The irony of the whole thing was that Claire and Cindi took me on the camping trip to help me recover from my last attempt at killing myself. Yeah, I’ve tried to end it a few times. They tell me I’m Borderline, but the thought is that if this is life, I really don’t want any part of it.
But Claire and Cindi are my roommates and they thought that a camping trip could pull me out of my depression, and I didn’t want them to feel bad. Truth be told, we were all having a pretty good time until the boys found us and Mike dropped the bomb …
Just to fill you in; on August twenty-eighth I’d taken the three hundred Trazadone that I’d saved up and laid down on the carpet to sleep and die peacefully. It was heaven feeling my body slowly grow numb, my mind sinks into a confused softness of being, and I fold inside myself - alone and at peace.
I woke up strapped to a hospital bed with dried puke still on my right cheek and pissed-off I was still alive and hating myself for failing at suicide again. I fail at life, and I even fail at death.
So when I finally gave the doctors the answers I knew they wanted to hear, they released me, that’s when Claire and Cindi decided to try to save me. I can’t count how many have tried over the years; my mom, my brother, boyfriends. Claire and Cindi’s words and encouragement were sweet, but pointless - I decided that as soon as I could, I was going to rent a car and drive it off a fucking cliff. But in the meantime, Claire came up with this idea to go camping in mid-September. It would be great, she reasoned; it was the shoulder season so there wouldn’t be many campers and we would have warm days and crisp nights and us girls could have a raunchy girls’ campout. We could eat like pigs, get drunk, and get a good stink on without having to live up to men’s expectations.
Why not? I thought - at least it would be a distraction from some pretty hopeless thoughts I was having.
We passed by a couple campgrounds that still had attendants or retired people in them, and finally settled on one of those Provincial campgrounds where you just put your money through a slot in a steel box. We were the only ones there … until the boys showed up that is.
Our camp was cozy and I enjoyed the quiet the first night - sipping beer, listening to the campfire and the crickets chirping - even though Claire kept asking if I was okay. I’d paste my fake smile on and tell her; “Yeah, just enjoying the quiet.”
But my silence wasn’t about quiet. Inside my head was a dark riot of hopelessness; I am only one seven billionth of the world - one small person in seven billion. I didn’t matter. I would never matter.
If I took a scalpel and sliced off one seven billionth of you, you wouldn’t even notice it was gone. That’s how insignificant I am.
The world wouldn’t notice when I was gone. Life would go on; time would tick by; maybe my ashes would give some nitrogen to a tree, but for sure I would stop making people around me sad and stop wasting Doctors’ and Nurses’ time.
See; none of the things people think are important and worth living for mean anything to me. Getting married, having children, travelling to exotic places. I feel nothing when I think of them.
Marriage? What man would ever endure my shitty moods? Hell, every friend I’ve ever had has left me behind, sick of my dismal view on life. I know that Claire and Cindi will give up one day and move on. Everyone gives up on me.
Children? Who in their right mind would bring a child into this shitty fucked-up world? And who wants to mop up piss and shit and vomit from a squirming pink wailing creature that just wants more and more and more from you? They start by sucking your tits dry until they are flat saggy bags hanging from your chest and they want things from you forever.
Travel? Sure there’s exciting places to visit, but when I get there I’m still me - the fuck-up; the loser; trapped in a brain filled with hopelessness and despair.
Fuck my life.
On our second day we put a whole piglet on a rotisserie spit over a bed of coals and after a hike upriver we started prepping the rest of what we decided was going to be our big camp feast. We could smell the cooking pork from half a mile out. It was as we were prepping our salads that we saw Mike, David, and Phil hiking down the hill toward us. We thought they would just wave and carry on, but they waved and when we waved back they took it as an invitation to come into our camp.
They introduced themselves and chatted about the great outdoors and all that shit. I figured they were only on a day hike, because only Mike and David carried small back packs, so I only had to pretend to be interested in their lame conversations because they’d have to carry on to get home before dark.
But Claire and Cindi kept the conversation going, obviously flirting with Mike and David. Phil was quiet and didn’t do much but paste a fake smile on his face when someone spoke to him. I can tell fake smiles from real ones - I’m an expert.
After a few beers and while everyone was flirting, Mike made me a bet; that he could make me cum with my clothes on. I was a little drunk, so I laughed and took him up on it. He knelt in front of my camp chair and I opened my legs. He laid his left hand on my mound and started to grind my clit against my pubic bone with his thumb, pressing into the hollow above my mound with his fingertips. Doing that made my clit and my g-spot hum and it wasn’t long before I could feel the crotch of my panties turn into a slimy mess.
It didn’t take long before I felt an orgasm building in the meat of my cunt, and all the while everyone but Mike joked about it and teased me. As I got close, I saw David and Phil cozy up to Claire and Cindi. I could tell by the girls’ droopy eyelids and goofy smiles that they had a nice beer buzz and were getting horny.
As I felt my orgasm rising fast in my belly and I started to make those weird whiney grunts I make, I heard Mike make his little speech …
“Here’s how it’s going to work girls; each of us want something tonight and we’re going to get it either given or by force. The choice is yours.
“David here wants a good ol’ fashioned fuck - straight missionary. I know David well, so I can promise that whoever gets it is going to get a solid pounding. So if you’re into that sort of thing, David’s your man.”
Mike paused at that point to grind his thumb harder and let me cum. He continued as I caught my breath, and kept stroking my crotch with his thumb as he talked …
“Phil here - he’s a man of simple tastes - he wants a dirty blowjob. Now you might puke-up a bit, because Phil’s packing meat and likes it deep, but if you don’t mind losing a bit of beer and pork and love the silky feel of a cock on your lips, Phil is eager to oblige.
“Now here’s the sticky part.” Mike said, smiling at us all, “I want something different.”
Mike leaned over and picked up the spit we roasted the piglet on - it was a meter long piece of square steel with a wooden handle and a sharp tip, and was still dripping pig fat.
“I am going to impale one of you.”
And there it was. Mike had dropped the bomb.
Now you’re up to speed.
Picture it; three girls in their mid twenties, three guys, two in their thirties and one in his fifties (Mike), all sitting around deep in the woods, bundled up against a chill September night. Crickets, crackling campfire, murmuring of the nearby creek. Two girls are about to get raped and one girl is going to die.
Claire and Cindi and I exchange looks. Cindi forces a laugh and says; “You’re kidding, right?”
Mike shakes his head, “Nope. But here’s the thing; the impalement may not be fatal. If you’re the girl who volunteer for the suck and fuck, once this is all over and we’re on our way, you might get the impaled girl to the hospital in time to stop the bleeding and stitch up what’s punctured.”
Mike is smiling and watching all three of us. Phil has a dark look, and David is grinning like a fool. Claire looks halfway between angry and scared and Cindi is starting to tremble.
“Well?” Mike waves the spit, “Who’s going to step up? You can be a hero! If you take the spit you spare two of your besties - they can take a fuck or a blowjob and live.”
I look at the girls and they are both looking at me.
Fucking cunts. Sure, let the Borderline take one for the team.
“Have you done it before?” I ask, then turn to look at Mike.
“Not an impalement, per se.” Mike shrugs, “I gutted one once down in Warez. Little Senorita. She was pretty high and I sexed her up good and didn’t push the knife in until she was cumming.”
David laughs like a moron; “Paingasm!”
Mike chuckles; “Yeah she had a paingasm. She tightened up something fierce, and I was finished cutting before her orgasm ended. After it was all done she just settled down like she was falling asleep.”
“She died?” Cindi asks in a weak, quavering voice.
“Of course she fucking died.” Mike laughs, “I gutted her.”
“Let’s get on with it.” Phil growls.
“Yes, let’s.” Mike says slowly in his backwoods drawl - I can’t place his accent; maybe Texas, maybe another southern state. It’s not a solid accent, just the odd word pronounced differently like he moved away from home at a young age and has been working to get rid of his accent all these years.
I look at the girls again. Cindi is giving me this little pouty look as tears drip from her cheeks like she wants to be rescued and can’t figure out why it hasn’t happened yet. Claire is looking at me pleadingly - she wants me to take the spit. After-all; I was the token suicide girl.
I’ll say it again; Fucking cunts.
“I’ll do it.” I say softly, then look Mike in the eye, “I’ll take the impalement, but you gotta try to make it good for me.”
“My magic thumb?” Mike grins.
“Yeah, your magic thumb.” I say, not wanting to make the guy who is about to impale me angry.
“I’ll do the blowjob.” Claire says, suddenly the eager volunteer now that the hard choice is off the table.
“Then you get the fuck.” David says to Cindi with that stupid grin on his face.
David pulls Cindi to her feet and leads her to a blanket we were using earlier. He lays her down and strips off her pants. Claire stands up and lets Phil sit in her camp chair. She gets on her knees in front of him and starts undoing his jeans.
“You want me to strip?” I ask Mike.
“Nah.” Mike smiles, “It’s cold tonight and I don’t want you shivering. Cold makes pain worse. I can do you right through the crotch of your pants.”
Then he starts grinding my clit with his thumb again and despite my growing anxiety it takes me to my horny place again.
This is really it. This is the first time I’ve put ending my life in some else’s hands. It’s thrilling and scary.
I know what you’re thinking; Why didn’t we try to fight or run? It’s like during the Second World War in the Nazi concentration camps as millions of Jews were herded to their deaths - why didn’t they fight? - why didn’t they run? It’s because they were overpowered, because there was nowhere to run.
Just like me in this moment. Fighting would only make it worse. What’s worse than death? Death that comes at you so hot and angry and brutal that you end your life screaming in pain and terror. At least this way it was slow and controlled. Mike had made me cum once and I trusted he could do it again, or at least come close.
So I sit in my camp chair and Mike grinds my clit and builds my arousal as I watch and listen as Claire sucks Phil’s cock and Cindi lays silent on the blanket with her pale thighs wide being fucked by David. And like Mike said, David is pounding Cindi hard; the thighs are jiggling with each impact.
Though I am watching the girls, out of the corner of my eye I see Mike lift the spit and press it against the seam in the crotch of my pants. Under his grinding thumb I feel the slight pressure, then I hear the popping of the threads in the crotch seam as he pushes the tip through.
I give a little gasp as I feel the tip pushing the thin fabric of my panties into me past my labia, then I feel them rip as well and the tip scrapes its way into me. Mike moves the spit, changing angles as he works it into my cunt and as he does more threads pop and the hole in my crotch is elongated.
“It’s in.” I gasp in a thready voice as I feel the tip of the spit inside me now.
“Good girl.” his deep voice resonates in my ear, and he starts fucking me with it as he continues to grind his thumb, mashing my clit against my pubic bone. It feels so good, but at the same time I feel my body tightening and I start to shake and quiver. I know what is happening; I’m anticipating the penetration of the spit through the barrier of muscle that keeps my guts in.
I’m growing more and more scared. I know that sounds weird from someone who has earnestly tried to kill herself multiple times, but there it a big difference. You see, when I’ve tried to kill myself it has always been in the depths of despair and depression when my body aches, my soul is crushed, and there is no enjoyment in life. Right now I am very sexually aroused and what Mike is doing is building me to another orgasm, so I want to live. In this moment I want to live just for the sexual feelings I am experiencing.
So yeah, I’m scared, and as he works the spit deeper into me and I feel the sharp tip scraping the walls of my cunt, cold shiver-bumps run up my thighs, bum, and across my belly to my nipples. What he is going to do to me is like a scream in my mind; “THAT SPIT IS GOING TO BE FORCED DEEP IN MY BELLY AND I’M GOING TO DIE!”
That’s right; I never bought the bullshit that I might survive. Even if what Mike said was true, we were an hour away from a hospital. I doubt anyone could survive that long after being impaled, and I really doubt Mike can transit my belly without hitting a blood vessel leaving me to bleed out.
I try to resign myself to my fate, but it’s so hard. I don’t want to die, I want to cum. I want this to be different so that Mike was fucking me right now instead of killing me. Hell, I’d let all three fuck me if it meant I would live.
I want to live. Oh fuck, I want to live.
I look over and see David still pounding Cindi hard, the flab on her thighs and bum like warm jello. Claire is still has Phil’s cock in her mouth, and as I watch Phil grasps the hair on the back of Claire’s head and holds her there as he stands up. Then he starts fucking Claire’s throat, pulling her face tight to his crotch as he humps her face, making her gag and heave. I see tendrils of foamy spit and yellow vomit hanging from her chin. Claire’s hands are on Phil’s thighs, but as the throat fucking goes on they slide downward, flopping limp at her sides. Claire is giving herself to the experience - surrendering.
I wish I could get to that place right now.
As Mike keeps working my spit deeper, I see Phil pull something out of his waistband. It’s a pistol. He lifts it and presses the barrel against Claire’s temple.
“Mike!” I grunt, alarmed by the gun in Phil's hand.
“Shhhh.” Mike hushes me.
Claire is gagging, heaving, vomiting as Phil fucks her throat. Suddenly Phil starts to growl and he thrusts himself deep into Claire’s throat and holds her head tight to his crotch. He’s cumming. His body trembles from the tension of his orgasm. Halfway through he pulls the trigger.
The shot is loud, and I watch Claire’s brains and blood spray out of the other side of her head and her body goes instantly limp. Phil lets go and she slumps to the ground, cum still oozing from Phil’s cock. When she falls forward onto her face, her bum rises up and I see her crotch is wet and glistening - she’d been pissing herself before he killed her.
Cindi starts crying out - desperate sounds of animal terror - she has seen Claire die. I turn to see David pull a pistol out of the back of his waistband and swiftly bring it to her head. His gun is smaller, so the noise is less, but it has the same effect; a shot to Cindi’s head and she falls limp and silent. David continues to fuck her corpse.
Mike jiggles the spit inside me to bring my focus back to what is happening to me. I whimper and whine, by belly growing tighter by the second out of rising fear mixed with desire.
I’m so conflicted; I want the sexual feelings but I’m so scared of how this will end; I am afraid of Mike, but I keep saying his name, part of me loving him for what he is doing. I feel the tip scraping around my cervix.
“It’s deep now.” Mike says - yeah, thanks Captain Obvious. He keeps fucking me with it, each slow thrust causing sparks of pain inside my cunt.
“Come on, line it up.” he says. I know what he wants; He wants me to line the tip up with the opening of my cervix, and I do. I slowly roll my hips, feeling the tip scraping. It takes a few moments, but I feel the sharpness slip into the little dent that is the opening of my cervix. It’s a relief to stop the scraping.
Mike smiles and pushes the spit deeper, right through my cervix into my uterus. I feel my cunt, cervix, and uterus tighten as the spit is pushed relentlessly into me. I feel the bite of pain deep inside as he forces it, stretching my clenched uterus until it penetrates into my abdominal cavity.
I grunt and gasp as I feel my stretched cunt and uterus slide back down the spit and I’m so aware of the hard steel inside the softness of my intestines. I slump in my chair, making my belly horizontal - I can’t imagine how that spit would feel scraping my spine and I don’t want to find out.
“There’s the money-shot” I hear Mike growl.
I didn’t realize I had squeezed my eyes shut until I open them again. Mike is smiling at me as he fucks my belly with the spit, still grinding my clit with his thumb. His jacket has ridden up and I can see he too has a large pistol in his waistband.
Beside me Phil is standing over us, drinking a beer and watching without expression.
The spit is deep inside me and I have slumped lower in my camp chair to straighten my belly out completely. I feel the steel slithering amongst my intestines - such a foreign, invasive sensation. My cunt and uterus are clenched tight, gripping the spit as it moves in and out; it feels like a muscle cramping in my belly.
I can hear myself whimpering, gasping, whining as I squirm in the camp chair. I look up and see that David must have cum, because he too is sipping a beer, watching with that moronic smile of his.
Oh god, this is so intense.
I feel the sharp tip push against the sac of my stomach and realize how deep it really is, but Mike is still grinding me with his thumb, so I feel like I’m constantly on the edge of orgasm.
“Wanna try to go out this way?” Mike asks.
“… oh my god …” I whine and squirm. This is it, I’m really going to die. But he’s giving me a choice. The sensations are so intense I’m not sure if I can, but to cling to as many seconds of life as I can, I grunt and gasp;
“Fuck … push” and Mike pushes. It dimples my food and beer bloated stomach and I feel fluid in the back of my throat. My entire belly is tightening and cramping now, the spit moving back and forth inside me feels electric.
It’s too much. The sensations are overwhelming me - all my nerve endings overloaded. My cunt and uterus are spasming as they clench tighter and tighter, I even feel my anus clenching so tight it throbs. I can’t do it. I just can’t.
“I can’t, Mike!” I whimper as he continues to fuck me with the spit. I arch my back, my legs shaking badly. I feel like I’m going to lose my mind.
“Is it too much, Carrie?” Mike asks.
I feel breathless and out of control. It takes me three more strokes to answer;
“… yeah …” I whimper breathlessly.
Mike’s thumb disappears and I hear him pull his gun out and cock it. I miss his thumb so I snake my right hand to my mound and start massaging as firmly as I can.
“Alright. Open wide.” he commands as he continues to fuck me deep, poking at my stomach, making my belly clench and undulate, my intestines feeling like snakes writhing in my abdomen.
I look up at the gun barrel in front of my face. It’s a big gun, the barrel is huge. It scares me badly - it is my greatest fear and my salvation - my rescue from this sensory torture, but the end of me.
This is torture. Suddenly I want to live. I am still only one seven billionth of this world, but it is my one seven billionth. It’s true that no one will care that I die, but I will care. I want to live. I want to cum. I rub my clit furiously.
These sensations inside my body are making me feel like I’m losing my mind. I can feel the electric presence of the spit running through my belly from my cunt to my stomach and Mike continues to slowly fuck me with it - in and out, in and out. Its back and forth movement through my core is making everything clench and quiver. My stomach is vibrating high in my belly, and my intestines squirming lower down, and my uterus and cunt are cramping tight, as though trying to grip the spit to stop its moving.
I can’t take anymore! Only a few more seconds and this will be over. Do it Carrie! Just do it!
I open my mouth and he slides the barrel past my lips. Death slides into my mouth and I feel the front sight scrape the roof of my mouth, I taste the gun oil … the sharp metal tang … the barrel still warm from his body.
I’m shaking all over now. My teeth chatter against the hard steel of the gun barrel. I gag and heave as he pushes it deeper, pressing down the root of my tongue.
“Here it comes.” Mike says, and he sounds sad. He pushes the gun deeper, angling it upward so the bullet will hit my brain and at the same time he pushes the spit deeper. I feel my stomach puncture and I am suddenly vomiting around the gun barrel. He lets me puke up three times in rapid succession before I hear the click of the trigger.
In school they taught us that time was relative. It is. The next four seconds last a very long time for me.
I feel the gun jump in my mouth, shattering my front teeth. Then comes the impact of the shot that feels like the world has just exploded inside my mouth. The shockwave slams my whole body.
The hot gasses of the exploding gunpowder violently plump my cheeks then burn as they rocket down my gullet, pushing my puke back down to slam into my stomach. My stomach expands instantly - filled with the super heated air with the saltiness of burnt gunpowder - it bloats so large and so fast it knocks my hand away from my crotch.
As the shockwave continues to roar out of me I find myself confused; I don’t know who I am; I don’t know where I am; I don’t know what has happened to me, but I feel tension leaving my body.
My eyes are open, but I am blind.
My ears ring loudly so I only feel myself burping up hot gas and smoke from the tight, bloated ball of my stomach. Something hard and hot is pulled from my mouth.
Distantly I feel myself pissing, then shitting myself. I’ve lost all control. I don’t care.
I am dying. One seven billionth is departing this world.
I grow numb.
I fold inside of myself, alone and at peace.
The ringing in my ears fades …