Mar 29, 2010


by Vincent Daemon


Who or whatever was gripping Dexi’s arms up behind her back was strong as an ox. As much as she jerked and struggled, bucking and kicking her legs angrily like some frantic and frenzied filly, it was gaining her only the end result of sore and bruised legs. She seemed to fiercely kick every object and hard corner there was, kicking everything but her captor.

Her mind raced, panic stricken. Deep down, she already knew where this was going. She had felt it before...long ago.

She was shaken violently, pushed forward by the strong arms behind her. It was like being moved by a battering ram. In the darkness she felt the front of her body get pushed up hard against a concrete wall, a wall without give. It knocked the wind right out of her, and she coughed out an involuntary “whoop.”

Her face, already pushed up hard against the damp wall, became even more so when she felt the end of the icy gun barrel push up against her head with malicious force.

“Don’t you even think about moving. You turn around nice and slow, now.”

Dexi was well aware that she was in no real position to act out in self defense, though adrenaline, pumping fierce through every vein in her tensed and tight body, had her shaky and on the ready. She wanted to kill again.

Fighting that impulsive instinct, she turned slowly, doing exactly as she was told, and with a great deal of trepidation, at that.

As she turned, she could at first only make out a silhouette. The cold barrel was pushed tight against her forehead, but slid easily as she turned, thanks to her profuse sweating. She was not liking this one bit, and she was fighting hard to fend off terror-trauma flashbacks to her youth, her stepfather...and the ex-lover. She knew not to upset the situation further.

And suddenly, she thought that she might know who this was.

All of her senses now heightened, and with her figure faced forward, her location, though hazy and strange, began to tickle her memory. Really, physically tickle her brain. It was a feeling she wanted to scratch at, but was roadblocked quickly with the reality of her current predicament.

She was in a room, not too dissimilar from all the others in the rotten tenement building, but this one was vaguely familiar. The room was lit by small and contained floor-fires that cast strange flickering glows, discolored, and an orange-red haze that dimly lit the rest of the room. In the haze of the odd fires, people seemed to move about, hunched and quick, with violent mannerisms. Some seemed to be fighting or arguing, some were fucking like animals, in the open yet ignored, virtually unnoticed. Most horridly, a permeating scent, not unlike burning human hair or skin, was wafting about in the haze in varying translucent, chalk dust wisps.

“Sit, now,” the voice coldly commanded again.

Gun still at her head, she did as she was told.

Her hostage taker began to use the muzzle of the weapon to play with her blonde and black locks.

He spoke again, his words firm, personal sounding. “I knew you’d come back around, smut. You come to see Akim, didn’t ya? Welcome to your new home baby...paradise. New Sodom.”

Her eyes danced quickly about the room, first at Akim, then at her surroundings. She was trying to take in everything, all options. And simultaneously keep her focus on this bastard. She noticed terrible things.

The little fires that burned throughout the room, the same little fires that were creating the human hair smoke haze, were being fueled by anything that could be found. Furniture remnants, cupboard and cabinet doors, large chunks of wall. And human bone.

Dexi could see the strange de-evolutionized squatter survivors chewing bits of freshly cooked human flesh. They were arguing over limbs and muscles, guts and brain matter and eyeballs and every other part one could think of. They were greedily consuming every last sinewy bit of seared flesh from those bones in the fires.

She also began to notice, as she sat in the cold muck on the floor, that her pants were beginning to saturate. The partially coagulated muck in which she was sitting was a viral stew of piss and blood and shit and slippage and corpses and vomit and madness. And it sure as hell smelled as such.

It was all making her want to heave, to vomit and add to the degenerate mess on the floor and maybe purge this whole vile world out of existence. Maybe she could purge, and awaken from a nice heroin-induced nod, find out it was only a drug dream. God she wanted to get high, wanted a cigarette and a shower and Raymondo and Anna...and to get the fuck out of there.

One repetitive thought in particular really made her sick, sicker than any other thought: Is this really where humanity takes itself when there actually is no hope?

She felt frustrated and ashamed, sitting there at gun point in the stink. This was what she was afraid of, being trapped by the unwholesomely vile whims of the “Overgenerous Despot.” It wasn’t rats and vines and contagions, but the monstrously demented way in which mankind had sunk to such outwardly hateful depths. This situation, right here.

Once was enough, and Dexi had sworn never again.

Never fucking again.

She thought, Wow, I am off to a terrible start, twenty minutes in and not only is everyone dead or missing in action, but my other deepest and worst fear has also sprung true. I am going to be made into a rape puppet.

Never fucking again.

She peered quickly at her captor, then about the room, still not stopping her hopeful search for a way out...some way...any way at all.

Large vines with fully blossomed, yet still drooping, closed labial buds had apparently been sprouting up all over the eleventh level. Erupting up through the floor, tearing into and out of the cheap, plaster walls, and crashing, disappearing up through the ceiling, up to the next level. The synthetic, vaginal reek of the purple-pouting buds mixed sickeningly with that of burning human flesh. The two aromas blended together to create an altogether new and uniquely nauseating scent. The vines seemed to thrive on the floor muck and piles of corpses growing out of the writhing, mulchy heaps of human decay and red wigglers.

The gun still in her face, Akim took a handful of her blonde and black-striped locks and pulled, slow and hard, twisting the locks around in his tightly clenched fist.

Dexi refused to wince in pain, refused to make even the slightest goddamned sound. Instead she looked up, and stared hard into his dark eyes and hateful face, that awful smug smile that Akim wore so wide with pride. She looked up at his ugly male mug with unblinking defiance.

This was not acceptance, this was not giving up or giving in.

This was playing “the game.”

He drew the gun slowly down from right in between her frozen, hard set eyes, over her little nose, and rested the tip of the barrel finally right on her pursed lips. “I want you to open up,” he demanded, still wearing that obnoxious ear-to-ear grin on his sweaty face. “I am sho’ you know what to do, huh, Flexi Dexi?”

A strong waft of the pheromone nectar slammed Akim’s sinuses, the scent swirling into his brain, making him feel all horny-dizzy. The crazed, simpleton “Dictator” of a thug believed the overwhelming aroma to be emanating from Dexi herself. He giggled out a weird little sound, then told her “I can smell yo’ pussy from here, baby, and I can tell you want it bad.”

Dexi’s eyes still locked on Akim’s, she did just as he said. Her long, pink and moist tongue began to slowly trace the outline of the gun's cold metallic barrel. She licked about the tip of the weapon, the tip of her tongue occasionally slithering into the barrel itself, then out for more saliva soaked, outer-barrel licking. The awful taste of the cold metal, of the uncleaned weapon that had obviously been used many, many times, made her want to gag and wretch, amplifying the feelings of stress-sickness she was already silently dealing with. In fact, the carbon build-up inside the weapon was so bad that Dexi swore she could feel the gunpowder on her tongue. She just made more saliva, spit it out, and kept at giving her captor a dirty little show. She knew what this son of a bitch wanted to see.

With a false, convincingly intense passion, she continued to kiss and slurp at the underside of the featureless, steel grey cock. She drew it carefully further into her sloppy-wet mouth, sucking with the general aplomb of some brain dead punk-porn pig. Moans, drool, gagging and all.

She could only hope that he did not get too excited and twitchily, accidentally pull the trigger and blow her head clean off.

Akim let go of her hair and quickly slid his free hand down over her throat, slowly tightening his grip, with no mercy, as she continued to gobble down the loaded weapon.

He was mesmerized, watching this crazy punk broad go all freaky at his command. He could no longer watch this wild-eyed psycho share all that sweet oral on his .45. He was beginning to feel jealous of his own gun.

Quickly, he took his hand away from her throat and unzipped, freeing his own dark shaft, as long as his .45's barrel, and twice as thick. “Get to it,” he mumbled out in a hurried breath, impatient for lip service.

Dexi wanted no part of this, but figured that, realistically, it was going to come down to the real deal sooner than later.

It was then that she noticed it behind Akim, rising slow and graceful. Its bulbous, purple labia was beginning to spread, revealing a soft, pink tuft of flower in the center. The actual bulb itself was huge, bigger than any of these strange plants she had seen yet, at least the size of Akim’s torso.

Her eyes were locked on his. Though she wanted to visually scan the room, she fought the urge hard.

He dangled his semi-flaccid, reeking member against her face while pulling the gun out of her actively sucking mouth. “Learn to love this, baby. If you any good, you got yo’self a new job. Huh, Flexi Dexi, my lily white fuck-freak slave new puppet.”

She refused to let his vulgar words and insults affect her, and she tried hard to only breathe through her mouth as he kept pushing his large, soft stinky prick into her face.

Dexi kept her eyes on his still. She could see the plant rising behind him.

The bulb opened, that sweet tuft of frilly-soft pink petals opening wide into a twisted vertical gape, exposing rows upon rows of pinprick-sharp nettle teeth. The plant, lurching back, had picked up his scent.

“Open wide, baby.”

The plant lurched further back still, like a lion in wait.

Dexi opened her mouth, eyes still wide on Akim, and finally, quickly bobbed her head forward and took him once and for all into her mouth.

Akim’s shriek of horror defied words as Dexi clamped her teeth down hard, through, and together, gnawing and tearing his member off at the hilt like she were some kind of beast. Her teeth cut through the skin at the base of his root as though it were a mere sausage casing. Hot semi-erection blood hosed out over her face, spraying with surprising and considerable force. She spat the dead dick to the filthy floor.

Just playin’ the GAME, motherfucker!” she howled with psychotic glee at Akim’s agonized visage.

But that was the least of his problems. At the same moment, the fully blossomed pink-purple vag-vine bit down from behind, over Akim’s upper half. A vertical smirk seemed to raise on its sinew stained, pussy-reek teeth.

The sight actually made Dexi smile wide, revealing bloody teeth. It was even more beautiful than she could have imagined in her darkest, weirdest dreams. It caused her clogged and spinning mind to think odd thoughts of deep soul truth, things she knew she could never say out loud. The reigning life form of the new hierarchy? The Pussy Plant! She felt half mad.

Dexi giggled while looking on in awe, astonishment, and adulation. Akim’s lower half fell over to the side, to the floor, spilling his innards, adding more gut-muck to the festering gut-muck that already littered the floor, ankle deep.

She stood slowly, moved carefully, keeping her vision steadily on the plant, and the rest of the room, the strange fires, and the de-evolutionized humans. They aped around in the human flesh smoke-burn and orange flame-glow, vulgar silhouettes reduced down to neo-neanderthals, and they didn’t even notice the weird little situation that had just played out right before them. They were all way too far gone for that.

The plant wasn’t going to be any bother either, she had decided, as it appeared to be more than content to gnash and chew upon Akim’s upper torso, taking its sweet time in doing so. More than likely it would just scoop his lower half off the floor and begin to gnash on that, as well.

She watched it still, just for a second, admiring the odd flora, feeling some strange kind of kinship with the large munching bud. She felt as if they could, in some way, almost be the same creature, and for a second only, she wished she were one of the plants. It seemed a rewarding life to her, much more so than this awful human shell, in this manmade world of shit, that hurt and starved and suffered.

Breathing deep, wiping the sweat out of her eyes with her grimy hands, Dexi regained her composure. She began to leave the hall, and stopped at a desk just before entering the stairwell. The top of the desk was a clutter of cigarette butts, drug paraphernalia, pornography, and food. She grabbed several packs of Twinkies, a pack of cigarettes, a bottle of pills (though she never looked to see what they were), a small bag of marijuana, and a jug of water. The desk had so much more on, in, and around it, but that was all she could manage to fit into her large cargo-pants pockets, except the jug of water, which she instead hooked around her belt.

She had searched in the muck around what was left of Akim for the gun, but it was of no use. So, with her knife drawn, and one solitary miniature mag light to shed the most miniscule illumination, she re-entered the stairwell. It seemed so quiet, so uncomfortable, so dark. She could hear the rats, feel them scurrying around her feet, and hear the vag-vines slowly crushing the wretched tenement housing complex.

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