HELLz BELLz (13 page)

“Channel six,” said James.

“I know,” said Barb, using her thumb on the remote to change the channel.

The W-DHX logo was on the screen with “Technical Difficulties” superimposed in bold lettering. At the bottom of the screen, a nerdy cartoon character with a screwdriver in his hand delivered the ballooned message: “We’ll be right back.”

“Shit,” said Barbra. “That’s not good.”

“Fuck,” Brenda agreed.

“Told ya,” said James. Standing between the twins, he slipped an arm round each girl’s shoulder and hugged them to his sides. “Let’s go on to the church and see what’s what. Maybe we can figure out what’s really going on.”

“Watch it, stud,” warned Barbra as she twisted out from under his left arm.

But Brenda snuggled against him and leaned her head on his shoulder. He smelled the flowery scent of shampoo. His penis immediately awakened and started rising against his zipper. “What if there’s a bloodthirsty maniac over there?” she said.

“We have to go home,” said Barb. “Something’s not right. For sure.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure?” asked her sister, resting a hand on James’s chest.

“Come
on,
Brenda,” Barb said. “We have to go. Right now. Christ, I can’t take that fucking bell. It’s like fingernails on a blackboard.”

“Jeez Louise,” said Brenda, breaking away from James. “Sometimes I wonder how you could be my twin.”

“Stay here if you want,” Barb said sharply, “but give me the keys. I’m going home.”

“Oh, all right. We’ll go home, ya big baby.”

“Aww,” said James. “Come on. Don’t go.” His cock was still on the rise. He didn’t care if the girls noticed it. And he thought Barbra was wrong about the fingernails-on-the-blackboard idea; the ringing of the bell had turned seductive—at least for him. It was eating away his normal inhibitions and giving free rein to his sexual desires. He wanted to find out for himself if Brenda gave good blowjobs. A three-way with the twins would be great, but Barbra had already killed that idea, so he would settle for getting his cock sucked by the notorious blowjob queen of Druid Hills High.

The investigation of the church could wait.

“I guess we better go,” Brenda told him. “And miss out on all the fun.”

“I could take you home in my mom’s car,” he said. “You know, later.”

“
Brenda,”
said Barb. She pronounced it Bren-
dah,
and clearly meant it as admonishment.

“Well…” Brenda actually licked her lips as she pondered the suggestion. Was she feeling what he was feeling? Yes, she had to be.

James took off his backwards ball cap, tossed it on the couch and ran a hand through his swamp-damp buzz-cut. He was surprised that he hadn’t lost the cap during his dust-up with the ice cream man, but what was more surprising was the erotic sensation he experienced when he ran his hand through his hair. Talk about self-eroticism! This was un-fucking believable. Being this close to the source of the bell’s vibrations, he realized, was almost unbearable. And it was making him unbearably horny. He let his hand hang against the crotch of his pants and his erection bucked against the contact, demanding more. But this time, masturbation wouldn’t be enough.

“Well, make up your mind,” said Barb. “I’ve gotta go pee. All that tea I drank at Me-ma’s…”

Barb went in search of the bathroom. James hadn’t had the presence of mind to tell her where it was; he was too caught up in his own burgeoning lust to be the proper host.

Brenda leaned against him as if she needed help to stay on her feet. She licked her full lips again and said, “God, I feel…”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice hoarse and thick. “Me too.”

He knew they should be going back outside where Josh was waiting for them, hot, impatient and in need of water, but his lust for Brenda was too strong. There was another bit of knowledge knocking around in his head, demanding his attention, but his lust-addled powers of concentration prevented any insightful examination of it. All he could think about now was touching the young woman in front of him and finding release for his compressed sexual energies. His aching lust grew with each peal of the bell and soon it was going to explode. That, or his balls would turn blue, fall off and roll across the floor.

He was chuckling to himself at the illogical thought of his testicles dropping off and hitting the floor when Brenda suddenly turned and threw herself against him, her tits mashing against his chest and her right hand between their bellies, groping for his cock. She fastened her lips on his and started biting them just hard enough to cause a little pain but not with enough force to draw blood.

Even as she got a grip on his dick, the stray bit of knowledge finally broke through his muddled thoughts and the insight was his.
The sound of the church bell doesn’t affect everyone the same way.
Some people were driven to violent acts of mindless rage while others were compelled to act out their sexual fantasies. It made perfect sense. Anyone predisposed to violence would behave accordingly. Individuals preoccupied with their sexuality or stoked by sex hormones would become as aroused as James was now. He remembered the bell-ringing reverend walking down the middle of the street and shouting that the judgment of the Lord was upon us, and he broadened his theory to include those who acted out their religious preoccupation. So, he reasoned, the bell induced those who heard it to act out what was foremost in their hearts and minds. That meant that the bell wasn’t in and of itself evil. It meant that it somehow broke down one’s inhibitions to action, or in Freudian parlance, it meant that the conscience was subdued so that the id could have its way.

All this occurred to him in a matter of seconds, in a matter-of-fact manner, and it didn’t distract him from the physical fact that Brenda had thrown herself on him like an animal in heat. She stroked his cock through his pants and nibbled on his earlobe.

“I want you to fuck me,” she rasped in his ear.

He knew his mother could return home at any moment and find them doing the dirty deed, but he didn’t care.
Blame it on the bell,
he thought, then giggled out loud.

Brenda drew away, frowning. “You’re laughing at me?”

“No, no. It’s the bell. Don’t you get it? We can do anything and blame it on the bell.” He cackled, shoulders heaving.

“This
little ding-a-ling?” she said, roughly squeezing his penis through his pants.

“Oww!” James flinched, but didn’t try to escape her painful grasp. “Jesus, no, the church bell.”

“I don’t care about that.” She pulled him toward the couch, walking backward and breathing hard in his face. Her face was flushed, her eyes dazed. He stumbled along with her, tangling his feet with hers, and they fell against the couch and ended up on the floor, laughing. She began unfastening his pants.

“What about your sister?” he asked, groping her breasts with both his hands.

“Fuck her,” she said. “Fuck
me
.”

“But Josh might—”

“Fuck him too.” She unzipped him and grabbed his uncovered cock.

His whole body stiffened. The sharp intake of air through his teeth sounded like steam hissing from a radiator’s valve on a cold winter’s day. His cock felt fat and heavy in her hand, and he was afraid he was going to blow his wad right then and there in her sweaty palm. With her free hand, Brenda tugged his pants off his hips.

“No underwear,” she said, “cool.”

He fumbled with her shirt and pushed it up over her breasts. Her bra was flimsy and white, damp with perspiration. He ran his hands under the thin cotton cups and kneaded the sweaty globes of flesh. Her nipples played against his palms as if they were separate entities, devilishly frolicsome, springy tips of the iceberg of womanly desire. The titty tips seemed to quiver with each peal of the bell.

She let go of his cock, raised her hips off the floor and slid her cutoffs and panties down to her knees, then on down to her ankles. “Come on, do it,” she dared him. “Stick it in me.”

He smelled her then. It was the pungent smell of primordial ooze from which life first emerged. It was tantalizing. It was attractive/repulsive. It was the scent of life and death. And it made him crazy with raw lust. He had to enter into that divine womanly swamp. He had no choice. It was the biological imperative, programmed aeons ago, unaltered by evolution, primal codes embedded deep within the molecules and acting now on the reptile portion of his brain. He shuddered. Pearly ooze dribbled from the slit of his penis.

Brenda’s knees fell open. The wet lips of her sex parted to the nudging of his cockhead. He closed his eyes and burrowed into her, slipping past the narrow mouth and suddenly feeling the slick muscular walls sheathe him in warm, wet silk.

“Oh…”

“Unnh…”

Smack.
Barbra’s slap stung his ass cheek. “Get off her, asshole!” she shouted.

Barbra smacked him again. Then she seized his shoulders and yanked him backward and he slid out of Brenda’s pussy before he’d had time to go in to the hilt.

“Hey!” he yelled.

“Jesus,” Brenda hissed.

“Fucking barnyard animals,” said Barb. “I don’t believe this.”

Then Josh came into the den, excited and shouting, “You gotta see this, man, there’s—”

“Goddamn,” muttered James, on his knees and trying to pull up his pants.

“What the fuck?” Josh stood there, looking down at the would-be fornicators and paying particular attention to Brenda’s exposed tits.

“
Fuck
is right,” Barb said.

“Shut up,” James told her.

“Jesus,” Brenda repeated, sitting up and snugging her breasts in the sheer cups of her bra.

“Thanks a lot, guys,” Josh said with pouting lips, “for leaving me out. Shit.”

“Shut up, noodle dick,” Barb taunted him. “I wouldn’t fuck you with
her
pussy.”

“Bitch,” spat Brenda as she stood up and pulled her shirt down.

“Fuck this happy horseshit,” said Josh, addressing his friend and trying to ignore the Butt Sisters. There was a wildness in his eyes James hadn’t seen before. “There’s a van-load of freaks in front of the church. You gotta see ’em, man. I dunno what the hell they’re doing, but, Jeez, you gotta see ’em. Fucking weird.”

James stood and zipped his pants over his shrinking dick. “What’re you talking about?”

“Freaks! Naked as jaybirds, but they got tattoos all over like—”

“You coming with me or not?” Barb asked Brenda.

“Like, there’s this one dude with a skull tattooed on his face. I shit you not. And they got tattoos of bloody wounds all over their bodies. Freaky-fucking-deeky, man.”

James was doing his best to cover his flustered embarrassment. “Did anybody come out of the church?”

“Not that I saw, but I think those freaks are gonna go in.”

“I gotta see this,” said Brenda, ignoring her sister and hitching up her cutoff jeans.

“Let’s go,” said James, trying to act as if he hadn’t been caught sticking it to Brenda Butts.

As they filed out of the den, a man’s voice spoke out of the TV: “God forgive me.” Then the sound of a gunshot rattled the TV’s small speaker.

* * *

Daisy Winter was getting fucked seven ways to Sunday. The guy between her legs was a fucking demon, an insatiable machine with a cock that wouldn’t quit. Not that she wanted him to quit. In spite of the fact that she was being raped by a man who’d said he was going to kill her and in spite of the fact that the man’s partner was cutting an unborn baby from that poor girl’s womb, Daisy was getting off on the last fuck of her life. She only hoped that he didn’t snuff her before she reached the Mother Of All Orgasms—the one building around all her edges now, surrounding her with the promise of ultimate release. Foreplay with the Grim Reaper sure as hell paved the way for the greatest orgasm of your life. Maybe that acceptance of death was the secret to great sex. Too bad she hadn’t discovered this secret earlier in her life. Things surely would’ve been different then. She might’ve been a different person, more content, less bitter. She might’ve taken a different path through life—one that didn’t end in the filthy cellar of a condemned church.

She dug her fingernails into the man’s ass cheeks and he rode her harder, his flat belly slapping her own jiggling tummy. Her eyes strayed to the fat man holding the glistening infant above its butchered mother. The crucified mother in the nun’s wimple was limp, probably dead from too much blood loss or from the physical shock to her body. The infant was alive, squirming in the fat man’s bloody hands as he held the kid up as if he were offering it up to some dark deity.

Daisy looked away. She didn’t want to be distracted from the fuck of a lifetime. The baby, the mother, the brutal butchery—none of it had anything to do with her. Now was not the time for such a downer. She would not allow herself to be distracted from the climax of her life.

But the baby,
a voice of conscience whispered in her head.

Fuck the baby, she affirmed. Its fate was already sealed by these maniacs. Wasn’t it?

The demon between her thighs began to howl. He drove into her with renewed violence and she knew he was coming. She held on to his hips and was sucked into the center of an orgasmic maelstrom. She went under, she went through, she came out above the below, ending up…

…outside her body, floating on a bed of electrical pulses, a crackling, snarling nest of energetic discharge, and she was looking down at the sinewy demon humping and pumping her inert body. She studied her face, fascinated by the ecstatic contortions etched in the rubbery mask of fleshy musculature. She saw a pulsing crimson aura about her head, a halo of unfettered passion, but the aura of the man riding her was a dull magenta smeared with murky clots of black. The writhing infant cupped in the bloody hands had an aura of pure white, and she knew she was seeing the shine of a pristine spirit, as yet untainted by human corruption. The big man holding the baby had a sickly yellow glow, and the wimple-wearing woman with her hips in a spreading pool of her own blood was surrounded by a brittle cloud of glazed silver. Each time the church bell chimed, the auras flared with intense radiance—except for the butchered mother, whose weak silvered glow grew dimmer and dimmer.