Just Having Some Fun

(A Libertine's Monolog, loosely connected to the introduction of Paul Auster's Leviathan)

Six days ago, a man blew -- well, supposedly blew -- himself up by the side of a road in northern Wisconsin. This supposition is wrong. There were no known witnesses, but I happen to be unknown -- and I prefer it this way. The man was sitting on the grass next to a stolen car -- a car I stole from somebody. He was also sitting next to a bomb he was building -- building under duress, at gunpoint, though my gun and I were a good fifty yards away -- but I'd already shown this man I was a sharp shooter. The bomb went off, but it was hardly an accident -- there are no such things as accidents; at least, I don't believe in them -- it was completely and utterly my intention (though you can be sure this man did not suspect it).

While he built this bomb, I was busy frigging myself. This man -- who for convenience we shall call John -- did not know I was frigging myself. Nor did John know anything about bombs -- except some false information I had provided him with. This misinformation was prerequisite for my own lubricity. John did not suspect -- nor if he did, was there much he could do -- the voluptuousness I expected from watching him blow himself up with the bomb I coerced him into attempting to build.

As I expected, the bomb exploded. He burst into dozens -- multitudes -- of small pieces, and fragments of his corpse went so far as to completely cover me -- I remind you, fifty feet away. I had the most delightful orgasm I have had in weeks (since I tricked my younger brother into smuggling a bomb into the hospital ward where my mother lay ill and her sister and mother were visiting -- I killed all four, plus several other patients and a nurse, and left dozens wounded. Oh! The lubricity of the thoughts! But let me continue...).

As you may be interested to know, I've executed this passion eighteen times before. On one occasion, the victim knew enough about bombs to suspect me. This person refused to build the bomb. As an alternative, I held a Colt Forty-Five to him while I bound him. I proceeded to manhandle his buttocks, which I then parted in order to embugger him, which I did. This done, I withdrew, without having either discharged nor lost my erection. I stuffed his bleeding anus and his mouth full of gunpowder and (without anesthetic) stitched each orifice closed. I drenched this wretch in petrol which I proceeded to light as I freed my victim from his bonds. From a distance safe from the expected burst, but close enough to be buried in the organic fragments resulting from the inevitable burst, I watched him unsuccessfully struggle to snuff the flames and expel his stuffings. . This latter passion has been executed nearly so often, and need I say it, I obtain equally delightful, equally orgasmic results.

But getting back to John, his explosion (not accidently) destroyed the Dodge I had stolen and had intended to dispose of anyway. Therefore, I drove away in John's Ford Escort which John was kind enough to bequeath to me <sic>. But, before leaving this site, to create further confusion, -- that, if "cleared", should lead to the assumption of my death -- I left my wallet -- well, mine by habit of aquisition -- among the debris. (Were God to exist, would he really see fit to save such a useless wallet? But yet fools have assumed this to be a miracle! Ha!)

But let me backtrack a bit. You may wish to know why I would steal a car or wish myself thought dead. I am quite sure, under the present circumstances, you most probably wish me actually dead; if not, you shall by the time you learn the fate I have in store for you. I probably should not give you the gratification of hearing the beginning of my tale, but since your escape is hopeless, and since your unwitting audience serves my lubricity, as I have a passion to kiss and tell, so to speak, you shall hear the beginning of my tale as you have heard... well, I wouldn't go so far as to call it an ending.

Among the many liberties I have taken, I have been one to collect various stolen items. You may say I am a kleptomaniac, and you would not be wrong to assume my motivation stems in the orgasms thefts lead to; this, much more than the need for the items, which hardly ever motivates me to theft. You may even go so far as to say theft charges me nearly as much as a good explosion -- though I much prefer this latter if human lives are thereby terminated. I've made a regular habit of theft, and very often of robbery, usually with numerous violent murders therein. In fact, I rarely allow my victims to live, unless they are maimed such that they will suffer acutely and have no means to identify me -- thus less possessing than Titus Andronicus's Lavinia. One might wonder that the police took nearly twenty years to find my trail. But though they took their time -- bribery does help -- find me they did, this was about three months ago.

However, I have friends in high places -- very useful, I assure you -- and I was almost the first to learn my secrets had been discovered. I therefore packed a few items, including those last of "my" credit cards yet to be cancelled. I also included a remote detonator for the tons of potent explosives filling my extremely large cellar and some small quantity of these explosives -- I never leave home without them. I placed these items I was to salvage in the trunk of "my" Ford Mustang.

I proceeded to invite a large number of friends, family, neighbors, and most anyone else I knew over to my mansion, on the pretext of an open invitation party to be held that same night. Around midnight, the party was well under way and my former home was rather packed. I left the house and the neighborhood, ostentatiously to buy some more beer. Once I had driven a fair distance (but not so far that I should be removed from falling debris), I took the liberty of detonating the explosives in my cellar. I can hardly tell you how pleasurable I found it, nor the extent of my orgasm -- the best I have ever had. I never found out the exact tally of the damage. However, I know most of the neighborhood was completely devastated; very few survivors (none of which were at my house) and those few that survived, barely did. The last estimate I read stated "1200 dead, 300 missing".

I was transient for some time, squatting in various mansions (after having raped, sodomized, and murdered the inhabitants) until I heard through the news of my mother's illness (she was a famous actress). As the hospital was not far from me, I decided to avenge my birth into this world of sorrow. Outside the hospital, I intercepted my younger brother, whom I was fortunate enough to know in the biblical sense since an early age -- but don't get me wrong, I had no love for him. My credulous brother did not, however, expect my sentiments (or lack thereof); nor did he know my predilections. He was quite willing to deliver a present to my mother (understanding me to be in a rush). From across the street, I watched the bomb explode, to the delight I relayed earlier.

It was several weeks later that I obtained the Dodge in Joliet, Illinois. I did not really want the Dodge, but I wanted a young woman of about twenty-five, her five-year-old son, her two-year-old daughter, the infant in the baby carriage (whom I later learned was male), and the mutt (I think part collie, part sheep dog, and part poodle). "My" old car -- a Corvette -- was getting too hot to handle. They were not far from the Dodge and it seemed to be convienent for their abduction (I'd been hotwiring cars since I was twelve, so the theft would hardly cause a problem).

I transfered my remaining belongings to the trunk of this Dodge, hotwired the car and drove up to the mother. I pulled a gun on her, told her entire family to remain quite, handed the woman several cords, and instructed her to bind and gag every member of her family. When she was finished, I did the same to her and forced the lot into the car. I took a long drive to a wild life reservation in Wisconsin. In the middle of nowhere, I maimed, raped, and murdered all.

As I should not want to leave you unsatisfied with but a brief and unpolished account, I shall include all the spices the happening so richly deserves. As I have already stated, we were effectively nowhere and the chances of anyone coming along were relatively slim, so I felt I had completely free reign over the situation. After parking the car, I forced them to walk deep into the reservation until we found a small clearing. I bound each to a separate tree, facing them each towards the centre of the clearing.

I then took out a ten inch long survival knife -- the same knife my father threatened my mother with, when she caught him buggering me at age four; the same knife he later killed my sister with; the same knife I held to my father's own neck while I sodomized him when I was fourteen; the same knife I used to turn my father into a eunuch; and the same knife I shoved straight up my father's ass and used a pole to continue pushing up until the same knife came out the top of his head -- and I used this knife to stip the clothing from each member of the family.

The mother was a petite blond, with clear blue eyes and a fair complexion. She had a pretty little ass and small so-called "mosquito bite" tits. She had an intriguing little bush just about her generative orifice. The only blemishes were the stretch marks left from her three pregnancies. I instantly used my knife to remove these blemishes. The mother screamed. The children screamed. The baby echoed the cries. The dog barked. And I laughed. I ate a large piece of her flayed flesh, fed a second to the dog, which happily gobbled it up -- fickle beast, then forced the children (except the infant, whom I only forced to drink some blood) and the mother equally to indulge.

The elder son, about five, with scruffy brown hair and brown eyes, was well indulged when it came to eating. Such a fat little creature, was a rare sight indeed. But as Spinal Tap reminds us, the "bigger the cushion, the sweeter the pushin'," and I knew I should enjoy him.

The daughter was most certainly the mothers daughter. The same pale white skin, transparent blue eyes, and thin blond hair. The same frail bone structure. I knew she'd be too bony and small to enjoy much, but she'd certainly contribute to my fun.

There's little to say about the infant. They are all the same. It was too young to appreciate terror and too small to enjoy much. Like a large cat in the wild after having killed its prey (though I had yet to kill the baby), I began to feast on the scrotum. In clear view of the screaming mother and children, I bit the baby's undeveloped penis and testicles clean off and ate the morsels. I forced my member up its ass and continued to push until it had displaced most of the vital organs and the baby was dead. I whaled the corpse against a tree, cracking its head wide open. I scooped out some brains, which I ate, feeding each family member similarly and then throwing the remains to the exceedingly happy mutt, which went straight to doing its good work.

Next, I started to frig the mutt until it became hard. I forced each child to frig the dog a bit and then rebound each. I then releashed the mother and forced her to practice felatio on this mongrel. It was in heaven.

This complete, I forced her to practice the same feat on myself -- but to be safe, I first rebound her and used pliers to remove every tooth from her mouth, as her children continued to scream and her dog continued to bark. Inspired by this idea, I rebound the mother and practiced the same on the children.

I was getting tired of the little girl, who was also too young to appreciate much. I removed both her virginities and then took out each of her eyes in order to skull-fuck her, which I did, eating one eye and then dividing the other with my knife, forced a piece each to the brother, the mother, and the girl, who was not yet dead. I chopped off an arm, which I threw to the dog, who had nearly finished off the baby. I fucked her in this new orifice as well. I then removed her ears and her tongue. I ate the tongue and threw the ears at the mother and the brother as they continued their chorus. I chopped off the other limbs and fucked each of these orifices. I fucked this child up the ass once more until I was completely bored of it (but still not yet discharged) and then threw it aside to bleed to death or be eaten alive by insects, which were abundant.

The brother had screamed himself hoarse and the mother had passed out. I pissed in the mother's mouth and her choking revived her. I noticed the dog had taken a crap and I tasted the feces. They were delightful, but as I was not very hungry, I forced the mother and brother to swallow what I did not.

I then asked the mother -- rhetorically -- what the point of such very small tits were. Her own son had larger tits than she. This seemed to call for an exchange. I used my knife to remove the tits from each and then used some waxed thread to sew each's pair onto the other. Now, both my victims had passed out, so I kicked each in the stomach until they reawakened.

The son's penis was too underdeveloped to provide me with any real pleasures, so I executed the same fate to his as had been to his brother's morsel, but this time, after chewing it well, I shared it with both the child and his mother. The mother puked. I fed this to the son, who in his turn puked and I fed this back to the mother who puked again. I fed this back to the child and this went on until I became bored of this game and too much was being lost to the ground anyway.

As the son was already a eunuch, I decided to turn him into a daughter, so I used my knife to bore a new hole for him. I broke him in on this side, then I turned him over, fondled his ass, and then deflowered him on the other. I then decided I wanted to fuck his big fat tummy, so I used my knife to open his belly button. I fucked him, and fucked him, and fucked him some more. It felt really good. I nearly came, but I stopped myself. After all, there were still the mother and the dog. I withdrew and replaced my member with my hand, which I then used to draw out the intestines, the stomach, the heart, and some other organs. The child was now dead, so I tossed him aside.

What to do with the mother? Again she had passed out. I enticed the dog to play her husband and while the dog was thus occupied, I made similar use of the dog. I could tell by feel that this dog was certainly not the alpha male, but though I was not its first, he was still tight enough to be delightful. The dog came! The woman woke up screaming! At long last, I came!

Then I proceeded to lick the dog's anus clean and I became hard once again. I tied the dog back to its tree and flipped the mother over. I grabbed a large stick and then mounted the mother's rear. As I fucked her anus, I battered her. Under my blows, every bone in her body was breaking, save her skull and spine. She went into shock and could no longer scream. I aimed one last blow at her head and came at the same moment she gave up the ghost.

I released the dog once more and induced it to embugger myself, during which I frigged myself and then came for the third time. As a devote lover of animals, I decided to allow the dog to live and to take him with me. I never knew his original name, but I called him "Fucker". He's the same mongrel you noticed in the back of my car when I picked you up, back at that rest stop. Where was it you said you were going? Seatle? Well, never mind, I'm sure you'll find this adventure much more exciting and amorous. But I digress again... let me get back to the account.

I was finishing my adventure and begin to dress. Unfortunately -- for the park ranger -- I notice a park ranger hiding in the forest and keeping an eye on me. Not knowing how much he saw, I instinctively pulled out my gun and shot the ranger in the head. I grab my belongings and the dog and go over to inspect his body. He is dead. I strip his clothing, ravage his dead body, coming again as I decapitate him, and then confiscate his gun, identification, radio, baton, flashlight, clothing and all his other worldy possessions -- he wouldn't be needing them. I finished dressing and hurried into "my" Dodge, taking Fucker with me.

I proceeded to drive off as I heard a police helicopter approach from above. Soon after, several police cars were also heard to approach and I knew they were after me. The ranger must have radioed for backup before I found and killed him. I miraculously managed to evade them in the forest, but not before they put several bullets through vital parts of "my" car. Once out of danger, I patched the car up as best I could, but my makeshift repairs were not holding well and the car kept stalling.

I was hoping to replace the car before it died, but in the middle of nowhere and nowhere else, on a back road that was hardly a road and not at all paved, it died. I was about to start hiking away -- expecting no trafic along this road -- when I heard a car driving up behind me. I turn and see a Ford Escort. I flag him down and he is conciderate enough to stop for me. I lower him out of his car under the pretext of showing him the engine of mine, which he readily agrees to. No sooner is out of the car than I pull my gun, force him onto the side of his car, frisk him -- taking his wallet, and bind him.

I remove my belongings from my car and transfer most into his. I put aside my rifle and some exlosives and other materials necessary to build a bomb. I show him a certain set of simple instructions supposedly on how to construct a bomb. I shoot a bird out of the air to show my marksmanship. I explain to him "Your task is simple. I want you to build this bomb, as I have diagramed here, place it in 'my' car, set it to explode, then come over to me and we shall watch the explosion. I shall be sitting in your car, fifty feet back down the road. I shall drive it there in reverse keeping my rifle aimed at you. Once I am there, I shall continue to monitor your progress. If you should try to escape, I shall kill you. If the bomb does not explode, I shall kill you. On the other hand, if you are a good worker and correctly build this bomb and it explodes before our eyes, I shall release you and your property as soon as we come to a town."

And you already know the story of how this man bequeathed me the very same car I was so kind to pick you up in. Now all that remains is the question "How shall I dispose of you?"

This page was prepared by Brian Matthew Kessler of Nowhere@All
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