Timothy 01: Timothy (2 page)

Shit how long did it take me? She was already naked and waiting, either I had lost some time or she was just that practiced at the maneuver. I decided not to dwell on it. Of course she was a slut; if I had picked her up for a one night stand probably a dozen or so other guys had too. As blood flowed from my big head into my little one, the pain subsided somewhat in my brain, I made sure to shove as much of me into her mouth as possible to keep her from talking. The less she said, the better I felt.

Eventually, I got on top of her supporting my weight on my forearms, her head rocked back and forth as I thrust into her, with her mouth slightly open she began to moan, at first softly, and that was a magnificent turn on. I thrust harder and faster, her body and head began to shake violently from her orgasmic convulsions, her encouragement for me to come, became shrill infestations in my ears. The pain that was being held at bay now rushed full force like stampeding bulls across the tender flesh of my temples. My forearms gave way, but still I humped her for all I was worth. The pleasure of the sexual act was the only thing that was keeping me functional from the crippling pain.

I knew somewhere far in the distance that placing all of my bulk on her was a burden, but she would have to suffer through it until I was done. She was here for my enjoyment. At first I could feel her sag under the added pressure and then she began to fight against me. She had punctured through my outfit and flesh in more than one spot with her fingernails in a desperate bid to get out from under me. At some point she was able to move her head far enough that she was able to bite on my cheek and ear, still the pain of her defensive posturing did little to break through the cloud of misery that scraped along my mind.

It was her shrieking that finally did it. It was like someone took the head of a needle and was slowly dragging it across my eyeball, I pulled out of her completely and raised up as she took a huge ragged breath of air. When I came out of my pain filled abyss, I crashed back down and into her, I angled my head so that my mouth was by her neck.

‘
Eat!’ tore through my head, the message lit up across my mind like my own personal bat signal. I wasn’t even hungry, between the pain in my head and screwing a hot chick I didn’t see much chance of fitting a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in.

‘
Hungry!’ The insistent thought cramped my belly, and was making my penis go from wood rigid to pasta soft.

I still had cognitive thought as I tore a chunk of her throat out roughly the size of a hamburger slider, but my motor skills were rapidly slipping from my control. Her eyes were glazed with pain and shock as blood pumped through the wound. I kept thrusting my deflating penis and biting, thrusting and biting, blood soaked my face, and it pooled around her head and still I kept pumping. I came with a shudder just as her eyes fluttered closed. My vision tunneled and I crashed down on what was left of her one last time.

***

It was nighttime when I finally awoke. “What the hell is going on?” I asked myself. I tried to wipe the sleep from my eyes. The pain, the blessed pain was gone. I wanted to do a dance I felt so good. I vaguely remembered the events of the day, that stupid little kid biting me and then coming home to what’s her name.

‘
Oh shit, is she still here? I’m not taking her out, maybe she just left.’

I could hear what sounded like a dog chewing a particularly succulent bone, but since I didn’t own a dog I would have to move on to the next explanation.

“
Am I dreaming?”

I couldn’t move, my eyes were open and I was looking through them but I was so close to whatever was in front of them that I could not focus properly. ‘Did that bitch drug me? She’s probably robbing me while I lie here like a log.’

“
I’ll kill you bitch,” I screamed, but I don’t think my mouth was working.

‘
Whoa that was fucking weird!’ My body moved and I didn’t do it. I screamed next, for how long I don’t know but my throat should have been shredded by the time I was done. The brief glimpse I caught of what’s her name, before I closed my eyes was horrifying. Her face was gone, picked clean as if she had been lying in the desert exposed to all the wild animals for a week. One eye was gone and the other was bit cleanly in two. The skin around her neck had been peeled like an orange except for a few deep wounds where chunks of meat had been torn loose.

I was puking, but I wasn’t. I could FEEL myself retching but my body was not responding. Then my traitorous body descended back down onto the prone form of the woman and pulled another meager strip of skin from her forehead. The wet smacking sounds as
I
chewed the flesh was nauseating, I could hear
myself
swallowing but no matter how hard I tried to force it from going down my gullet still it happened. My body was ravenously hungry, even as I was convulsing in disgust.

“
Am I dead? This must be hell. The bitch killed me!” I yelled. “But why would I be eating her then, that doesn’t make any sense,” I was a disembodied voice stuck in my body. I had no form, I was nowhere and I was nothing yet here I was. My body continued to rend through the carcass of Gina, yeah that was her name, Gina Talgera. Great, NOW is when I decide to put a name to the strips of beef I’m eating. This just can’t be real, now I told you I was an offensive lineman in football, not a famed position for having to think but I was going to, NO, I needed to reason this out.

So either I’m dead and this is some form of hell, possible. I’m asleep and I’m having one hell of a believable dream, again possible. Or I’m alive and my consciousness is now trapped in a cannibalistic body, out of the three scenarios this one is the least believable. So the best I can hope for is that this dream does not drive me insane and that I wake up in a few hours and kick this crazy bitch out of my house because apparently she slipped me some sort of mickey that is having some sort of serious mind-fuck on me. Maybe I’ll slap her around a little before I let her leave just because of what she’s putting me through.

I peered out of my eyes, which were not mine to control just as my body ripped a breast free with an audible sucking sound. “Fuck! This feels real,” I yelled as jets of saliva shot in the back of my throat. My teeth gnashed through the fatty material, my hand grabbed onto the voluminous piece of flesh so that I could tear pieces from the handful of beef. I reached out with my mind for that was the only tool I had available. I could ‘sense’ my body, could see and hear through my eyes and ears. I could feel my hands, sticky with blood; could feel Gina’s intestines as my hands grabbed large portions, could feel my muscles strain as they pulled parts of her free. I could feel my teeth as they tore into slick casing, I blacked out momentarily as I allowed myself to ‘feel’ the taste as the coppery, shit taste flooded through my mouth.

Occasionally, my head would whip up from time to time in accordance to the cacophony of sounds that were exploding outside and I could catch brief glimpses of my alarm clock before it completely went out. But it was much easier to keep watch on the sun that blazed through my window. It was Saturday when the bitch had come to get her purse, two sunrises later and my unresponsive body had completely picked her clean. Somewhere deep inside myself I was slightly impressed, I had consumed fifty to fifty five pounds of meat a day. There was nothing left of Gina except for her skeletal remains—oops scratch that—and two bags of silicon. Yup, definitely going insane, because I laughed like a loon for the next ten minutes. Apparently, there is nothing funnier in the world than the sight of the remains of a devoured body with two silicon bags
left over
because yes, even cannibals have their standards.

My body stood, fully upright for the first time since I had started to bang the bitch, I was heavy with the weight of her. And then my body let loose easily one of the most voluminous blasts of gas ever. Even in this state I had wished that I had caught it on tape or at least had a witness, Gina didn’t count, she was dead and I was pregnant with her remains. For a count of 47 Mississippi I ripped ass, I’ve got to admit even under the circumstances it was magnificent. I took a chance and allowed myself to tap into my sense of smell. I immediately regretted the decision, it smelled exactly like what you would expect a decomposing body to smell like. Rotten fucking meat enshrouded in shit. I couldn’t close that doorway quick enough. And then it got worse, the farts turned liquidy, I was shitting down my leg, pools of the thick liquid were gathering at the bottom of my pants where my elastic cuffs were holding it back. I could feel the tepid substance as it began to seep and leak through the choke point, within a minute I could feel my feet completely covered.

It got worse, the liquid escaping my bowels tapered off to be replaced by more solid waste material, logs of offal began to course down my thighs and calves. Unlike the liquid the chunkier material could not escape the trappings of my clothes and began to bunch up around my lower legs. I cajoled and begged and screamed at my hands to take my pants off so that I could get in the shower. Nothing happened, my body was immobile as I was apparently disposing of Gina in her entirety. I guess I could call her a piece of shit and mean it now.

I don’t know how much longer I stood there, I had stopped counting when my body had switched from gas to solids, but at least ten minutes later the release stopped, I blessedly moved from the location. My head scanned the room, the splatter of blood, gore, bile and shit looked like someone had dropped a grenade in a B-movie prop department. There was too much of everything—it couldn’t be real, even the portion of hair attached to scalp that was stuck to the wall, it was all just overkill. One body could not make this much evidence, and then I seized up–that’s what this was now, one major fucking crime scene. I would never be able to hide this much. FIRE, welled up in my mind, my only chance was to burn everything. Great thought, but I couldn’t even make my hands scratch my nuts if the desire so came. Which now that it was on my mind was the single act that I most wanted them to do. My left nut was stuck to my thigh, I was trying to not think of WHAT it was stuck with just that it needed to be let free and it itched uncontrollably, my body paid it no mind at all. Which in a sense made sense, because I was the mind and my body was not paying me any heed.

I flipped the sensory switch off, better to not feel at all than to feel that. Relief was sweet but the back of my mind still tickled with the phantom itch. This was the first time I could ever remember in my life of hating my own balls. Sure there were the times I had taken a shot to the nuts and dropped to my knees, but even with my legs drawn in and my stomach threatening to
heave
, I didn’t hate them, I cherished them even more, fearful that now they might somehow have suffered a damage that would not allow them to work properly. But right now they were shit-encrusted globules that pushed me that much closer to the edge. For insanity was the line I was straddling of that I was sure.

My body began to pace around my apartment, apparently in search of more sustenance. It banged up against the fridge a few times but then seemed to lose interest. Around and around we went, where he stops nobody knows, (and then I laughed maniacally in my head). Yup, no matter which way this panned out I was going to end up in a room padded with loads and loads of rubber or foam. The constriction of the straight jacket couldn’t be any worse than what I was going through now, at least my arms would be mine to not move.

I tuned back into the senses of the creature that looked like me but wasn’t, we, he, it was staring out the window at a particularly succulent looking fat man running for his life with a dozen or so something’s chasing him. Now why would I call a fat man succulent?

My senses were ripped to the fore as an all consuming gnawing clawed through my belly. I was so hungry it was all I could think about. The hunger was a tangible entity it was threatening to rip its way through my bowels until it found solace. ‘Must feed’. It said over and over. I severed that connection at this point I figured it was just better to stay with the eyes and the ears. And even that was two senses too many.

My head ripped around as a soft tapping came to the front door. “Tim, are you there?” came an even softer voice.

“
Dad? Dad? Get the fuck out of here!” I screamed, sure it was only in my head but it was still loud. I was petrified of what my old man was going to think if he saw me like this, he didn’t know I made extra money as a clown! My body moved closer to the delicious smells pouring forth from under the door. ‘I shut smell down!’ I thought. Every tumbler as it clicked into place was like sweet ambrosia to my hulking alter ego self.

“
Oh, dear God. What is that smell?” my father asked as he opened the door and quickly slid in, making sure to reengage the lock before turning around to survey my place, which was bathed in the shadows of twilight. A partially cloud-shielded full moon could not hide the nightmares that awaited Liam (my father) as he looked down my hallway.

“
Timothy? Tim, you’re alright.” My father said with relief. “Tim?” He asked as I kept approaching him soundlessly. I passed by the mirror I had in the hallway, I looked through my peripheral vision, because my zombie self’s eyes never strayed from their target. I was the stuff of nightmares. A giant zombie clown bathed in blood and shit—fuck other people,
I
wasn’t going to be able to sleep for a week after seeing that.

“
Tim, you look horrible,” my father exclaimed as he backed up into the door he had just moments before closed. I watched as his hand slid up, trying to find the locking mechanism. The old man was quick but not quick enough, my body sensed that its next meal was about to flee . My dad placed his hands up, which I summarily began to chew through, I could hear my front teeth shatter as they crashed down upon his wedding ring. I don’t know why he still wore the damn thing, I got my philandering ways from my father, the difference was I didn’t pretend to be married.