Fill'r Up

It was two o’clock in the morning. The mist made every bone in Damien’s body tingle with excitement and anticipation. Monday morning was on its way, he must be done before dawn would come and steal away his window of opportunity.
The rusted old Cadillac sped down the dusty old road, Damien was too damn near empty and couldn’t find a gas station anywhere. Finally, he saw something on the horizon and he floored it. “Yes!” a gas station at last.
Damien pulled in front of a pump and the full service attendant emerged from the dirty old gas station to service him.
“Fill it up,” Damien said. The attendant turned to help his first customer of the night. As he finished, Damien floored it again. Damien was broke, he had to hurry to accomplish what he had wanted, but he was stopped quickly.
The attendant stood behind the car wielding a gun and slowly approached the, now, incapacitated vehicle. Damien emerged quickly.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Damien yelled at the man who had the handgun pointed right between his eyes.
“You try to steal gas, I get to kill you now,” replied the attendant.
Damien pulled out his empty wallet and approached the enraged attendant with little caution or respect for the weapon he brandished.
“Christ, you could’ve just said so, I thought I had paid you,” Damien retorted plainly as he began fumbling through the unnoticeably empty wallet.
The attendant relaxed and eased his sweaty finger from the trigger. He lowered the gun to his thigh as the complacent customer approached him slowly, wallet in hand. His nerves calmed, his perspiration ceased (or lessened,) and his eyes began to show that courteous glow that all customers love to see. He waited patiently now.
“How much that gonna be?” Damien asked.
As the attendant turned to check the price, Damien pulled out the tire iron he had hidden in the back waist of his pants. Silently, he crept up on the clueless attendant and struck his head sharply with one swift blow near the right temple. Blood spurted and rushed from the gaping wound as Damien pulled the tire iron back and allowed the brain matter to spill to the ground in front of the pump.
A child shrieked in horror and Damien turned, the young boy saw him and began to run. Damien grabbed the attendant’s handgun and fired, catching the attendant’s young son in the right thigh. His agonizing cry filled the night air of this vast, empty world. Followed quickly by the thud of his helpless carcass on the cold concrete. Help would not come.
Damien wasted no time. “Dad” was dragged up toward the pump and his body, which barely showed life, leaned against the side of the pump. His son continued to scream as he lie on the cold concrete, his leg had gone numb with paralysis, but his pain did not subside. His entire body ached in agony and, when he saw Damien looming over him, he screamed out once again.
Damien grabbed the child by his dirty blond hair and dragged him to where his father was leaned feebly against the gas pump. Damien took his hand and scooped up some of the father’s brain matter and forced it into the child’s mouth, gagging at first, the child was forced to swallow his father’s raw brain.
The slimy matter tasted awful, like blood mixed with things you don’t want to admit are in your body. He was forced to swallow it; he dare not chew. Its consistency down his throat reminded the boy of wet noodles, oozing down into his stomach. He had to admit it, though, it wasn’t too bad.
After the child had finished a few handfuls of his dad’s brain, Damien forced him to spill out their names.
“My name is Kenny,” the boy said, “and my dad’s name is Dustin.”
Damien looked pleased and grinning. His hand grasped at the child’s hair.
“Let me tell you something Kenny,” Damien yelled, “Something we grown-ups call tossing salads. You want to try tossing a salad?”
Kenny was sort of amazed, he knew he could handle tossing a salad, his mom had shown him how so many times in the kitchen. He gleefully obliged.
“Haha, I think you’re confused son, but oh well,” said Damien, “salad tossing it is.”
“Well, my mommy showed me before, in the kitchen,” Kenny said, “she said I would need to cook for myself one day.”
Damien was almost enthralled with the humor. He pushed young Kenny’s face to the ground and began instructing.
“You see Kenny,” Damien began, “grown-ups have their own little style. Now what you have to do is keep your head low like this, strip your dad naked, turn over his carcass and use your tongue to clean out his asshole for me.”
Kenny nearly jumped up, but Damien held him down. Damien placed the barrel of the handgun against Kenny’s temple and pressed rather hard.
“Very stupid Kenny,” said Damien, “you do not do as I say and you wind up like Dustin here with some wild animals snacking on your entrails.”
Kenny was confused; he did not know what to do. Why should an eight-year-old have to make choices like this? What had he done? He cried, he sobbed, he could not do it.
WHACK! Damien whacked his head with the handle of the gun, Kenny fell semi-conscious. Damien was pissed now.
“Let me tell you something you little shit, that ain’t a fucking bit of what you’ll feel when I shoot your fucking ass,” Damien yelled. “You don’t fucking do it soon and your precious little life will be coming to an early end.”
Kenny struggled to raise his head; blood was flowing into his eyes and blurring his vision. His hands trembled as he slowly undid the buttons and fly on his father’s tight blue jeans. Bringing them down with his Fruit of the Loom cotton briefs, his father’s cock stood erect before him and quickly he turned his carcass over. If only he had a razor, he lamented.
Damien pressed the barrel of the gun against the back of Kenny’s neck, hard into his spine. Kenny whimpered and forced his face forward. His nose began to tickle with the touch of the hair on Dustin’s fat ass.
“Clean out daddy for me!” screamed Damien.
The first tentative touch with his tongue was softer than he had expected. Slowly he got the job done, as Damien wanted. The smell was horrid, the taste just as wretched, suddenly Kenny started to gag from it.
“That’s fine boy, now move!” commanded Damien.
The boy struggled to move back against a nearby gas pump. He slumped down and watched as Damien prepared himself.
Damien grasped at one of the gas pump nozzles and wiggled it free. He smiled confidently at Kenny as he haphazardly jabbed the nozzle into Dustin’s rectum. Blood began to fill the areas around the nozzle, dripping onto Damien’s hand. Torn tender flesh spewed blood and Damien forced Kenny to taste it before beginning the pumping of the gas.
“Come here and hold this, boy!” Damien commanded.
Kenny uneasily crawled to his father and held the handle to continue the gas flow, while Damien went inside to steal some money and some smokes.
Kenny’s stomach churned and he considered what he was doing, he had a pretty good idea where this was going and yet he was contributing to it, how could this be?
Damien returned with a freshly lit cigarette and enjoyed the smooth flavor, a little bit of relaxation at last. Goddamn cravings!
Damien grabbed Kenny by his shirt and tore him from his father and the nozzle, tossing him out towards the road. Kenny was instructed to sit still as Damien placed the nozzle back in its holder and knelt in front of Damien’s corpse.
“Now it ends my good friend,” Damien began, “nothing personal, you just fucked with the wrong man. Thanks for the cash and smokes.”
Damien lowered his cigarette to Dustin’s gasoline spewing asshole and started the gasoline on fire. The gasoline ignited easily and soon the entire corpse was in flames, burned from the inside. Skin melted from bone and the stench was unbearable, but Damien reveled in it. He couldn’t get enough. Damien walked away calmly and grabbed Kenny roughly. The two walked down the street and Kenny could only look back in tears as the gas station exploded and his father’s ruins were further desecrated.
Damien and Kenny did not have to walk very far before Kenny’s injured leg gave out on him and he collapsed.
“Ahh, my trusty assistant, so you come to an end as well?” Damien asked.
“Please, just let me rest,” pleaded Kenny.
“Can’t do that son, see we’re on a schedule here,” Damien said pointing to the sky. “Besides, I need your help one last time.”
Damien produced a hacksaw that he had stolen from the gas station auto shop and Kenny began to tremble. Damien struck him sharply in the head, and he fell unconscious.
Damien’s tedious work began, and the hacksaw made short work of each of Kenny’s limbs. First were the legs, haphazardly hacked off just above the knees. Then the arms, which Damien severed only part way, before ripping the soft flesh free from the torso. Arteries spurted blood and Damien drank a bit, not to his liking, so he tossed the limbs aside and kicked the carcass into the road.
Damien waited for a car to come driving by so that his “speed bump” plan would get him a vehicle. What luck, suddenly a large pickup truck sped down the road, kicking up clouds of dust in its wake. The driver never saw Kenny and ran right over his ribcage. The sound was incredible, bones crushing beneath a ton of steel, and Damien grinned.
Damien watched as the confused driver threw it into reverse to see what he had hit, he swerved to avoid the mysterious object, but ran right over Kenny’s head. Damien could see from the roadside that the skull had been crushed and the eyes were now bulging out of the head, barely even attached. Blood and puss pooled below his crushed skull.
The driver must have seen the body, because he sprinted out to it and began yelling for help. He scooped up what remained of Kenny’s carcass and, as he approached the truck cab, he was struck in the head with the same tire iron that had found Dustin’s skull. The driver crumpled to the ground, Kenny’s carcass falling beneath him, further crushed by the bulky driver.
Damien was pressed for time, so he simply tied a rope around the driver’s neck and tied it to the trailer hitch in back. Climbing in the cab of the truck, he floored it, the driver’s body flopped behind him with every bump. Damien took great pleasure in watching it bouncing through the rearview mirror. As he approached the end of the dirt road, he stopped the vehicle to untie the driver’s carcass. Not much remained.
Damien decided he had just enough time for a quickie and found the remnants of the corpse’s asshole, the carnage had him so primed he came in the obese man after just a few thrusts. His warm cock tearing through the cooling tender carcass of this mysterious man now filled with his semen. He knew no one would ID the man, it looked more like a mangled dog anyway, so he left his body in the dirt road and sped off.
Damien looked at the clock, 3:30 am.
“Shit!” thought Damien, “and I still have to change, too.”

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