Bite The Bullet

by Eros Bastien

1 Oct 2018 1174 readers Score 8.5 (25 votes) PDF Mobi ePub Txt


My eyes open to see a barrel of a shotgun pointed at my head, a man dressed in black, hidden under a New York Yankee cap and half covered scarf wrapped around his face, and two blue marbles intensely staring back at me. I don't dare move a thing. I'm not given to panic easily. Experience has taught me that in situations like this one it's best to go with the flow.  Even though I’m completely naked and still holding the sex toy in my hand, I don’t contemplate on what he can be thinking, instead I wait to see what the stranger plans to do.

He looks me up and down—my dick is soft but swollen with a morning wood, resting to the left, and the aching urge to piss begins to weigh on me. 

“Get dressed,” the stranger commands. He motions for me to get up.

I rise slowly, leaving the dildo on the bed. My ass is sore from the brutal treatment I gave myself. What the actual fuck was I thinking? It was the liquor, I was inebriated, I wasn’t thinking straight, literally. My dick has now flopped down, erect, pointing straight in his direction as if it too was watching him. I can’t do anything about it, it's gorged with blood and bursting to pee. I can’t hide it, my hands are up in the air, I don’t want to alarm the stranger.  

Once again I see his eyes glance down to my cock.

“Get dressed,” the stranger said, and kicks the underwear on the floor towards me.

“I need to piss,” I said, grabbing the undergarment and covering my dick with it.

“No tricks,” the stranger warns, and cocked the shotgun  “go ahead.”

I hurry to the toilet and stand over it, grab my cock and point it down. The warm stream shoots out, increasing as my body relaxes, my balls drop down, and my dick begins to soften. I wiggle off the last drops of urine and begin to step into my underwear, all the while under the watchful eyes of the stranger.

I wonder how long I slept, how he got inside without me noticing. I must have been more exhausted than I realized. No, I was passed out drunk. The fact is this was the most comfortable sleep I have had in some time.

My garments are scattered around the floor. I point them out one by one before reaching out for them. But I can’t see my weapons, not even my fanny bag. I assumed he took them. The idea of being so defenceless makes me angry, but I exhaled, I try to relax, and wait for an opportunity. This isn’t the first time I’ve had a gun pointed at me.

“My name is Manny,” I said, to break the ice.

“You're trespassing, Manny,” the stranger said.

“Is this your place?” I asked, puzzled.

“The entire building is mine.” He said, matter-of-fact.

He can’t be completely serious. This apartment was clearly abandoned, no one’s been here in months.

“I apologize if I took something from you. I was mainly looking for food. It’s not easy out there.” I said. I tried to justify my actions.

“You're looking for food, I know, everyone alive in New York City is looking for food. Everyone is so desperate that rules no longer apply, right? You go around taking and taking without a second thought about whose stash your stealing from. You don’t care about the consequences of your actions.”

“Hey, I apologize.” I said, calmly. I’m fully dressed now and I raised my hands up in the air to remind him I’m defenceless. “I really mean it. I try to be careful not to step into anyone’s territory. This building looked abandoned, this apartment clearly is abandoned.”

“Motherfucker, this apartment belongs to my friend. You have no right to be in here. Much less a right to use his intimate things. You get me?” He said, angrily.

“Yes, yes, you are right. I...I…” I was tongue tied. I knew very well what he was talking about. Nothing I can say will explain why I did what I did, and I didn’t want to explain it either. I felt suddenly ashamed of myself. And it angered me that I was ashamed because who gives a fuck, and I had a good mind to tell him so.

“You know what, fuck you. I can do whatever the fuck I want. Don’t stand here all high and mighty. The world is upside down if you weren’t fucking noticed. The rules have changed, and you have to adapt. You want to shoot me because I broke in here looking for food, because I eat what I could, got drunk and fucked myself with your friend’s dildo on his bed. It isn't your place. You think your friend gave a fuck about what he left behind, because from what I can tell he took what he needed.” I spat, angry.

I just took a chance. The way I see it, if he meant to kill he would have done it already. And his attempt to make me feel guilty to do what whatever it is he wanted wasn’t going to work with me.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” the stranger said, chuckling. “You may be right. I don’t give a fuck about my tenant and his shit. You can fuck yourself with that dildo as many times as you want.” He grabbed the dildo and tossed it at me, and I caught it and  hurled it across the room. “But this is my building motherfucker. And you are trespassing.”

And having said that he came at me, so fast that I didn’t react before the end of the shotgun hit me on the head. It hit me so hard I saw the room spin and lost my balance. The pain was palpitating, and I felt the warm rush of blood to my head. Then he grabbed me by the throat and punch me until I passed out unconscious.


My eyes squint open, the palpitating headache I was feeling makes it hard for me to focus. I couldn’t move, I was restrained in a sitting position on a metal chair, my hands and legs tied-up to the limbs of the chair. And my body ached from the uncomfortable position.

The room was dim, only the moonlight from the window brought the room to life—the room was clean and organized, there was a full size bed against the far wall, dressed in winter bedding and extra blankets folded at the end, a fluff shaggy grey Alfombra partially covered the floor, and a night table with a lamp was placed next to the bed. Across, I see a tall dresser and mirror, and a rectangular storage chest. The wall is painted off-white, and there is an oil painting of a couple walking under an umbrella in a rainy park, the colours are bright and bold that they seem to shine under the moonlight. I stare at the painting for a moment, thinking how life now is so unfair that one can’t do something as simple as have a stroll through the park on a rainy day.

And my mind drifts—I’m jogging in Central Park. It’s a beautiful summer day, the great lawn is full of people enjoying the outdoors, bikers and people on Rollerblades and skateboards go pass me, and I’m running up to the east side of the JKO reservoir when another jogger matches my pace. I look at him and he looks at me. He is a white man, with dark hair and blue eyes, his face looks familiar to me, but he moves ahead before I can associate with him.

Twenty-minutes later I’m stretching when I noticed the same jogger run pass me. I set out behind him. I wanted to know if we met before. 

He runs out of the common jogging path and follows a dirt path into the dense foliage, straight into an area where nature is high, and the trees block the sun. I stop as I watch him go on, and I look around and realise I’m already deep inside this shadowy wooded area. When I look again, I don’t see him anymore.

I move forward and pick up my pace. I don’t really know where I’m going, but I need to get out of here. I hear whispering, then moaning, and as I find the source of the voices I see the jogger with his pants down to his knee and another man kneeled in front of him. It becomes clear to me, the closer I get, that the man on his knees has the joggers erect dick in his mouth.

The jogger looks at me and grins. And I realize who he is, he is the musician. I stumble back and feel someone behind me. When I turn around I see a Resurrected clawing at my hands, mouth open, ready to bite me, and I scream. The monster is strong and I don’t think I can get away, but I manage to get loose, and start to run. But they are everywhere now, and they are all coming at me. I can't get away from them. One of them grabs me, then another, and soon enough I am bitten by the mob, and I wake up screaming.

I’m back in the room with the painting, still tied-up to a chair, but it’s daytime, and the sunlight brightens the room. I hear footsteps and then the door opens, it’s the stranger, I recognised the dark clothes, and he is not alone. He walks in first, with shotgun in hand, and then the other person, and he is holding a tray with hot food—I can see the steam rising from the bowl.

“Jesus Clavin. How do you expect him to help us if you treat him like this,” the new stranger said, disappointed. “Get me some bandages, please.”

Clavin walks away stiffly.

He was of small frame, shorter than me, with long black hair fastened into a ponytail. He had thick eyebrows and an intricate face, with soft brown eyes. There was a softness about him and his mannerism that puts me at ease. He looked like he genuinely cares about my well being.

He kneels before me and pulled a knife from his back to cut through the tape wrapped around my limbs.

“I'm sorry for this mistake. Clavin, sometimes is too weary of strangers. He only acts to protect us...” He said, and cleared his throat uncomfortably. “We just lost a friend the other day, so it’s been stressful for all of us.”

“How many are you?” I asked. I wanted information, before Clavin comes back. I needed to assess my situation very carefully.

“A handful of us. Here, there and everywhere. We control the entire block.” He said, his eyes stare at me, they held no fear, and his smile and his face brighten up with joy. “There you are, now. Come to the bed and eat before it gets cold. I made you some vegetable soup from our garden.” He stands up and fastens the knife to his back.

I rubbed my wrists and shook out my arms. I was let loose, but not free. I knew I was still in danger. And this boy, so far, was my only chance at getting out of this alive.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Eat. I’m going to get some medicine to clean those wounds. Just stay in the room till I come back.” He said.

I nodded agreeably. He went out and closed the door behind him. I don’t hear it lock, I don’t think it has a lock feature.  This was not a cell, but just a room. I stand up with difficulty. I’ve been sitting too long and my legs ache, my back is knotted up, and my face feels swollen. My body is in pain, there isn’t an inch of me that doesn’t feel sore. I glance out the window and realized we are high up, maybe on the top floor. But I’m not sure if it's the same building I broke into—my window is facing the backyard.

I can see a few guys walking in the backyard outside, it’s a large garden, and they are harvesting vegetables from the ground and into baskets, and picking all types of edible greens from pots. I see a man pull a rabbit from a cage and break its neck, he holds the rabbit by the back legs and gathers a bunch of skin around the ankle, twisting the skin until it breaks. He pulls the skin down off the leg, and repeats the process on the other leg, this time pulling the skin from the hip down to its head. With a a shear he removes extremities. Then makes a cut along the rabbit’s belly through the rib cage and pelvis, and opens the sides of the belly and grasp the windpipe below the severed neck and pulls it out—I see other caged animals, pigeons and cats. I see clean clothes hanging on lines, I see trails that connect to the surrounding buildings. The entire yard appears to be closed in by buildings clustered together on the same block. I see armed man covered up in black gear, like Clavin’s, on rooftops, walking and patrolling the surrounding.

I step away from the window and seat on the bed. I'm awfully cold. The temperature is changing. I pick up the bowl of soap, it's still warm, and bring it to my mouth. It smells fresh and delicious. I see leeks, garlic, carrots, potatoes, green beans, tomatoes, corn, and pepper, and chopped parsley. It tastes a little bland but filling. I finished the entire soup.

What am I going to do now? These people clearly want something from me.  But they seem so well organized I can’t imagine how I can help them. However, I only see men and no females. I wonder if the women are kept someplace else?

The little guy comes back into the room. He is alone, and holding a basin, in it I see first aid supplies. 

“I see you finished your soup. There’s more if you still hungry?” He offered.

“No, I'm good, thanks.” I replied.

“Alright, come with me. I ran a bath for you. We need to get you out of those clothes and clean up those wounds, come.” He gestures with his hand for me to follow.

I get up, this time with less trouble than before. I follow the boy, he leads me out into the hallway, and I take the opportunity to look and take in as much as I can about my surroundings. I pretend to have some difficulty walking and  slow down, almost to the point of limping. The boy noticed, sets down the basin on the floor, and comes to my aid. He pulls my arm around his neck and wraps one hand around my waist. He smelled good, his hair smelled like lavender, and his body felt surprisingly strong and muscular under his loose garments.

“Take your time.” He said, kindly

It's a rather large apartment. Similar layout to the one I broke into but this one is bigger, and it’s clean and lived in. It feels and looks like a home. I can’t tell if there are other people in the apartment. I don’t see Clavin anywhere.

Finally, we enter the bathroom. Just like he said he had drawn me a bath—the tub is filled with clean water. He guides me to the toilet and I sat. He starts to pull off my boots and I let him. He sets them to the side and then pulls my socks off. He inspects my feet, but there really is nothing wrong with them.

“It’s my knee, it locks up on me sometimes.” I said, trying to explain my fake limp.

“No worries. Take your clothes off and I’ll help you get in the tub.” 

I start to take my clothes off. Honestly, I wanted to get in that tub and clean up. Not only was I dirty from weeks of not bathing, I stank of sex, and ass, and dead-guts. So I peel off all my clothes and sit there naked, waiting for him to help me into the tub

by Eros Bastien

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