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Rack and Ruin #3

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Rack and Ruin #3Rick O’Shea’s yellow smiley face Tshirt wasn’t long enough to cover his pudgy, hairy belly. Not that he tried. A can of Natty Ice was filling his trembling hand with condensation. He wore a bubblegum pink tutu over a pair of American flag weight lifting pants. The camera lights were giving him a headache. He snarled his reply to the television reporter.“America. That’s what happened here.”“But men died—“““They who can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety, deserve neither liberty nor safety.” Ben Franklin said that. Ben Franklin, the greatest American president France ever produced!” Rick O’Shea paused to burp, then ran off to the bathroom to vomit. With the door open. “Liberty!!!” He yelled between and at times during retches.He sat back down in full sweat and began to talk about the moon landing hoax…how it all fit into 9/11 and the Welfare State, Bilderberg. The camera was turned off. He knew this, but continued…“Did you hear the fucker’s head pop?” Smiled Lansky. “Pop.”“Terrible.” Said Dr. Jager in a congratulatory tone. He glanced over his shoulder to see Bettie Rage, X’s balls pushing against her chin, form an impressive unbroken length of thick snot, spit, and vomit from her mouth to the floor. “Seriously. The bitch, she lives here now?”“Who?”“I have work to do.”“I guess I do too.” Lansky watched the good doctor hobble off, all bent and broken in his too large for his shrinking frame lab coat. He despised people who felt the need to costume. He thought this as he absent-mindedly fingered the metal spikes on his well-worn shoulder pads. The only item of clothing he was wearing. Minus the sawed off Mossberg duct taped to his right thigh.Rick O’Shea was still upstairs, still talking to the camera which was no longer recording. He played worse rooms than that. At least he still had the cameraman and reporter. The reporter had loosened his tie and collar. The product in his hair was quitting. He rolled up his sleeves, but not in such a way as to canlı bahis indicate further work being just around the corner. The cameraman seemed fairly interested.“How did you become a comedian?” He asked, putting down the camera, all pretenses abandoned.“I was a c***d star.”Bettie felt her body swallowing the head of Hussein X’s black as night shaft. For every grunt that escaped him, she grew more wet. This was being in charge. Taking all the abuse one could dish out and coming out the other side, pleasurably. Who, in that scenario, wielded the power? She saw Israel rifle through a draw and come out with a handful of nails. He grabbed a block of wood as he came near. Her nipples tingled in raging anticipation. The anticipation of a sadist.“Yeah…a c***d star.” Rick reiterated against the cameraman’s disbelief. “My mom, dad, sister and brother were a kind of Partridge family.” He realized his Natty was empty. Tossed it behind the faded red threadbare couch; a remnant from his favorite whorehouse. Grabbed another from a cooler next to him which had no ice.“I remember the first time we shopped our act.” He had the cameraman hooked…the reporter was coming around…good crowd, Rick thought. “Dad just dived right into the routine as soon as the agent’s office door closed. He went for my sister first, which was weird, because we had rehearsed it with him taking Mom first…He tore her shirt and bra both off in one exaggerated motion. s*s ad-libbed fine, I mean we were on, by puking up the burrito she ate on the way over. Dad stopping at Taco Bell on the way was a stroke of pure brilliance. So Dad is squeezing the fuck out of her barely pubescent titties and her puke is somehow in my brother’s hair, but he don’t care because he already has four fingers in Mom’s ass and going for the thumb…no lube…just Mom’s liquid shit. You know, that natural ass lube that smells like a gas station shitter?Me, I’m the baby. So I’m nervous but at the same time, born for this. I mean show biz is all I know. I whip out bahis siteleri Dad’s cock and start sticking the agent’s ball point pen up his pee hole. I remember it went in easy enough at first, the pointy part…then I hit the rest and the going got rough, but no one likes a quitter—well, I imagine Dad woulda…because he starts involuntarily pissing blood and I tried to gobble up most of it but my brother intercepts some of it to help work his hand into Mom’s ass. It helps him get his thumb in and he’s there punching Mom up her ass like Mike fucking Tyson when he still had D’Amato in his corner…Well, she lets loose her bowels with such force that it knocks my brother’s hand out and continues to spew across the room. Seeing this, I gotta say, I lost my lunch. I wasn’t the only one, though. The smell of my dad’s bloody piss didn’t help, I suppose. So before we know it, the floor is covered with piss and blood, and shit, and puke, and we barely have any traction and dad whips out my dick and puts s*s on the job. Except I’m well hung and s*s had a small mouth and braces to boot, so Mom shows her how to be a woman. It was a touching moment, really. Mom punches her in the mouth and knocks out a handful of teeth. Punches her again to get more out. Then puts her back on the job of my strangely ginormous cock…Then I feel Dad start rubbing his cock on my leg and before I know it, my ass is a five pound bag filled with ten pounds of fatherly love. My brother, who had been fucking my mom up the ass, pulls out and stuffs his shitted up cock down Dad’s throat, and dad is loving it, because if you do what you love, you never work a day in your life. Mom, in the meantime, ever the star, scoops up a handful of the familial shit-piss-blood-vomit and rubs it on her face. She then proceeds to belt out the best rendition of Swanee I have heard to date. It was magical…A few minutes later, all of our holes are gaped. We’ve all shit and pissed ourselves. We’ve all bled and puked. We’ve all had all of this gumbo güvenilir bahis soup in our mouths and all over us. We’re buck ass naked. We stop…I remember that for a few seconds that seemed like an eternity and a fucking half, the agent sat there at his desk. Our hearts beat in our throats. My s*s had started her first period during all of this and it was so quiet in the room that I could hear her menstrual blood rolling down her quivering thigh. God, I wanted to fuck her…The agent finally cleared his eyes, wiped a speck of shit from the lens of his glasses, and looked up. “My God,” he spat. “I have never seen such a display…What do you call yourselves?”We all paused a brief second; smiling in each other’s fevered anticipation, then, in loud, proud, and practiced unity said “The Aristocrats!!!”Except s*s kinda flubbed it a bit through her busted out teeth. Mom leaned over, wiped some blood from her crotch and bitch slapped her.Stars were born.”The cameraman and reporter sat there a few shocked moments. Then shook what they heard from their ears and at the same time noticed all along, there was a woman screaming downstairs. The screaming stopped as soon as the punchline was given.Bettie Rage was silent but for a predator sounding occasional pant. She had just squirted her juice all over the room. All over the boys. They’d done the works to her. She stood there now. Unfettered. Her nipples nailed to a board. Weights hanging from her pierced labia. Her asshole dilated around a prosthetic fist and arm. A baseball bat slowly dropping from her vagina. Her tits puple and hard from intricate rope work. Her mouth clamped open with three tow straps that went around the back of her head, meeting at the corners of her mouth. More straps were hooked in her nose at one end and to the rope on her back that at one time clasped her hands together. Her contorted face was drenched in two huge loads of cum.Hussein X and Israel Lansky looked at each other and shrugged.Dr. Otto von Jager just wanted the bitch to leave.The bitch’s eyes twinkled.“Liberty!!!” They heard Rick O’Shea yell from upstairs. Then barf.Not stolen…borrowed from my own blog where you can read more of this title, and others! www.scratchedtales.wordpress.com

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