yame (2 page)

"Work!" your daughter bellows. "That don't make no sense! What work? He's too retarded to do
work!"

You tisk. It's so sad. "You're just so full up with hate, Linette. I cain't imagine where I went so wrong bringin' ya up. All that hate is just
smolderin'
off yer face..." You pat Blubber's shoulder. "Linette, I don't imagine you 'member Grandpop Orne 'cos he die when you was just a tiddler. But Grandpop, he were as full'a wisdom'n goodness as you's full'a hatred'n lies. One time he say ta me, he say, 'Easter, sometimes a
bad
person can
redeem theirself
by doin' somethin' generous fer a
good
person in need. Tis a way of turnin' a
curse
inta a
blessing.."'

Tendons in Linette's neck stand out like wires as she glares. "What'choo
talkin'
'bout!"

"And it's true Blubber have ta beat hisself off a lot but that's only 'cos he got the natural urges like any fella but on account'a the way nature made him, gals won't
be
with him in the sexual way." You turn to Blubber who remains standing there automaton-like, staring at Linette's straining, naked body. "Blubber, you ain't never got on with a gal before
—you know—in
this
way? By puttin' yer peter in here?" and then you pat Linette's furred sex. "Never, right?"

Blubber's bald head is popping beads of sweat. "Nuh-nuh-nuh-nuguh-ngnnnnnoooo," comes the twisted grunt.

"Would ya
like
to?"

The hulking body jiggles up and down as his filthy bare feet thud the floor. "Yuk-yuk-yuk-yuk-YES!"

Outrage contorts Linette's face to something like a mask. "Mama! You mean...that's
my punishment? You
gonna let that dirty creeker
thing
fuck yer own
daughter?
"

Your smile radiates. "All I'se gonna
do,
hon, is turn a curse inta a
blessing"
and you look again to Blubber and say, "Just you go outside now'n pull the cord on the generator like I showed ya the other day, okay, Blubber?"

Ropes of spit wag as he vigorously nods yes.

"Then ya come right back in."

Mewling, Blubber thunks briskly out of the room, his fat hands pawing the air before him.

"Mama, what is going
on?
Don't you
dare
let that stinkin' retart fuck me! And what the hail you need the generator fer?"

But you can already hear the generator's steady chugging outside. The one electric lamp in the room fades on, and in a moment, Blubber thunks back into the room. He's rubbing at the crusty crotch of his
overalls.

"You's're gonna do something
nice
fer this poor unfortunate boy, Linette." You reach under the bed. "Then maybe, just
maybe,
you'll be redeemed," and what you remove from under the bed is a power drill whose chuck is fitted with a four-inch hole-saw blade.

Linette screams louder than any scream you've ever heard.

"Aw, yeah, you know what a header is, hon. We all do. Tis just something no one ever
admit
ta knowin' about. And there ain't no better way'a cleansin' a horrible sin... Like the
sin you
committed by first gettin' my Noot 'dicted ta yer body'n then 'dicted ta that stuff, all so's you can control him."

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

"And, see, what every fella ever tolt me 'bout headers is...it's the
best feelin'
a man can 'sperience. Better'n any proper fuckin'. No one know why, just 'tis." She's shrieking as you speak, and as you tear off a length of duct tape. "One time Wynchell Conner tell me somethin'. 'Member that time that awful man who busted out'a the county prison come through here'n rape them li'l girls? Well, Wynchell'n his friends catched that guy and, a'course, they throwed a header. Must'a had
ten men
over his place ta fuck that scoundrel's head, but anyway, Wynchell say there just somethin' 'bout a
brain
that makes it good ta fuck, like maybe there's
special juices
in the brain that a fella's peter soak up, and
that's
what makes it the best nut a man can have. Better'n any cooter, they say, better'n any blowjob... Blubber, why'n'cha pick Linette up now'n put her down on the dresser...same dresser she
was fuckin'
my husband on..."

Linette screams and screams and screams as the obese lummox easily picks her up and sets her back down. You jam her mouth shut by palming her chin closed, then you slap the tape across her lips. Then
— "Keep her held down, okay, Blubber, while I'se drill the hole..."

He leans over to compress Linette's lashed body down hard on the dresser-top, just as you press your left hand down on her face, and with your right hand
—

Now it's the
power drill
that's screaming.

Linette convulses as you ease the hole-saw blade forward, and after a lot of flying bits of bone and scalp, you cut a perfect circle into the center of the crown of her head. The drill dies. You pick the circle of skull out and toss it to the floor.

"There. Why, I think I did it just right..."

Surprisingly little blood effuses from the insult. Linette is shuddering now; the white of her eyes hemorrhage with tiny red dots.

"Blubber? Why'n'choo git ready now, okay? Drop yer overalls'n play with yerself til yer hard."

The body odor trebles when Blubber does; it's so offensive but, again, you simply smile. Poor
boy cain't help it. Don't know how ta warsh hisself...
"My! That's quite a manly endowment, Blubber!" you tell him. You want to give him confidence but it's no lie, either. It's a stout, long penis indeed pointing out from the reeking flesh-nightmare that is his groin. A smegma-packed foreskin looks like a snout. No manual manipulation is necessary to instigate erection; the mere anticipation in Blubber's dim mind takes care of that. Lust distorts the boy's face as his crossed eyes jerk back and forth between the hole in Linette's head and her bound, shivering body.

"Guh-guh-guh-guh!" he utters. His knees areknocking.

"This gonna feel
real good
fer ya," you promise him and pick up an old knife. "Best part is she's still alive." You slide the knife-blade in and out of the hole quickly. "Now, baby! Come on! Git'cher peter in there quick so's it's in her 'fore she dies!" and then you guide his hulking form over, take his atrocious erection in your hand, and help him slide it in.

"Theeeeeeere ya go, baby. Theeeeeere ya go..."

Instinct takes over when his huge hands vise Linette's head
—

And he begins to hump.

The most indescribable sounds escape Blubber's throat.

"Yeah, Blubber, that's it," you urge. "Just you go ahead and
hump
that dirty girl's head..."

Linette's eyes widen with each stroke. Her belly's sucked in. Every muscle in her body tenses up. Then she falls limp.

pap-pap-pap,
comes the sound of Blubber's coitus.

You stare at your daughter's gagged face as she goes from dying to dead.

"That feel good, Blubber? Huh? You like that?"

"Gyuh-gyuh-gyuh-gyuh-gyesss!" he snorts.

"Well you just go on now'n have yerself a nice cum right in there..."

Blubber's huge hips locomote faster, then his spine jerks backward, and he hollers in a meld of grunts, snorts, and gibbers. Then
—

THUNK!

—he falls on the floor, his orgasm having been so intense, his knees had gone out. The impact of his obese body to the wood floor cause several pictures to fall off the wall.

"There ya go, Blubber! You'se a real man now, now that you've finally gotten yer peter off proper in a gal."

He mewls, curled up in the most grotesque mockery of the fetal position, blindly fondling his spent penis. Your smile veers from Blubber to Linette. She's sidled over in her bonds now. Her eyes stare upward at nothing. Then she releases a death-rattle.

You tilt her head down a bit. It's fascinating to watch the ropy mixture of blood and sperm ooze out of the hole.

With some difficulty, you help Blubber stand back up and re-fasten his overalls.

"Blubber, I hope ya understand that by fuckin' my daughter in the head as ya did, ya sort'a helped her redeem herself from the error of her ways, so's I thank you."

The retarded boy stands mute, dizzy.

"I bet that felt real good, huh? Bet it were the best nut ya ever had. Am I right?"

He nods slowly, still dazed, his hand still pawing blindly at his crotch. A long string of saliva rolls off his depending lower lip.

"And you'll remember it fer the
rest'ayer life."
You place your hands on his shoulders and guide him toward the dresser. "But it's all over now, so's we gotta finish up."

More drool spills as he nods.

You slip your rucksack on. "All right, pick her up now'n foller me."

You lead the way out of the house as Blubber hulks behind with Linette's agog corpse in his arms. It is deep into the woods that your next plight takes you. Sunlight streams through gaps in heavy branches; an owl hoots.

"Hey, there, Mr. Owl!"

You trod several hundred yards amid the forest until you come to the result of your previous task. Yes,
this
is where you really were when Noot believed you to be at Dory Ann's. You'd been out here, in fact, for hours this morning, with Blubber.

You look down and, again, smile.

You're looking at the hole, the
very deep
hole that Blubber had dug for you.

"Okay, Blubber, just throw her in'n bury her, then yer done till tonight."

But Blubber's eyes beseech you; his head tilts and he jiggles up and down in an agitated frenzy. "Pun-puh-puh-puh-leeeeeeeese!"

"Aw, I'se sorry, Blubber, I weren't thinkin'. You wanna fuck Linette's head some more first?"

He jiggles more intently, while the corpse in his arms jiggles along with him. "Gyuh-gyuh-gyesss!"

"Well then just you go right ahead," but you point a stern finger, "so long as ya bury her 'fore sundown, okay?"

The misfit squeals in glee as he nods vigorously and
—

FLUMP!

—drops the dead body on the ground. His overalls are down and he's on his knees in a single second, and a second after that... He's desperately humping the hole in Linette's head.

pap-pap-pap-pap-pap!

His vocal delight sounds like, "Eeeeeeee! Eeeeeeee!" something akin to a squealing sow.

Boys
will be boys,
you think. "'Member ta bury her after, right, Blubber?"

Mewling, he nods.

"Then meet me back the house tonight."

pap-pap-pap-pap-pap!

Horny as that poor boy is?
you muse.
He'll likely fuck Linette's head half a dozen more times 'fore he gits tuckered out.
Then you turn.

You smile.

You begin to walk.

***

Westmore thought,
Thank God!
when he spotted the unlikely Best Buy. He wasn't even sure, but he thought he was in the town of Pulaski, Virginia, after the long rental-car drive from D.C. Spring turning to summer had brought an untimely heat, which he noticed with a frown after he'd parked the car and got out. Just as he closed the door, however, an unbidden impulse drew his glance to the windshield.
Oh, fuck, that's not a bee, is it?
he thought of the corpulent insect he now saw scrabbling. Westmore was allergic to bee stings. But when he looked closer, the insect turned out to be a mere fly, albeit, one of those big, hairy blue-bottle kind.
Fuck it, I'll swat it when I'm done inside.

The big store's doors parted at his approach and seemed to suck him into its expanse of welcome cool air. He needed a simple flash-drive, and was amazed to find the leap in technology from his last one. What he purchased was less than twenty dollars and boasted fifty times the storage space. He dawdled some, an excuse to relish the air-conditioning, then made his purchase, and went back out.

Nondescript I guess you'd call this town.
He remained out front, smoking. The town seemed sedate and full of ordinary people who said hello when they passed. Traffic traversed without a single honk, shout, or middle finger. No
rat-race here. Yeah, I'm a long way from D.C.