Joey hugged them, running his hands over the smooth black fur coating their muscular bodies, and began to cry. He knew that if anyone found out what they'd done they would destroy the two beasts and he'd be alone again. Defenseless.
It had been over a year since Joey had been attacked and nearly kil ed. That's when his parents had brought home the two monsters to protect him. For the last six months Joey and his friend Mike had been teaching the two predators how to kil from a book they'd ordered from
Soldier of Fortune magazine on building prey drive and a Schutzhund video on bite work. Using a dummy they'd made of old clothes, they'd taught the two dogs to leap up and rip out a man's throat on command, how to dive for a man's legs and crush his ankles or rip off his quadriceps or hamstring muscles with their massive jaws to bring him down, how to rip open a man's bel y and tear out his intestines. They were learning quickly. Joey had been dying for a demonstration of their abilities.
Right up until Hades and Beelzebub split little Mikey like a wishbone, Joey had been confident that he could cal the dogs off before they went too far. The fountain of arterial red that splashed his face moments after giving the attack command had proven him wrong.
He had been standing next to Mikey in the park. They both had their shirts off and Joey kept catching Mikey staring at the scars on his chest and stomach from where he had been attacked. He knew that Mikey was about to ask him about them, that he would have to remember that horrible night spent in Damon Trent's basement tasting his own blood. The last thing Joey wanted was to remember. He whistled and pointed at his friend. The two rottweilers turned in unison, baring their fangs. Hades was the first to attack. Mikey had his arm wrapped in a bite sleeve made from a stolen leather jacket and two thick pil ows, but Hades ignored it. Mikey's eyes widened in fear as the massive beast charged. He held out the bite sleeve and she dodged it as if it were a gun, just like she'd been trained to do. She went straight for his throat. Joey couldn't help but be impressed as he watched that thickly-muscled instrument of destruction launch herself into the air like a missile, leaping nearly three feet off the ground, her fangs bared. Her jaws clamped onto Mikey's throat and she brought him down to the park floor in a cloud of dust. She began thrashing and jerking her head from side to side, snapping Mikey's neck and tearing his esophagus to shreds. Blood erupted from the boy's throat and soaked the animal's snout. Blood from
Mikey's punctured carotid artery and lacerated jugular sprayed al over the ground and doused young Joseph in a shower of red. He licked his friend's blood from his lips and a shiver vibrated down to the root of him, giving him an instant erection.
Beelzebub was just seconds behind his sister. He dove into Mikey's stomach and began ripping and tearing at his abdominal muscles, burrowing his way to the boy's organs.
Joey's legs trembled. His jaw fel open and his eyes widened in shock. He reached out his hand toward the dog but hesitated. Something about the sight of the blood, the torn flesh with the white bone and pink-and-purple organs gleaming through, the sound of muscle and tendons being ripped by those merciless fangs, transfixed him. It was so horrible… so beautiful.
The boy stood frozen, staring as Hades attempted to tear Mikey's head from his shoulders. Joey tried to shut out the rattling whistle coming from Mikey's mangled throat as the boy continued trying to suck air into his lungs even as Beelzebub tore into him. Joey clapped his hands and yel ed for the dogs to stop.
"Down! Down, Hades! Down,
Beelzebub!"
When Hades unclamped her jaws from
Mikey's throat the boy's head was twisted at an acute angle. There was little doubt that his neck had been shattered. His pupils were fixed and dilated and his chest had ceased its rise and fal.
Joey looked down at his murdered friend and began to cry. He hadn't meant to kil him. His sorrow rained down on him like a summer storm. He was relieved by the immediacy and intensity of it. Joey knew a lot about serial kil ers. He'd read about them, had almost been kil ed by one, and had an irrational fear of becoming one, becoming like the perverted freak that had kidnapped him and carved him up in his basement. But he was relatively sure that serial kil ers did not feel remorse for their victims. As long as he could cry he was sure that he was normal, even if his tears were more for the two massive rottweilers than for his dead playmate. He knew they would be put to sleep once the police found
Mikey's body and figured out what had happened.
Two days later the dogs were destroyed, but not before Joey had taken them back to the park to watch them feed on
Mikey's remains.
When they arrived at the spot where the attack had taken place the boy's savaged corpse was stil lying in a heap on the park floor just where Joey had left it. Only now it was seeping fluids other than blood and myriad insects had begun making a meal of him. Joey found himself becoming aroused as he watched the two dogs bite off and devour huge chunks of the boy's flesh.
He masturbated to his first climax as
Hades devoured Mikey's genitals, adding his own virgin seed to the bloodsoaked earth.
Chapter Two
Ten Years Later…
Joe sat in his art class staring at the nude model posing unenthusiastical y atop a wooden stool. Her breasts were much smal er than what Joe preferred.
Her hips, ass, and thighs were likewise barely existent. She was proportioned very much like a prepubescent girl rather than a grown woman. Not at al the type of woman that normal y roused the beast. But something about her was getting to him. Her big, vulnerable, doelike eyes, the seductive smirk turning up the corners of her thick lips or the up the corners of her thick lips or the way they seemed to be constantly puckered as if blowing a kiss.
Something about her was arousing him.
And that was just not good.
Years ago a psychiatrist had suggested painting as therapy to help Joe deal with the trauma he'd been through. They thought it would be good if the shy young boy learned to express himself creatively. Since then Joe had used his art as an outlet for his fantasies, but as his fantasies had begun to twist and pervert he'd had to hide his work from those who wouldn't understand it. He was now beginning to think this art class might not have been a good idea. It was hard to hide your art in a room fil ed with thirty other students.
Joe's hand trembled as he dragged the paintbrush over the canvas. More and more red found its way into his palette as he imagined ripping the waifish model open and tasting her insides. It was just one more sign that he was starting to lose control of himself.
Earlier that day he'd received a cal from his father reminding Joe of how much he was paying for his education and that he'd better not be out partying al night and getting shitty grades like he had his first year in col ege.
"Don't piss away your chance to make something of yourself by going out every night chasing those col ege sluts. There'l be plenty of time to dip your wick in those split-tails after you get your education. Col ege ain't al about beer bongs and toga parties, boy. Don't fuck this up! I can barely afford to keep you there now. I'd be retired now if it weren't for you-you're the only reason I keep working. But you'd rather get drunk and bang every coed slut you see. Young, dumb, and ful of cum. You'd better control that shit this year, boy! Don't let your grades slip again. You hearin' me, boy?"
Joe listened halfheartedly. Loans and government grants were paying for his education; al his dad did was send him spending money. He could easily replace that eighty dol ars a week with a job. Even McDonald's paid more than that. But something about talking to his father always made the beast hungrier.