Wild and Untamed thing....

There is a point to all of this...if you care stick with it, there is an awsome collection of these people, though I have decided to just post it as soon as it's close to done, so you'll have to eat it rough. The original story is almost non-existant, but from the ashes something worse has birthed.

Chapter III: Strange Days.

Justin, woke up at about 3:30 pm, Pacific Time Zone.

His mouth tasted like he had brushed his teeth with dogshit. There was a slight pain in the front of his head, and opening his eyes had made it worse.

Where the fuck was this, now? Alcohol marinated neurons began firing, more often than not exploding with the effort into small tactical nuclear weapons of throbbing ache. But he eventually determined, A this was not his room, B he had never been in this room before, C he was naked, D he hadn’t used dogshit on the toothbrush, maybe he brushed his teeth with a used tampon. Maybe both.

Licking the inside of his mouth, Justin tried to work some none mucus moisture into this mouth. He was alone, which was strange, not that he was alone, just that he was alone in someone else’s bed. But this was definitely a chick’s room. Smelled good, like a girl just out of the shower, all lotion and strange shampoos, with flowers and berries and shit in them. No man could produce that smell. Nope, there was just always that subtle hint of ballsack, no matter what one tried.

Luckily the hangover hadn’t impeded his cock from going rock hard first thing in the morning. This could get awkward quickly, but Justin didn’t hear anyone else, it looked to be a studio apartment, not many places to hide. Justin got out of the bed slowly, scratching his head, and absently running his hands through his hair.

His clothes were all neatly folded in a little pile a few feet away on a chair. That was odd. Justin got out of the bed, his boner slowly retreating, but giving a valiant effort to maintain its skyward salute.

The hard wood floor was warm, and recently waxed. Justin looked around, his clothes forgotten in the curiosity burning through his drug addled wits. There weren’t any pictures anywhere, no computer, no TV. Who was this girl?

Justin absently walked over to the chest of drawers and opened the top shelf. Well at least there was women’s underwear and bras. One more slash in the no and the maybe column of his mental chart documenting the on going tally of whether or not he fucked a dude last night. Nice stuff too, really girly, some work out shit…unitards…tights, whatever the fuck they were called. Bra was a descent size, as far as he could tell, all bras not tiny or ginormous all seemed the same size to him. He thought about sniffing a pair or two, he had never done that before, he wondered and then dismissed the idea. If those were some transsexuals panties he’d have to kill himself.

There was a descent stereo, nice component system, pretty top of the line. This girl was serious about listening to music. Justin turned on the receiver and pushed play on the cd player. “Since you’ve been gone” began to play and Justin turned the stereo off.

The kitchen area was clean, too clean, and bright too. The sky lights let in a shit ton of light and Justin shrank away from it like a vampire. He adjusted and opened the fridge, cold air blowing on his body. It felt good. What remained of his hard on quickly shrank away. His nut sack clenched against his ass hole.

No food, some bottled water, some broccoli, a few apples, a block of tofurkey, (fuck, that meant she was some kind of health psycho, there was no way they had sex, though a girl like this would not go home with him, not for sex at least, for what then?), and some prescription medicine. Justin tried to see what it was but his eyes could not focus sufficiently to read the tiny type, so he threw it back and closed the door.

He opened the freezer found a cup of frozen yogurt and—yes a bottle. A fucking bottle of (he almost threw up at the realization) mint schnopps. Sighing, Justin took the bottle and took a good pull off of it.

It tasted like mouth wash, but warmer, and he gagged a little.

Chapter 2: Life comes to a head.

Cara Baker was tired.

Not physically, not really emotionally, either. More, actually, it was the weariness of boredom. Today was the same as yesterday, which was the same as the day before and tomorrow would only be different if something worse happened to her.

It was strange because the events of each day were only about 45% routine, new things, new people, new places (though all hotel rooms seemed to be the same) happened all the time, but Cara was never different. She was bored with who she had become, bored with her inability to give a shit about anything.

Just plain fucking bored, equally bored with all the things in her life she had done a million times, as well as with the novel experiences she encountered. She was so desensitized, so unexcited. Her four year old son, Jeremy, was so excited about discovery, so elated at the tiniest piece of life, it was so hard for her to empathize.

She hated him for it. She was where she was, in part, because of that little bastard. Well no, not exactly, that was unfair. He hadn’t done anything she hadn’t started. It wasn’t his fault that she fell in love with a man ten years older than her. It wasn’t his fault that she had agreed to have his child, and it certainly wasn’t little Jeremy’s fault that the man had shot himself in the head with a .357 magnum, three times, somehow.

Insurance doesn’t pay for suicides, and it wouldn’t matter if it had because the fuck had gambled away all his money, let the policy lapse, and spent all of her money as well. Leaving her with a tumor in her belly that had metastasized to the point it was now illegal and prohibitively dangerous to remove it. It would come out on its own, surely, and she had despised it long before she heard confused wails or seen its demon visage.

She was just frustrated, the child wasn’t that bad, but he was a reminder, a constant reminder, of how stupid she had been, and worse how right her father had been about the entire thing. He never threw it in her face; he just tagged an “I told you so” sign to her back when she wasn’t looking.

Her father was always fucking right.

How had everything gone so wrong? She had been so full of promise and purpose as a kid. The smartest girl in school, friends with everyone. Always the most popular girl anywhere she was. Puberty had been very generous allowing the transition from girl into young woman with very little of the accustomed awkwardness. She had never wanted for male attention.

There had been many men, guys she had flings with; a few short term relationships, but none of them could hold her interest for too long. That was until she met Robert. Everything changed when they met; she had never known that two people could connect like they had. And it had happened almost instantly.

Robert had been about six months from graduating law school. She had been a freshman, wide eyed and completely unprepared for this amazingly charming and horribly gorgeous man, who seemed to know all the right things to say and do. Everyone loved him, his friends practically thought him a God, and he had picked her. Some no name girl, he had picked her. The age difference had not seemed so much a problem, he was 28, she was 19 and they fell in love.

The age difference of 35 and 26, however, proved to be a little more problematic.

Robert had a job with a law firm in Las Vegas, mostly getting rich people and celebrities out of trouble. He was very good at it, and Cara wanted for nothing. At first it had seemed like a fairy tale, a magical dream where all her wishes were fulfilled all her expectations were over met.

Then, for some reason, that started being a problem for Cara. She had no idea who she was, without Robert, without someone, what her talents were, she vaguely remembered being good at something, once, a long time ago. She was Robert’s loving wife. Without him, she was, no one, she was only able to define herself by him, and come to think of it, it had really always been that way. She had always been either her father’s daughter or somebody’s girl. She decided she needed to go out on her own. Be alone for a while, discover who she was.

Then Robert convinced her to stay. She had wanted to go; she didn’t feel the same anymore. She wasn’t so sure he was the one she wanted to be with forever, she needed, something…it was so vague, yet so powerful, this need, but he had convinced her to stay, they would get married and start a family.

It seemed like a good idea at the time. Robert, of course, had been hiding his gambling problem for years, and they were in debt up to their eyeballs.

Cara could tell the man was about to cum. His hand tightened in her hair, his groans became slightly higher pitched, his asshole tightened on her finger, and then he exploded into her mouth. She held his sperm in her mouth, waited until she got it all and then crawled up his hairy, pudgy body, until they were face to face. His head smelled of sweat and hair gel, his face red, his cheeks flushed and panting. She grabbed him by the ears and pulled his lips to hers. His mouth opened and she pushed his jism into his own mouth, working onto his tongue with hers while he moaned with excitement.

When she had spit it all into his mouth she sat back and unstraddled his lap.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” she said over her shoulder as she walked naked into the bathroom, “When I get out I’m going to make you owe me another two thousand dollars.”

The man nodded in helpless agreement, and Cara shut the bathroom door.

Chapter One: He walks beside us all.

Lester Johnson stood at cab stand outside of a casino.

The night was cold, made colder by the heat of the daytime hours. The sun took with it all of its dry fire, leaving only rage to warm his body. There were not many people out at this hour, though he was certainly not alone. He was mostly kept company by the drunks and bums, the college students and the elderly, the ones that had nothing to go home to, vainly hoping it would come spilling out of a slot machine or maybe it would be at the bottom of a glass.

There was also Jesse, but he was somewhere else right now. He had said to meet him here. He had said he would be here. Where was he?

Lester adjusted his tie. He had wanted to look his best. This was a very important night, and he wanted to look his very best. The suit had cost him almost $1100, but he did look good in it. This was going to be a special night he wanted to remember.

Come on, Jesse where…ah there he was. Lester frowned slightly. Jesse had also worn a suit, but his, as always, seemed to be more expensive, more expertly tailored. Jesse was taller than Lester, and his body seemed to be made to make a suit look perfect. Like his body was the mold all other men’s deviated from into unattractiveness.

Jesse’s neck was tight against the collar of his shirt, where Lester’s collar seemed to be unable to tighten sufficiently. Unconsciously, Lester fingered the line of his own jaw, mentally comparing the shape to Jesse’s. Jesse’s face was all harsh corners and bone structure. Lester felt like his skin had been loosened somehow, or that his face had no manly features to push against it. Lester had also missed a spot shaving, he realized.

“Hello Lester. Sorry I’m late, I got, delayed by an old friend,” Jesse said, raising his hands slightly.

His voice. His voice was so soothing, seductive and comforting. Lester found himself forgetting everything but what Jesse was saying at that moment.

“Ahh, it’s alright, I just got here myself,” Lester lied.

“That is a very nice suit, I’ve never seen you all cleaned up, Lester, you should do it more often.”

Lester blushed slightly at the compliment.

“Did you bring what we discussed?” Jesse asked.

Lester pulled a backpack into view. A small black bag, bulging with heavy contents. Lester made as if to open it to prove he had done what he was told.

“No, best leave that closed until we need it,” Jesse’s attention shifted suddenly over Lester’s shoulder. Lester turned to see the headlights of a cab coming toward them. Lester signaled and the cab pulled up.

“Is this the one?” Lester asked.

Jesse looked inside, bent down for a closer look and smiled.

“Yes,” he said, “let’s get in.”

Lester opened the door and squinted suspiciously at the cabbie. The driver did not turn around, he was occupied with a clipboard under a dashboard light. Lester let Jesse get in and then hurridly piled in behind him. He shut the door and waited.

The driver shut off the light and said, “Where to, sir?”

His voice had a slight accent, Lester thought, some sand nigger accent or maybe asian, he couldn’t tell, he wasn’t American, and that was all he really needed to know. Would these foreigners not be happy until they had taken everything from us, he thought.

“Just head to the strip, I’ll decide on the way,” Lester said.

The car pulled forward abruptly, seeming to accelerate instantly to top speed. Jesse indicated for Lester to bring his head close so they could talk quietly.

“I told you he’d be here tonight,” Jesse said.

“How did you know it would be him?” Lester whispered.

“Well, I went down to the cab company and threw some cash around, made sure the dispatcher would send him specifically when I called.”

Lester shifted his eyes to look at the man driving. This motherfucker. No this wifefucker, was in for some serious shit if he thought he was going to get away with what he had done. But, maybe he was being a little rash.

“How do you know it’s him?” Lester asked.

“How do you know it’s not?” Jesse retorted.

“What the fuck kinda answer is that, Jesse? Shit,” he said the last part a little too loudly.

“What was that?” the cabbie asked.

“Nothing, just keep driving ‘till I say to stop, alright pal,” Lester said.

He moved his head back conspiratorially next to Jesse’s.

“I don’t know if this is something I can do…I mean, why not just kick his ass or…” Jesse trailed off.

“We covered this already, a mere ass kicking would not be enough for this guy, after what he did to you, to your family.”

“I know, but, shit…I know,” Lester said, almost whining.

“Lester, look at me. This man raped your wife. So violently that she made up a story that she had been cheating on you to hide the shame of the rape. He did it in your house, in your bed, while your child slept not one room away. He has taken everything from you, and now you must repay him, in kind.”

Lester’s brow knitted in determination. He looked at Jesse and found resolve mirrored in the man’s too handsome face.

“We’re best friends, Lester, we’re in this together, but you have to do it, or you’ll never find peace.”

Lester clenched his teeth together and reached down to unzip the backpack. He pulled out a large plastic bottle that was full of a not quite clear liquid. The bottle had been the largest one in the fridge, he had dumped the kiwi-strawberry juice into the sink before he refilled it. The plastic seemed warm, and not as thick as it had been that morning. The plastic was almost brittle, now.

The cab stopped at a red light. Lester looked at Jesse, then to the cabbie.

“Hey man, do you recognize me?” Lester asked.

The driver looked in the rearview mirror.

“Should I, you don’t look familiar.”

Lester unscrewed the red cap from the bottle.

“You raped my wife you fuck, I’ll introduce myself when I see you in Hell-“

“Wha-“ was all the driver could say before Lester was splashing the contents of the bottle over the driver’s head, “What the fuck are you doing, what is this…gasoline?”

Lester lit a match and threw it at the driver. There was a white flash and a loud “whoop!” of air as the man instantly caught fire.

Then time stopped.

The driver seemed to contemplate what had just befallen him. His face on the brink of panic, though he seemed to be saying, “Well, fuck, I’m fucked. Fuck,” all with his eyes.

Lester seemed to realize what he had just done. Lester looked to his side.

The cab door was open, Jesse was no longer anywhere to be seen.

Then time started again.

“Fuck ahh fuck….ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

There was screaming and a flurry of motion as the driver scrambled to get his door open, and escape. The flames consuming his body fueled by the commotion, he somehow got the door open and ran screaming out of the cab. The front seat of the cab was now on fire too, and Lester smiled. It was the smile of a person that suddenly realized he had maybe made a mistake, maybe done something that he might one day regret.

Jesse got out of the cab and looked around at all the people stupidly watching the unfortunate driver flail and burn. One man ran from the sidewalk into the street, removing his jacket as he ran.

When he reached the burning man he jumped on top of him, trying to smother the flames with his jacket.

Lester sat down on the curb and began to cry.