responded.

“Are we getting all hot and sweaty?” Cheri asked.

“No, I’m perfectly calm,” Six said. “Casey, you’re the only one of us who gets hot and sweaty when you’re just supposed to be cuddling. We’re not doing anything sexual other than snuggling.”

“That’s because you’ve already done it,” Casey said. “You were in the shower too long to be just washing the sweat off of you.”

“My god, you’re jealous!” Cheri exclaimed. She got off the bed and hurried over to the sofa where Casey sat. The small, black tuft of pubic hair he’d asked her to not shave off looked inviting, but he wasn’t in the mood for any of that.

Six came over and sat on the other side of him. Six was now mostly hairless too, at least around his genitals. There was a neatly trimmed powder puff of dark brown pubic hair, but everything else was smooth to the touch.

Casey thought about both of them as they tried to console him. He was trying and wishing he had more hair down there, any amount would do. Yet, both of them were getting rid of hair as if they thought it made them sexier. Frankly, he preferred more hair than what they were doing. It was almost as if they were trying to look childish, preadolescent. An involuntary shiver went through him at the thought of having sex with the twelve-year-old boy he thought he looked like.

“Cold?” Cheri asked.

“No, I need a shower,” Casey said as he stood up. He turned to his friends and could see their cocks were becoming aroused. He’d stay and blow both of them, but they had a rule against threesomes.

“Casey, I’m sorry,” Cheri said as she stood up and wrapped her skinny arms around the fat boy. Casey felt Cheri’s cock firm up and he wanted more than ever to kneel down and take her right now, but they had never done it all together and he wasn’t about to start doing it today.

“I’ll get over it,” Casey said suddenly becoming uncomfortable in Cheri’s embrace. He looked to Six for assistance, but the other boy was caressing his own cock into a hard-on. “Look, I got to go. You two do whatever you want, okay?”

“Casey, I don’t …” Six started.

“Look, I know you two enjoy being with each other more than either of you enjoy being with me,” Casey said. He walked as far as the bed and flopped down on his back before rolling onto his side facing them. “I’m just an extra cog on the wheel. I don’t know why you even put up with me.”

They were on him in an instant peeling his clothes off his body. He tried to protest, but it was useless in their onslaught. Once his was as naked as they were, mouths, hands, and now fully hardened cocks began their deadly work on his innocent body. They knew his weaknesses and fully used them to bring him up to an explosive orgasm, with Six down his throat and Cheri between his legs.

As always, Casey quietly waited for the others to take him wherever it was they wanted to go. Earlier they’d had a good ride down to Lake Woodin and slowly circled it a couple times, but there were too many mommas, daddies, babies, and little kiddies out on a rare sunny November morning. Six wanted to take Ravenna Boulevard over to the University and Cheri wanted to take Stone down to Gas Works Park. Casey asked them if they could go to the Ballard Locks, but Cheri said she hadn’t brought her lock and he hadn’t either. Their bikes would be in the way if they wanted to traverse the gates to watch the action in the small lock.

They ended up asking a couple kids what they should do. They told them to go home because Casey was grossing them out with all his flab. That was more than enough reason for Casey and he headed home as the hurt burned in his mind. He was mad, angry, and totally disgusted. In the two and a half months he’d been at North Park, the hormone and other drug treatments, the diet Euphorbia put him on, the exercise regimen Six and Ben were monitoring, and his own secret method of removing unwanted calories from ever getting close to his intestines had already burned away nearly a hundred pounds. He was going down quick, maybe too fast, yet those who didn’t know him still saw all the flab.

It was almost enough reason to try slicing himself, again. Almost enough reason. Almost.

He got up from the bed and went into Six’s shower. He knocked on the door and receiving no answer opened it. Tiffani, her ears plugged into an MP3 player, was drying herself with a big, fluffy pink towel. She turned and smiled.

“You ever see a naked girl?” she asked.

“No,” Casey whispered. He knew he was blushing, but he couldn’t help it. Naked, Tiffani still looked at lot like a boy. The breasts were not much more than a little extra skin under the nipples. The hips were narrow like a boy’s, but they were structured like a girl’s. The small, trimmed patched of dark blonde pubic hair seemed to invite exploration.

“You know you’re staring,” Tiffani said.

“Yeah,” Casey whispered.

“Like what you see?” She asked.

“Kinda,” Casey said.

“When you get cleaned up why don’t you come down to my room,” she said. “Maybe we can talk about it.”

“Sure, I’d like that,” Casey said as he turned around and went back into Six’s bedroom where Six and Cheri lay head-to-cock slowly working over each other’s member. He put on his clothes and left them.

 

 

“But we always host your family for Thanksgiving,” Six whined into the phone.

“Well, I’m going to Hawaii with the girls from the office, Mom and Dad will be in Mexico for the week, and my brothers have decided they want to start Thanksgiving traditions with their own families,” his mother said. “When I was in college I went home with a boy I was dating. You could do that too, you know. What’s that boy’s name? Casey isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but his mother doesn’t want him to come home,” Six said.

“Well, there you go,” his mother said.

“Go where?” Six said.

“You and Casey should take your car and your bikes and go somewhere special, just the two of you,” his mother said. “This is all part of growing up, Six. Eventually, all of us have to use our own wings. Is there anything you need, otherwise?”

“No, I can’t think of anything,” Six said. “Goodbye, mother.”

“Goodbye dear and remember to send your grandparents a Christmas card,” his mother said.

“You mean I have to do that, too?” Six asked.

“Mother?”

He looked at his phone; she’d hung up. Use his own wings? That’d be the day! What he needed right now was Casey’s arms around him, but Casey hadn’t slept with him for over a week. Casey was Tiffani’s, now. Also, Casey wasn’t giving out blow jobs to either. It was as if he’d gone completely straight, which was okay considering how everyone used Casey since he arrived at Charles House.

Yet, Six still needed someone’s strong arms around him and the only other possibility was Ben. He didn’t even know the sophomore who’d been brought back into Charles House on a probationary basis. Everyone was watching him; probably almost as much as they were watching their own stuff. Everyone expected Ben to start stealing again, but so far he hadn’t.

It wasn’t too late, only nine-thirty, so Six decided now was as good a time as any to visit Ben and maybe they could do something about his unhappiness. He slipped on a t-shirt and some nylon running pants. He figured he didn’t need any underwear considering his purpose for the visit.

When he stepped out onto the balcony he nearly ran right into Casey.

“What’re you doing here?” Six asked.

“Uh, I was wondering if we could talk,” Casey said quietly.

“Girl trouble?” Six sneered. Although he knew he was wrong to say it, in many ways it felt good to get it out of his stomach.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Casey said. “Look, I know I kind of dumped you and Cheri, but I was feeling left out and you guys seemed to be having a lot more fun without me. Can we go in your room; or do you want to come up to mine?”

Six thought of meeting Ben, but he figured Casey’s offer might have a better chance of leading to at least a comforting body next to him while he slept. He needed a little reassurance right now and Casey was still sort of a friend, even if they didn’t have sex.

“Your place works better for me,” Six said.

Casey turned and Six followed him up to the third floor. It was quiet time when most everyone was studying, which is what he should be doing rather than following another boy in hopes of having a shoulder to cry on. This wasn’t about sex, but if Casey wanted to do something, Six was more than willing to do anything the little guy wanted.

“So, what’s up with Tiffani these days?” Six asked.

“I’ll tell you when we get into my room,” Casey whispered. “It’s not anything I want people to know about.”

“I talked to my mother tonight,” Six said. “She called me to say that I had to find somewhere to celebrate Thanksgiving because she wasn’t going to be home this year.”

“Man, that’s cold,” Casey said. “At least I know my mother doesn’t expect me home ever again, but to call a week before the holiday and tell you to find someone to take you in is just plain mean.”

“What are you doing?” Six asked.

“Going to Tiffani’s, I guess,” Casey said as he unlocked his door. He stood aside and let Six in first. “She hasn’t asked me yet, but I assume she will. Why don’t you ask Cheri?”

“I did because I wanted to take her down to Portland with me,” Six said, “but she and her mother are going to Eastern Washington to visit her grandparents. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“Maybe I can get you a spot at Tiffani’s table,” Casey said as he followed Six into the bedroom and watched the other boy immediately undress. “Um, I’m not going to have sex with you, you know.”

“I just wanted to get comfortable and you know what that means to me,” Six said as he jumped onto the bed and lay on his side. He patted the spot beside him. “So, what’s with Tiffani?”

“She bought me a thing to use to fuck her,” Casey said as he began to undress.

“A thing? What kind of thing?” Six asked. He tried to think of his mother being naked as that always kept his erections at bay, but the sight of ever increasing amounts of bare flesh on Casey was overriding all attempts at keeping the blood from flowing into his cock.

“You know, a thing, a, well, you know, a dick thing,” Casey said as he climbed up on the bed and lay facing Six.

“A dildo?” Six asked. An image of Casey fucking Tiffani with a dildo strapped to him flashed through his mind and his dick quickly responded.

“Yeah and it’s got these straps that hold it in place,” Casey said as he rolled onto his stomach. He turned his face toward Six. “She got one with a clit stimulator so it will rub against my miniscule dick and we can come together.”

“Have you used it yet?” Six asked.

“No, but she wants to this weekend,” Casey said. “Will you do me?”

“Do you how?” Six asked. He suddenly felt a twinge in his stomach. He knew what Casey wanted, but he wasn’t certain he wanted to do that right now.

“You know, make love to me,” Casey said with a pleading look in his eyes. “I know you want to, you’ve certainly licked me enough back there to make it obviously you want my ass. Please?”

Six didn’t know what to do, but he was positive he wasn’t in the mood to screw his friend. Not tonight.

“Can we do it some other time?” Six asked. “I’m kind of feeling bummed about what my mother said and I’d just prefer sleeping with you. Okay?”

“Well, okay, but you’ll have to do it in the morning before I have to go down to the kitchen and get breakfast going,” Casey said. He rolled off the bed and pulled the covers back on his side. “Well, come on, let’s get to sleep. I suppose you want to cuddle, too.”

“Yeah,” Six said as he crawled under the covers and scooted up against Casey’s warm body.

As sleep slowly enveloped his mind, Six tried to imagine what it was going to feel like taking Casey’s cherry. Yeah, he wanted to. He knew Cheri had wanted to do it before Casey started hanging with Tiffani, but now she practically disowned the boy. What was it going to be like? Would Casey want him to use a condom? He’d rather not, but maybe Casey would insist.

Whatever the situation was going to be, Six knew he was going to wake up first and sneak away to his room. If Casey definitely wanted this to happen it was going to take place as Six wanted. He wasn’t too positive he wanted this, but for Casey he was willing to do practically anything, which now included sticking his dick in his friend’s ass. Their relationship was going to change, that was for certain.

He draped an arm around Casey and snuggled his nose into the hair on the back of his head. The aroma was overpowering and swiftly sent him to that place where dreams come to be.

 

 

Ever since he beat the crap out of the Bitch—he actually beat the crap out of her, he smelled her shit, there is no mistaking that smell—his life revolved around the gun in his hand. He was going to use it tonight. He had to know what it felt like to walk up to someone, some stranger, some innocent, and pull the trigger, obliterating their life, however insignificant it was. He had to know. The guy in the c-store would be his first victim. Practice makes perfect. Isn’t that how the old saying went?

Of course he was nervous. Anyone is nervous on their first performance and the guy in there, an old alkie named John “I’ve been off the bottle for eleven years,” was breathing his last breaths, filling his bladder for the last time, and digesting those bean and cheese burritos he was always eating as the meal of a condemned man. Who was going to cry over John’s grave?

He’d run this over and over in his mind. Pull into the gas lanes at pump two, get out of the car, walk into the c-store, “Hi, John, ten bucks on two,” walk up to the counter, raise the gun, shoot John in the head, turn and walk out of the store, get in the car and drive away, and then go to the next c-store where Muriel was working the graveyard shift. How ironic it was that John, Muriel, Stan, big fat Buster, and skinny Steven were all going to die tonight.

Then it would be the Bitch’s turn. It was her fault these five strangers were going to die. It was her fault his Mom and Dad were going to have to experience what it felt like to die. It was all the Bitch’s fault.

He’d called Mom wanting some fresh clothes and maybe some money. She put Dad on the phone. Dad said, “Sure, Karl, we’ll help you out.” The cops were there when he arrived, but he didn’t just drive up. No, he snuck in because he didn’t trust dear old Dad.

Dad had never been comfortable with him being queer, or bi, or anything else. “It’s you choice, Karl, to choose whatever lifestyle you wish. We’ll always be your parents and support whatever decision you make.” Dad just didn’t understand that it wasn’t a choice. They made him queer and they were unwilling to live up to their end of the bargain.

They were going to get theirs, though.

Just after shooting the Bitch and getting the hell off campus, Mom was going to get hers. She’d be in the family room knitting or crocheting something to keep her mind simple and compliant to Dad’s every whim. He’d walk in the backdoor and through the kitchen. She’d be sitting in the sofa. She’d look at him and then she’d see the gun. Horror would wash across her face when she realized little Karly had just killed the Bitch and now it was her turn to die.

Just like the Bitch and the c-store clerks, Mom would get one shot in the head. He didn’t have that many bullets left so each one had to count.

Then it would be Dad’s turn. Dad would be easy. He’d walk into Dad’s small insurance office; take a few steps past Ronnie, and shoot the bastard. Maybe Dad would get a couple bullets just to make things even for all the shit over the years. He’d hear Ronnie scream and maybe he’d shoot her, too. After all, she and Dad had been fucking for so many years she was almost family.

Then it would be over. The cops would show up. There’d be a lot of cops because there’d be a lot of dead people all over North Park with bloody holes in their heads. They’d be outside waiting for him.

Death by cop. He deserved it. It would be horribly painful because they’re trained to shoot the torso. Dozens of tiny metal carriers of death zeroing in on his young body hoping their track would strike his aorta, heart, vena cava, or any of the other arteries or veins in the chest and abdomen. He’d simply walk out of the office when he heard, “Come out with your hands up,” raise the gun and point it at the nearest cop. After probably the loudest sound he’d ever hear, he’d slump to the sidewalk in agonizing pain and bleed to death.

Well, he couldn’t put it off any longer. First performances were always the worst. He kind of felt sorry for John, but that was just the way it worked out. He took a deep breath and started his car. It seemed like hours to drive the few blocks down the road and pull into the first lane and up to pump two. No one else was there. He’d been watching and for John between two and three in the morning was his quiet time.

Karl had a moment of clarity and wondered if it was all going to be worth it in the end.

He opened the car door and stepped out. The gun was in his jacket pocket. There was a camera on him so he didn’t take it out now. It was going to be the money he would give John.

Time seemed to have slowed to a crawl as he walked across the lanes to the c-store. He opened the door and went inside. John looked up. He was chewing on his last mouthful of been and cheese burrito.

Karl raised the gun and pulled the trigger. He could’ve sworn there was a “thwok” sound when the bullet entered John’s skull, but there was no sound as blood, brains, shattered bone, skin, and hair blew out the back of John’s head. Karl’s bowels released their nervously held load.

He shit his pants! That wasn’t part of the plan!

He took one last look at John and saw that he’d spat out the last mouthful of burrito. Blood was still spurting out of the back of his head as the heart slowly finished its task. The body was quivering and jerking, not lying lifeless like in the movies.

Karl turned and walked out of the door smelling the shit in his boxer briefs. He’d have to clean himself up before Muriel got her turn. He’d have to make certain his bowels were empty when he shot her. He’d have to do something about that.

He didn’t know where he was driving. It was just away from the c-store. He pulled into a side street. It looked like a light industrial area near the old foundry. He slipped off his pants and stepped out of the car where he took of his shoes and socks. At least the shit wasn’t soft and gooey. His diet the past few months hadn’t been that good, but once he decided he was finally going to shoot the Bitch he noticed his shit sort of dried up inside him. Taking a crap now meant wadding up some t-paper to soak up the blood.

There wasn’t anyone around so he pulled off his boxer briefs and cleaned himself up as best he could in the dark.

Standing half naked on the sidewalk, Karl suddenly felt like he was King of the Whole World. He’d executed an innocent man. Bang! You’re dead. He’d shit his pants in the process, but it was his first performance. He’d be ready for Muriel. There’d be no shit in his bowels next time.

 

 

It was long past eleven when Eric finally came into the suite. Kevin looked up from the sofa, but didn’t say anything. It was more than obvious Eric was upset; maybe the visit with his oncologist didn’t go so well. Eric would say what needed to be said when the time was right.

“What’re you doing?” Eric asked pointedly.

Kevin, taken aback somewhat by the sound of Eric’s voice, could only respond with an incoherent mumble.

“What was that?” Eric asked, sounding angrier this time.

“What’s gotten into to you?” Kevin asked. They hadn’t had a fight in a long time and he couldn’t see any reason for this one, if this was going to be a fight.

“Cancer, that’s what’s gotten into me,” Eric said. He rushed over to the sofa and slapped Kevin’s face.

“What the fuck was that for?” Kevin asked. He stood up and walked into the bedroom. Eric followed close behind. “What’s wrong with you? Where’ve you been?”

“I went to Freddies up on the hill,” Eric said. “Do you know it’s only a block and a half from my oncologist? I didn’t even know I was going to Freddies. It was just the first bar I came to.”

“But, you don’t drink,” Kevin said as he started to undress. It was late and he still wasn’t in the mood for a fight.

“No, fuckin’ shit!” Eric exclaimed as he began to remove his clothes. “After two swallows, I was over a toilet puking my guts.”

“I’m sorry,” Kevin said as he sat down on the bed.

“No you’re not,” Eric said rushing over to Kevin and slapping him, again. “You’re not the least bit sorry I’m dying of cancer. You could give a shit I went home with a punk not even thirty years old and let him fuck my brains out. You, Kevin, simply don’t care. You and your fucked up brain could care less if I died next week, but I’m not going to die next week. It’ll probably be next year sometime. Doctor Wilson showed me the MRI pictures of my brain. I’ve got prostate cells growing in my head and the chemo isn’t doing anything to stop them. I’ve got tumors on my aorta and scattered throughout my gut. Six months to a year, that’s what he gave me.”

“Oh, Eric, I’m …” Kevin started as tried to stand up, but Eric punched him in the jaw, knocking him back onto the bed.

“Yeah, you’re one sorry sack of shit,” Eric said, “but you know what? That kid who fucked me didn’t use a condom. With the medicines they’ve got now, I’ll probably die of AIDS in fifteen or twenty years, except I’ll be dead long before that.”

“What’d he give you?” Kevin asked as he moved away from Eric.

“Fuck if I know,” Eric said, “they were pills and they made me feel good.”

“Well, they’re not making me feel good,” Kevin said, rubbing his jaw. “I’ve never seen you like this.”

“Like I’m dying? No, Kevin you didn’t go to Vietnam and have half your arm blown off. You’ve never seen blood spurting out of an open wound, your open wound.”

Eric went over to Kevin and sat down. After a moment he fell back onto the bed. Kevin looked at the love of his life as the words slowly sank in. Their time together was coming to an end and from this moment forward everything had to revolve around what Eric wanted or needed. He had to take the slaps and punches, whether they were physical or emotional. They’d never cheated on each other, but now it wasn’t important.

“What do you want?” Kevin asked in a whisper.

“I’m not going to teach next term,” Eric said as he continued to stare at the ceiling. “I want to go to Montana and build that log house we’ve always talked about, maybe cast some flies at that old lunker in the pool just past the bridge, but right now I want you to undress me and suck my cock; and when you’re done, when you’ve sucked all the come out of my body, I want you to roll me over and fuck me like you did thirty some years ago, that first time we didn’t know what to do and just used spit. I want you to fuck me until you can’t get that thing of yours hard anymore. And, by the way, I’m not sorry I hit you. I probably won’t hit you ever again, but I’m not sorry now. Let’s just say it was for all the times I wanted to but didn’t. Now, get busy before I have to hit you again.”

Copyright © 2011 CarlHoliday; All Rights Reserved.
Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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