The Haunter of the Threshold (14 page)

Hazel easily felt the hot spurts eddy into her bowel. She felt sickened, yet thrilled. Eventually the invading penis slid out of her.

“Cain’t believe my dick spit that fast.”

“Your dick
always
spits fast,” Snow White laughed. “En’t had the ‘sperience I had. Naow yew get aout my way,” Snow White said, “‘curz it’s my turn. And while I’m jiggin’ up her shit, yew best thank the lady for bein’ setch a good sport, eh? Mebbe like a Nor’east Mustache?”

“Wish I’d thunk’a that!”

As the taller man popped a considerably larger erection through her sphincter, Peter Pan pulled her face off the ground and wiped his deflated penis across her upper lip.
Oh, you MOTHERFUCKER!
she thought. Now she had to smell remnants of her own excrement. All the while, though, the question beat like a drum in her head:
What
will they do to me when they’re done?

“Well I’ll be gard-durn’t if yew en’t right,” Snow White railed, pumping her. “She larnt proper, I’se tellin’ yew. Just as I’se sarten my daddy fucked sheep, I’m
durn
sarten this is the tightest backside I ever buggered.”

“Tolt ya!”

“Make it tighter, reddy-head, make it tight as yew can, less yu’d ruther me’n my pal here cut yew’re li’l cupcake tits off’n choke ya tew death on ‘em.”

Hazel summoned every iota of strength in her body, focused it on her sphincter, and
squeezed...

“Ee-YUH!”

More sperm slopped into her bowel; Hazel could feel that this deposit was considerably more voluminous than the first man’s. The cock spasmed in curious
quivers
as the assailant’s balls drew up against her vagina.

The man exhaled. “If’n this ‘un could make her asshole any tighter she could likely cut PVC pipe.”

“Or bust an empty Bud bottle, fer shore.”

“Ee-yuh. Tew bad we en’t got one.” His hips nudged closer to Hazel’s buttocks. “Loosen up naow, reddy—theer, good.”

Hazel was cruxed.
He just came so...what’s he doing now?
He seemed to be adjusting his hips like a golfer just before making a shot.

“En’t done just yet,” and then—

Oh my God...

—he began to urinate.

“See, what I always larn’t was that if yew’re gonna
cum
up a bitch’s ass, yew might as well piss up it tew, eh?”

“Dag straight.”

Hazel winced with her face in the dirt.
And I thought I was sick in
the head.
Heat
blossomed
in her lower abdomen; she could feel her bowel swell and swell–indeed, she could even feel pressurized urine tracing up the convolutions of her large intestine. After what had to have been two full minutes, the flow had not abated.
For shit’s sake,
buddy! Are you gonna piss all fucking day?

“Like pullin’ the truck up to the fillin’ station!” cawed Peter Pan. “Ding-ding-ding-ding-ding...”

When no more urine remained, Snow White slowly withdrew. Hazel thought of a fat, shaved rat being dragged out of her ass.

“En’t much I’d ruther dew’n piss up a gal’s backside. Just sup-thin’ that tickles me pink abaout the ideer of a gal filled with piss.”

Peter Pan clapped in degenerate glee, and when he did so, his limp cock jiggled. “I’se hear that!”

Hazel collapsed to her belly. All that piss bloating her bowel made her feel buoyant. Her brain seemed like something diced into dozens of nuggets, and each nugget struggled but failed to fully reconnect with the others. She couldn’t quite contemplate the potential that she would be dead soon.

“Come tew think of it...”

Suddenly she was being dragged across the dirt by her hair, until she was arranged in a sitting position against a tree.

“Time this bitch got filled up both ways. I done filled up her ass, so’s why’n’t jew fill up her belly?”

“Yeah! It’s been a spell since I done that!”

Hazel’s skewed faculties didn’t register their intent until Peter Pan was standing with his revolting-smelling penis right in her face.

“Open up.”

Hazel glanced upward through half-closed eyes. “What?”

“Come on, red! Crank that cock-sucker open.” The smiling Peter Pan mask looked ludicrous as such words were emitted from it. “I’se gonna pee in yer mouth’n yer gonna drink it.”

Hazel blinked. Hadn’t she had enough yet? When she gazed down at herself, her lower abdomen bloated such that she looked half-pregnant herself.
I’m sitting in the woods, raped and naked, with
my belly sticking out ‘cos some redneck just used my ass for a urinal,
she thought very concretely.

“No,” she said.

Peter Pan’s eyes looked incredulous. Snow White’s gaze slowly roved over. “Say
what?
”

“I’m
not
going to drink your piss,” Hazel said. She shrugged. “I don’t care any more—my life’s a piece of shit because
I’m
a piece of shit. My father’s the most wonderful man in the world and I treat him like a bum—I
avoid
him because I’m too lazy and indulgent to bother. The only person I truly love—a woman, by the way—thinks we’re only ‘buds,’ and I’ve got more mental problems than an abnormal psyche text.” She held up dirt-smudged hands. “Go ahead and kill me. I’m done.”

Peter Pan flicked his knife. “If’n that’s the way ya want it—”

Hazel smiled as the blade lowered.
I guess it is...and I’m fine
with that.

“New, new, new”—Snow White’s hand intervened to pull the knife away. “En’t no sport in killin’ a woman who en’t afeared, and anyway, she’s just playin’ with us naow.”

“Playin’?” questioned Peter Pan.

“Ee-yuh. She don’t keer if she live’re dies, but ya knaow what?”

“What?”

“We’ll tie her up’n take her back to the shack.” Snow White got down on one knee and looked right at her through his eye-holes. “Then tonight weer gonna snatch ourselfs thet pregnant one.” He pronounced “pregnant” as
preg-ernt.
“Ee-yuh, li’l reddy-head heer thinks she can fuck with us. Afore we kill
yew,
we’ll kill yew’re knocked up friend fust.”

Hazel gulped. For the first time she opened her eyes fully and looked at him.

“I’m gonna pitchfork that snippy bitch right in her big belly. Then I’ll’se fuck her while the tot’s blood’s sloppin’ out her cooze. All while yew’re watchin’. Heh, heh, heh...” His real eye winked in the eye-hole. “Think I’m lyin’?”

“All right, I’ll do it,” Hazel shrilled and opened her mouth.

Chuckles fluttered more about her head. Peter Pan stood before her; her sitting position allowed a near-perfect alignment between the rogue’s crotch and Hazel’s mouth. Every muscle in her neck tensed from the sudden gust of crotch-stink. “Tain’t pissed all day...”

“Shuh hope yew’re thusty, hon.”

Peter Pan pinched her cheek till it hurt. “Listen up. I’se got my own system, see? You open yer mouth, I piss in it till it’s full. Then I stop and you swaller. Then ya open up agin’n I fill ‘er up agin, and we’se go like that, ya hear?”

Hazel rolled her eyes. “How methodical. So I’m to assume this isn’t the first time you’ve forced a woman to drink your piss—”

Whap!

A hard palm impacted the side of her head.

“Fust time?” cackled Snow White. “We been fillin’ tramps with piss for a coon’s age.”

“Oh, a coon’s age, huh? I’ve always been curious,” Hazel tempted fate. “Just how long is a coon’s age?”

Whap!

Hazel’s head bobbed on her neck.

“You sassin’ us?” inquired Peter Pan, the end of his limp penis poised between index finger and thumb.

“And, reddy? Heer’s somethin’ else yew need to know,” and Snow White knelt down and spread Hazel’s legs wide. “If’n yew don’t swalluh every maouthful, then—”

Smack!

—his fist pounded her sex.

“—I’se gonna punch yew in yew’re cunt.”

Hazel moaned from the impact, her groin throbbing. “All right,” she wheezed. “I got it.”

“Then git ready, reddy!” Peter Pan celebrated.

Hazel braced herself: eyes sealed, neck craned and back arched, mouth locked open. An instant later, her oral cavity was being filled with hot urine, then the stream stopped and Hazel tensed, then gulped it down.

She teetered where she sat.

“Open!”

Through a throbbing mental disgust, Hazel forced herself to adhere to the “system.” She opened her mouth and let it be filled again.

And again.

And again.

And again and again and again...

She could find no simile to apply to the taste. She could only think of it as mineralish and anti-sapid: something revolting yet in defiance of description. She seemed to be able to
smell
it going down her throat. But the worst sensation of all was simply all that liquid heat being deposited from mouth to stomach.

Snow White’s New England drawl piped up as if amazed: “She shuh is chuggin’ it daown like a champ, eh?”

Peter Pan
eee-hawed.
“And I’se got
plenty
more store up fer the bitch!”

Hazel shut the words out and opened her mouth again...

And again and again.

Oh my God is he ever going to finish?

On the thirteenth swallow, she hiccupped, thought,
Shit!
and out gushed an entire mouthful.

Smack!

Her face ballooned; she nearly threw up. The impact of Snow White’s knuckly fist to her majora felt more like a swift and very pin-point blow with a mallet. It made her kidneys and even her ovaries hurt.
If he does that one more time he might rupture my uterus,
she thought through the sickest daze.

“Gawd
dog,
I trooly dew
love
punchin’ gals in thur pussies.”

“Yeah, man!”

Three more mouthfuls and three more swallows ensued before Peter Pan’s bladder was at last depleted of all its contents.

Hazel felt her belly and bowel
slosh
when she sidled over, whining and in tears.

“Naow thet’s what I call fillin’ a bitch
up.
”

“Look-it that gut!”

Indeed, all that urine made her look inflated.

“Huh belly? Shee-it! Haow ‘baout them
nips
on her?”

Only now did Hazel become consciously aware of this incident’s most obscene element of all: she was vibrating in a state of accelerated sexual arousal.

“I’se don’t believe it!” Peter Pan exclaimed. “Her dang nipples’re stickin’ out like the spark plugs on the boat motor!”

“Aye, they are, heh, heh, heh! T’is a very especial kind’a gal who gets horny whilse havin’ the holy ever-livin’
hail
raped aout’a her, huh?”

That,
Hazel thought,
would be me.

The dichotomy raged. She was horrified, disgusted, and sickened unto
death,
yet her libido betrayed all such undisputable facts. Sodomized, beaten, and filled with urine, yes, by two men who might very well kill her, but...

She had never felt so turned on in her life.

“Hands’n knees agin,” Snow White ordered. “We en’t finished yet, girlie.”

They’re going to ass-fuck me AGAIN?
she wondered. Automatonically she assumed the position ordered, then—

Pumph!

—Snow White’s workboot pressed down across her shoulder blades, the force of which rammed her face back into the dirt. “Keep thet gorgeous li’l butt stickin’ up, reddy-head, so’s ya can show us a piss gusher.”

“A piss...
what?
”

“Blow alls my piss aout yew’re ass, reel hard, see? We wanna
see
how far it shoots.”

You’ve GOT to be shitting me!
but what choice did she have but to accommodate the perverse command? She jutted her rump up, took several deep breaths, then tightened her abdomen and
HEAVED
...