Another BobWrongerer Story

Bob forwarded to the cops all of the home videos from the cameras he had installed in his home. It was admissible due to the fact it was Bob's home. It did clear Sam of the rape charges, but clearly showed Sam entering Bob and Sally's house uninvited. It showed Sam charging at Bob. It didn't show Bob kicking Sam in the nuts or him tumbling down the overly long stairs.

With the rape charges dropped, Sam was released. Sam knew that with his name and face plastered all over the tv, he'd best be moving on.

Sam headed straight to his bank, closing all his accounts and getting a very good-sized cashier's check. Sam also emptied out his safety deposit box, too.

As Sam, in a neck brace walked--with a limp, and obviously in pain--across the bank's parking lot, he didn't see Bob in back of the U Haul truck parked next to Sam's car. He didn't see the 2x4 that Bob swung with all his fury. Nope, one moment Sam is fumbling for his car key, thinking about his escape, and the next...nothing.

Bob loaded the dead weight that was Sam into the back of the U-Haul truck, and pulled down the door. Bob left the shattered 2x4 on the ground in the parking lot.

Bob drove to a very low-priced self-storage unit. He headed to the back side. There he used a bolt cutter to "liberate" a storage unit. Bob spent about 10 minutes clearing a space in the accumulated junk someone was paying good money to store. Once that was done, Bob hauled Sam out of the rental truck and dumped Sam between the box of kiddie toys and some worn-out furniture. He then took off all of Sam's clothes, zip-tied Sam's arms and legs together and jammed a ball gag into his mouth. He then pulled down the door to the unit, pulling the chain on the single bulb that dangled from the ceiling, to illuminate the storage unit.

Bob confiscated the proceeds from Sam's bank visit. The cashier's check was for just over $200,000. The safety deposit box had five bearer bonds, each in the amount of $100,000. There were also some nice pieces of jewelry, loose diamonds, and a thumb drive.

Bob shifted a box labeled Christmas decoration, and used it as a chair waiting for Sam to come back to life.

As Sam regained consciousness, he found himself nude, gagged and zip-tied, with Bob not so lovingly looking down at him.

"Now, Sam...Sam, up here. Come on, Sam, let me see your baby blues."

Bob smiled an evil smile down on Sam. He watched as Sam's eyes begin to look around at the inside of the storage unit.

Sam looked up at Bob. Sam's eyes grew large. Sam realizing his situation, freaked.

"Sam. Good to see you back in the land of the living."

Sam started to curse Bob, but as he had a ball gag shoved in his mouth Bob only heard, "Mmm uckkk! Ooouu kkaa bberpp."

Sam finally gave up. Bob saw he had Sam's attention.

"Sam, Sam, Sam. Whatever are we going to do about you? Look, I'm not normally an asshole, but well, these just aren't normal times, wouldn't you say?"

With that Bob started in on Sam, using a, old tire iron that Bob had found in the storage locker.

If Bob was honest that afternoon, he would have admitted he did enjoy hearing Sam's knee crunch in a most permanent way; then Bob found great satisfaction in fracturing, in several places, Sam's collar bones.

At that point Sam was whimpering, and Bob was wearing a malevolent smile. It's true, Bob saw dealing with Sam as just another distasteful job that needed to be done; but hey, if you enjoy your work, a job well done is a reward in itself.

Sam, still aware through the pain, focused on Bob's face, as Bob took a break.

"So, Sam, how is the pain level? You know The Buddha observed that pain is a great teacher. Have you been paying attention to what pain is teaching you?"

After Bob caught his breath, he took out Sam's other knee.

"Now Sam, or Paul or Merv or Franky, whoever you are... I'll just call you Shit for Brains. Shit for Brains, if you make it out of this alive, you'd best just be gone. If you ever even bump into Sally, you die. You talk to Sally, you die. We clear?"

Sam started slipping into the darkness and peace of unconsciousness.

Bob leaned over Sam and said, "Oh no you don't get to run away, Sammy boy. School ain't over. This next part is for fucking with me." That's when Bob stabbed Sam with a needle, giving him a shot of adrenaline.

Bob looked down as the adrenaline dragged Sam back to wakefulness and the living hell Bob had inflicted so far on Sam.

Bob smiled, looking down into Sam's eyes and said, "No, no, no. You are going to be awake for all of it."

The beating took over an hour. Sam was awake and screaming the entire time. It was methodical, controlled, each blow aimed and delivered with intent to create long-term pain. That tire iron really got a workout. As Bob reached his crescendo, Sam was looking a lot more like hamburger than human. At the end, Bob gave Sam another shot of adrenaline, just to keep him awake enough to suffer. Bob walked out of the storage unit, leaving it open, hopped in the U-Haul truck and departed.

He drove the truck back to the U-Haul dealership where he had stolen it earlier. He parked the truck way in the back. He hoped that no one had missed it. He had been careful all day to avoid cameras. (That's why he'd selected that particular U-Haul establishment, and that storage facility--no working cameras and lazy staff.)

He walked a couple of blocks to his getaway car. He had parked off the road, behind some trees, on his way he stripping off the latex gloves and dropping them in a random residential garbage can that was left out for the next morning's pickup. He had parked behind some trees. When he got to his car, he popped the trunk. Quickly he stripped, shoving all his clothes, underwear and shoes into a black plastic garbage bag. Then he used some wipes to clean his face and hair, adding them to the plastic bag. Bob reached into the trunk and pulled out a set of overalls and flip flops. Quickly he dressed, closed the trunk, got in the car and drove away.

He pulled the car off on to a side street about three miles from his house, hoofing it toward home with the garbage bag. On the way home was Bob's neighborhood bar. He dropped the trash bag in the trash out back and headed in for a drink and dinner.

Bob was a regular, but tonight he didn't look like he wanted any company. Folks left Bob alone, but he wasn't allowed to pay for any of his drinks that night. Channel 5 News was on the TV and they were adding an update about Sam's release from jail.

Bob walked home. The media circus that was his front lawn sent him down the back alley and in his back gate. No muss, no fuss. Best of all, no pictures.

When he got home that evening, he gave Sally another handful of pills, and down she went for another 12 hours.

Bob, finally crashed.

Bob slept the sleep of the innocent. Bob had just taken out the trash. So, Bob slept comfy in his marital bed with his drugged-out wife beside him.

---------

The next morning Bob was up at the crack of 8 a.m. He was well-rested. Sally would be out for a few more hours. Bob started the morning taking a good, long, hot shower. Then down to the kitchen where he brewed some Kona Coffee, and rustled himself up some Eggs Benedict. Considering everything, Bob was doing okay.

Eventually, Sally staggered down to the kitchen. In all candor, she looked like shit. Her body and mind had been through the wringer; the sexual tension that morphed into illicit sex, which shifted to utter confusion, which became instant terror (think pissed-off husband waving a shotgun) to gratitude for being alive, to total destruction of her life as she knew it, to police and hospitals...plus, just for spice, a drug-induced coma, oh my.

Now Sally was awake, and her living nightmare was about to get worse, much much worse.

Bob poured Sally a cup of Folger's Instant Coffee. (With flavor crystals!)

Sally, sipped the coffee as she looked, distractedly, out her kitchen window. The street outside their house was a zoo. Several TV trucks were lined up and down the street. A crowd was gathered across the street from Bob and Sally's house. When they saw Sally standing in her kitchen window looking at them, they started pointing at her!

"Bbbooob, why whooo are those people pointing at me?" asked Sally.

"They really started to show up after Sam was on the 11 o'clock news," said Bob, sipping his Kona coffee. Yummy! Bob savored the coffee's smooth flavor and intoxicating aroma.

"Sam was on the TV?" asked Sally, as she watched the people watch her.

"Oh, yeah." Bob started to chuckle. "Hey, Sally you want to see Sam's TV news story?"

Bob pulled out his phone, hit play and handed the phone to her.

Bob took another luscious sip of his deep-roasted Kona coffee.

Sally screamed, dropping her coffee cup and ran back up to the bedroom, clutching Bob's phone yelling, "No, no! No no no NNNNNNOOOOOOooooooooooooo!" It only ended when Bob heard the bedroom door slam.

Bob found Sally scrolling through the phone, eyes streaming tears. Over and over there was Sam's handcuffed duck walk, a blanket over his back, leaving his head and his ass (and his butt crack) clearly showing. Someone had done a mashup, making it look like Sam was "dancing". Of course, lots of folks had color commentary. Some of it was pretty mean, but a lot was pretty funny.

"Oh Bob, this is just so humiliating" she sobbed.

Bob just smiled at her, "True that," he said.

It turns out that Sally and Sam worked for the same company (imagine that!). Sam had bragged that his position in the company was at some very high engineering-type, staff-level position. All very technical, so Sam never really went into it. It turns out, that wasn't quite true.

Sally was overwhelmed by the scandal, so it shouldn't be too surprising that Sally didn't think through what Sam being an employee at her place of employment could mean. Apparently, Sam's father-in-law (who owned the company) didn't hold Sam in very high regard. So, his real job was actually listed on the payroll as a janitor for the company at another site. That meant Sally was his superior.

About that time the doorbell rang, and Bob went down to answer the door. "My, my, it's turning into a busy day!" thought Bob as he opened the door.

There were two suits at the door. One was dressed in a custom-made three-piece suit. The other, a woman was dressed in a Hillary Clinton inspired pantsuit. (It didn't help her any more than it did Clinton.)

"Hello, we represent Hanson Electric, your wife's employer. May we speak to her?"

Bob let them in and called out to Sally, "Hey, unfaithful wife, you have visitors!"

After waiting about five minutes, Bob went to get Sally.

"Oh, wife, your work sent some folks over, and they want to talk."

Sally was in no mood to talk to them. It had been a hard morning for her already. "Bob, please just tell them to go away. I just can't take anything more!" she sobbed.

"Well, Sally, you made this happen; this is all you. So go and deal with your mess!" screamed Bob.

Sally pulled her robe together and headed down to meet their guests.

The woman spoke first. "Hello, Sally, we hereby notify you that your situation with Mr. Rager is in violation of company's policy against fraternizations with other employees--which is strictly forbidden. For this reason, you have been terminated," the woman said. She handed a stack of papers into Sally's shaking hands, followed by the box of personal items that were in, on and around her cubicle.

Then the man in the three-piece custom-made suit said, "Further, as you are the senior employee, we are filing suit against you for creating a hostile work environment. This has led to tarnishing the good name and reputation of Hanson Electric, and for exposing the company to liabilities should Mr. Rager choose to file suit against us." The man stuffed even more papers into Sally's hand.

"You have been served," said the man. They got up, and Bob showed them to the front door.

Bob returned to the living room, where Sally was still clutching the stack of very-important-looking legal documents. She was quietly sobbing.

"Well that was fun," Bob said, as he headed to the kitchen for a refill of his excellent Kona Coffee. "Ahhhhhhh, so good" he said, sipping the lovely black brew.

Bob took his coffee out to the back porch. It was a nice day; you could see for miles. Yep, Bob always liked this view.

As Bob relaxed, drinking in the view and sipping his coffee, his peace was again interrupted by the door bell ringing. "Such a busy day," Bob sighed, as he headed to the front door. Upon opening the door, he was greeted by two casually dressed men.

"We are Detectives Sander and Plainer. We would like to speak to you and your wife."

They were a bit put off by Bob's reaction when he said, "Of course, and the hits just keep on coming." He turned and walked back to the living room.

Sander looked at Plainer, shrugged, and followed Bob into the living room. Plainer followed behind.

Bob, in a cheerful voice, introduced the cops, "Honey, look who dropped by! Yep, who woulda guessed? The cops! Gentlemen, my slut, er, wife." Bob gestured to Sally who really started to look very bedraggled.

"We need to ask you some questions."

Plainer took Sally into the kitchen and Sander spoke with Bob in the living room. Sanders started to ask Bob about his day yesterday. Before Bob could answer there was a blood-curdling scream from the kitchen. Bob and Sanders rushed to the kitchen.

Sally was slumped in a chair. "Sally, what happened?" asked Bob.

"Sam...Saaaammmm..."

Bob looked from one cop to the other. "Say, what's up, guys?" asked Bob.

Sally broke into even louder sobbing. "Sam was beat up; he's in the hospital. My God, when will this nightmare end!" Sally was reduced to wracking sobs.

Both Plainer and Sander were upset. Their interrogation of Bob had just gone off the rails.

Sometimes, not having a rock-solid alibi is more believable than almost any alibi. No, Bob couldn't prove he was home. But, look at the "work" he had done. Bank accounts being changed, for example. Just the kind of thing a fellow in Bob's shoes could reasonably be expected to do. Of course Bob would go in and out his back gate. Had they seen the media camped out front? Drinks at "his bar". Are you kidding? Wouldn't anyone want to slam more than a few adult beverages after a day like Bob's? Of course an innocent Bob would do exactly that. Wouldn't you?

Now for his time at the bar, that he actually had witnesses to back his story up. In fact, that, Bob pointed out, was when he actually learned (from Channel 5) that Sam was back on the streets. Other patrons at the bar later said that's when Bob got serious about drinking. Clearly, Sam on the street bothered Bob.

At the end, they couldn't prove he hadn't beat the ever-living daylights out of Sam. Yeah, Bob had motive, but he could have nailed Sam with shotgun. So, Sander and Plainer figured it wasn't Bob. While he stayed on the "suspect list", with Sam's background emerging, there were others who looked more promising.

After the cops left, Bob went back to the kitchen.

"Sally, if this just doesn't take the cake. On top of everything else, the cops suspect your husband of opening a can of whip ass on your lover. My good woman, look at what you have done! What did I ever do to deserve to being under suspicion of a heinous crime by the cops? What?! What exactly did I do to deserve this crap?!"

Bob, shaking his head, continued. "I just gotta get outta here. FUCK!!" Bob exploded. As he was walking away, he said over his shoulders, "I changed the locks, your key doesn't work, and I changed the alarm code. I'd suggest you don't leave, but know that if you do walk out that door, you'd best just keep on walking."

He slammed the door on his way out.

Sally didn't think she had any more tears in her; she was wrong. As she lay her head on the kitchen table, she sobbed another river of tears.

************

Sam, was first discovered by a family that arrived at their nearby storage joint. In fact, their unit was right next to the one where Bob had damaged (i.e. beat the ever-living-shit out of) Sam. It was his moaning that first caught little Jose's attention. Of course, as they didn't live in a sanctuary state, so the family, though living in the USA for decades, paying taxes and avoiding any official interactions, were not legal. Thus, the family who normally would have called the cops, didn't. To report the man they had found, would have resulted in the local cops tipping off ICE officers. They closed up their unit and hightailed it out, hoping no one saw them.

Sam was then discovered by some meth heads who had saw the open storage unit as a god send. At first, they thought about just moving into the storage unit. But upon finding Sam, they decided they could find better accommodations. They didn't call the cops either. They were super excited by the electrical wire they had torn out of the storage unit. They took the wire and some other metals to sell for scrap. (They were pretty happy. Why, they might get a whole $20 to finance their purchase of more meth!)

Eventually, it was a single woman who stumbled across Sam and called the cops. Oh, and Sam was awake through the whole sordid affair. When the cops arrived, they found Sam somewhat delirious and randomly babbling about "fucking cuck". They couldn't understand much else he was saying. He had been screaming for so long he had basically lost his voice. They hit him with pain killers and sedatives and, for the first time in hours, Sam was quiet.

Sam was transported to the hospital. He truly was a mess. The medical establishment had to work for hour after hour on Sam. They added bolts and screws and plates all up and down his body. One nurse observed Sam would never make it through a TSA screening; it was going to be all TSA groping pat-downs for Sam from now on. Oddly, Sam had no injuries to his head or genitalia, but damned near everything else was broken. After the surgery, they encased Sam in a full body cast. Well, except for his head and overly large cock.

The cops had stationed a man to stand guard duty outside Sam's room. Unfortunately for Sam, he was a cop who could be paid to look the other way for a very reasonable fee. The cop headed to the pisser. He was only gone for a couple of minutes, and it was, perhaps, also only a weird coincidence that the boys from out west arrived just after the cop took off to relieve himself. It was, strangely, also at the exact time Sander and Plainer were chatting with Bob and listening to Sally's moans and sobs and tears, providing Bob with an ironclad alibi for that time.

Later, the charge nurse making rounds entered Sam's room. The entire floor of the hospital heard her screams.

Sam's tongue had been cut out, and then placed over his heart, and a large Bowie knife was driven through the tongue hilt-deep into Franky the Tweet's chest. Truly, a pretty gruesome way to be discovered dead. He was also missing his overly large cock and balls. Someone took a trophy, the cops would later surmise.

The upside for Bob was that Sam's beating was suddenly almost forgotten as the cops swung into action looking for Sam's murderer. They clearly knew it wasn't Bob, and were assuming the murder was committed by the same folks who had beat Sam nearly to death. The cops figured the bad guys were worried about Sam talking.

********

When Bob got home a few hours later he found his unfaithful wife still sitting in their kitchen; she hadn't moved. She had spent all that time just feeling sorry for herself.

"So, Sally, how is the whole cuckolding your husband thing working out for you?" Bob asked, as he sat down.

"Bob, I'm so sorry. This is a fucked-up mess. I can't even get my head wrapped around all of it. Let me guess. You don't have a cuckold fantasy, do you?"