Disciples of the Sand
by Deek Jersey

   The car stopped. Doors opened and a man was thrown to the ground. Three black-suited men stood in a semi-circle. One pulled the man off the ground and set him on his knees. The blindfold came off his eyes.

   Charles Monroe blinked. The sunlight hadn’t touched the early morning desert but it was still too bright, the sky too stark, too blue. His hands were tied behind his back and he crouched on his knees. Sand and cold, sharp rocks bit through his pants like hard silicate spiders. A slight breeze graced the desert floor and the coolness was refreshing after the oppressive atmosphere of the car’s trunk. Off in the distance, mountains stretched angrily at the sky, shaking their rocky fists, upset at being chained into the solid, uncompromising earth.

   Charles heard fabric rustle behind him and something click behind his ear. Cold, round steel pushed through his tight curly hair and made a place for itself on his skull.

   "Aw’right Monroe" spoke a thick, slow voice, "tell us what we want to know and maybe, maybe wee’s only cut off a finger or two"

   Charles gulped. He didn’t know who these men were and he didn’t know what they were talking about. What little he did remember through the blinding haze of the last two weeks was a blur of flickering lights, dirty sidewalks, drugs, booze and cheap filthy whores. The burning itch in his crotch definitely remembered the whores.

   "Um listen fella’s, I really don’t what you’re talking about"

   A punch flew from behind and landed on the side of Charles head. He pitched to the hard, sand packed desert floor and his ear ringed and throbbed like the worlds most obnoxious telephone. Huge, mysterious hands pulled him back onto his knees and the round, cruel metal probed its way back onto his skull.

   "That’s a funny one Monroe, HA, but the Boss said you’d try to squirm outta dis’ one" chimed in a nervous high-pitched squeal.

   Charles felt liquid dripping down his jaw. Drop by drop he watched his blood pool on the sand and disappear. The desert was greedy for moisture and blood was as wet as anything else.

   "Listen, please" Charles nearly screamed, panic was edging into his voice and thoughts, "I don’t know what you’re talking about, really I don’t, I just came down here to have a good time, have some drinks, pay for some ladies, I didn’t do nothing, nothing, I don’t know nothing, please, believe me!"

   "Oh now, that’s a funny one Monroe, but you know you know too much about ‘you know what’, and the Boss won’t let us get you off that easy" came the third voice, medium timber and calm, "but" he continued, "we may be able to work out a compromise"

   "What!? Really!" Charles cried with gratitude, "I’d do anything, please, just let me go." His tears fell, the desert’s thirst was far from quenched.

   "All right Sid, give Mr. Monroe the ‘Package’" said the calm voice.

   Charles was ecstatic. They were giving him a package, something to deliver, something that would deliver him out of this hard, sandy nightmare. And they called him Mr. Monroe, things had to be looking up.

   The slow, steady sound of a zipper coming undone reverberated in Charles’s bleeding ear.

   "Huh-huh here’s yo’ package Monroe" chuckled the thick voice as trunk-like flesh swung into his view.

   The penis slithered its way across his forehead and down his nose, tapped on his squeezed shut eyes, and finally traversed its way onto his lips.

   "Open up wide Monroe"

   With a prod from the round metal pointed at his head, Charles opened his mouth. Man-flesh rammed against the back of his throat and extensive girth puffed his cheeks. Enormous hands clenched his tightly wound curls and violently threw his face harder and faster into the dominating man’s lower belly.

   The whiny, squeal of a voice whispered in Charles’s ears, "Oh yeah, he’s real good, a real good one, way to go Monroe, you’re doing great, just wait till my turn, I’ll treat ya real nice Monroe, don’t worry, I’ll treat ya real nice"

   Moans and pants escaped from the big man’s lips and a slimy jet-stream of sperm erupted down Charles throat. He choked and a portion of the semen was sucked up into his sinus cavity. Coughing, sneezing, trying to wretch, and crying pitifully, Monroe opened his eyes. A huge glaring eyeball stared back at him. The tears cleared a little and his focus regained clarity.

   The penis that had assaulted him was hanging inches from his face, staring at him coldly. Charles started to scream. A high pitch bloody wail. It wasn’t just because of the humiliating rape that just took place. No. A single eyeball stared out from the end of the big mans penis. An actual eyeball, it blinked, looked from left to right, a trickle of sperm still wet on its pupil. It was watching him.

   Charles started to faint. Everything went dim, he could see the blessed darkness coming at him. Another punch to the head, this time on his nose, brought him back into the painful, harsh desert light of reality. Blood poured from his face, the desert turning pink around his shaking knees.

   A second zipper came down and it was the squeally guy’s turn.

   "I like it when they bleed" said the squeally guy, he rubbed his exposed crotch with both hands "blood is my lubricant of choice" he finished, as he walked his cock over to Charles.

   It was hideous, not a natural thing, not a thing born of or from this earth. Even the sand and the sky seemed to pull away. The penis had arms. Four of them. Tiny, but articulated with numerous waving, clawing fingers. The squeally guy removed his hands and the penis dropped to the sand. It squiggled along the ground like a crippled centipede and made its slow, devilish climb up Monroe’s leg and waist. It crawled around his arm and tickled up his neck. Charles felt a pair of the tiny hands grab his ear. Oh no, god no, not in there, Charles thought, not in my brain. From his lips only a small, beaten whimper escaped.

   The long scaly, multi-armed centi-penis penetrated into Monroe’s ear and the pain incoherently escaping from the victim’s mouth matched the pleasure of the sex member seeking ejaculation on Monroe’s brain. The penis went in and in. Not pulling out. Not yet. A wet, blood filled trench was pushed and carved through Monroe’s failing thought organ. His ability to understand and comprehend the outside world started to disappear.

   Charles sneezed. HACHOO, HACHOO, HAAACHOOOO and the penis-things head gushed out from Monroe’s nose on a wave of milky redness. It pulled more and more of its blasted penile length out of the nose and using all its perverse strength, climbed up Charles’s cheek and tore a gash in his eye. Hand over hand, it climbed in.

   The freakish member started to pulse, expanding and contracting. It started to bump, started to grind. In and out it slid, making a three-way mock vagina of Monroe’s head. Blood dripped from his eye, nose and ear. The desert drank up every last drop. Faster and faster the squeally guy rallied his twisted cock. In through the ear, out the nose and into the eye it pumped and slid. It looked as if a terrifying three-foot worm was attacking the mans face.

   "UHHHOHHAAH FUCK YEAAH" screamed the squeally guy. Yellow-white ichor dripped from Charles’s open wounds and he collapsed on the ground.

   Charles could only see out of one eye as he slowly gave the moisture of his body up to the sand. The sand would never be satisfied. Three vague shapes stood in front of him, all wore black suits, all had their penis’s hanging out. Two had nearly destroyed him, one had yet to come. Charles cried harder, wondering in his near brain-dead way what was coming next.

   "I don’t think he’s dead yet" said the squeally guy "but he sure was fun. You going to give him some?" he asked the third man, the calm man.

   "Of course"

   A tall thin figure stepped closer towards Monroe, his crotch reflecting silver flashes as the sun came up over the distant mountains. He kneeled down and began to whisper in Charles’s ear.

   "Hey there Charly, its all right everything is going to be fine, we are going to take good care of you." Charles whimpered what little he could and the third man continued, "And don’t worry Charly, we’ll take good care of your little girl, in fact we already have. When she was six we followed her to school. During a routine subtraction exercise she left class to use the restroom. We followed her when she went to the bathroom. Ya know what we did Charly? We took turns sinking ourselves into her tiny little anus and you know what Charly?" the man paused for an answer and when it was obvious that misery wouldn’t allow a response he continued, "She said she fucking loved every minute of it, she said she always loved it when her stepfather did this to her, she said she had always wished that you had done it to her, she hardly bled, not like you are now, you worthless pussy, she fucking loved it and told us to come and fuck her any time we felt like it, that’s how good it was she said"

   More and more of Charles’s blood and tears fell and more and more the desert drank from his failing body. The hand of the third man rubbed up and down on his shiny reflective cock and he continued.

   "Remember Charly, remember when you were twelve and your mom would leave you home alone? Remember Charly, you know where she was Charly?" Monroe didn’t have the strength to nod yes or no, "Well she was coming over to us, and we were coming all over her, she’d suck our cocks for hours on end, take it in every hole and tell us about how much of a worthless little pussy you were"

   The third man went on. They had fucked everyone Charles Monroe had every known or loved. His pets, his grandparents, had even raped his elderly father as he lay dying in a hospital bed. Everyone had felt their evil, he said, and they all loved it, all wanted more. The third man’s penis shined brighter and brighter as his fist got faster and tighter around its smooth surface.

   "It’s time to say good bye Charly"

   Dying pitifully, Charles couldn’t say a thing.

   The third man stood and pointed his metal cock at Monroe’s head. He jerked harder and harder. It was coming. It was coming. Almost there. He panted a little. God he enjoyed this.

   A solid, sperm projectile shot from his steel rod and a sticky bullet shattered Monroe’s skull. The desert drank like a maniac dying from exposure.

   The men put away their awful genitals, straightened their black, professional suits, got back in the car and drove out of the desert. Roads drifted behind the three men and a phone in the car rang. The third man, the one with the calm voice, answered it, nodded his head in an affirmative action and hung up. They cruised into a nearby town. The neighborhood was nice and clean. Trees were well trimmed and children had plenty of parks to choose from. They pulled up in front of a yellow, green and blue house. The trim work was well done and the lawn well kept. They knocked on the door and small boy, perhaps nine years of age opened the door. He had soft brown hair, hazy green eyes, a blue shirt with baseballs on it, red shorts and bare feet.

   "Hello little boy" said the third man "we’re from the Department of Homeland Security and would like to have a few words with you, may we come in?"

   The boy started to cry. He had heard of the Homeland Security and its agents. He was scared, but since they were from ‘The Government’ he had to let them in. The door squeaked on its hinges and a hand snapped the deadbolt locked.

   Screams leaked their way out from around the shut, closed door. People in the quiet, clean neighborhood turned their heads. Forcibly ignoring the pain hanging in the sweet summer air, they turned back to the families, gardens, shopping lists, and business of their own microscopic lives.

©2003 Deek Jersey

Neil McAdams/ Deek Jersey is from Bellingham WA, and is 22 years old. He enjoys abusing non-synthetic drugs, playing in a punk rock band (Dolphin), sci-fi and horror, and is also a dedicated frissbee player.