To Hell by Default

What a bloody catch Ed thought, almost aloud. He fished out his latest prey from an ocean of bobbing heads, crashing over the bar. A brown-ish, wavy haired boy with big blue eyes.

The bearded, forty something year old man in midnight blue overalls glanced up & down between Liam O’Brien and a glossy, over lit headshot under his nose.

Ed was but a snarling coyote.

He chocked back a mouthful of bourbon as he squared up with what was soon to be a fully functional, flesh & blood Sex Toy. Then crumpled up the page, tossing it over his shoulder.

Lad, Liam or Slave #87 as Ed had already marked him, slurred up an absolute storm in an attempt to order what was probably his hundredth drink.

That poor excuse of a shirt was so badly misbuttoned. It was almost funny. Calvin’s were of course on display for all to see.

All in all? A total cliche.

He had just made peace with the fact that he was little more than a restless spirit, haunting a very blessed wait staff and began to dial up that inevitable three in the morning Uber trip home.

A Marlboro Red was tucked away tight between the most fullest, natural set of lips God can gift a person.

And that was indeed Sir Eddy’s cue. He dropped a considerable tip into his empty glass and made his move out from that dark & dank, underground basement type venue. Only an isolated congregation of battered old warehouses where his ‘taxi’ was parked awaited him.

There wasn’t much of anything else for miles.

It was a perfectly choreographed stakeout. Some might even say it was planned, he laughed to himself.

His target stumbled out of the club like clockwork. That ever so freckled face of his, all scrunched up.

Boy was too frustrated to organise himself a safe journey back home from the sticks so obviously, he started toward the only means of transport around. But not before dropping to the pavement, just by the car.

“Get in,” Ed looked down a nose that could cut through steel.

The man-child looked up, a bit startled. His face then became aglow from all corners.

Ed couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

Did he really just choose the back seat, as well? He thought. It truly was fish in a fuckin barrel.

Liam hadn’t noticed, nor did he even care that somebody else was ‘waiting in the wings’.

A self-destruct such as his was as fascinating to witness as it was poignant. And he continued on through his campaign of utter chaos; quite frankly getting sexier by asking Ed if he can do a ‘bump’.

Then he arranged a thick, Snow White bolt across his overly hairy forearm before receiving any kind of permission.

Of course Ed didn’t fucking mind. He wanted so badly for Slave #87 to be present, for what was to come.

The dopey fucker handed over to his driver an envelope with his free arm, sealed in tar, red hot wax.

“I think you might have dropped this,” Liam stammered. He had his occupied arm, suspended in the air as he spoke.

“Oh I did, did I?” Ed grunted. “Alrighty then, I’ll take this off of your free hands,” He continued, putting an emphasis on the word ‘free’.

A look of ambivalence muddied up Liam’s typical, boyish expression - If only for a moment.

Now that the package had been received, tucked away, secure inside one of Ed’s many, oversized overall pockets, the four to five person cab’s ignition lit up.

Mind you. It was more like a backward hick’s rxpe van, to anybody out there who was sober.

That oh so delicately prepared rail, beamed up into Liam’s left nostril just as swiftly as Ed’s hired muscle came into peripheral.

Tom, as we would soon come to know him by, swiped at Liam like a big old angry bear. He seized ahold of the young boy by the scruff of his neck and buried his head, deep down into the upholstery so that his arse was high in the sky.

Liam barely had any time to react. “What the fuck are you doing?” He blurted out.

Torrents upon torrents of alcohol-laden blood, saturated every square inch of O’Brien’s rattled and rightly so cranium. It was a complete blackout.

Ed spied at him through his wing mirror, he watched over as the relentless tides receded, retreating back into the rest of Liam’s floundering exterior.

Tom went on to cuff their catch’s wrists, behind his back.

He couldn’t help but notice that Liam had such brutish, clumsy working class hands as he struggled to free himself.

They were almost cartoonish in comparison to his compact body type.

There was a very faded tattoo on inside of his index finger, reading ‘Shh.’ And his finger nails had been bitten back toward the beds.

We were already driving out of town by the time that his protests came about coherent, Ed laughed to himself, there is just no possible way of going back now, not whatsoever, he reasoned.

Maybe it simply assumed that we’d take time out for tea, prior? Slave #87, the ultimate object of my desire was now without any rights, Ed continued.

He smacked his chapped lips together at the thought and further settled into the driver’s seat.

Ed gave himself a very necessary slap onto the cheek. A profound thunder bolt to the face, which rendered any godlike swagger human, once again.

If Ed thought of Liam as anything other than a real, nineteen year old boy with a beating heart, there was going to be trouble.

The great big oaf of a man proceeded to slide off Liam’s broken in converse sneakers. All amped up & bug-eyed.

He pressed a sloppy tongue up against his salt & peppered top lip. Then continued to peel away at those tacky, cannabis printed socks.

It was like he had been grown in a gay porn laboratory. Ed’s thoughts crackled. A total gay for pay, skater boy archetype, made manifest.

And fuck me wow, oh wow were those obnoxious, probably football players hobbit feet ripe, Ed reeled.

At least his toenails had been cut back with precision, he argued.

That very distinct odour stretched out into the front of the car, over that piss-poor cologne every first year university student seems to wear.

Liam merely blushed away into the crusty old mustard fabric.

A cockier than ever Eddy smirked away into his rear view mirror.

What is it about robbing a straight boy of his socks & shoes that makes ‘em so damn vulnerable? Ed asked himself. Then he began to rub at his own groin, almost creating fire.

Chaos continued, out back. Tom more or less descended upon the youth. He clamped down those godly fingers, each a small dildo in their own right, over Liam’s nose.

Then boy was overtaken by that compulsion to gasp out for air. So Tom whipped out what looked like a big, phallic can of shaving cream, squirting it generously into the lad’s mouth.

“If you can try your best not to swallow it, little man,” He gave Liam a fair enough warning. “It ain’t exactly FDA approved,” He joked, maintaining a bison’s grip over the lad’s murmuring face hole.

The taste was almost too much to bear. What was funny was it caused him to keep it exactly where it belonged.

Liam whipped himself into a frenzy. And almost shattered each of the car’s windows with his piglike squeals.

He had just about clocked onto what was happening to him. That bittersweet trepidation. It was simply a thing of beauty, Ed thought.

Those big blue eyes ricocheted around the car.

Sweat had began to muster in every which way sweat can do. Back. Sack. And Crack.

His body went onto convulse, seizure, actually.. just as soon as the foam had began to coagulate.

He adjusted his stupid boy mouth around the silicone type mass.

There wasn’t enough money in the world that could get his new friends to look away.

Every single boy’s big mistake, without fail, was when they let it roll back into that special nook. That place where it’s at its most effective, Ed reminisced, sucking on his own teeth.

It cast a perfect mould of Liam’s innards.

“Now wiggle your tongue around a bit, find a good resting spot and bite down like it’s a cheese burger,” Tom demanded.

Liam shook his head back & forth and his incessant moaning & groaning quaked each wall of the car.

He had somehow flipped himself over, without his arms to grant him any composure, now squirming up against Tom’s hearty torso.

Those big beautiful lips were now the frame of an immaculate, very much tailored ball gag. Air and probably almost watertight. So much so that his nostrils began to flare out for any oxygen.

Too fuckin hot, Ed’s mind raced, I can barely stand it.

He grabbed at his trousers once again.

A boy next door type of face, completely distorted by a big, juicy red ball. It’s a horny, repressed psycho’s wet dream. And the way that they can only communicate with their eyes? Mm-mmm, Ed’s thoughts rallied.

Liam O’Brien communicated only anger, confusion and fear in that moment. It positively enveloped his expression.

His handler proceeded to thread a lengthy, rubber hose through at the centre of the sphere, just before it hardened. It was just another job for this one.

“Only purees & soups lie ahead, little man. You can forget that four a.m kebab,” Tom then grabbed & smooshed the lad’s cheeks together. “And make no mistake about it - You’ll never speak a fuckin word of English, again,” The maniac cackled.

Liam simply wept. Weeps that would continue to punctuate a dead silence for the duration of their voyage.

They let boy adjust to his new surroundings. The absolute nutter known as Tom gave him a well deserved break. What a Saint.

He dusted off those great, callused hands together and made one of them sighs we all make after chugging an ice, cold beverage on a hot, Summer’s day.

Liam tested out these overzealous bonds. And shuffled his feet around, rubbing them against a coarse & crumb coated matt beneath, in an attempt to combat the anxiety.

Ed continued to watch as his new plaything, fought tooth & nail with that fight or flight phenomenon.

His gaze had treat itself to a lap around Liam’s silhouette. But had gotten lost between those curled up, fidgety toes of his.

Ed loved how that his near to black, carpet of leg hair gathered, drawing a definitive line at Liam’s ankles.

Just one hundred and forty to fifty pounds of pure testosterone.

The man suddenly had to focus on breathing, nevermind his driving - Simply awash in an sea of his own blood, which coalesced at the tip of his cock.

They’d almost certainly run themselves off of the road at this rate.

Ed wiped off a sheet of sweat from his forehead and forced himself to look back onto the winding tarmac ahead.

Liam O’Brien was in a perpetual state of hovering. Buzzing around like a bumble bee. It was clear that he was just trying to ground himself.

He gave Tom some very over the top side eyes in attempt to plead, whilst Tom Googled fairly questionable recipes for Apple Pie.

Boy began to lift up the corners of the soiled old Matt with his feet. Anything that could transport him away from this experience, far away. Alas, nothing. Not even a moments worth of tactile distraction granted.

They’d already pulled into Ed’s grandiose carport & driveway.

Liam was yanked out of the vehicle, strewn onto the concrete by his hair before his writhing frame was grappled & directed into the dwelling.

A great, big country house. In middle of nowhere, obviously.

He was chocked into a black, cushioned leather collar upon entry.

His floral patterned shirt was torn away. Followed by his silly cargo shorts.

Ed managed to watch his partner at work with one eye whilst tracing over his Slave’s fairly furry abdomen, pectorals and pits with the other.

Tom then knelt before the gargling, five foot eight mound of tissue and jittering bone. Almost out of character. And proceeded to fix matching cuffs onto his ankles.

Tom’s shit-eating grin was ridiculous.

There was enough leverage of shackle in between them for Slave #87 to hobble around, for now.

He then snatched out a truly malevolent chastity device from within his pocket, proceeding to fasten it onto Liam O’Brien’s very flaccid, uncut cock.

Liam shrieked his first but far from final shriek into the ball gag. It was quite obvious that he had no idea what was going on, anymore.

His body continued to kick & spasm as a sadistically barbed, inch or two wide needle slid deep down into his urethra, right toward the hilt of his shaft.

The poor little man’s eyes rolled back into his head as the cinch clicked into place.

His big & beefy new friend flicked at the contraption. A childlike curiosity.

He stood up so that he may intercept Liam’s line of sight.

“That is no longer your distinctly, average cock anymore, Liam,” Thomas hissed. “It is officially your sissy boy clit,” Both captors mocked at him.

He whimpered as his cock became subject to cold, hard steel. It pinched at him something awful.

They formed a triangle, stepping back in order gawk at their pet project a little while longer.

“Well, I’ll just go ahead and say it. He’s quite literally perfection,” Ed held out his arms in awe, almost bowing before the sodden hunk of meat.

“I’m not so certain, Mr Loomis,” Tom folded up his arms, pedantic. Then rested his sand papery chin within the hand closest.

“Are you sure you need, nor want another pretty boy? A hairy little fuck for sure but a bit too groomed for my liking - he’s even got himself a farmers tan!”

Ed partitioned himself between Slave #87 and his employee. “I said, he’s quite literally perfect.” And he craned his neck so that he may put emphasis over his statement toward Tom, before turning back to Liam.

Hunter & Prey’s eyes met with the clap of a wave at Dawn. It was like they were suspended in eternity, together.

Dr Jekyll & Mr Hyde proceeded to march their catch toward a cupboard under the stairs, which was actually a boarded up entryway to a spaciously sized cellar.

Slave #87 bucked & shoved at the bottom of the hall.

Liam had seen quite enough. And frankly smelt quite enough.

A pungent stench of God knows what draped over them all, illicit chemicals on fire? Or pharmaceuticals blended with day old horse manure?

Wall to wall prison cells lined either side of the sewer type looking room. And only a single space, enough space to fit a single bed, made up of a chain linked cot was vacant.

It was too dark to capture even the slightest glimpse of any fellow brethren, however hard Liam tried. But it mattered very little. His thoughts were simply out of his control.

Ed coulda swore that he heard Liam try to say, muffled, of course: “I’ve changed my fucking mind!”

He wasted no time crying out in terror.

Liam threw him self at the walls. He even threw himself at the two of them. And they just continued to poke fun.

The journey continued on toward a work bench at the centre of the room. They loomed over poor Liam by the table.

Liam began to bawl his eyes outs. But it was like Christmas Day, for them.

His mouth piece was then swiftly removed, albeit with some struggle, replaced by a great metal ring.

If Liam’s broken body had came with subtitles, it’d be begging them for mercy. But Tom couldn’t care less. He fastened the device, securely, not taking his eyes off of the animal before him, wagging its tongue around.

The thing had rendered O’Brien’s mouth a gaping, slobbering cunt.

“Now I’d like you to say ‘please give me some cock daddy, I’m very, very hungry’’,” Tom liked to bully.

Their noses were almost brushing against one another.

He was absolutely fixated on the boy. And yes, Ed had indeed noticed this - How could he not?

“And I’m not concerned by the way in which you say it, I see those barely functional cogs, turning. Just know that when you’re asked a question, you fuckin answer.”

The defeated slave dropped onto its knees. He looked up at that vile excuse of a man, pleading with whatever semblance of humanity was left in Tom through those big blue eyes. Then Liam held up his hands, so to speak.

Even Ed was willing to pull the plug at that moment. It had all gotten a bit too real. But in the end, they both surrendered. And he struggled through the script as requested, to which Tom nodded.

A pat on the head turned into a ruffling of those dusty surfer waves.

There was the strangest of moments where Liam perceived some sort of affection from him.

Then Tom withdrew an eight inch, cut to precision titan from within his own navy overalls and force fed the boy as promised.

“Be very nice to it, little man. It can just as easy find some place else, some place tighter,” He chuckled.

The lad continued to weep away into Tom’s rock hard appendage.

He guzzled away at it like a shipwrecked survivor with the last of their rations. 

Ed sauntered about in the foreground. Not too concerned with what was going on, really. He briefly checked on his other cattle in a nonchalant series of paces.

A concentrated beam, cast out from his miniature flashlight pinged off a string of other big, red ball gags wrapped in pasty, soiled flesh.

There were several shuffles, sniffling and one of them might have even tried a ‘fuck you’.

But then Ed came to an abrupt halt. Not because of those pathetic, inaudible hollers from Slave #52, though. Nope.

The newest of his captives adrenaline was so bloody contagious. Liam’s mortifying laments between each so very guttural suckles, Ed enjoyed it very much, this was fantastic, his thoughts surged.

Ed had returned his attention onto Slave #87 with a profound vengeance. He bared his bleached, pearly white teeth. Deep, brown eyes so seasoned, yet sunken locking onto Liam.

It was so obvious that Boss remained to this day, an undeniable lady killer.

After he & Tom’s latest charge ate a steaming hot load, Liam’s ever so comic mouth piece was plugged back into place before he could speak.

Nodules of what looked like weeks, months even old seed, seeped out from that slither of a gap.

They lead Liam into the back room. Vents made up every square inch of a four by four area. Drains did so on the floor.

He scrunched up his face at those truly, rotten sights & smells. The area was lit up by a deep, dark red LED kind of light.

His Masters were quick to equip themselves with some sort of gas mask apparatus, right out of My Bloody Valentine.

It was quite a shock for poor Liam. There was no where to run but that didn’t stop the boy from wriggling out from under Tom’s grip.

It was all just too much. Although they barely reacted at all.

Ed couldn’t help but think, taking a bite at his bottom lip, Slave #87 is damn right convincing.

Then Liam proceeded to collapse into a nearby corner.

That fuzzy, light headed feeling you get after skipping breakfast consumed him out from nowhere.

His big, blue and now overly glazed over eyes flitted back & forth.

A familiar smell had enveloped the room, providing only a minor distraction.

He tried to get back onto his feet, only to stumble forward.

Ed then made a move toward him.

He latched onto Liam’s collar, dragging him into the centre of the area. His head was then forced back down against the rusty, metal panels, arse up into the sky, just as it was in the car.

The masked men knelt before his behind like an alter. They were hungry wolves, staring into his pink virgin hole.

Liam‘s humiliation had grown to be unbearable.

It fascinated them how what was before, an almost certain exit began to swirl open, like a vortex.

Tom Ooh’d & Aah’d a little louder than Ed - in vein attempts to upset the captive further.

That familiar smell was some sort of industrial strength, amyl nitrate cocktail, condensed into a vapour.

Liam garbled away into his mouth piece, utterly confused, equally as powerless to resist his sphincter muscles parting like the Red Sea.

Ed’s assistant leant over to one side of the room.

He helped himself to a metal pipe, three to four inches wide by nine inches in depth, fixed onto a hosepipe by a randomly placed faucet and turned the wheel onto full.

Running water clapped, slapped and splashed against the cobbled floors, echoing throughout the room. Liam’s eyes almost rolled out of their sockets.

The mad men drew themselves ever closer. And all Liam could do was mumble, whine and wriggle around.

“We are going to craft that hairy little man hole of yours into a big, slobbering, boy pussy,” Ed emphasised every single syllable.

Liam struggled so much so that his wrist may have dislocated within the leather cuffs. There was a god awful popping noise and he screamed, louder than ever through the gag.

“And just think about it for a second little man, you have a brand, spanking new nub to match,” Tom sniggered. “Man, I cannot wait to teach him how to cum with that thing, hands free with just the tip of my cock”.

It was clear that Ed wasn’t impressed with his companions vulgarity. “If anybody is teaching him anything, it’ll be me,” He said under his breath before proceeding onto the next phase of Liam’s transition.

The metal pipe slid into Liam like room temperature butter. “What the fuck,” You could hear him attempt to relay.

What can only be considered as a biblical flood of water began to climb up the walls of his colon.

It then began to pool quite quickly. It was as though he’d been without access to a toilet for three whole fuckin days.

He wiggled his backside around, almost in anticipation. A futile attempt to shrug off the situation.

His innards had ultimately been hosed down, though and the only way through this was well, through.

Then came the first of many eliminations. Those icy streams failed to run clear in what seemed like forever.

Ed’s resolve was forever strong, however. I mean it was his first ever treatment, Ed reasoned, rubbing at the patch of beard, poking out of his gas mask.

And it’s certainly not my first rodeo, he continued.

Although Tom was far less of a prince about it. “You dirty, little whore,” He cackled.

Liam could only blush a hole into the rank stone flooring. “Fuck you,” He went on to say but trailed off, defeated.

His eyes were bloodshot & swollen, like a maniac.

Tom proceeded to excuse himself for what he considered to be a well deserved spliff. He wasn’t nearly as engrossed in the project as Big Boss Master Eddy was.

Ed wasn’t done whatsoever - Not by a long fucking shot.

The giant shrugged off his gas mask and let himself out of another boarded up door frame, into a corridor which fed into another four by four space - An office.

The entirety of the below ground structure made some kind of vague ‘7’ type of shape.

The atmosphere was quite quick to shift, almost immediately after Tom let himself out. It was not for certain as to why, though. Liam was still, very much under the thrall of a far more sinister character in Ed, after all.

At least Tom had been an upfront monster about it.

Liam might have been down & out but he gave what looked like an expression of warmth, through a wall of tears up at Ed for just a second.

“It’s clear to me now that the house sedative has had its wicked way with you, Slave #87,” Ed explained.

Liam’s bat like & bejewelled, big ears had all of a sudden stood to attention.

“No. You aren’t breathing it in, Liam, those are just fancy pants poppers,” He shook his head. “It’s seeping out from that mouth piece we gave you. A very unique type of material.”

Ed loomed over O’Brien, once again, brushing a crimpy, sodden lock of hair off of his dripping, wet profile.

“The outer layer has been designed to gradually dissolve over the course of three months. You’ll have no choice but to ingest the solution.”

Ed got up and began to pace again, briefly. He was almost prowling around the boy, actually.

“It won’t just give you about a centimetre of extra space, it will also keep you kind of compliant and mellow.”

“When you return to yourself, you won’t know any different,” Ed dropped down at him and gave Liam’s arse a big slap.

Liam’s ever waning protests were now dwarfed by a various cacophony of chugging machinery in the background.

Ed proceeded onto yet another phase.

A similar type of shaving foam from another, fairly larger can / pipe hybrid was introduced into Liam’s sparkling, clean rectum.

It too began to coagulate & set. He felt his bowels accommodate & stretch around the foreign object. Again, air & probably watertight. 

He could only scream.

The second mould of Liam’s insides was complete torture.

Then a deafening sigh burnt out the room. This is how it has to be, Ed imagined his new pet thinking, the price that I have pay for absolution.

Liam felt his prostate thrash around, against its bold, definitive surface.

Ed punctured the mass with another rubber hose, then proceeded to weave a lengthy rope into its opening.

“Not to worry. It’ll be in & out with ease” He reiterated with a firm tug.

Liam’s laments had now snowballed into hysterics.

“That very same sedative will also administer itself, throughout your digestive tract. You’re in for one Hell of a trip, Liam O’Brien, I am telling you now.“

Then Ed had another moments pause, possibly regret. He looked down at what was now a simmering puddle of angst, that which was once a sexy young man, pissing daddy’s pay cheque up the wall between classes… with what looked like judgement. Or maybe it was pity?

Only seconds ago was it Liam scowling at them through gritted teeth. The roles were indeed, quite in reverse now.

And Ed had another bewildering pang of remorse for this creature, spangled out before him.

What kind of tormented soul, actively donates their body to another, delivers themselves even, in hopes of escaping society forever? Can life truly be that wretched? Ed wandered, mouth agape.

He rubbed a furrow, furrow brow, reached into his jacket for that envelope and proceeded to tear it open.

A plethora of bills & notes flew out alongside a signed contract. 

What were once Eddy’s maniacal, pinhead pupils then engulfed the whites of his eyes, just for a moment as they focused.

An undeniable, iron clad document, indefinitely scrolled with Liam O’Brien’s blood rested under his dimpled chin.

Ed continued to ponder. Although that career, house and wife orientated lifestyle we are forced into was indeed a shit show, he wasn’t too sure if he could be on the receiving end of this experience, simply to evade it.

And there were those yucky pangs of guilt again.

On the other side of the building, Tom was slouched back into his seat, toking away on a rather meticulously, arranged blunt.

His eleven or twelve sized, steel-capped construction boots were resting on top of the desk.

His eyes were fixated onto an old fashioned computer monitor - An absolute scrolling, back & forth thread of emails to be exact.

Tom went on to paint his crusty top lip with a very off colour, yellow tongue.

He couldn’t help but chuckle. 

That glossy, over-lit headshot of Slave #87 had been sent as an attachment.

The juggernaut of a man shuffled around in his seat so that he may read what was written a bit better.

It seemed like the receiptment and he knew one another. Then he began to squint. He blew smoke between nearly every word of the letter in front of him. And sounded out the words with a finger up his nose, digging for treasure

‘Dearest Edward,

Thank you kindly for considering my application as one of your forever Sex Slaves. And the news that it turned out to be a successful one at that, fills me with such hope & joy.

My last few hours as a human being are going to be spent with my closest of friends at *redacted*

The ETA is on Tuesday, April 30th, 2024 at 7pm.

My leave, around 3am of Wednesday, May 1st.

It is during this window period that you may swoop in and collect me.

That forgive me for saying, positively ostentatious documentation in which you require has been prepared as to how you described.

And will most certainly be on me when we finally meet up. Sealed up nice & tight. Just like you asked.

I simply cannot wait to meet you, Edward.

No matter what I go on to say, no matter what I may or may not do, I really, fucking need this.

My life is an overplayed joke, it is a tragedy. And I need you.

Just do not falter when I inevitably put up a fight & resist you as I am simply putting on a show - Should anyone outside our arrangement, see us in action.

(Soon to be) All yours,

Liam O’Brien”

Tom was now making love to the screen. He wore a smirk best described as a cartoon cobra. And he flipped his burner phone open, accessing speed dial.

It went right onto voicemail.

Tom puffed again on his bizarre, emoticon like cone.

“Baby Bro. How’s it going? The deed is officially done. Liam is without any opportunity to bully you, or anybody else again for that matter. Even Eddy bought into it. And the fucking idiot, by the grace of God picked up your letter before he got into the cab.”