Inside the walls
of the sweat and smoke stained Natural Sin Bijou, Harlot
and Dusty, two third-string pretties, warmed up the crowd
with a fuck fest on stage using a black mamba strap-on, freshly
devenomed but with a mind of its own. The front row fresh
faces were wowed as the beast buried itself in Dusty’s pussy
while Harlot stroked until it flared like an iron bar. The
back seat locals smoked under the dark red light of electric
hula girl candles hanging from the ceiling, waiting for what
everyone waited for: Aurora Blaze.
Dusty convulsed
as the slick viper was yanked out and shoved in her ass.
Everyone cheered and applauded.
Except Hank.
Leaning against
the KISS pinball machine, Hank yawned. Pain stitched across
the wounds beneath his mummy bandaged face. “Goddamnit.” He
chewed a fistful of pain poppers until the fire that was
his skin was nothing more than an Indian burn, then swigged
a beer left behind by a loser with a weak bladder. As he
swallowed his pasty mash, he smelled jasmine and heard the
hiss of the acid that had ruined his bragging rights face.
He’d find the fucker who maimed him, and he’d nail Aurora
Blaze.
“Hey, boys, give
it up for Harlot, Dusty, and our man the Mambo King Snake
John Lee!” The speakers were screaming Gary’s voice as Hank
looked around.
All his boys were
gone. New thugs in Mexican Wrestling masks were bouncing
the joint. Hank didn’t know what was worse: getting acid
in the face or losing his job to a bunch of masked grapplers.
He finished his
free beer as fans of the last natural beauty strip joint
flooded in wearing costumes. Talent night. Fuck, Hank thought,
I don’t miss this. The sad parade of losers and freak fuckers
and wannabee performers roll in just like his last night.
Three months ago. Ninety days he’d been dead to the world,
his old army service paying to keep him alive. Waking up
to find his million dollar smile and fuck-me good looks turned
into shrivels of puss and scars. Acid in the face the night
he was going to nail Aurora Blaze. Who the fuck throws acid
in anyone’s face these days? Some jasmine smelling fucktard
who couldn’t handle me man to man. He would find the wuss,
and than fuck what was his.
A heavy hand slapped
his jacket’s shoulder. “Hey, nice outfit, Mummy man.” Another
stupid Mexican wrestling mask stared down at him, but the
guy’s accent was pure Minnesota.
“Ditto, amigo.”
“Saw you popping.
Think you better take your pill party and vamoose. We like
our tits and buzzes natural here.”
Five bouncers
stood to render aid to this masked yard ape. Hank could’ve
dropped him, but five would be a riot. Time to stay free
and frosty if he was to get near Aurora. “I’m here for the
talent show.”
“Oh yeah? What’s
your talent?”
“I’m a magician.”
“Really? Prove
it.”
“I can produce
assholes out of thin air.” He waved his hands in front of
the luchador. “Ta-da!” The bouncer choked him by the tie. “Easy,” Hank
coughed. “I’m a comedian. The…” He looked at the losers in
the crowd. “…the Human Punch Line.”
The bouncer shoved
Hank back. “Buy a drink or hit the bricks, fugly.”
Hank smiled with
ruined lips.
The bouncers took
their original positions. Hank ordered a rye and ginger from
Debra, the cocktail lesbian whose pantyhose hid more tracks
than a railroad yard, and she didn’t bat an eye. He chewed
another pill. Whoever did this to me is going to be shitting
his own teeth for a week, he thought. He sucked back the
rye.
Gary, wearing
goggles and a garbage man outfit, took the stage, mic in
hand. “Welcome to talent night at the All Natural Sintastic
Bijou! One lucky winner will get a year contract!”
Hank breathed
deep. Smoke, loneliness, but no Jasmine, like the aroma on
the stairs to Aurora’s door.
“And, that’s not
all!” said Gary. “Our winner will also receive a hot date
with our show stopper main event, Miss Aurora Blaze!”
The crowd howled.
“No fucking way,” Hank
said. He went to the front desk. Whisper, the chubby moon-faced
gasbag, sat covered in Dracula make up and spider web tattoos,
reading goth books. “Hey gorgeous,” he said, trying to smile
with no lips. “I need a number for the talent show.”
She gave him a
glance. “Sorry, handsome, no more.”
Three months ago,
she would have paid to eat the peanuts out of his ass crack.
Is this how these ham and eggers feel every fucking day?
“Are you sure
there isn’t anything I can do?”
She put in a book
mark. “Depends. Stick out your tongue.”
“What?”
“Bandages clogging
your ears?”
He grimaced, then
slowly let his long tongue through the bandages around his
mouth. As it emerged, she grinned. “Oh, I might have one
left. It’s in the alley. Be there in five. Hey, Santo, I’m
taking a long break now!”
In the moonless
dark of the wet alley, while rats ran and covered the world
in shit, Hank stained the knees while eating the tangy fat
pussy of Whisper.
“God, oh god,
you’re a bad Mummy.” She gripped his bandages head, driving
him forward. “Eat that shit until I drip.”
He shut his eyes
and thought of Aurora’s flaming red hair and cinnamon skin,
the way her candy lips seemed on the verge of sucking yours
the closer you got.
“That’s it! That’s
it! Now my ass!” She turned. He winced, hiked up her skirt,
and plunged in with Aurora tattooed behind his lids. How
she wouldn’t fuck anything but the best, and how Hank was
going to conquer her like Everest, until she came like a
volcano.
“Oh god, enough
of this shit,” Whisper shoved his head away and his ass hit
wet pavement. She turned, and hiked up hers skirt, and looked
over her shoulder. “Fuck me.”
Hank stood, trying
not to gag.
“Monster, fucking
me.”
He unzipped his
fly, bit what remained of his lip, and thought of Aurora
through every gooey thrust.
Later, gasping
against the wall, Whisper licked her wet lips. “If that’s
your talent, we have a winner.”
Hank zipped himself
up. “So I get my ticket?”
She reached in
her purse and handed a Funville novelty ticket with the number
010. “Mummy, you’re the climax.” She laughed, then left him
there.
His wavy reflection
in the water at his feet was hideous, the bright security
back light hanging above him like the moon’s kid brother.
Three months ago, you couldn’t have paid him enough to kiss
her cheek. Whoever did this to me, he thought, is going home
in a pine box.
He chewed more
Vicodin and walked back inside.
Hank surmised
his competition: bad magic, shit jugglers, and a buck toothed
contortionist that seemed to be the favourite. Hank couldn’t
rely on his looks. He couldn’t rely on his fists. If he was
going to win, he needed material.
“Boys, it’s intermission,” Gary
said as the mop crew ran out to clean the stage. “Half price
drinks at the bar, at the bar only. Then, Contestant number
ten will take the stage.”
The frat boys,
comb overs, trench coaters, and sad husbands club all migrated
toward the bar. And there, with a mop and bucket, was Tony
Mash. One of his old coolers. God, how the mighty had fallen.
Hank cut through the crowd. “Pretty shitty job.”
Tony growled at
him, then dunked his mop in the bucket.
“For a guy whose
right cross won him fifty large in the back alley of this
club not half a year ago.”
“You saw that
fight, Bandage head?”
“I set it up.”
Tony stopped mopping. “Hank?”
He chewed another
Vicodin. “Didn’t recognize me without my fucking face?”
They hightailed
it to the woman’s bathroom, the one only Debra used. It was
cleaner than a virgin’s twat and the white tiles were clean
enough to be baby teeth. “Jesus, Hank. What the hell happened
to you?”
“You tell me.
What did they say when I didn’t show up to work?”
“Management said
shit. Then they got this new guy. Velvet Puma. He took your
job before I could.”
“Who the fuck
is Velvet Puma.”
“Some gringo who
thinks he’s a Mexican wrestler. His crew wears those stupid
luchador masks. Ain’t one of them Mexican. Then they stick
me on this shit job, because they know I ain’t got my green
card yet. Same wage as bouncing, so I can’t say shit. It’s
like a fucking insult, man.”
Hank chewed. “Yeah,
life is rough all over.”
“What happened
to you?”
He sucked back
the crusty spit. “Had a date with Aurora.”
“No shit.”
“Positively constipated.
It gets hazy when I think about it. Got to her apartment.
Smelled…something sweet, like jasmine. Someone called my
name and then.” He hissed. “Three months later I wake up,
muscles weak but my dick still iron for Aurora.”
“So that’s why
you’re back? Win this stupid ass talent show and slip it
in?”
“That, and find
out who did this to me. Only reason he’d get at me, on that
night, was to stop me from banging Aurora. That means he’s
probably one of these shitstain performers. Only way to find
him is to win this thing and watch him come out of the darkness.”
“Well, if he does,
I’ve got your back. My nose is pretty dead from all this
cleaning, but I catch that scent, I’m over it.”
“Thanks, Tony.
You’re an amigo.”
Tony opened the
door. “But I swear, you should dash some cologne on what
is left of your face. You reek like Whisper’s pussy.”
He laughed. “Everyone
is a fucking comedian.”
“And, finally,
our last scrap of talent for tonight, we have…The Human Punchline!”
Hank swaggered
through a handful of boos and a few screams and grabbed the
mic. “Ok, ok, you cock jockeys, simmer down. I know you don’t
give a wet shit about midgets and cock swallowers and sad
fucking magicians. I know I don’t. Not when a few dozen examples
of natural beauty are lying behind this curtain. Can I get
a fuck yeah!”
“Fuck Yeah!”
“So, I’ll make
you a deal. Vote for me and I will get the fuck off this
stage right now. If we got a deal, say fuck yeah!”
“Fuck yeah!”
Gary’s voice boomed
through the speakers. “Hey, hey now, boys. Our ladies still
need a minute to freshen up and give you what you want to
see.”
“How long does
it take to get naked?” Hank said, and stole some laughs.
“This is a talent
show. So I’m afraid that the Human Punchline will put up
or shut up.”
Normally, Hank
would feed Gary his teeth, but his balls were in a vice. “Ok,
ok. Sorry, guys, I tried. Afraid I’m going to have to finish
this fucker off.”
He gulped. Let’s
see if Plan B works.
“Guys, we all
love pussy. Right?”
Cheers.
“We can’t get
enough of it. We’d cross deserts, fight wars, and even act
like a gentleman if we knew it would score us some bragging
rights with a first class natural fuck. Right? None of that
surgical cheating, but grade A natural beauty like God and
Darwin intended, am I right?”
Mad cheers.
“Man, I wish I
was as handsome as all you bastards. I bet your smiles would
have these ladies draining your balls like hoovers, right?” Cheers. “Bet
the first time you enter a chick is the last time she can
think about anyone else during sex, right?” Hoots. “They’d
pay for the privilege of eating out of your ass, just so
they’d have some bragging rights, can I get an Amen?”
Amen!
“Damn, it must
be good to be you. Now me? I’m a sad fucker. Face like shredded
cheese stuffed in an ugly box.” Laughs. “Best I can nail
are fat goth chicks with a corpse fetish. I’m the Mummy you
don’t want to fuck!”
Howls.
“The best I can
hope for is a pity fuck from an ugly duck. Maybe I should
be slumming in hospitals, pretending to be the dead husbands
of hot grieving DUI widows, telling them I’m the ghost of
good cocks past, ready for one more ride before heading to
see the man upstairs.”
Hars.
“Better yet. Order
me up some prime whore and make sure she comes blindfolded.
Have her suck me off until I pop, and then that’s when I
drop her blind fold. She’ll defy physics by being able to
spit and swallow at the same time!”
Cackles.
“Ok, boys, red
light is flashing. I’m almost gone. But, hey, admit it. You
could vote for the most talented fucker here. But don’t you
think the sickest joke that could be pulled tonight is giving
Aurora Blaze the pleasure of my company, every fucking night?
If you think so, give me a fuck yeah!”
They roared!
“Vote for the
Human Punchline and I’ll fuck her for all of you!”
The place was
a madhouse. Beers in the air like swords before a Roman triumph.
Gary pumped the music and Hank got off stage to a thousand
pats on the back and offers for drinks that he waved off
until Gary’s voice boomed. “Alright, boys, time to vote.
Please fill out the score cards on the tables and drop them
off to our lovely cocktail waitresses. One we’re tallied,
you get your main events!” The manly friendship vanished
as the assorted losers went to fill in the cards.
Hank sat at the
bar, hoping to hell plan B worked because he had no plan
C. He popped another Vicodin.
“I hear those
pain pills make you impotent” said a harsh voice behind him.
“And I hear the
best medical advice doesn’t come from behind a bar.”
The bartender
wore a Mexican wrestling mask, but was paler than a dead
goat. “Think you got a chance with Aurora, huh?” No, Hank
thought, I’ve got a second chance, and no one will ruin it. “You’re
dreaming with your dick, hombre.”
“Can I pay you
to not talk to me, hombre?”
“Like all natural
beauties, she’s picky about who she fucks.”
So was I, once
upon a time. Hank plucked one of Whisper’s pubes out of his
teeth. “So I didn’t get your vote?”
“Nope. The puking
magician. I love to see that spic with the crew cut clean
up the stage.”
Hank bristled. “Just
get me a rye and ginger?”
The bartender
snorted, got the drink, and by the time Hank slugged it back
Gary’s voice was booming through the air. “Boys, we’ve got
your cards and done a count and checked it twice. Now, to
announce the winner, give it up for our own show stopping
main event. The Alaska Spitfire herself, Aurora Blaze!”
The curtain parted.
And a hundred
cocks ached.
Skin like crushed
cinnamon and bronze, legs thick and strong and strutting
in black and painfully high heels. Razor thin bikini bottom
barely hid her sacred slit. Her breasts were just huge enough
to be lust magnets but not cyber-big and comical. But for
Hank, all of that was a sideshow compared to the raw beauty
of her face.
A natural red
head. Didn’t colour anything. Ruby lips large and inviting
on a whiplash smile that men dreamed would one day drain
their every wet dream dry. Doe eyes and sharp eyebrows, mean
and sweet. All topped off with a big, bountiful trail of
raging red hair that feathered down her back like a blanket
she was used to fucking on.
In one long nailed
hand was a card. The other a mic.
“And the lucky
boy is…” Her voice a deep siren song.
Hank gripped his
glass till it shook.
“The Human Punchline!”
Everyone roared.
Hank scanned for anyone and anything. But they pulled him
to the stage as Aurora sang. “Come on, handsome. We have
a date to plan!” He was on stage. She gazed at him like a
wild boar over a slain vermin. “Freaky. I like freaky.”
Speechless, he
nodded. She took his hand and walked to the curtain, perfect
ass bouncing to The Strip as all the gang screamed “Fuck
her good!” in chorus.
Sweat unravelled
the bandages as she led him past the dressing rooms that
stank of bronze tanner, hair spray, and chemical glitter.
All the shit Aurora didn’t need. She strutted up the black
stairs to her private dressing room and apartment. He’d fucked
most of those second raters against this wall, just so she
could hear how goddamn good he was.
Now she was leading
him up the stairs.
He shot a look
back, but only one. Good god, he’d fuck that ass raw given
half a chance.
Easy, easy, he
told himself. Then popped a Vicodin.
She led him inside
a incense laced room of a hundred spices, all doing murder
on his skin. He itched, but only adjusted his sweaty bandages.
She closed the door then strutted to her make up table, and
sat on her stool. “You’re a funny man.”
“I aim to please.”
“Someone else
used to say that a lot. A former bouncer here.”
“Excuse me?”
She hit the light
on her mirror, adjusted it so he could see his face. Then
her reflection smiled. “Howdy, Hank.” She licked her lip. “How
you feeling?”
He gulped a Vicodin. “Peachy
keen, Aurora.”
“Sorry we had
to cancel our date.”
He focused on
her and not his blood and sweat soaked rags. “No biggie.
Was pretty busy fighting a coma.”
She pouted. “Awful,
just awful. But you really fought back, didn’t you?”
No, focus on that
rotten face of yours. You can cream your pants in a minute.
He took in his ragged, torn lips, the scorched earth policy
under his eyes, the bandage around his head that kept falling
down like a comb over. “I need to know who did this to me,
Aurora.”
“You fought back
to be with me. To go on our date. I tell you, I had you all
wrong.”
“I’m betting it
was one of your admirers. Maybe even someone on staff.”
She sprinkled
perfume on. “You’re not just a pretty face who talks shits
about girls who augment themselves.”
“Not anymore,
I’m not. Some shitheel tossed acid in my face. Someone stole
the best of me, someone stinking of lilacs, something sickly
sweet, before I could come here I got to your house—”
She stood, turned
flawlessly, and smiled. “Poor Mummy. Let’s see what the bad
person did.”
She stalked closer
and he moved back until his back jabbed the doorknob. “Look,
do you have any female fans? Jealous lesbians can be nightmares.” The
bandage fell down, across his right eye.
“Just those with
eyes, my sweet.” She lifted the bandage. “You’re like a present.
Is it Christmas for me, Hank?” She began to unwrap.
He gripped her
wrist.
“Let go,” she
said, firm and strong.
He did. “Why?
Why the fuck do you want to see—” He breathed in.
Sweetness. Jasmine.
“Shh.” She put
a finger across his ruined lips. “It’s Christmas morning
and everyone else is asleep, but I’m allowed to unwrap one
present, just one, before the day explodes.”
He dropped his
arms as the bandages pulled at his gummy, new skin and meat
with a sickly tug. Be breathed in harder. “You—”
“Almost done,
almost got my present.”
The bandage dropped
across his chest, rolling down past his hand to the floor.
Her doe eyes went wide and wild as she covered her mouth. “Oh
god, you are a masterpiece. A real keeper.”
“You did this?” he
whispered. He tried to turn his hands to fists.
“You’re so, so…”
“You did this
to me?”
“Beautiful.”
She kissed him,
thick lips burning against his ruined flesh, tongue licking
and teeth gnashing as she smiled. “And you taste like sweet
ruin.” She dove in again and his hands flexed at the sides.
She did it. She fucking did this to me. She killed all my
girl action for ever, killed every bragging right I would
ever have, turned me into a fucking joke on stage—
She gripped his
cock, an iron rod against his will. “I’m going to drain you
like a fucking hoover.”
No. I can’t. She
did this to me, the bitch turned me into a freak. She doesn’t
deserve to lick the come off your stalk. Be a fucking man
about it…
But she was a
perfect ten. A natural. A creature out of fairy tales. Wildness
danced in her eyes.
And he heard the
echo of the boys downstairs. The losers. The pathetic shits.
The trenchcoaters and fat fucks who would never ever get
a taste of this…
This is my last
chance.
He gripped the
back of her neck and mashed her into his face as all the
Vicodin drained from his system. An agony kiss that sent
sick waves of pain through his body—
But he was still
harder than tempered steel.
He plucked off
her gee string. She gasped. “You want it, my masterpiece?
Fucking take it. Just let me see your face.”
He tore off his
pants, gripped her ass, and spun so he could drill her against
her door. Downstairs, the thumping dance music of Keisha’s
entrance tunes blared.
Aurora hissed. “Yesss,
get in me.”
He did. For him.
For every one of those pathetic fucks down there. He slid
every inch into her and she hissed even louder. Her legs
synched around him like pythons, heels still on and pointing
toward heaven. “Come on, baby. Hurt me.”
It was a masterpiece
performance of grinding and power, of alpha dog rutting.
He didn’t let her come, he made her come, wet and sloppy
as she screamed, mouth contorted in wild pleasure, eyes locked
on his horror show face. Once, twice, until he was only three
strokes from bursting.
He pulled out
and dropped her on her knees. “Now suck it dry.”
Panting, eyes
still on his face, she licked her lips and smiled. “As you
wish.”
She glared at
him. He scowled in pleasure as she worked him over like a
master. He looked at himself in the mirror to keep him from
coming too fast when the sound coming out of her was more
than pleasure, more than sex, something primal and raw
Her eyes glassed,
her face elongated into a serpentine form, but still sucked.
A sweet aroma filled the air.
She was augmented.
A snake job. Oh god, Aurora, not you…
Pleasure took
over and he fucked her head until a dirty burst rang from
his cock and his asshole puckered tight. As he came in her
mouth, pain gave way to a singular burning. A sweet acidity
as she spat out his cock and hissed with a forked tongue.
Soon, his cock
burned so bad he dropped to his knees.
Aurora got up
and strutted back to her chair as he took the fetal position,
something wet and sore pulsing out of his crotch. “Now, you’re
perfect.” She put on her make up, looking more beautiful
than ever, and sprayed perfume in the room until the world
was stained with jasmine. “When that heals up, you come back
and see me. My masterpiece.”
She strutted over
him as pain ate through the pills, and the beautiful world
dissolved into ugly before going red and black.
