Month: September 2018

The Kingsford County Line (Part 7)

Damn it, he’d been sleeping hard too. As much as Logan enjoyed these treks with his brother and nephews, he had to admit that it was hard getting a decent sleep at the various tiny motels and campgrounds were they had been staying, especially as he was getting older. Howard–he’d only turned fifty-five last year, but Logan had just turned sixty-one, and he felt every damn year in his back right now. He didn’t know how Howard did it, keeping up with these two boys. Two weeks was plenty for him, and he wanted to strangle one, or both. The eternal bachelor, Logan had dated serially for a couple of decades, until he was about fourty, and then he’d resigned himself to the fact that he much preferred his own company to anyone else–particularly women. It wasn’t that he wasn’t straight by any means. No, Logan took several trips a year to Vegas where he had a few paid relationships with women of his choosing, but the thought of settling down just seemed exhausting. Sure, he felt a paternal desire every once in a while, but these road trips were generally enough to sate it, squash it, or a bit of both.

He resettled himself in the back of the van, wondering what exactly Tyler had been so upset about. The kid usually had a pretty level head on him–maybe not as level as his older brother, but they were both good, solid kids. But he’d seemed…genuinely scared of something, but who knew what, exactly. It wasn’t like he scared easily either, so maybe there really was something going on out there. He sat up in the van, in time to see some big, fat trailer trash looking fellow come out of the building with a case of beer under his arm. He walked over to the tow truck parked beside them and put the beer inside, and then did the strangest thing–he sniffed the air a few times, licked his lips, and headed back towards the station, this time going around the side, where Tyler said Dave had gone, and where he assumed Tyler had followed. Still, everything was probaby fine, he supposed–untl he saw that burly redneck along with another, younger version of him proping Tyler between them…and Tyler looked like he was stoned or something. He crawled forward in the van, expecting them to bring his nephew there, but instead they kept going to the tow truck, where they shoved Tyler into the cab.

Ok, so something was definitely wrong. He threw open the door and got out of the car, and said, “Hey! What the hell are you doing with my nephew?”

The two rednecks looked over at him, and the younger one said, “Don’’ fuckin’ worry ‘bout it man–ya should probably be worryin’ ‘bout yourself, anyway.”

“Tyler? Tyler!” He shouted, “Get the hell out of there!”

The big redneck slammed the tow truck’s door shut, and he could see Tyler looking at him from inside, his face still slack and confused, but why wasn’t he trying to get away or anything? Logan rushed the two as fast as his old body would let him, hoping to get past them to the door, but he lost his momentum as soon as he got a good whiff of them–they stank to high heaven, he didn’t think he’d ever smelled anyone as foul before, and he came up short, eyes streaming tears, nose on fire, and so the big redneck’s windup punch to his jaw caught him completely off guard, sending him stumbling back and down onto his ass, coughing and sputtering and trying to recover his footing and get that awful funk out of his nose.

“Damn, nice punch, Pa,”

“Thanks son–now let’s git the hell out a here ‘fore he git’s up.”

The son ran around the truck and got in the passenger side, his dad crammed himself behind the wheel–Tyler squished between them. The engine rumbled to life just as Logan got his footing back, stumbling slightly, and before he could think twice about it, he rushed the truck and threw himself onto the back, clinging to the winch equipment for dear life as the tires squealed, caught the rough asphalt, and the truck flew off down the road with Logan clutching on like a feeble barnacle.

He knew this was suicidal–what the hell had he been thinking? He sure as hell couldn’t do anything about it now, though, the truck rocketing through the night along the highway. It felt like they were going a hundred miles an hour, even though he knew that couldn’t be true, and after half an hour his fingers were beginning to tire, he was shivering in the wind, and was happy to see they were finally entering something like a town. He managed to hang onto the side until the truck took a sudden right turn, and he finally lost his grip, tumbling out into the middle of the deserted road. He picked himself up, terrified someone might hit him, and also that he might lose them. He got onto the sidewalk, keeping an eye on the one working taillight the tow truck still had, as it banked hard again a quarter mile down the road, making another right.

Logan hustled as best he could, but the pain was finally catching up to him–both the punch he’d taken earlier to his face, which felt like it was twice the size as usual, and from the fall off the truck. he scraped one arm up pretty well, but there wasn’t any serious damage, he hoped. He could move everything still, if nothing else. He finally reached the spot where he thought the truck had turned, and found himself at the entrance to a trailer park called “Louisiana Acres.” It was all he really had to go on, and so he limped in–if he couldn’t find the tow truck here…well, then he’d have to figure out something else, he supposed.

The Kingsford County Line (Part 6)

Tyler looked at his extended index finger, at the filth under his chipped nails, skin crusted with grease and who knew what else, but like in a dream, his hand floated up, grabbed hold, and gave it a tug–and immediately Skip let loose a loud, noxious fart with a chuckle. Tyler chuckled too, but half-heartedly, but once the stench him him like a truck, he let out a groan, and collapsed to his knees. “Oh…Oh fuck! What the, fucking hell, it…smells so fucking…”

“Yeah, probably shoulda warned ya. Pa ‘n I got us some fuckin’ nasty gas. Still, ya don’ mind it that much, do ya?”

Tyler didn’t reply. On his knees, his eyes watering, but vacant, tongue lolling out from his gaping mouth.

“Heh, didn’t even pull that hard,” Skip said, unbuckled his belt and dropped his greasy jeans as he turned around. He didn’t have underwear on, and he stooped slightly, so his ass was inches from Tyler’s face. “Good thing Ah got plenty more.”

“No…No, don’t.” Skip looked up, and saw Dave there, shaking his head, “Please…if…if you have to, just…take me. I need…need some more, please–I’m thirsty still.”

“Shut up, you’re not man enough for me anyway. You’ll get what you need from someone else, but I’m fuckin’ busy. I don’t want to hear a fucking peep, or I’ll give you some shit to eat to keep you occupied.”

Dave looked like he wanted to say something else, but thought better of it. Instead, he grabbed his sopping wet shirt, pulled the collar up past his mouth and started sucking the piss from it.

“Better–now where where were we?” Skip said, looking back at Tyler, “You ready? Cause here it fuckin’ comes!” Skip grabbed his own index, and gave it a hard yank–and this time a massive fart ripped from his hole, powerful enough to ripple his cheeks slightly, and all of it blasted directly into Tyler’s face, who started snorting it up, mouth turning up into a sneer, and with his hands he spread Skip’s ass and shoved his face into the ripe, filthy crack, licking and chewing at the hole while Skip encouraged him with another fart or too, until Tyler was snorting and grunting uncontrollably, his hands fishing his cock free from his pants so he stroke it, shooting a load all over himself, the back of Skip’s boots and the asphalt in a matter of seconds.

It wasn’t too much longer that Pa, came out of the store with a twenty-four pack of cheap beer under his burly arm, walked over to the tow truck and tossed it back behind the seat, and then looked around for Skip. He didn’t see him anywhere–but fuck, he could smell something filthy back around the building–hell, he could smell his boy coming from a mile, he knew his stench so fucking well. So he followed his nose around the side of the building, and sure enough, there he was, bent over, with the face of one of the boys he’d seen earlier shoved in his crack, encouraging him, urging him to dig deeper, suck harder on his filthy hole, get it nice and clean.

“Didn’t think ya’d start without me,” he said, “Heh, ya should see what’s goin’ on inside, fuckin’ Bubba ‘n his gang got a hold a one–almost feel sorry fer ‘em. Sure glad Ah ran intah you ‘n not them.”

Skip pulled his ass away from Tyler, and he tried to follow, tongue greasy, nose a bit brown, eyes still empty of everything other than hunger. “Come on Pa, let’s git ‘em in the truck–we got plenty a time tah dawn tah work on ‘em tahgether.”

“Sounds like a plan tah me!” Pa said, reached down and hauled Tyler up by the arm. His legs were like jelly and Tyler didn’t know who this guy was supporting him, but…but fuck, he smelled good. Almost as good as Tyler. Pa had his arm under his, and Tyler leaned it to the redneck’s exposed pit, licking at it with as much eagerness as he had Skip’s hole, and Pa laughed. “Fuckin’ eager!”

“Ah think he’s gonna be perfect. Ya’ve been needin’ some help.”

“Heh, as much as Ah love ya son, yer too much fer one daddy, I know. Come on man, let’s git ya’ll home, where we can have some real fun.”

“S-Sure…home…” Tyler mumbled, and let Pa and Skip help him over to the tow truck.

Pa popped open the driver’s door and helped Tyler inside. “Only one bench, so ya’ll have tah sit between us–don’t think ya’ll mind though.” Tyler shook his head, still not quite sure what was going on, but…but he was happy. Still, shouldn’t…shouldn’t he be in the van? That van, over there? He saw his Uncle Logan get out of the side yelling at Pa for some reason, but before he could say do much Pa laid him out on the asphalt with a haymaker to the jaw, and then Skip climbed in the passenger side, Pa hopped in–smashing Tyler between both their filth, and drove off with tires screeching. Tyler wanted to look back, and make sure his uncle was alright, but when he turned to the side he found his face in Pa’s armpit again…and he’d rather lick that anyway, right?

“Heh, found an eager one, fer sure,” Pa said, lifting his arm a bit higher to give Tyler better access, steering with his left hand.

“Fuck, shoulda seen the other one, sorry piece of shit. Got one whiff a me ‘n pissed himself.”

Pa laughed, “Don’ know, sounds right up our alley tah me.”

“Nah, don’t need no fuckin’ jittery fucker, Pa,” Skip said, “Not fer what Ah got in mind.”

Pa looked over at his son in the passenger seat, illuminated by the dim instrument panel and the tip of his cigarette, “Yeah, Ah think Ah see what yer lookin’ fer. Just…don’t replace me, ya know?”

“Ain’t nobody getting replaced Pa, don’ be gettin’ all sappy on me, ya fucker–’sides, yer gonna be helpin–he’ll be yers as much as mine.”

“Shit Skip, ya know all Ah need is you.”

“Yeah, but is that all ya want?” Skip asked, and looked over. He could smell how horny his daddy was, with this fucker’s mouth suckin’ at his ripe pit, he knew he wanted it. “I know ya got lots a love Pa, Ah made ya that way, ‘n I gots plenty too.”

Tyler, between them, was only able to half listen to the conversation. The rest of him was either enthralled by the filthy smell of Pa’s pit, which only seemed to be growing fouler the more he cleaned it, or terrified beyond belief. What in the hell was he doing here? Had he really just climbed into some strange tow truck, by himself, with these two freaks? What had he been thinking? Then again, it felt more like he hadn’t been thinking, ever since…since that first nasty fart. Fuck, that…that had smelt so damn good, fuck! No–No, he had to get out of here, he had to. It took all the force he could muster inside himself, but he managed to rip his face from Pa’s pit with a gasp, wipe his slobber from around his mouth on his arm, and say, “No, no, I want to go back.”

Skip laughed, “See what I mean? Got a strong one.”

“Ah heard strong ones are just annoying,” Pa said, “Always gettin’ in tah trouble before they finally settle down. Hell, Hendrick was one a those, ‘n ya hate that fuck.”

“Yer fergettin’ Pa, tha ya were pretty strong willed yerself, ‘n look at ya now. Most fuckers jus’ don’t know how tah break ‘em right, make ‘em need ya.”

“I said I want to go back–please, just let me go back.”

“Pa, why don’ ya go on ‘n let one loose, give ‘em a taste a yer shit–he already got a taste a mine.”

Pa smiled around his own cigarette, lifted his inside leg and let a long, loud fart loose towards Tyler. In the small cabin, which already reeked of musk and smoke, he hadn’t imagined that it could smell worse, until the dank, rotten egg slammed into his nose. It wasn’t quite as pungent as Skips had been, but it didn’t matter–unable to stop himself, he was snorting and inhaling deep, bucking his hips mindlessly.

“Fuck, look how riled up that got ‘em–’n that wasn’t even that nasty! Damn Skip, ya sure can pick ‘em.”

“See Pa? He’s fuckin’ perfect. ‘Sides, ain’t ya always wanted a brother? Some filthy fuck to pal around town with?”

“Ya mean–”

“Ah jus’ want ya tah be happy Pa, that’s all.”

“Aww fuck son–I love ya so damn much.”

Between them, Tyler was trying desperately to get his body back under his control, but he couldn’t avoid the stench. Skip lifted a leg and let loose a fart of his own, and that only made things worse. He couldn’t think about anything beyond the smell, and how…and how much he wanted it. It reeked, sure, but he wanted it all the same, wanted it all. He only dimly realized that, at some point he had undone the fly of his pants and had begun jacking off. The first load blasted out of him, cum splattering across the radio in front of him, Skip wiping some of it off with a finger and giving it a taste.

“Fuck, why…why do I…why do I want this…” Tyler gasped, sobbing, and Skip hushed him, wiping his tears away with one hand.

“Don’ worry ‘bout that Unc. Here–let’s git ya somethin’ tah settle ya down.”

Skip pulled out a box of cigarettes and tapped one out, stuck it in Tyler’s mouth and lit it for him. It wasn’t the first cigarette Tyler had tried–he’d attempted to smoke one once back in middle school, with some “cool kids”, but this was different. Obviously unfiltered, and the leaf was cheap and rank, and yet, just like the filthy musk rolling off the two men who’d kidnapped him, he couldn’t stop once he got a taste. When Skip handed him a beer, he didn’t bother questioning it, and after a few more miles,  as they all started rolling past the outskirts of Kingsford itself, he had a solid buzz going, and had his face happily stuck in Skip’s pit now, licking it clean, taking the occasional moment to take a drag off his cigarette or slug some of the beer down. Before too much longer, he’d stopped finding the whole situation so strange. If anything, this is where he belonged, right? At least that’s what Skip and Pa were telling him, and…and they wouldn’t lie.

At last, they rolled into a very rundown trailer park–one of several they’d passed along the road in varying states of disrepair. The sign out by the road called it “Louisiana Acres.” Pa drove them around until they came to a well-rusted single wide, pulled the tow truck up in front of it, and got out.

Well Unc, welcome home man.”

Home? It didn’t feel like home. Hadn’t…hadn’t he been doing something else? Been going somewhere else? Still, when Skip waved him to follow, his feet shuffled after him, up the steps, and into the trailer behind them.

The Kingsford County Line (Part 5)

“All ‘lone out here, eh?” Skip asked, taking a drag off his cigarette, and following it with a loud, frothy belch, “On a trip? Ya look perty young tah be travelling all ‘lone like that–pretty brave, pretty adult.”

“No…Not alone. My dad and big brother are inside, and my uncle’s in the van. My friend, too, over there.”

“Ah–a family road trip. Hate tah break up a family, ya know? Don’ know what I’d do without mah Pa with me.”

Tyler just squinted at him, a bit confused. “I don’t…what?”

“Don’t worry about it. Where’d you say that friend of yours was?”

“He’s…over there, around the side of the building. He’s being kind of pissy, cause we’re lost.”

“He, won’t be lost for long, trust me,” Skip said, walked around the van and off towards where Daniel was, “Heh, pissy.”

“Why are you going over there? He…He doesn’t want to talk to you, trust me.”

Skip turned and glared at him, and something…something in his eyes froze Tyler in place, “Git in the van boy, ‘n don’t worry ‘bout yer friend, I’ll take good care a him.”

Tyler was still confused, but his hand was already grasping for the sliding door of the van, and he climbed inside, even as he watch Skip slip around the corner and out of sight. What in the hell was that? It didn’t make any fucking sense at all, anything that had just happened. So he reached around and shook his uncle awake again.

“Wha–now what?”

“Uncle Logan, I…I think something weird is going on out there, these guys showed up, and…and I don’t know what, but David is out there, and I…”

“Tyler, you don’t have to be afraid of people, you know that–what’s your dad always tell you?”

“Most people are good, I know, but this was really weird, but would you…go check on him, for me?”

“Tyler, you sound like you’re six or something.”

The truth was, the way Skip had stared at him, the way he’d smelled–he’d felt like he was a child again–no. No, Skip had looked at him…it was hard to understand, really, like he’d been sizing him up somehow–not what he was, but deeper than that. No, standing in front of Skip, he’d felt…old, somehow. Older, maybe, but without control over himself, without control over anyone else. But…but maybe his head was just getting the better of him. This long drive, being lost. He was just…he needed to get a grip. Still, he should go see whether Dave was alright. He turned around and pulled the door open again, got out, and followed where he’d seen Skip gone, around the corner.

It was dark back there, but enough lights were around that he could see the scene clearly enough–Dave was where he’d been when Tyler left him, sitting with his back to the brick wall. Skip was in front of him, his jeans open and cock out, and he was…pissing on him. He could see the stream glittering in the dark, arcing through the air, hitting Dave in the face, his friend’s mouth open wide, eyes locked with Skip’s own. “What–What the fucking hell!” Tyler shouted, and Skip swung towards him, breaking eye contact with Dave.

Almost immediately, Dave tried to scramble away to the side, but all Skip had to say was “Fuckin’ stay still,” and suddenly he was frozen, unable to move an inch.

“What…what the hell are you doing to him, you fucking freak?”

“Nothing he won’t want more than anything else come dawn–go back to the van, this don’ concern you in the least, anymore, as greedy as I might like to be,” he said, and Tyler felt that pressure behind that glare, but this time…this time he was ready for it, and he fought back, holding himself in place as he feet tried to walk him away, back to his uncle in the van, but no–no, this wasn’t happening. This was fucking wrong. Skip sensed his resistance–for a moment he pushed harder, knowing it would be a small matter to break him…but why? Because if Skip was being honest with himself, he liked this one much better–he, at least, hadn’t pissed himself in fright as soon as he’d gotten his first whiff of him. He cocked his head to the side, and then broke his gaze with Tyler, and looked down at Dave, licking his lips of piss, but his eyes were brimming with terror and confusion. It’s true, breaking up a family was cruel, but it wasn’t like the rest of Kingsford would feel the same way, so why not go with his gut? Because…because he liked this one. This one was going to be so much more fun to break, than the whimpering pisser he’d found back here. “Ya know what? have it yer way, I’ll leave’m alone, ‘n take you instead. Ah like you better anyway.”

“What?” Tyler asked. He tried to back away, but his feet had now glued themselves to the pavement, as Skip approached him,” What are you talking about?”

“What, you think we’d just leave ya fer the rest a the town? Nah, been looking tah round out our family a bit, git’s a bit lonely, just the two a us–but Ah also like a bit of a challenge…” he walked closer to Tyler, and with each step, the intensity of his stench doubled. In his mind, Tyler wanted to run, but the smell seemed to be wrapping itself around him, weighing down his limbs, holding him in place somehow as the redneck approached him. This close, nearly toe to toe with him,. it was getting hard to see, hard to think about anything beyond the stench. “Too bad Ah wasted mah piss–still, there’s more than one way tah git a bit filthy, ya know? Go on buddy, pull mah finger, ‘n see what happens.”

The Kingsford County Line (Part 4)

“Look, you two stay here for a bit, I’m gonna go see what’s taking dad so long in there,” Jeremy said, and he opened the passenger door and climbed out, disappearing into the gas station after his father. Tyler and Dave watched him, and then Dave slid open the side door of the van, undid his seatbelt and got out.

“Dave? Where are you going?”

“We’ve been in this damn van all fucking day, it feels like. I just want to stretch my legs for a bit is all.”

Tyler thought about telling him to stay–they shouldn’t just walk away without telling anyone. He undid his own seatbelt, flipped around and shook his uncle’s belly, until the older man started awake.

“H-Huh? What?”

“Hey, we stopped to get gas. Dad and Jeremy are inside, Dave and I are gonna walk for a bit, stretch our legs.”

“Oh, uh, sure…don’t go too far…”

By the time Tyler had climbed out of the van and slid the door shut behind them, he was already mostly asleep again, and Tyler hurried to catch up to Dave as he slipped around the corner of the gas station. “Hey, wait up? Where are you going?”

“I was just gonna walk around the building is all–you didn’t have to come along.”

“No, it sounded like a good idea, getting out for a bit. And I told Uncle Logan where we were going, so they wouldn’t worry.”

It was hard to tell in the dark, but that snort Dave made usually meant he was rolling his eyes.

“What?”

“Do you…I mean…No, just forget it.”

“Come on, what–you haven’t said anything all day, what’s up?”

Dave stopped walking and leaned against the brick wall of the building, “Fine, but you have to be honest with me, promise?”

“Sure, of course.”

“Are you actually enjoying this as much as it seems like you are?”

Tyler shrugged, “Look, this isn’t the most exciting trip we’ve been on sure, but that’s just how it goes, sometimes. Once, I remember we were going through North Dakota, and–”

Dave turned and walked away, making that snort again.

“What? Come on. If you hate it this much, then why’d you come along?”

“Because I thought we’d be going somewhere interesting, but it’s like…like none of you want to go anywhere fun!”

“Hey, that second largest ball of yarn was kind of fun–who the fuck cares if it’s the second largest, right?”

“That’s exactly my fucking point! This trip is fucking boring, and your family is fucking boring! What the fuck is even wrong with all of you, that you don’t see this whole thing as a fucking disaster? I mean, we don’t even know where the hell we are!”

“We’ve gotten lost before, we always just get directions back to the highway.”

“That’s not the–gah, I hate it when you get like this.”

“Like what?”

“Nevermind, just…just go back to the stupid van or something, I don’t fucking care, just leave me alone already.”

“Whatever,be miserable if you want, I don’t fucking care,” Tyler said, and walked back towards the van, but didn’t get back in. He saw that while they’d been talking, a muddy tow truck that looked like it hadn’t been washed in years must have pulled up to get gas while Dave was trying to get him to join in his poutfest. It wasn’t like Tyler was having a great time, or anything, but this still wasn’t the worst thing that had happened to him on a road trip. This did suck, but so what? Sometimes…sometimes things sucked, but you had to take the good with the bad. If there was anything these road trips had taught him, it was that. Be patient, solve the problems you come across, and everything will be alright in the end if you stay positive. He thought about getting back in the van, but he did want to walk a bit, so he took a few laps around the pumps, and a couple of people got out of the tow truck. The first was an older guy with a huge beard and big round gut jutting out, wearing clothes that looked like they’d last been washed at the same time as his vehicle. The guy saw him, grinned, and started toward him, when a second voice spoke up, “Pa, stay focused–go git yer beer, I got it handled.”

The man didn’t look very happy about that, “Sure Skip, you…got it,” but he turned and started towards the station and went inside, while the second speaker came around the other side, a young guy who couldn’t have been much older than Tyler himself. He was…big. Probably six foot four or so, more muscular than his father, but with a good amount of fat padding him out as well, just making him look thick–the fact that all he had on was a ragged flannel vest, showing off two thick arms and a very furry gut only accented his size. Skip took a drag off the cigarette he was smoking, and looked Tyler up and down, before walking over. Tyler went back around the van, keeping it between them, ready to get inside or pound on hood to get his uncle’s attention if he needed to. The young man must have found something about this funny, because he grinned a bit, showing off teeth which were way too yellowed for a guy as young as he was. He was a good five feet away, but the most horrendous smell wafted over to Tyler from the young man. He started breathing through his mouth, but it didn’t really help–the only comparable thing he could think of was walking into the locker room at school once after a bunch of practices, how musk had permeated the air so much, it was like the air had taken on a life of its own. But it wasn’t just musk, it was also…pangs of piss, and rotten eggs, and cum, and…and was…was he breathing through his nose? Deep–Deeper? Maybe, maybe it didn’t smell all that bad, yeah, maybe…maybe he could even get a bit…a bit closer. He forced his feet to stay still, but something strange was going on, he could tell, even if he didn’t know what.

ChatChange – Jock Slave (Flash Commission)

Thank you for using ChatRandom! You’re now being paired with a new chatter…..Partner found, welcome DirtyTubbs56!

DirtyTubbs56: Hey bud, how’s it hangin?

CollegeJock97: Fuck, put a fucking shirt on, would you? No one wants to see that.

DirtyTubbs056: Heh, how about this? Wanna see my big ol’ cock boy?

CollegeJock97: What the fuck, why won’t it let me close the window?

DirtyTubbs56: Sounds like someone didn’t pay for the premium membership. Guess you’re stuck with me for a little bit. Come on, whip out yer cock too–helps the time pass by real easy.

CollegeJock97: I’m not showing your my cock you fat, dirty faggot.

DirtyTubbs56: You know, I wasn’t too different from you when I was younger. You should watch what you say boy.

[Premium user DirtyTubbs56 has activated ChatChange]

CollegeJock97: What the fuck is chatchange?

DirtyTubbs56: You’ll see boy, now hold on a second.

[Change applied]

GrungeJock97: Oww! How the fuck–it fucking shocked me!

GrungeJock97: And why…what the fuck happened to my screenname? B?

DirtyTubbs56: Well I gotta say, it looks accurate–how old is that jock you have on boy?

GrungeJock97: Fuck, this…this thing? I’ve been wearing it all year so far

GrungeJock97: Why did I write that? I mean I have but I wasn’t wearing it, and my room, fuck it reeks so fucking good in here all of a sudden, makes me so damn horny.

DirtyTubbs56: Well then whip it out boy, let’s see what you got.

GrungeJock97: Fuck, you fucking did this to me, what the fuck did you do? Change me back, you fucking sicko.

DirtyTubbs56: Fuck boy, been wearing these whities of mine for months–bet you’d love to give them a sniff, wouldn’t you? Look at the color on ‘em–ain’t they pretty. Hold on, gotta get up here for a sec, show ya the shit streak down the back.

DirtyTubbs56: Eh? What did you think of those? Damn, did checking out my dirty undies just make you leak all that? Now who’s the sicko around here?

GrungeJock97: I can’t fucking help it!

DirtyTubbs56: Fuck, reminds me of when I was younger, sneaking underwear from the locker room, especially the coach’s, if I could manage. You like older guys, don’t you boy? Fat old pigs like me?

GrungeJock97: Fuck no, you…no, I won’t do this, I fucking won’t.

DirtyTubbs56: Well it wasn’t really a question anyway, no worries

[Change Applied]

Jock4DirtyOldMen: Fuck, that fucking hurt! Fucking stop it! What did you fucking do this time, daddy?

Jock4DirtyOldMen:Why the fuck did I type that? You’re fucking with my head, aren’t you daddy?

DirtyTubbs56: Just made you a little more appreciative is all. You should be thankful, shouldn’t you? That I’m turning you into a whore for dirty old men like me? Come on, tell me what you’d do to me, if I was in that dirty room of yours.

Jock4DirtyOldMen: Fuck, I don’t wanna say daddy, don’t make me do this, please sir.

DirtyTubbs56: Tell me boy, that’s an order.

Jock4DirtyOldMen: Fuck–fuck, I’d…I’d sniff your pits, and clean your whole stinking body sir. Suck your cock, and eat out your ass if you wanted, I’d…fuck, feeling you on top of me, fucking my dirty hole makes me so hard just thinking about it

DirtyTubbs56: How about my feet boy?

Jock4DirtyOldMen: I fucking love dirty feet sir, I’d lick them clean–the…the stink of ‘em makes me cum harder than anything.

DirtyTubbs56: That’s a much better attitude boy–but I think we should punish you for some of your rudeness earlier, don’t you think?

Jock4DirtyOldMen: No sir, please, I’m sorry. I’ll do whatever you want, you don’t have to change me anymore, please

DirtyTubbs56: No–see, I think you’re still a bit too proud of yourself. Your youth, your body. But living like this, well, it won’t last for long, trust me. All those hours spent alone in your room, masturbating to your own heady stench–it doesn’t leave much time for working out, does it? But you can’t stop–and the more you lose, the more you want it back.

[Change applied]

DirtyOldMan4Jocks: Fuck, that…fuck, what the fuck, I think I’m going to be sick…

DirtyTubbs56: Just accept it, just let it wash over you. You’ll feel so much better soon, trust me, you don’t know it yet, but you’re going to love this. I thought the same thing, but this is so much better than you know.

DirtyOldMan4Jocks: I’m, fuck, I’m old, and I’m so fucking fat! Change me back you fucker! You can’t fucking do this to me, you fucking can’t do this, I was

DirtyOldMan4Jocks: Fuck, why the fuck can’t I remember? I…I remember getting in the locker room, yesterday, but I wasn’t playing, I…fuck, that’s right, I took a fucking haul, five rank jocks from the locker room. I…know the janitor, and he’ll give me fifteen minutes to raid the place if I blow him, and it’s fucking worth it every time. Can’t do it too often though, but fuck, you should fucking smell these things.

DirtyTubbs56: Fuck man, they look so filthy, I can almost smell them through the screen!

DirtyOldMan4Jocks: Fuck yeah, I watch them at practice too, usually, wearing my favorite ones, even a jersey or two, while I’m under the bleachers, jacking off. Just fucking wish I could get close to them, you know? Really show those young studs what an old pig like me has to offer.

DirtyTubbs56: I bet you’d do anything for a stud like that.

DirtyOldMan4Jocks: You fucking know it! I…fuck, I know you fucking did this to me, but everything feels so fucking…far away now. And fuck if I don’t fucking love this.

DirtyTubbs56: Tell me what you want, pig–if you really want to go back, I could be persuaded if you ask really nicely–though I might need a favor in return.

DirtyOldMan4Jocks: Fuck, all I really want is all those fucking jocks around me, fucking me, pissing on me, using me as their fucking pig slut, fuck now that would be the fucking life!

DirtyTubbs56: Well I can arrange that too, you know.

DirtyOldMan4Jocks: Wait, I didn’t mean it, not really, I was just fantasizing!

DirtyTubbs56: You sounded pretty serious to me.

DirtyOldMan4Jocks: Fuck you, fucking change me back, I’ll do anything you want, I’ll find you and blow you, please

DirtyTubbs56: Nah, I like your idea better.

[change applied]

FilthySlavePig4Jocks: Fuck, what’s happening, why

DirtyTubbs56: Huh, he vanished–must not be living in that room anymore.

[Find user – FilthySlavePig4Jocks]

[User found. Local internet device found–connect user to device? Y/N]

[Y]

[Connection reestablished]

DirtyTubbs56: There you are–fuck, look at you, looks like those jocks sure did a number on you.

FilthySlavePig4Jocks: I…I can’t be in here, this is Master Coach’s office if anyone finds me I’ll get punished so bad

DirtyTubbs56: No worries, I won’t keep you for long, I just wanted to see what those jocks did to you–and fuck, what the hell didn’t they do. Is that the mascot?

FilthySlavePig4Jocks: I’m property of the team, they tattooed me to show it. Keep me shaved all the time, lock up my cock where it belongs The team uses me whenever they need to, and…and I love it. Thank you, thank you for doing this to me, I didn’t know I needed this so badly, and I know it doesn’t make sense, but I’m so happy–this was where I always belonged I just didn’t know it.

FilthySlavePig4Jocks: I have to get back in my pen though, if anyone finds me they’ll put me in the box and I hate the box.

DirtyTubbs56: Alright pig–get back in your pen–and you’re welcome.

[End Connection]

[Find new User? Y/N]

[Y]

The Kingsford County Line (Part 3)

The three bikers left out the door, leaving Howard on his hands and knees, licking cum from the filthy tile floor, and Jeremy finally shot his third load, and Doug felt mostly sated for the night, and pulled away. Jeremy still hadn’t had enough though–his cock was on fire without a hole to shove it into, and when he saw his father turn around, his ass dribbling cum, he lunged forward and rammed into him like an animal, pistoning and thrusting, while Howard lost control all over again, spraying another load himself across the floor. It was only after Jeremy came for the fifth time that he was able to regain some of his senses, pull himself free from his father, and wonder why nothing he’d just done seemed to be bothering him in the slightest. It didn’t seem to be bothering his father either, who was pushing back onto his cock just as fervently, head still pressed to the tile and eating up the last of the cum from his own final load. Jeremy pulled out and stumbled back, muscles shaking from the exertion, his cock still throbbing with need, and he looked over at Doug behind the counter. “What…what the fuck did you just do to me? What happened?”

“Kingsford County happened. Don’t worry, it’ll feel like home soon enough. Still, all that fuckin’ worked up an appetite–how about you? Why don’t we binge for a bit, and you can plow me again once you’re good and drunk–I like my men with a hefty beergut, you know? Don’t worry, you’ll only end up as big as me if you want to…” Doug said, shaking his gut again, Jeremy feeling it tug at his attention, tug at his cock, tug at his sudden, visceral need, and he ran. Ran around the end of the aisle and burst out the door and back into the parking lot, but only after did he realize he’d just left his father inside. Still–he couldn’t go back there, he couldn’t go back in there. If he did, he had a feeling he might never get out of there again. He shoved his cock back in his pants, and ran back over to the car, where he’d told Tyler and Dave to wait while he went and saw what was taking his dad so long–and he discovered something even worse. They were gone. Both of them.

There was no sign of a struggle, and the doors were all unlocked. He opened the door and looked in the back, but Uncle Logan was gone too. They couldn’t have just disappeared, right? They…they knew better, didn’t they, than to just take off without saying anything? He realized the bikers had left before them–had they done something to them? Logan wouldn’t have let something happen to them, unless…unless something happened to Logan. But then again, it wasn’t like his dad or he had been able to put up much of a fight against them inside. He looked around, but the station was deserted from what he could see. “Tyler?” he shouted into the night, “Dave?…Uncle Logan?” He ran around the pumps, and hooked around the side of the building–it was dark, but he could see someone there, sitting with their back against the wall, shaking and shivering in the dark. He ran over and found Dave there, soaking wet and stinking of…piss? What the fuck had those bikers done to him?

“Dave? Dave! Can you hear me?” Jeremy said, giving his brother’s friend a shake, “What happened? Where are Tyler and Uncle Logan?”

“They…they took Tyler. Logan…he tried–” was all dave could say, before he clamped up again, eyes welling up, “The smell, fuck…smelled so good…”

“Who? Those bikers? Did they do this?” Jeremy asked, but Dave wasn’t replying, just rocking gently against the wall. He grabbed Dave by the arm and hauled him up, half leading, half dragging him back to the van, when he saw his dad stumble out of the station doors, legs wide, face coated with cum.

“Sorry…Sorry Jeremy, had to clean up after…after Doug in there too. Fucker got cum all over his fuckin’ chair, and I didn’t want him to have to just sit down in it, you know?”

“Dad!” Jeremy said, running over, “Those fucking bikers took Tyler! And I don’t know where Uncle Logan is, I can’t find him.”

Howard didn’t seem to be listening, he just lurched over towards his son, throwing himself at him, sending Dave tumbling to the dirt where he curled up in a fetal position. “Jeremy…would…hey, fuck me again, like you did in there. Real rough. Fuck your old man, really…really fucking give it to me. Never knew my son was a real stud like that, you know?”

He didn’t have much of a choice, did he? Jeremy pushed him away and slapped his father across the face, but it didn’t seem to help much. “Dad! They’re fucking gone! Don’t you fucking get it? Those fucking bikers must have taken them!”

“Nah…nah they…they wouldn’t…would they? Don’t think they’d do that. It’s me they want, they know I’m the best…best pig around here.”

“Dad, get in the damn car, we have to find them!”

“Sure sure, but what about that fuck son? Fuck me again, and we can do anything you fuckin’ want,” Howard said, leaned in and tried to kiss Jeremy, who side stepped him. Howard fell forward, trying to keep his balance, but fell to the dirt on his hands and knees–but instead of getting up, he undid his jeans and pushed them down, showing his ass to his son…and Jeremy…he wanted to, he really did, but he had to stay focused, he had to…to try not to think about what had just happened in there, what he’d done.

“You don’t want that ass–trust me, he’s taken.”

Jeremy looked over and saw Doug at the door. He must have finally lumbered over to the door, his massively fat apron still…still hanging down over his jeans, swaying a bit.

“Get back in here, we aren’t finished yet, not by a long shot.”

“No…No, those bikers, they took my brother. And my uncle.”

“You don’t need to worry about that, that’s none of your concern anymore,” Doug said, giving his fat a slight jiggle, Jeremy focusing away, but he could…feel it, feel that ache. “You’re mine, I claimed you. Now get in here–I’m fucking starving.”

No–No, he–he had to find his family. But later, maybe. Eventually? It was hard to really understand what happened to him every time he saw Doug’s gut heave again.

He grabbed his dad by the arm and hauled him up, dragging him over to the car, Howard stumbling with his pants and underwear around his ankles, and Jeremy shoved him into the passenger seat, as Doug pushed his way out, yelling and cursing, but he was too slow to stop him, Jeremy knew that. He grabbed Dave and helped him up from where he’d fallen, and shoved him into the back of the van, climbed in the driver’s side and started the engine, hearing it give a strange, grinding whine that it hadn’t been making before, but he floored it, and sped off into the dark. Still, he couldn’t…couldn’t tear his eyes away from the rearview mirror, where he could still see Doug silhouetted in the light of the station, until the road turned a bend, and he disappeared behind him in the dark.

The Kingston County Line (Part 2)

Yesterday went to hell, so here’s a double length post to make up for it!

He knew the answer to his own question as he looked them up and down–these guys were doing whatever the hell they wanted to do. All three of them were probably in their midthirties, more in shape than out, and wide, square shoulders, and none shorter than six foot three. What in the hell was he doing even asking guys like this a question like that? The one the attendant had called Butch, the biggest, and meanest looking of the three, his body so thickly coated with tattoos even his face had thick blocks and swirls of black on his cheeks and forehead, pulled a dark leaf, near black cigar from the pocket of his worn leather vest, a lighter from the other, and took a moment to light it, puffing it to life with an odd gentleness. How long since he’d seen someone smoke indoors in a place like this? Decades? It was such a strange sight, that it was almost comical to him, and the joker in him blurted out, “I don’t think you can smoke in here,” and immediately regretted it.

“Definitely new around here,” Butch mumbled with a chuckle, and then stared Howard down, “I think you’ll figure out soon enough that, here in Kingsford, we can smoke wherever the fuck we want to, bitch.”

Howard tried to retort, but his throat was frozen shut, his eyes unable to look away from Butch’s. He heard Doug let out a despairing moan, “Aww come on! You know he should be mine! Let me have him, ya’ll don’t have to be so damn greedy! Besides, I know you came in here for my fat ass, Butch, don’t tell me you aren’t gonna give me a good reaming now just cause someone new came in the door!”

“Slim, smack Dougy for me,” Butch said without breaking eye contact, and one of the bikers–neither of which was at all slim, turned and slapped the attendant hard across the face, dark chewing tobacco spittle flying from his mouth. “Thanks, Slim.”

“Sure thing boss.”

“Dougy, you can watch if you fuckin’ want, I guess, but I sure as hell don’t want your ass now, none of us want your nasty, loose hole, you’re just fuckin’ easy, and you know it. No, not when we have someone new inside the county line,” Butch stepped closer, puffing on his cigar, until he was toe to toe with Howard, and then took the cigar from his mouth, leaned down until he less than an inch from his face, and exhaled a thick plume of dark grey smoke right at him.

He didn’t want to breathe in, but the sudden surprise made him jolt and inhale anyway, pulling the rank smoke into his lungs…but more than that. He felt the soot stick to his face, to his eyes, cloud up his mind. He swayed on his feet, as Butch took a second deep drag off his cigar, and again leaned in, but this time he was ready–Howard…opened his mouth, allowing Butch to lock their mouths together, feeding him the smoke directly into his lungs, the two of them sharing smoke even as Butch ran his knife down his bare arms, making Howard shiver, before using it to cut the buttons from his shirt, one by one until it opened up, revealing his hairy belly beneath. At this point, Howard wasn’t thinking anything at all, his eyes blank and staring into the middle distance, jaw slack, but more than happy to take another load of smoke when Butch fed it to him, while he undid the fly of Howard’s jeans and pushed them down, helping him shrug off his now buttonless shirt, the father now naked aside from the tennis shoes. His cock was rigid, but Butch had no interest in that–he spun him around, bent him over at the waist, and got down on his knees, taking another drag off his cigar, this time spreading apart Howard’s ass, and pushing the hot, acrid smoke right into his ass.

The effect was immediate–his hole loosening, but more than that–a strange, desperation pushed it’s way into his hazy mind. Though Howard had never once in his life entertained being with another man, suddenly, the only thing he needed, more than anything else, was a cock buried deep in his ass. Howard kept feeding him smoke, four or five more loads, and each time he didn’t believe the desperation could grow, but it did all the same. By the third lungful of smoke, he heard himself begging, almost outside of his body, pleading with the bikers to fuck him, to rape him, all of them, that he needed their cum, he needed their smoke, he needed them all inside him, all at once, if possible. When he needed a fuck so bad he was nearly sobbing, Butch finally decided he was ready, lined up his thick, nine inch cock, and slipped it inside Howard’s now welcoming ass, teasing him, holding his hips tight in his gloved hands to keep the older man from impaling himself on it, making him quiver and beg for every inch, until Butch was nestled in deep.

“First of many, bitch, first of so fucking many, don’t you worry,” Butch said to the quivering man, “Now, tell me, how much do you want my brothers’ cocks shoved down that hungry throat of yours? How bad do you need them to rape your throat rough and hard?”

“So…so badly, more than I’ve needed anything, other than how much I need you inside me right…right now.”

“That’s good–because their cocks deserved to be worshiped, don’t they? Look at them, think about me. We’re the only kind of men you desire. Rough, violent, willing and happy to treat a desperate pigwhore like you how you deserve to be treated. The only people who can give you, what you know, in your heart, you need, and deserve. Men like us, we deserve to be worshiped, deserve your service, isn’t that right?”

“Yes…yes sir, fuck, they’re so…you’re all the most beautiful men I’ve ever seen, please, please let me serve you, please give me your cocks, I need them, I want…I want to give you pleasure, do whatever you want to me, use me however you want, just…just please…please.”

Slim and Leon, the third biker, were more than happy to give the pig what he was asking for. Both of them released their own cocks from their greasy jeans–Leon’s was a more modest five, but heavily pierced, with a thick gauge PA and a jacobs ladder, while Slim’s was ten inches and again, hardly slim, with a meaty foreskin. Howard didn’t know where to start–he hopped from each cock, back and forth with Butch started fucking him, drawing his cock all the way out before slamming back inside him with enough force to impale his face on whatever cock had his attention at the moment. And inside his head, Howard scrambled for any kind of foothold he could find. What was he doing? These…these men were raping him, and he was just going to let it happen? No, he wasn;t just letting it happen, he wanted it to happen. He wanted them to be even rougher, he wanted it, he needed it. How could he have not known this about himself? How was he just discovering this part of him? It felt…it felt like that smoke–it had been more than smoke. It had planted something inside of him, something that was growing…or festering. Butch came inside him, and he felt that…thing, it latched onto him, wrapping itself deeper into him, watered with the cum filling his bowels. Butch pulled out, motioned to Slim, and the massive man took his place, burying his even larger cock in to the hilt.

Butch had been gentle, compared to Slim. Even as loose and pliable as he’d become, he still groaned and moaned in pain, even as he tried to focus on worshiping the cocks in front of him, cleaning his own filth from Butch’s tool, tasting his own humiliation. It was then that he realized that his own cock had been wrapped around his own cock this whole time, and he’d already cum once–he hadn’t noticed because the force and pleasure of his own orgasm hadn’t compared at all to the pleasure of his service at the cocks of these rough, abusive bikers, these gods, as he was coming to see them now. His gods.

“D-Dad? Dad!”

Some small fragment of whatever spell was holding him snapped, and Howard flung his head away from the cocks, and found himself staring at Jeremy, his son, who must have come in to look for him, when he hadn’t returned to fill up the car.

Did I fucking tell you that you could stop?” Butch asked, grabbed Howard by the iar and yanked his face back around, cheeks burning as he continued nursing the head of Butch’s cock, tasting the last bit of cum dribbling from his balls. “Looks like it’s your fucking lucky day Doug, we have a two for one.”

Jeremy pulled his eyes away from the disgusting scene of his father’s willing rape, and looked to where Butch had turned, finding himself staring at the gas station attendant behind the counter. He had hefted his huge gut up onto the glass surface, like a shelf, and squatted down so he could access his puny cock buried there in the folds–it was one of the only ways he could reach it at his size. The young man, however, found his eyes locked to something else–the massive man’s undulating belly, as he jacked his cock. It was…it was huge. Jeremy had never even seen anything like it in his life, and…and suddenly, what he wanted more than anything else, was to just stare at it. Or…or even touch it. It was only after he’d registered that as a thought, that he realized he was walking forward, past the bikers fucking his father at both ends and around behind the counter, where he found himself grabbing onto Doug’s flab, shaking it, watching and feeling it jiggle against him. Doug pulled off his uniform, revealing his monstrous upper body, smooth aside from a moderately thick trail running the impossibly long distance from belly to chest, and he got down, yanked down Jeremy’s shorts before he could do anything about it, and began slathering it from root to tip with his dark spit.

It was like a jolt of caffeine shot directly into his bloodstream. Suddenly, Jeremy was so aware of everything occurring around his cock, that he was completely unaware of anything else. He began thrusting his cock into Doug’s fat mouth–awkwardly, but the fat man knew how to handle strangers fairly well–he’d certainly seen his fair share of them, since this was usually their first stop in Kingsford County, and he took the opportunity to lick his black slobber all over Jeremy’s balls as well, which only intensified his need. When he pulled away, Jeremy didn’t even really notice–he simply kept fucking the air, completely unaware of what was going on around him as Doug dropped his pants to the floor, bent over in front of him, and helped guide the young man’s cock into his hole, where Doug needed it most. All it took was that first deep thrust, and Doug let out a loud, long moan, his balls pumping a huge load of cum across the seat of the chair where he’d been sitting.

“Fuck yeah! That’s what I’m fuckin’ lookin’ for. You love pounding a fucking hole, don’t you boy? Best fuckin’ feeling in the whole goddman world, ain’t it? Go on, show me how much you love it, give it to me like Slim’s giving it to that pig!”

Jeremy shot his first load after about a minute, but Doug coaxed him to keep going, that no young stud like him was satisfied with just one load in a fat hole like his. So Jeremy just kept going, his mind still on a livewire as he fucked, no longer even caring that his father was still getting reamed by the bikers feet away from him. Slim had finally finished, leaving Leon to pick up sloppy third, grumbling about the fact that he had to go last, now that Slim had stretched the hole to “fuckin’ oblivion,” as he said. Butch told him that if he didn’t want it, he could just skip his turn entirely, but Leon still wanted to cum. Jeremy shot again, but still couldn’t bring himself to stop, and was close to his third load when another face came around the corner–a filthy looking chubby hick, smoking a short, thick cigar, who surveyed the scene with mild interest before turning to Doug.

“Ah see yer a bit busy. I’ll git what Ah need ‘n leave cash on the counter?”

“Fuck-Fuckin’ fine, Pa, whatever.”

The man browsed the beer for a bit, settled on a cheap twenty-four pack, left a few bills on the counter and left with the beer under his arm like nothing strange was happening at all. It wasn’t too much longer after that, when Leon finally finished up, and pulled out of Howard’s hole.

“Good job, pig,” Butch said, patting him on the head. Now get down there and clean up that cum of yours you shot everywhere like a good pig, got it? Come on boys, let’s see what we have outside, and then we can round up the rest of the gang for a roadside pickup, eh?”

“Sounds good to me, Butch.”

“Fuck, everyone’s gonna be so fuckin’ happy to have another pig around here.”

The Kingsford County Line (Part 1)

This is a now defunct story of mine that I’m thinking about reworking into an interactive once the fetish gun finishes up here soon (since I’m kind of running out of steam with it! In the mean time, and because I still don’t quite have my buffer back, here’s the first chapter of the original story I wrote.

“That sign says, ‘Kingsford County’! How about that, does that help?” Tyler said, watching the sign blow past in the dark. In the passenger seat of the minivan, his older brother Jeremy squinted harder at the roadmap he had spread out in his lap, while their father, tried to focus on the road. Next to Tyler, on the middle bench of the van, his best friend, Dave, was staring out the other window at the darkness. There hadn’t been much out there all day–just plains and some low hills, and the occasional antenna which did nothing to improve anyone’s cell phone reception out here in the damn national sticks. Some roadtrip–why in the hell had he taken the invitation in the first place? If he’d known all he was going to see was dirt, he would have stayed home. Behind them, on the back bench, Tyler and Jeremy’s uncle Logan was snoring softly, having already fallen asleep after driving most of the day, before his younger brother, Howard–the boys’ father–had taken over a few hours before.

The Brandt Boys Annual Family Roadtrip was something of a tradition for Logan, Howard Brandt and his two sons, and each year they would choose a different part of the country to drive through. This year, they were driving through the heartland, but at the moment, they were rather lost. Jeremy searched the map–they should be somewhere in…Missouri? Arkansas? Gah, he was a horrible navigator, why in the hell had his dad given him the map? His Uncle Logan was so much better at this than he was, but he couldn’t blame him for wanting to take a nap. Jeremy had just finished his Junior year of college and was home for the summer, while Tyler and his friend had both just graduated. It was Tyler who had picked their trip, as a graduation present, and also brought along his friend, though Dave hasn’t exactly enjoying himself. Still, the trip was his idea–why the hell wasn’t he the one failing at reading the map? At least then he wouldn’t have to feel so guilty for doing it wrong. He looked over at his dad–now in his late fifties, rings under his eyes from driving all day long, and now into the night, beyond a short pit stop for lunch at some small speck of a town a hundred miles behind them now. “Dad, do you want to switch? I can drive for a bit, if you want.”

“No, I’m good–there has to be something around here, somewhere. It’s not like we can be on a road to nowhere, right?”

It sure felt like they were. Jeremy went back to studying the map, looking for a Kingsford county anywhere on there, but he didn’t see one. The road they were one was currently a bit hilly–and all of them breathed a sigh of relief when the rode up over a low peak and saw the night glimmer of a tiny town in the distance. It didn’t exactly look large, but it was something–or somewhere. If nothing else, they weren’t going to be camping on the side of the road like they’d had to a few times in the past–and they hadn’t run out of gas yet, either…though Howard checked the gauge again. This was definitely the closest they’d come–he’d dumped in the two gallons of spare gas he kept for emergencies just before sundown, when he’d switched with Logan. Still, this was all part of the adventure, for him. Staying off the highways, finding these old, forgotten places. This country was massive, but no one understood that. Everyone just stayed in their little bubbles, not even caring about what might be out there, and he wanted his sons to see all of it, warts and all.

The glimmer disappeared behind the next hill, but it was there, at least. They kept driving, and after another ten miles, the first sign of civilization appeared–a small, rundown gas station, with pumps that looked like they’d last been installed in the seventies or eighties, but it would have to do. He pulled the car in up next to a pump, and breathed a sigh of relief–Tyler noticed, Jeremy didn’t, and Dave was still staring out the window like there was still nothing out there at all but plains. There was one small pickup truck, well worn, and three motorcycles parked off to the side, but no one else getting gas. It didn’t look like a pay at the pump sort of situation, so Howard told the three boys to wait in the car with Logan–who hadn’t yet woken up–while he went in and prepaid–thankfully he had cash, because he didn’t expect a place like this to have a card reader.

He also didn’t expect to walk in on a hold up. Or, what looked like a hold up.

The small store was stocked mostly with a few short, but tall, aisles of junk food and candy bars, the coolers along the walls packed with beer. The aisles blocked the view of the counter, and so he lost sight of the windows as he came around the end of the aisle where he found a short counter, and he heard them before he saw them:

“Now, Dougy, are you gonna give us what we want? Or do we have to take it, like usual? You know I like the way you fight, fat fuck, but I don’t know if I wanna work that hard tonight, you know?”

“Aww, come on Butch!” the attendant said, flashing a smile, showing off the fact he was missing quite a few teeth, “You know how I like it, and if you want it so bad, I want to feel you take it–it’s the only thing that helps these fuckin’ night shifts pass, you know?”

There, around the corner, was a short counter, behind which a was stashed the stores cigarettes, cigars, and other tobacco, and it was also where three rough looking bikers were standing, the one in the center leaning over the counter with a knife pressed into the fat, fleshy throat of the attendant–a very large man wearing a greasy uniform and a name tag which said “Doug”. He had his head tilted up, and some…black substance was leaking out the corner of his mouth, but he didn’t seem worried. If anything, he looked excited.

Howard froze and all four of them turned to stare at him, like they were all looking at some strange beast.

“Well fuck me,” Doug said, “Not what I was expecting tonight.”

Howard steeled himself–as best as an overweight, over the hill five foot six father of two with a good amount of grey hair can–and puffed up his chest. “What…what the hell do you three think you’re doing?”