Utter Rot

The reality, of course, was something else entirely. Drawing closer, Lester could see that the girl's eyes were only half-closed, with nothing but whites showing behind long, dark lashes. A yellowish web of oozing strands floated on the surface of the water, mingling with the bubbles. The girl's breath was shallow and labored.

"Christ, that ol' boy sure did a number on you, didn't he?" Lester chuckled, letting the camera take in the scene. He kicked open its mobile stand and set it on the floor, it's glass eye glowering down. Checking the viewfinder to make sure the tub filled its field of vision, the hunchback gave a satisfied grunt and let the camera roll.

For a minute it recorded only the slow lap of water, the shallow breathing of the girl in the tub and the sounds of muttered curses and rustling cloth as off-camera, Les struggled out of his clothes. Then the hunchback came into view, sidling up to the edge of the tub like a freak-show horror.

He stood there muttering for a moment, stroking himself hard, then reached down and seized Madison's thighs with both hands and pulled them apart. The water-logged duct tape around her ankles gave, and he pried her legs open, water sloshing against the edge of the tub.

Grunting, he brought one clawed foot over and lowered it gingerly into the warm, soapy water. Then he hoisted himself over the edge and settled between her splayed thighs, grunting with pleasure.

"Wanna hear a clean joke?" he growled, grinning. "Lessy's in the bathtub with Bubbles."

Legs wrapped around the inside of the tub, Lester let his hands wander at their own place up her smooth legs, questing briefly around the firm swells of her ass and rising, finally, to grip her hips. He lifted her, letting his eyes take in the full measure of her body as the water cascaded off of it, the slim waist, toned stomach, the full, firm globes of her breasts.

"Wanna hear a dirty joke?" he said, his grin widening, haphazard yellow teeth showing in the purplish gums. "Bubbles is the girl next door."

He pulled her towards him, guiding her in so that his cock pressed between her thighs, it's engorged shaft standing upright against the slit of her cunt. He began to hump with small, steady undulations of his hips.

"Wanna hear a really dirty joke?" he asked. "Just 'fore Lessy got there, Bubbles was in the tub with Lessy's brother. Lessy's brother, he's a pervy sumbitch, and Bubbles took it like a slut. Took it up the ass like a slut. And now Lessy wants some too."

He began to hump harder, the water in the tub sloshing. "Y'see babe, 'round here we got a certain way of doing things. Round here it's share and share alike. He fucks you, I fuck you. That's how we keep it civil, see?" The hunchback's grin was slipping, twisting into a hateful sneer. "So what am I s'pposed to think, huh? When I come home after a hard day's work and he's got some new young thing, ripe as a peach, and he's kept her all to hisself?"

Suddenly he rose to his knees and, still holding her by the waist, grabbed ahold of his cock with his other hand, setting its head against her cunt.

"I think you been cheatin' on me, that's what I think, ya cheap slut!"

Lester lunged forward, driving his misshapen cock into her. Immediately he began to pound away with frantic thrusts, the water of the tub sloshing violently around them.

"So here's... what we're.. gonna doooooo," the hunchback rasped, never breaking rhythm. "I been... round... the... house... I seen... the mess... he fuckin'..."

Lester's speech dissolved, his words giving way to garbled nonsense, his scrawny hips driving with crazy energy. His knobby fingers encircled her waist, lifting it out of the water, her body bowed between the edge of the tub and the gibbering mutant pounding away at her.

It lasted only a moment. Before he knew what was happening, Lester was coming hot fire his body whipping like a saw and sending sheets of scummy water over the edges of the tub. The orgasm leapt out of him, gouts of devil spume, furious desire seeking a more pliant host. He let it go on and on, feeling his cock jerk and shudder within the warm confines of her cunt.

When it was finally over, he let go of her hips, letting her slide back into the soapy, oozing water. He slumped back against the tub's edge for a moment, breathing long, shallow breaths, letting the warm water wash around his scrawny hips and pot-bellied stomach. Then he lifted his head and grinned at the girl.

"As I was saying," he resumed, picking up the dropped thread. "I been round the house. I seen the mess that fuckwad made." He reached down absent-mindedly and took hold of his softening cock, pulling at it with slow strokes. Almost immediately, it began to harden again.

"I figure, shit, he's a big fella, right? And you bein' new prob'ly has him all excited. So maybe that accounts for some a'the mess. Some of it." With his other hand, the hunchback dipped a finger into the thick scum floating on the surface of the water. He brought it to his lips, licked, grimaced and spat.

"So I figger, ex-ten-uating circumstances notwithstanding, fat fuck must'a had you, what, five times? Six?" Lester's voice was musing, but there was an angry snarl below it again. "Seven? What was it, sweet cheeks? That dipshit made a goddam mess of mama's bed -- slimed it up real good, looks like a giant goddam slug was at it -- so that's gotta be two fucks at least. And Christ, you broke her favorite goddam table in the kitchen. Her favorite fuckin' table!" He was jerking his cock faster now, the shaft almost erect, veins in it beginning to bulge.

"I know it ain't yer fault, baby," he crooned, his voice bubbling wetly through spittled lips. "I know you wanna make it right. Yer Lessy's girl now. So here's what we're gonna do: For every one time that sum'bitch fucked you, I'm gonna do it twice. Two 'fer one. How's that sound?"

Suddenly he grabbed her by the hips and hauled her unceremoniously over. Water sloshed as her limp body settled down again, breasts pressed against the sloping side of the tub, forehead resting against its white ceramic surface.

Climbing forward like a spider, Lester lowered himself onto her, gnarled hands clutching the sides of the tub. His twisted cock, fully ridged now, probed between her thighs. "Now," he hissed, "Now Lessy's gonna get his." He lowered his head and slobbered his long, purplish tongue along her neck. "Bout time you found out what it means to get assfucked by a man," he rasped.

He let go of the side of the tub with one hand and seized his cock, guiding it. With a grunt he set its head against her ass and shoved.

The head and two inches of the shaft pushed into her still-slick hole, and Lester yelped in surprise. "Holy fuck," he rasped, "That fat piece a' shit weren't kidding. Little ass's tighter'n a vice!!"

Thin chest hitching, Lester bore down, forcing his member into her, teeth gritted, wiry muscles straining. He let it sink to its base, then gave a few jerking thrusts for good measure. From the other side of the room the camera winked cheerfully, taking in the hideous hunchback's groan of pleasure as it set its hips.

"Here's fuck number two, babe," he rasped. "Get ready fer the ride a' yer life."

He started slowly, his rhythm building to a steady crescendo, gaining speed and force till he was fucking the girl's ass with pounding strokes. Water pitched and splashed around his scrawny hips as he rutted, clawed feet scrabbling for purchase on the tub's ceramic sides. His hands moved seemingly of their own accord, one gripping the front of the tub, the other fastening into Madison's hair, pulling her head back, making her jolt with each stroke. He lunged above her, his whole bulk pulling, straining, driving into each thrust.

Somewhere in her mind, Madison was coming awake. For hours she had swum in and out of consciousness -- in the bedroom, in the fungus-riddled basement, in the decrepit kitchen where mounds of dishes sat in abandoned piles and the stink of long-abandoned food filled the air. And always the giant had been on her -- fucking her throat, her breasts, her cunt. Never anywhere long before returning to her ass. His hot ooze blasting into her, onto her, covering her.... And yet here was a new arrival, something that her dark-filled mind yet struggled to register. A memory, a video, the shape of a malformed thing lurching in the corner of a bare room...

The hunchback, she thought, and as she did so she felt the readying snap of reality, the splashing water, the clawing hands, the squirming, lunging body convulsing over her. She felt the thing's rigid cock driving, a piston of engorged and slimy flesh.

The hunchback is here, she thought. This is the video, I am the girl, and it's me he's fucking.

A window opened in her mind, stark and bright. In it, a girl with bound wrists jerked and twisted in a bathtub, while above her a gibbering, disfigured mutant lunged with spastic strokes. She could see in her mind's eye the corruption building in its clenched and swollen scrotum, could see the ooze bottled up and waiting to explode forth. Could see the thing's plunging member, a bloated, questing worm, swelling as it prepared to disgorge its load.

She looked into the window for a moment, then turned away. Once more, Madison Beaumont retreated into darkness.

In the waking world, Lester gave a strangled cry and lunged forward. As he did so his cock spasmed and a galvanic spurt of ooze blasted into the girl's unresisting passage. "Nnnh-nnnh!" Lester gurgled, his voice high and keening. "Uppp... yer... assssss..."

His face was a rictus of blind fury, eyes bulging, lips peeled back over gnashing teeth. Sinewy muscles stood out like cords of rope along his crooked body. His hips jerked and more cum shot out, filling her ass with its first gouts and bubbling out to rise like flotsam on the water boiling between them. He strained forward, driving his cock deeper, not letting up till his twitching thing had spat its final drops.

At long, long last it was finished. With a hissed exhalation, Lester slid down the side of the tub, pulling her with him, twisting so that she lay on top of him now, her bottom nestle in his lap. His hands found her breasts and he clutched at them, panting, rank breath whistling against her neck as the water sloshing about them grew calm.

Sluggishly, he began to move his hips, grinding them against her. After a minute his softening cock began to harden again, swelling, lengthening, once again filling her ass.

Slowly at first, then faster, the hunchback began to work his cock in and out, his own ooze serving as lubricant. He kneaded her breasts, letting his rhythm take its own pace, letting his cock take in every inch of her still-tight sphincter. "Sorry babe, but I guess you're gonna make me a liar," he hissed, crooked mouth stretching in a hideous grin. "Guess it's gonna be three fer one this time, whaddaya say?"

Chapter IV - Marvin Marcus clears the table

Natasha looked damn good tonight, Marv thought. The dress was one he'd picked out himself -- blood red, with a plunging backline and a slit on the left side that ran up the side from ankle to hip. It clung to her temptingly, every step revealing a glimpse of thigh clad in sheer black stocking; each step offering the barest glimpse of the black neglige that clung to her hips.

Funny, Marv mused as he watched her come. Ever since he'd made their arrangement permanent, now three weeks past, he'd taken an uncommon interest in picking out her clothes. She was accumulating quite the wardrobe of costumes in the back cabinet of her cell: slut, slave, french maid, sex kitten. To be sure, each of these opened new doors, offered new fantasies to fulfil. Yet the act of dressing her up had become in and of itself an amusing diversion, and -- when the pig was at bay, at least -- he'd found his mind turning to it more and more. Was it putting the costumes on, he wondered, that so pleased him? Or ripping them off her again?

Natasha lowered herself gracefully into her seat across from him. Candle-light pricked her dark eyes, playing on her neck and catching the cupped swells of her breasts.

"Hello, master," she said evenly.

Marv clucked. "Uh-uh, baby. I told you. We're not playing that game tonight. Tonight you call me 'darling'. Or 'dear.' Or 'lover,' for Christ sake. 'Master' just breaks the mood."

Natasha nodded slightly, her eyes sliding past him to some spot on the wall behind. "Hello, lover," she murmured.

"Better," said Marv. "Now, I asked you here tonight for something special, see? Something the boys have been working real hard on. Something I thought you'd want to see. Specially because it concerns a friend of yours." Marv looked at her hard, trying to draw her eyes. "You want to see it, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Natasha said. Her eyes were still fixed beyond him.

"Say it back to me," Marv insisted. "What do you want to see?"

Natasha's eyes wavered. She started to speak, then stopped. A trace of fear entered her eyes. Her lips parted and she hesitated. "...your cock?" she asked.

"God dammit, no!" Marv snapped. "You want to see the tape. The tape the fuck-freak brothers sent us. Good Christ, what do I have to do to get your attention?"

Marv reached under the table and brought up a sagging paper bag. Crusted maroon scum clung to one corner. "Is this what you want?" he demanded. "Because we can play this game, cockslut. We can play this game all night long."

Natasha's cheeks went pale. She trembled like a leaf, her shaking hands pushing back against the table. "Nonononono..." she moaned, her voice low and terrified. "Please, please, not him..."

"Alright, alright," sighed Marv, stowing the bag away. "I ain't in the mood anyway. But you better pay attention. You paying attention?"

Natasha nodded, swallowing hard. She was still trembling.

"So here's the backstory," Marv started, launching in. "About a week ago, some broad shows up at the office. Young thing, knockout blonde. Gucci clothes, kind you like. Driving a white Mercedes. And as if my day can't get any better, this dumb bitch is carrying $1.3 million on her. How the fuck is that for Marv's daily horoscope?" He leaned back in his chair, snorting. The corners of Natasha's mouth jerked slightly; her eyes still glittered with terror.

"So this dumb bitch gets to tellin' the boys how she's here to rescue you, how the $1.3 mill is payout money, how we can just let y'all go and let bygones be bygones. She thinks she can just shovel some cash our way and that's it," he went on.

His voice dropped. "So I want to show you what happened to that dumb bitch. What's still happening to that dumb bitch," he growled. "I want you to know, lover, that this doesn't end, not ever. Your contingencies? They're fucked."

He brought up the battered remote and clicked a button. Several meters away a projector thrummed to life, casting its image up on the opposite wall.

The screen lit up, showing a 50s-era bathroom, its floor and walls tiled in grimy off-white. Most of the camera's lens was taken up by an old-fashioned ceramic bathtub, over-large, bolted to the floor by four cast-iron feet.

A blond girl was lying in the tub, half submerged, seemingly asleep. Her arms were raised above her head, bound wrists tied to the tub's faucet by a length of rope.

As they watched, another figure entered the screen, a twisted half-human thing that they both knew well. The hunchback stood by the tub for a moment, his warped and naked body in casual display, muttering something down to the unconscious girl. Then he reached down, spread her legs and slipped into the water between them.

Marv excused himself quietly as the hunchback was lurching to his first climax, checking surreptitiously to make sure Natasha was following the show. He was not disappointed -- her eyes were wide, the image from the screen playing out in duplicate across her irises. He returned a moment later with their entrees, laying the table to a chorus of strained grunts as, onscreen, the hunchback forced his cock into Madison's ass for the first of many times.

Marv ate heartily, downing his steak au poivre and potatoes with the better part of three bottles of shiraz. At his insistence Natasha picked at her plate, her eyes never leaving the screen. By the time they had finished the entree and Marv had brought out dessert, the figures on-screen had moved from the bathroom to the den, Lester ravaging the girl against a battered, high-backed couch while pornographic images played on the flat-screen TV behind them. Marv noted with amusement that the tape was one he himself had provided, video taken a week and a half ago: Natasha in cat ears and black stockings, blindfolded, a leather collar pulled tight about her neck. Behind her, Merl's fat stomach jiggled and bounced as he fucked, the collar's leash cinched up tight in one meaty fist. Marv was taking her from the front, his cock in her mouth, murmuring threats and encouragement.

A film within a film, he thought. And then: there are cameras in here, too -- if I were to take her over the table, in view of the screen? Then show it to the blonde while the brothers gang-fucked her? How many russian dolls could we nest before all our minds broke to pieces?

Later, he thought. There is always later.

After the dessert dishes had been cleared away, Marv escorted Natasha, unresisting, to another room. Here was a love seat, facing a screen on which the same scene of lust and rapine was playing out.

They watched long into the night, Marv drinking whiskey, from a glass at first, later slurping it from between Natasha's cupped breasts. The camera's eye moved from room to room, following Lester's twisted and spasming figure like a theater spotlight -- to the kitchen, where he fucked the girl's throat before sodomizing her, prison-gang style, against the wall; to the entry hall, where the leering faces of a dozen of the brother's hideous ancestors looked on; to the bedroom, where the imp finally expired, collapsing in a shuddering heap in the corner, the unconscious girl prostrate in a tangle of oozing bedsheets. At some point -- perhaps the point when Merl joined back in, down in the moldering basement -- he stripped Natasha of her elegant dress and took her down on the carpeted floor, letting his swollen cock disgorge its pent-up load into the hot tightness of her cunt.

Finally, the projector clicked off. Marv, drunk and yawning against the early morning sunlight, pulled a still-vacant Natasha back towards her cell.

"Alright darlin' get in there," he yawned, giving her bottom a slap. "I'll be back for you soon enough." She stepped through obligingly, and he started to roll the door closed.

When only a crack remained, he caught the door and held it. "Tell me something," he said, and Natasha turned towards him. "Did you recognize her? The girl in the video? Do you know who she is?"

"Of course, darling. Madison Beaumont. Your new fuck toy," she said evenly. Then added with a note of uncertainty, "yours and the boys', of course."

"That's right," Marv nodded. "You've come a long way, little girl. I'll tell you what -- you be good a little while longer, and I'll make sure you two ladies get a nice reunion, how bout that?"

Natasha smiled at him brightly, but there was no joy in her eyes. He grinned back. "I think the Pig may be coming for you soon," he murmured. "I think he told me he wants to play." With that he slid the door closed, chuckling at the widening terror he'd seen fill her eyes.

Capter V - Simon Borowitz takes a sick day

"Pssst -- hey Buddy! Over here!"

Simon jumped, his hands tightening reflexively on the steering wheel. Looking around, he saw a figure in a heavy overcoat standing at the edge of an alley, silhouetted in the neon glow of an Exit sign. It was hunched forward, face hidden below the brim of a wide, lopsided hat. Simon shifted his foot to the brake pedal and the Escalade crawled to a halt.