I can feel death.
Not just regular ol’ natural death with chest pains or the dizzy sickness of a stroke, but ecstatic, sexual death. The first death I felt was my mama’s. She died cummin’ vein-popping hard, try’na sick-up past the rope that was so tight ‘round her throat that it crushed her voice box. I dream of her dyin’ most every night and wake up all a’shiver with my own orgasm - feet kickin’ and pissin’ in my bed.
Papa Freed whupped me when I was little every time I pissed the bed because he said he didn’t like to fuck dirty little girls in a pissy bed. After a time he stopped whuppin’ me and just fucked me on the bathroom floor and after I’d have to clean up the cum and the blood that leaked out of me.
I’m givin’ myself a gone-away party down here at the Love Shack. It’s a party not many people in this shitty little county will forget any time soon. By the time they sort out all the bodies and start lookin’ for who done it, I’ll be ridin’ the bitch pegs on the back of Mason’s Harley on our way up north and I promise - hand to god - I’ll never look back. The party started off sweet and good with lots of giggles and kissin’ and right now I can hear the girls moanin’ and the boys laughin’ and gruntin’ and everybody’s high as fuck on Molly and moonshine. Me too. Mason is givin’ me a nice doggy fuck and I’m swiggin’ on a bottle of Skeeter’s ‘shine and it’s making my belly feel all warm and loose along with my pussy and asshole - I know I’ll sick it all back up later, but it’s good where it is for now. The fuck’s nice and all, but it’s only a warm-up for both of us ‘cause he plans on gettin’ with Kelly-Anne and stranglin’ her like she wants and I know my own big orgasms won’t start until the boys start killing the girls, and oh my, won’t that be a time.
I remember the first girl down here that I felt dyin’ - I was about six. She was a sad little thing and was feelin’ like the world’d be a better place without her, so she went down to the creek with a length of cord and no plans to come back home. Dragging my rag doll, I followed her, feeling the finality of her thoughts and feelin’s like a deep blue glow around her. She rigged herself up a noose tied to the old willow and slipped it round her throat. Then after sayin’ goodbye to herself she stepped off the rock we all jump from to plunge into the deep pool where the creek makes a slow turn on its way to the Mississippi and got herself dyin’ slow and sweet.
I felt her sadness like it was a fever as I sat up the hill watchin’ her get herself ready, and when she stepped off and snapped up tight at the end of that short cord instead of hitting the cool water under her feet, I felt her shock and tingly terror as the loop cinched tight and pushed the root of her tongue up into the back of her mouth. She desperately wanted to live then, but it was too late. When her wild kickin’ slowed I felt what she felt - a big wet weight buildin’ up fierce in the cradle of her pelvis like she was growin’ pregnant with a bloatin’ orgasm and her little sex button swole up hard. She got wet and drippin’ down there fast and as she gave into the sensations she was humpin’ her hips like she was fuckin’ a boy to save her life and when her dyin’ orgasm hit her belly like a sack of corn hits a barn floor, I felt it too. I was too young back then to really know what was happenin’ because Papa Freed hadn’t given me no orgasms yet, but I pitched back and shook like a was havin’ a fit as I arched my body. My breath came in gasps and hitches and my toes curled so hard my sneakers came off, and I didn’t care that I was pissin’ myself like I did when I dreamed of mama. When that girl’s orgasm faded I felt her dyin’ like it was happenin’ to me and I didn’t care. Dyin’ feels sweet and good when it comes on the heels of a thigh-clenchin’ orgasm like that one.
I hear Mason growl like he does when he cums and feel his spunk spurt up inside me and then he’s off to see what Kelly-Anne’s up to. I take a couple more pulls on the bottle and with Mason’s cum slidin’ down my inner thighs like slippery slug trails and head off inside in case any of the boys decide to start early. I can feel a few of the girls are edging on fear, shiver-bumps dancing up their sides as they get crazy horny, and one thinks what her boy is doin’ to her is gunna kill her, but it won’t. I know what dyin’ feels like, so when it does happen to her it’s gunna make her belly clench tight and she’ll feel like she’s in heaven and hell without actually goin’ there.
Growin’ up down here in the land of welfare and moonshine is hard, especially when you’re an oddball like me. When I was little, the other girls used to pick on me and call me names because I hadn’t learned to keep my mouth shut yet. I thought all girls could feel people dyin’, but I soon learned they can’t and all them girls would look at me like I was simple or crazy when I talked about it. I hated them for pullin’ my hair and playin’ dirty tricks on me and callin’ me hateful names, and I was heartbroken that I was always alone - except for Papa Freed who was fuckin’ me in the asshole by the time I was in grade school.
But when puberty kicked in things kind of changed. I started having orgasms with Papa Freed and I’d learned to keep my secret. Then the other girls didn’t mind me taggin’ along and I figured out it was because they were usin’ me as the homely girl when we met boys. I guess they figured standin’ beside a dirty little oddball like me made them look better to boys by comparison. They even brought me along to the Love Shack with them when they met up with boys. It worked for them too, and I really didn’t mind because I knew what them older boys wanted - men really - a horny little girl they could do things to, who’d never complain or tell their wives how brutal they were to young willin’ flesh.
It was here at the Love Shack that I felt the next girl die. I was with three older boys, like way older; they were done with school already and I was lettin’ them gangbang me one after the other as they pinched my little puffy nipples and slapped my double grapefruit ass. It was when the biggest one was fuckin’ me in the ass while his pals cheered him on that I felt it; another girl was bein’ raped behind the Love Shack, and her mind was cryin’ for her mama, but her body was cummin’ like a boiling kettle. I felt the riot of her emotions and her body sensations as she was bein’ choked and raped at the same time and she knew the boys doin’ it meant to kill her. When she convulsed in her death orgasm I went wild. Later the boys said it was like I turned into a little feral animal and started screamin’ for them to ass rape me and to use a bottle on me at the same time.
Girls are startin’ to cum now and I can feel the painful ones; Mandy and Rebecca are takin’ cocks bigger than they’re used to; Bebe is gruntin’ as she cums, her cunt feelin’ like it’s gunna bust open because a boy’s whole hand is up in there; and Marla who’s chokin’ and pukin’ on a cock thinkin’ she’s gunna to die of asphyxiation. But I know that won’t happen yet - the boy who’s doin’ her plans to kill her that way, but he’s waitin’ for after we juice all the girls up again on more Molly and fill Marla’s belly back up with sweet cream so she has more to sick-up durin’ the last throat fuck of her life.
The Love Shack sure doesn’t live up to its name. It’s old and creepy and stinks of mold and dirt, piss and bile, and rotted wood. Right now the smorgasbord of smells are strong with skunky armpit sweat, musky pussy drippins, vomit, and freshly fucked, blown out assholes. God I love the feel and smell of a blown out asshole - whether it’s mine or another girls. There’s somethin’ raw and sexual about the hole at the bottom of your belly just giving up and leaving your guts wide open to the world.
The Love Shack is an old farmhouse down in the corner of a deserted farm in the bottomland of Casher’s creek. Kelly-Anne said her mama used to come here when she was our age and that’s how she met and got knocked up by her papa. I’ve been comin’ here for years, even before I was legal, and that’s how I recruited the boys here today. They’re all part of Mason’s biker gang, the Mongrel Kings. I’ve known Mason since before I had tits and he’s fucked me all sorts of ways. When I met him and his boys in the gravel parkin’ lot behind the honky-tonk a couple weeks ago I invited them to run us all down to the Love Shack for a gangbang. They fucked me good that night and even used a bottle on me so hard I walked with a limp for three days, and oh my, wasn’t that a time. After, while we were all slumped and used up I asked them if they’d ever heard of snuff-sex.
A couple had and when they explained it to the rest they all got excited about the idea. Some wanted to do me right then and there and I said I wouldn’t mind so long as they turned me inside out, but I asked them if they’d rather to do a bunch of girls and let me live. They liked that idea even more and asked how many and I said at least a dozen. Then I told them about the girls I had in mind - they even knew some of them.
See, by then I’d made friends with most of the girls who tormented me when I was a little wide-eyed muffin. At least they thought I was their friend. Bein’ that we all came down to the Love Shack to fuck boys and sometimes each other because this town is so borin’ it’s likely to kill us all out of dullness. We party here fucked up on whatever drug or booze we can get, and after the sex, I was able to steer the conversation in wilder directions. Of course I eased them onto the idea of snuff-sex.
We took turns sayin’ if we had to die, how would we want it? I started by sayin’ I’d like my belly opened up like a little squirmy fish while bein’ bottle fucked. Marla admitted she liked chokin’ on cock and the feeling of sickin’-up, havin’ got in that habit try’na lose weight - she said the body uses the same muscles to sick-up as it does to cum. Kelly-Anne wanted to be strangled, to feel a big man’s hands crushin’ her throat. Bebe said she read about a guy from the olden times called Vlad and she thought bein’ impaled would be the ultimate way to go - like a big cock filling her up so’s to kill her. And Josie said she dreamed about the sharp penetration of a knife into her belly, feelin’ hard steel invadin’ her guts like when she had her appendix out and woke up on the operatin’ table. One by one, they all divulged their dirty little sexual fantasies and I talked them up, appreciating how every single one would give them final, soul-burnin’ orgasms.
After that I started workin’ on the idea of how pointless life was. I told them to look at their mamas and their grandmas - all bitter old women with nothin’ to live for; wrinkled up and saggin’ with good-for-nothin’ husbands like my Papa Freed. Wouldn’t it be grand, I told them, if we could have one final day of pure ecstasy and more brilliant orgasms than we could have in a normal lifetime, and die happy, young, and pretty and not waste away in this shitty county like all the older women here. All but a couple looked doubtful and a little scared of the idea, but over time they came around and admitted it sounded like a wild and excitin’ fantasy.
That’s when I started hookin’ the boys up with the girls, and the boys followed my plan by keepin’ the girls high on Molly most every night and playin’ at their fantasies - just edgin’ them until they got used to the feelin’s their particular death fantasy gave ‘em. All the girls got so fucked up on Molly that they whispered to me that they liked it more than they liked anythin’, that those edgin’ orgasms were the best they ever had. One by one they admitted that being edged like that when they were so high made them feel that they could actually do it - they could let go and let their boy snuff them while they was cummin’. So I started talking about today’s party.
We started early this morning because I wanted it all finished up before sundown. The Sherriff rolls through the area at night, checkin’ to see if kids are makin’ out in the Love Shack, and when he comes by tonight, all he’s gunna find are seventeen girls dead as road kill and drippin’ cum from their dead pussies and assholes - eighteen if I fetch up dead. It’s going to hit all the papers and television shows and our Sherriff is going to be famous until the novelty of a bunch of dirt-poor dead girl’s wears off.
I can feel the edges of orgasms from all the girls and some of the boys as I walk through the house. I go and find Mason and tell him it’s time to juice the girls up again, so him and his boys break out more Molly and this time, instead of lettin’ ‘em melt under their tongue, they plug the girls with double doses, pushin’ them up into their rectums so it absorbs faster. Though a few of the girls are nervous as the drug invades their bodies, most are into it and begin their last sexual marathon. I see Marla happily chuggin’ a quart of whippin’ cream as her boy finger fucks her lazily, the empty carton of the first layin’ at her feet and her plump belly getting tighter.
Bebe and Josie are headin’ upstairs with their boys to the one intact bed in the house; Josie to be stabbed on it and Bebe to impale herself on the bedpost. They don’t care that the bed is crusted with years of cum and stinks like an outhouse from all the piss and vomit. They don’t care if they die dirty and stinkin’, they just want to cum as they’re dyin’ like everybody else.
Rhonda is lettin’ her boy wind the rope around her throat as he fucks her, and Kelly-Anne leads Mason out onto the front stoop and lays down on her back so he can give her a final fuck before he strangles her. All the girls go with their boys and the drug induced sexual fog begins to fill the Love Shack and I feel every drip of every eager pussy and the throb of every hardened cock.
My legs start to feel wobbly and weak as it all creeps in on me, makin’ my own girl cum flow and trickle down my thighs. I have to get somewhere safe and curl up. I know that when I’m in my state, I can’t fight back if one of the boys decides to snuff me too. Chances are I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between feelin’ another girl bein’ killed or havin’ it happen to me. I’m a vampire who feeds on sexual ecstasy that results in the sweet bliss of death, and when I’m feedin’ I swear my soul leaves my body and I am nothin’ more than a ruttin’ and unholy beast.
As the beat and flow of the sexual orgy grows inside me, I find a little closet that still has a door and crawl inside. I sit on the floor with my knees drawn up and let my body and mind absorb all the emotions and sensations swirling around me tryna get in. I’m feeling fragile and weak as the girls get close to a fever pitch of wild sex. My pussy is leakin’, my asshole is openin’ and closin’ like I’m bein’ fucked there, and my nipples get so hard it feels like they’re gunna crack. I start tremblin’ and twitchin’ as girls get closer to the money-shot, and I can hear myself whimper and groan with the sensations rising up inside me. Oh lordy, it’s startin’ to happen - it already feels like an orgasm boiling inside my belly and I know it’s gunna get stronger.
I feel my stomach quiver and bloat, churning the ‘shine and spit in there into a froth, buildin’ pressure like I’m gunna sick-up bad, but I know that’s comin’ from Marla who has just swallowed her boy’s cock deep down her throat and is cummin’ because of it. My pussy feels full and tight, but I know that’s just Bebe’s boy fistin’ her to get her slick and ready for the bedpost - I grunt as I feel a finger push hard up into Bebe’s womb. I feel my own lower belly swellin’ and the skin there getting’ tight; my pussy and womb engorgin’ with blood as my sexual heat grows like it always does. It feels like a baby growing in there, making my body look like a pear, and I hope having a real baby growing inside me makes me as horny as I feel in this moment.
My memory of mama dyin’ creeps in on me ... I am an unborn baby, held firm in her young, snug belly. She was too young when she got knocked up with me, and I remember her flesh bein’ hot and tight wrapped around me so I could barely squirm inside her - I remember her orgasms when she masturbated like motherly hugs. I felt her fear and excitement as she climbed up on the rough wood platform and that dark-haired girl draped the soft noose around her neck, then her growin’ pleasure as the girl stood below and wrapped one arm behind her knees and finger fucked mama with the other. I could feel the vibrations of those fingers plungin’ wetly into mama just inches from my face and I could feel mama’s buildin’ orgasm. Mama was close to cummin’ when it was time but didn’t have the courage to step off the platform on her own, so the girl edged her forward - tiny step by tiny step, until mama’s belly started clenchin’ in orgasm. Then the girl pulled on the back of mama’s knees and her toes scraped the wood of the platform until they swung out free into the air and her orgasms exploded in her belly all around me. Her young belly had always been a tight cocoon as I grew inside her, but while mama convulsed in her final rollin’ orgasms her belly squeezed me tighter than ever. Even in my infant state I wanted to squirm and writhe as I felt mama’s orgasms like they were my own, but I was held tight in her belly’s grip. It wasn’t until mama started to die that I felt her womb relax and her belly pooch out and I slumped low in her pelvis. I felt her pussy and asshole go slack and gape as she and I faded, the light dyin’ in her eyes. And though I had no way of articulatin’ it, I felt my mama dyin’ and believed I was dyin’ as well and I sank into the sweet bliss of death.
I gasp as I feel the sharp surprise of cold steel penetratin’ my belly button and sinkin’ into my intestines. It’s the knife. The knife is inside me and my dyin’ has begun - Josie’s bein’ stabbed by her boy on the bed upstairs. I feel the vibrations of her throat and hear her voice like it is my own as he twists and changes the angle of the blade inside her guts.
“... and the other way too.” she whimpers, “... sorry ... fuck, I’m sorry ...”
The blade twists crazily inside our belly and Josie starts to cry out, gone a little crazy from the experience.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m cumming! I’m cumming!” and she fears her orgasm won’t outlast the sweet sharp pain in her core, but she needn’t worry - I know it will. He fucks her belly with the blade, keepin’ her exquisite pain and orgasm a constant growin’ force inside her flesh. I feel Josie moan and cry out as she squirms on the bed and I squirm in my little closet, my toes bumpin’ against the wall in front of me, and my belly heavin’ as her orgasm rips through me. I feel Bebe’s eyes on her as her own boy keeps working his fist in her pussy - it feels good being watched in your last moments.
“... yeah ...” she gasps, then cries out her final words; “I love that. I love that, baby ... I LOVE IT!!!” and she screams shrilly as he fucks her long belly deep with the knife. Then comes a fast suckin’ sensation as he pulls the knife violently from her belly and then the sharp and savage plunge into her chest, the blade scrapin’ between her ribs, the pain sharp and exquisite. Josie dies moanin’ and whimperin’, her squirmin’ slowin’ down as her fluttery heart pumps blood uselessly inside her chest cavity. I start to die with her but another death gushes up inside me;
I don’t know who it is, but somethin’ sharp penetrates into her through her pussy up through her womb and into her convulsin’ belly - she utters one plea; “... hard ...”.
At the same time I feel Nadine bein’ spit-roasted, fucked in the ass and throat by two long-cocked boys, her arms bound tight behind her back - it feels like their hard slippery cocks are meeting in the middle, her bowels cramping and her stomach convulsing tight and sweet. She knows she’s dying and she wants it to last forever.
At first echoin’, then overpowerin’ Nadine’s sensations, I feel Marla gaggin’, chokin’, and sickin’-up on a relentless cock plungin’ deep and hard down her throat. She too knows this is the end and arches her back to take him deeper and the sweet cream erupts from her belly and fills her lungs and she starts to drown.
I feel Kelly-Anne bein’ strangled by Mason’s large hands, all his weight comin’ to bear on her throat, blood throbbin’ her face. Her stomach rolling inside her tryin’ to sick-up too, but her throat is locked shut so it cycles up and down, up and down. She reaches up and strokes his strong arms like a lover. She loves what he’s doing to her and she’s ever so grateful.
I feel Bebe lowerin’ herself onto the bedpost with her boy’s strong hands steadyin’ her, and the smooth tip of the post opens her cervix and presses hard, trying to climb up into her virgin womb.
Another girl is bein’ strangled as well; she is a plump girl so I can only guess it is Stacey. Her boy has a leather thong around her throat and she is cummin’ hard as he does a slow job of it, her large tits and flabby belly rollin’ like water sloshin’ in a bucket as she rides her last slow orgasm. She feels it like the sweetest lovemaking she’s ever experienced and she doesn’t fight him - not one bit. Her killer is her final lover and she feels warm and happy.
There are so many others and they blend together to form an orchestral explosion of orgasm and dyin’ - body sensations that are sharp and dull, deep and shallow. I feel pussies clenchin’ to squeeze out girl cum and assholes openin’ and spewin’ farts and shit as bellies clench in pain and overwhelming bliss. I feel stomachs convulse and spew their contents up throats both open and closed tight. In sympathy I feel myself sick-up in a gush and my hot vomit spatters on my own crotch and inner thighs and I taste the ‘shine and the bile and the sickly sweetness of food half-digested into shit. I jerk and hump and thrash inside my little closet, my knees and toes and elbows bruisin’ as they hammer the walls as my hungry pussy opens, begging to be filled and I wish I’d brought the empty bottle from outside to pound into myself and fill that hollow place.
The sensation just keep getting stronger.
It’s too much. I can feel it all - every girl’s roaring orgasm, every girl’s torture and anguish as they give up what small shred of hope that lingered and surrender to what their boys are doing to them - and oh, lordy it's intense. I’d only felt deaths one at a time before, but now I’m feeling them all going at once. This time all the organs in my body are twitching and swellin’ up, my stomach is clenchin’ into a hard ball, my bowels are squirmin’ inside me like angry snakes, and I’m slick with sweat. I piss myself and I feel liquid oozing from my open asshole to puddle between my open, shaking thighs. I am experiencin’ so many orgasms and so many deaths and each is unique and sharp and bright, but they blend together to become a sensory storm that I swear is going kill me dead right here in this closet.
I don’t care. In this instant, I just don’t care. I have experienced so many deaths in my life that if these are the final ones I am prepared for it - I will sink into death with all the other girls.
Then sharp and bright like a brass cymbal crashin’ in a symphony, I feel Bebe rise above it all. “... in me harder ...” she moans breathlessly, and I feel the bedpost tip stretchin’ her womb and splittin’ it open like it was overcooked stew beef. The post is deeper than it should be and I realize her boy has pulled it loose from the corner of the bed and is behind her, his strong hands on her shoulders, pushin’ her quiverin’ bum toward the floor, her busted open womb riding the lobes of the turned post then her pussy stretchin’ over the square bottom. I feel the slippery post slidin’ deep up her core, pushin’ her intestines out of the way, pressin’ up against her stomach so bloated with saliva and cum. Her moanin’ becomes guttural and I feel her foamy vomit pushed up her throat.
“There we go.” I hear her boy’s deep voice like his lips were ticklin' my ear, and the post pushes up into her stomach and she starts to orgasm so intensely that I actual see colours burst and dance in the closet in front of me. I cum with Bebe, sharin’ this sweet experience with her and feel a pang of regret that I didn’t spend more time with her - any girl who could so willingly die to achieve this level of orgasmic hell is worth knowin’ and lovin’. The solid presence of the bedpost inside us is so large and so overwhelmin’, like a man’s whole arm penetratin’ us from pussy to gullet, and I gag as I feel it sliding up her throat and she starts to shake and twitch violently, overwhelmed just like she wanted.
When Bebe starts her final shaking and convulsing, I am still in the throes of orgasm. All the deaths in the past moments echo in my small body, reverberatin’ through me like a church organ, playin’ themselves over and over and over. This is my gift and my curse and I love it more than life itself. I know I am at my most vulnerable in such moments; if the boys choose to betray me and pull me from my closet, I will not fight them. I will go eagerly to whatever sexual torture and death they choose. With that thought in my head I stop tryna’ control my orgasms and pitch forward sudden and hard to slam face down with my cheek pressed against the floor of the closet and my bum in the air, leaking mucus and foul fluids, and as I smell the filth of what is leaking out of me onto the closet floor, darkness takes me and I know no more.
It is Mason who finds me and carries my stinking and fouled limp body to the edge of the creek like a sleepy little girl. He strips me bare and uses my soiled clothes dipped in the water to wash the filth from my pale body. It is the cold of the water as he washes the crease of my bum and my blown out asshole that brings me back to semi-consciousness.
I feel like a rag doll as he sits me up and pulls the sundress over my head and threads my limp arms through the holes, then slips my sneakers on my feet and carries me up the trail to the Harleys.
“You have to wake up, Belle.” he says, “We’re leaving.”
“... mmm ...” my voice is thready and weak as he plants me on pillion seat of his bike, setting my sneakers on the pegs and mounts up himself. He lifts my arms and wraps them around him and I interlace my fingers to hold on to him.
I feel the engine rumble to life between my thighs, and feel the little jerk as he kicks it into first gear.
“Hang on tight, baby.” he says as he squeezes my hands in one of his.
I do hang on tight, layin’ my cheek against the smooth leather of his kutte, the fibers of his patch ticklin’ my chin. I let my puffy, pooched out belly slump, its soft wet weight pressing against the firm slab of Mason’s lower back and that is a comfort. It feels good to be so sexually exhausted that my body is loose and flaccid and pressed tight to him - the weight of fresh orgasms in my lower belly puttin’ me in mind of one of my destinies; to become pregnant and deliver my baby into the world like my mama delivered me - I feel a little sexual shudder inside imagining what it will feel like to be cut open and have her pulled from me. I know Mason loves me and is protective of me, and I decide I’ll keep him as long as I can. I need his help when we get to where I’m goin’ - there’s things only he can do. And maybe he’s destined to put that baby in my belly and be the one to open me up and pull it out.
Mason and his boys are headin’ north to be patched over by a bigger gang and start fresh in a northern town.
As for me, I’m goin’ home.
My home is the place where I was cut out of my mama’s dead belly in the basement of a house that has become legend. All my life I have heard my mama’s voice callin’ me to come home, for she is still there, floating in that ancient place with so many gathered souls, where sexual death is the price of admission to a crimson eternal bliss, and each soul relives their final moments of cramping frenzy and intense orgasmic release for eternity and all that sexual energy throbs like a bad tooth and draws others like it draws me.
It is time.
It’s time for the others as well. For the girl who helped my mama hang, for her daddy who cut me free and sent me to Papa Freed, and for the man who recruited so many random girls to come die in that place, it’s their time to go. Mama says those three must join the haunted chorus and she has told me how it is to be done. She knows their deepest carnal desires, and I will help them make those desires real and feel one each die in squirmin’ ecstasy.
Mama says I’m the messiah of Legend House and it is time to recruit powerful spirits into the chorus of sexual souls who haunt the house where I was born, and oh my, won’t that be a time.