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Stories are our businessTM

By CL DelGuercio PDF Print E-mail
Article Index
By CL DelGuercio
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“What’s the know on brannyspank here? He looks dumb as a nut,” Alfa says, motioning to the figure at the table. That’s me he’s pointing at, by the way.

The muscled stud with him, Pooch, leans over to me and goes, “My bestbro Alfa wants the know on you, brannyspank—what say you give it up.”

I don’t answer him. This is the way it has to go.

“Then let me give you the know on us,” Pooch says. He drops his own tray of foodstuffs down onto the table and pulls mine away from me. “This is our spot, brannyspanks eat someplace else.”

“Where is that?” I ask. “Where do brannyspanks eat?”

“I don’t know, maybe in Brannyspank-land.”

Oh the boundless wit of the understud mind. Pooch turns up the intensity on his electralime hair holograph for a more menacing effect.

“But they don’t eat here,” he says. Everyone slaps Pooch on his back in encouragement and teehee loudly. Then one of the more observant studs speaks up. “He’s in sensory confines,” he tells the others. “He’s down the hole, Pooch. Poor kiddie probably doesn’t even notice you.”

“I’m real hard to miss,” Pooch says before he picks up a wiggly chunk of gelatin-D with his fingers and smears it all over my face. I scowl all blackhatter at him. “Yeah, he sees me all right. Get up, brannyspank, time to find yourself a new table.”

I wipe the slime from my cheeks. “You studs are right, I am down the hole.” I stand up and turn to face Pooch. He’s so big that I’ve got to strain my neck, but I look straight into his dark little peepholes anyway. “I see you,” I tell him. “I’d have to be plain dead not to notice a gigantic nudge-weasel like yourself standing right in front of me.”

His face goes all radish on me and he balls up his fists. Oh joyous joy, I get to take another beating. Color me surprised.

He glances over at Alfa, clearly the stud to know in this group, who gives him the okay. “Commence with it already, I’m hungry,” the boy tells him and he waves Pooch on to give me the pummeling I’m so clearly asking for. So this frankenstud comes at me with a pile of no-good in those black peepers of his. There’s no fullgrowns in the nosh house yet so he figures he’s got the time to beat me like he owns me. He cocks his fist and lets loose.

A direct hit to my jaw. I crumple to the ground. The studs at the table all start whooping it up, real Lord of the Flies fanatical and all. I’m on my knee when he rears back and throws a fist at me again. A real Gentleman Jim this one is.

Just stay down. Take it. Do your job.

Pooch doesn’t disappoint. He keeps pounding away at me like the sadist I thought he’d be—kiddies these days, so much anger. After a few minis I can hear him huffing away so I know he must really be sucking wind.

“I’m finished with you,” he finally says. “Now go away before I change my mind.” A few of his bestbros are congratulating him, giving him high slaps and chuck-chuckles. I pick my specs and earpiece up off the floor and put them back on.

“But I’m not finished with you yet,” I tell him.

Twenty-four karat silence. I kuffing love this part.

His face goes full cherry again and he starts throwing his fists into my body. But what all these studs don’t realize is that I’m farther down the hole than any of them know… and I can’t feel much at all. I’d share this tidbit of information with Pooch, but he seems so busy, you know, with the kicking of my ass and everything. It doesn’t take long before he’s all used up.

Now I don’t necessarily like doing this, just whomping away on a meatbag like Pooch but, c’mon, he deserves it. I know he deserves it. You know he deserves it. The studs watching all know he deserves it. Hell, deep down I think even he knows he has it coming. At least I’ll try to look like I’m not enjoying it so much. I start in on him quickly, hammering down onto his arms while he tries to block the blows. I know it hurts him; he’s dull but he’s no blanket like me. He throws a few back meekly. I’ll bruise up after all this but I won’t feel the pain, not like he will. He starts to cower every time I cock my arm back. That’s a good sign. It means we’re almost finished.