Dean Patrick About 6500 words

635 W Young
Morgan, Utah 84050
(713) 425-9779
deanpatrickarts2938@gmail.com

“Home Invasion”

by Dean Patrick © 2019

Jason’s first colonoscopy was something he’d never expected would end with a shotgun in his

mouth knowing that things must end in such decisive violence. To end a madness certainly no

one would ever believe.

It’s a procedure that’s done thousands of times daily. No complications, but a procedure

where doctors must tell patients the possibility of such things like the walls of their intestines

being ripped, or their rectum being torn apart.

Not to worry, though, such things never really happen.

Of course they don’t.

But it’s possible…

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Jason Corum always appreciated when such complications were mentioned since for him

anything that could ever happen bad, always had its way of doing just that. He was a recovering

alcoholic, but was also three years plus sober when heading into the procedure. Still, bad things

tend to happen by default to the people like Jason.

He was accompanied by his loving partner of nearly five years, Lania. Lania Seymore to

be exact. It was Lania who set the whole gig up in the first place, so if anyone was to ever blame

the outcome of Jason’s first colonoscopy…his last one… well…why not blame the woman.

That’s what the world does anyway, right?

Jason and Lanny arrived for the procedure about thirty minutes early. Something Jason

was quite particular about with any doctor’s appointment. Any appointment, for that matter, saw

him early enough to where he could always prepare for anything. Be ready for anything. But this

time arriving so early seemed a bit overkill, as they waited FAR too long in Jason’s impatient,

rigid schedule that he’d always expected everyone around him, no matter the situation, to

accommodate.

He looked at his phone over and over again, countless times only to see time move

forward a minute or so each with each glance. Putting the phone down on the chair next to him in

frustration. Picking it up. Putting it down. Causing Lania to feel stressed, even a little

embarrassed. “Just relax, okay? Relax. We haven’t even been here for what? A few moments?

Doctors are always late. It’s okay,” she said with a slight giggle knowing that he seemed helpless

to control himself in such situations.

“I’m gonna go up and ask the guy who checked us in if he has an E T A,” said Jason,

clearly flustered. “He’s not going to know anything differently,” replied Lania, clearly seeing the

humor. Just as Jason stood up to interrogate the check-in assistant further, the entry door to the
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Endoscopy room opened with a bright, cheerful nurse who called the next name. It wasn’t

Jason’s, but he still made his grunt loud enough for the nurse to take notice. For anyone to take

notice.

“And you are?” she asked Jason, looking suspiciously into his eyes, suddenly losing the

cheerful nod as if it had been slapped out her.

“Jason Corum,” he replied, looking at her, but obviously not wanting to hold her stare.

Lania was clearly embarrassed this time. She hissed at him to settle down.

“I’m sure it won’t be much longer Mister Corum,” continued the nurse. “Waiting is hard

sometimes, we understand that around here. The lady sitting behind you’s been here for over an

hour, haven’t you hun?” said the nurse, directing her question to the lady. She was sitting with

her husband or boyfriend who seemed so deeply focused on his phone it wouldn’t have mattered

if they’d been waiting a day. Jason looked over his shoulder to the couple and noticed that

neither one of them seemed to care if they’d been waiting for yet another day.

“Can you at least give me some kinda idea when this thing will start?” Jason asked the

nurse in irritation, not really giving a flying shit how long others had been waiting. Afterall, it

was all about him. “When we’re all ready back here. That’s when it will start. Patience. You’ll

see that’s best.” She then shut the door probably a little harder than intended.

“See! Will you just stop,” hissed Lania again. As Jason turned to her for some kind of

smart ass response, the entry door suddenly opened again with a different nurse who calmly

called out, “Jason Corum.”

“That was fast,” Jason said, Lania now grinning without a sound. “What? What’s so

funny?”
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“Nothing’s funny, Jason, let’s just go. This is your moment,” replied Lania a little too

aloof; odd in fact.

The nurse introduced herself as Sara. No last name. She weighed Jason, had he and Lania

follow her to the cubicle-like room that was divided in privacy by a thick, denim-like curtain,

stocked with gurney, visitor’s chair, and cheap posters on the back wall that looked like charts of

some sort. Jason’s nerves stepped up a notch. Lania sat on the visitor’s chair as Sara told Jason to

completely undress.

“Strip down completely and I mean underwear and all,” she said. Aggressively.

Told him to put the open-back gown on and to open the curtain when he was done as to

notify her she could come back and start prep work. She left them shutting the curtain with as

much aggression as telling him to strip.

Jason undressed while Lania took his clothes and put them neatly to the side. She sat

back in the visitor’s chair as Jason laid back on the gurney. He looked at her while she stared at

the curtain. She kept staring at it as if trying to understand something that seemed confusing.

“What is it, Lanny?”

When she turned her head to Jason in response her head jerked as if to pop her neck in

place, startling him.

“Look at the curtain, Jason.”

“Okay,” he said, slowly turning his head from her, to the curtain divider. “Just look at it,”

she continued as he stared more closely. Clearly the curtain had heavy blood spatters all over it.

So deep they still seemed wet. Were blotches dripping down the curtain?

They couldn’t be.

That couldn’t be blood.

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Could it?

He looked back to Lania who was staring again at the curtain in a trance.

“Hey. Lanny. Look at me!” he said, raising his voice too loudly for any hospital area. Her

head snapped again toward him. “Is that fucking blood, Lanny? Is that blood on the fucking

curtain?”

She giggled softly as if snapping out of the trance, her head still stuck in that jerky

motion. “Looks like it, but it couldn’t be.”

“Are you alright?” Jason asked in genuine concern. “You seem preoccupied with all this.

Are you sure that’s not blood?”

“I’m fine, baby” Lania replied, looking so distracted Jason knew she wasn’t really

listening. She still looked confused. Like she was figuring out the details of a new puzzle of

some kind. Hard to tell actual feelings sometimes when partners’ nerves kick in at once. “I’m

sure it’s just the design in the material. Let’s get the nurse back in and get this over with; I’m

tired.” That was just fine with Jason as he wanted this shit over with just as much as Lanny ever

would. She pulled open the curtain to signal Sara they were indeed ready.

______________________________________________

Sara promptly returned with enough delight in her voice and presence to calm even the

most draconian mood.

“Looks like you’re ready to move along!” she said with utter spunk. “I’m gonna cover a

few things real quick, then wheel you down to the procedure room. First, let me hook in an IV

drip just to keep you hydrated. In the procedure room you’ll meet the doctor. Doctor Ibsen. He’s

the best. Quite the sense of humor. Little too sarcastic for some, but he’s a hoot, which is exactly
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what a lot of patients need when doing this. You’ll also meet the surge tech, Mindy, and the lab

assistant, Amelia. That’s the whole team. Doctor Ibsen will go over exactly what he’ll do.”

She then paused a little too dramatically, looking Jason up and down, her eyes unpeeling

his skin. “There’s quite a bit he’ll cover,” she continued, folding her arms. “Going over the

endoscope and how it will enter, and what it will see… what it will do. Any and all possibilities

of things that could hurt you. Standard HIPPA shit. Not too worry if he seems a little gory…”

HIPPA shit?

Did Jason hear that right?

Did Lania hear it?

“…that’s why his humor is appreciated so often. What he’s required to say sometimes

causes a little anxiety. Fear actually, if you wanna know the truth. After he’s given you the

rundown, I’ll give you the anesthetic. It’s like morphine, and I know you know what that’s like.

Doesn’t quite have the knock-out power as ole morphy. Recovery time is far less and you’ll not

have to worry about withdrawal and what not. I know that’s important to you as you mentioned

being a drunk and all…”

Jason didn’t seem to hear any of this correctly. No way she wasn’t talking to him this

way. That, and the fact the IV needle was already in his hand.

Lania rested her hand on his arm providing some comfort. He must have completely

forgotten Sara had put in the IV. How’d he forget such a thing? It also had to be in his hand

because his arm veins were too small and hidden for a precise arm stick. That had always been

the case when he’d had blood taken. Had to tell every goddamn nurse the same story. Can’t find

my veins. Use my hand, trust me. I don’t want you digging around in my arm; don’t even try.

But what was with the slang? Knock out power? Morphy? Who the fuck said that?
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“…after I’ve added the anesthetic to the IV, you’ll feel a burning sensation in your arm.

Kinda like it’s traveling into your veins to be honest. That’s the best way I can think to describe

it. Some say it feels like pressure, or a hard, pinching sensation. Not comfortable in any way. But

that won’t matter. It doesn’t last long, trust me. And don’t worry, I’ll be with you the whole time

looking at you, making sure it keeps going until you don’t feel a thing. I’ll tap your arm, your

chest, even your jaw to make sure you’re totally out before the doctor begins the procedure. You

really don’t have anything to be nervous about. Device just seamlessly enters your ass and does a

nice scope and scrape of your innards.”

Jason looked at her alarmed. Horrified actually.

“What did you say?” he asked, then looked over to Lanny. “What did she just say? Did

you hear that?”

Lanny made a “shhhhhing” sound telling Jason to settle down. That it was just nerves.

But he was beginning to feel things were too off to just be his own nervous system. Things were

slowing down too quickly as well, as Nurse Sara continued.

“What I’m going to do next may feel a little uncomfortable. I’m going to place two nodes

into your chest. One on each side – “

“What do you mean you’re placing them into me?” Jason snapped. “What does that

mean? What do you mean about putting nodes into me?” He jerked his head toward Lania.

“Don’t let her stick anything in me, Lanny. That’s the doctor’s job and sure as hell isn’t done in

this room.”

“Mister Corum, these nodes will feel a little sticky if you move around too much, so try

to relax. It’s critical you relax. You want this to go as planned, right?”

“Course I do – “
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“Then please relax for me, you’ve been doing fine till now. No reason to start tensing up

on me; just gonna make it tougher on everyone involved. You settle into everything and I

guarantee you I’ll give you as much of the fun stuff as you’d ever dreamed. Now…please. Relax

for me while I get these in place. They’ve got to be precise for the doctor’s job to go smoothly.”

“I realize that, Sara, but the only insertion that goes on is in the endoscopy area, right?

My ass, am I right?” said Jason trying to sound as relaxed and humorous as possible as Sara did

indeed seem to drill two nodes into his chest area using her fingers like drill bits. One just above

his heart, the other about six inches or so to Sara’s left. Jason didn’t have the energy to cause in

resistance.

“Yeah, that’s right. These nodes here, however, are to create different pathways during

the colonoscopy which enable better progenerating when the endoscopic legs are trying to

anchor the walls of your large intestine – “

“Wait, wait, wait, the fuck are you talking about? Endoscopic legs? You’re not making

any sense – “

“Jason. Jason. Honey, please. It’s okay. I think you’re getting all worked up over nothing.

You’re not hearing things right,” said Lanny as she placed her hand again on his arm for

comfort. She then looked to Sara. “Sara, please, let’s just go ahead and get on with this as

planned and not cover so much. Isn’t that Doctor Ibsen’s job? Let’s just go with the original

plan.”

Jason looked up to Lania in utter confusion and disbelief.

“What are you talking about, Lania? What plan?” Jason said in stumbled frustration. He

certainly didn’t know what he’d just heard. He also felt a drowsiness that was overwhelming –

also frustrating because he was certain no drugs had been administered. Exhaustion was a better
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word. How he felt could only be due to drugs administered. At least that’s what he thought as he

tried to follow the whack-job conversation ping-ponging back and forth between his domestic

partner of YEARS, and a complete stranger. He found his head moving back and forth, side to

side, as the two women discussed the procedure as if they’d been two old friends planning a

dinner engagement months ago. The strangeness of it all was at a level of surrealism that he

actually wondered if he was hallucinating. And that meant drugs.

“Okay! Time to wheel you on down to Doctor Ibsen to the procedure room, Jason.

Ready?!”

Jason felt he’d been slapped by a cold newspaper out of some bizarre trance. Sara’s

sudden pitch seemed alarming and inappropriate. He tossed his tired head one last time toward

his loving Lanny for any last hope of clarity, some nod of comfort. Nothing. Instead, he felt

hopelessness as Lanny focused only on what Sara was saying and doing. But it wasn’t Lanny’s

focused conversation with Sara that caused such dread. It was Lania’s grin. Wasn’t even a grin.

More like a crooked twitch of a smile that looked like a child had just painted it on with lipstick.

Mocking. Sinister. He couldn’t look at his lover for more than a second’s tick or surely he’d

scream. He turned to Sara, who, thank Christ, was now looking to him, thankfully breaking from

Lanny. “You’re still with me, right Sara? You’re not leaving me during this deal?” Jason said in

desperation. He sensed he sounded beyond despair. More like a voice that’s just lost any hope of

salvation.

“I’m right here with you, Jason. You’re perfectly safe, perfectly fine. IV’s doing nicely.

Nodes are secure and embedded. Pulse is good. Least it looks and feels that way. Your eyes are

focused. Dilated, but focused. And yes, of course I’m here with you. I’ll not leave your side.

There’s too much at risk.”

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______________________________________________

Once inside the procedure room, the moment he thought would never come, came with

Doctor Ibsen himself donning buck-shot blue jeans, socks and sandals, and tank top of all things.

He stood a little over six feet, manicured bleach-white beard. Jet Black hair. Eyebrows a mixture

of both colors. Doctor Ibsen’s dress and appearance seemed casual to obscene. The whole

Goddamn situation was obscene. That’s the best word that came to Jason’s mind as everything

moved close and closer to horror he always relied on when watching a Kubrick film, or reading

anything from Lovecraft. Jason was also certain the good doctor had just arrived from home,

snapping out of bed from a drunken stupor, still needing to shower, shit, and shampoo.

“That’s a great get-up, doc. Where’s your white coat? Or you just gonna do this with your

feet kicked up and sandals tossed away all together? Just do this bit in your socks.”

“I like your humor, Mister Corum. Not many come in here with such wit. That’ll serve

you well.”

“Yeah. Thought It’d do me better than panicking, right?”

Doctor Ibsen then roared out a large, bellowing laugh that almost sounded like he was

forcing a howling yodel. He held the laugh longer than Jason would have ever wanted, much less

thought. Instantly he wanted Ibsen to stop.

Forever.

“No, no, no, Mister Corum. No need to panic. That I can assure you. Now listen, I know

my nurse here, Sara, has gone over many of the preliminaries with you. Eased your mind as

much as possible, I imagine? I’m simply going to detail a few more standards and protocols

before we get started. Before she gives you more of the feel-good drugs….
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Funny how Jason had already been feeling such drugs, feeling as if his veins were being

pumped and loaded for the endless Fun Zone with the finest China White. Everything up to this

point seemed like it’d gone on for days. Fact is he started to wonder just how long he’d been

there. Words seemed to take hours to pronounce from everyone involved. Everything blurry,

filtered, panoramic. His mood a tranced and savoring ride on the wave of calm. Ibsen’s voice

seemed to echo from a tunnel far far away, deep inside a lost land where nothing was what it

seemed, where nothing would ever have a real purpose again as long as Jason lived. He

wondered when the Cheshire Cat would appear when he forced himself to focus on every

twitching word coming from Ibsen’s lips.

Were his lips twitching?

“…First though, let me introduce you to the other staff here. My team, if you will. Over

to your right is Mindy, my surge tech. She’ll be the one doing all the lubing and handling all the

instruments. To your left is Amelia, my lab assistant. She’s been in charge of progenerating for

these procedures for quite some time now. God, can’t even remember when she started with me,

to be honest. She’s incredibly anxious to see how this one’s going to turn out – “

Was his voice trembling along with the twitching lips?

“Wait, wait, wait. Doc. Hold on. Jesus fuck. What are you talking about? You’re doing a

colonoscopy, right? Procedures you’ve done thousands of times I assume? Didn’t you say that?

You’re confusing me with what you just said. Fact I’m not even sure what you just said – “

“Of course, Jason. Let me put your mind at ease. You’re right. I’ve done some hundred

eighty thousand of these since practicing medicine. This is nothing. Still, I have legal obligations

that I must adhere to. You understand. Like… you could end up dead. The possibility of the

instruments I’m probing you with tearing into your innards like a six foot razer is always a
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possibility. There’s also the chance of your innards reacting badly. Convulsing. Tremoring.

Causing jerking reactions which in turn cause the instruments to rip into where they shouldn’t, or

even shred your rectum area for example. Rim job if you will, catch my drift, JC?

“But that’s not the real concern. Chances of anything like what I just said happening are

remote. Odds of a bus hitting you when you leave are better. My concern…and yours JC, are the

after-effects. How your body reacts to what’s inserted. How it responds. How you respond. How

your body accepts things or if there’s rejection. See, we have to surgically place the experiment

inside you because you’re prime for acceptance. You’re ripe. Getting everything inside you…

setting up’s the easy part…”

Jason now used every facet of his mind to remain calm. JC? Had he given permission to

address him by initials? He was certain that none of what the doctor was saying had any truth to

it. Had to be the sarcastic wit Nurse Sara had been talking about all along while in the waiting

area.

“Mindy, how’re the legs looking for the probe?” Ibsen asked, turning away from Jason.

“Fine Doctor Ibsen. In perfect sync and form. Seeds are also ready, but I think you need to get

this going right away. We’re looking at a peak moment here…”

Jason looked over to Mindy, back to Ibsen, back to Mindy again as a new, this time hot

sensation ripped through his veins like a sonic zip leaving him wonder if he’d just been pumped

with battery acid instead of morphine. Or whatever.

After that, all the world was far more than a stage, all the people more lovely than any

Shakespeare player. Or was it “Tom Sawyer” he heard in the background? Pushed into another

world where the only reality became an instant rush and silent boom into the impossible
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loneliness of anesthetic midnight. He didn’t even remember seeing Lania after the procedure

was over so tossed were his mental faculties into oblivion.

______________________________________________

Much later that evening Jason still found himself so exhausted while standing up in his

bathroom looking into the mirror, he wondered if he’d actually fallen asleep standing there. He

also wondered if he’d started dreaming, for if it wasn’t the shifting and bizarrely twisted

dreamlike movement he was seeing, maybe it was residual hallucinatory effects from the drugs.

The “morphy” as Sara had called it. For yet another odd reason, he felt himself moving to the

rhythm of Marilyn Manson’s “Mister Superstar.” The slow, pulsing intro with Manson’s heavy-

throated whisper speaking directly to Jason, telling him he was indeed becoming something

fabulous and grand. The thickness of the music overbearing in the background of a bathroom

now tilting back and forth, left to right, as if the room was trying to balance on a watery boulder.

He looked into the mirror and felt like becoming all the things that make a person far better than

just good. Becoming something far different than he’d thought possible. Something invigorating

and powerful…Hey Mister Superstar, I’ll do anything for you…Hey Mister Superstar I’m your

number one fan…Hey Mister Porno Star, I, I, I, I want you…Hey Mister Sickly Star I want to get

sick from you…

He looked deep into the crevices of his own skin folds just below his eyes, deep lines that

seemed to grow deeper and longer in real time the more he studied himself. Jason Corum leaned

closer into the mirror… bending over… leaning in… staring more curiously… all with far more

interest than he’d anticipated; a Mime wanting to see how long he could hold his own stare. Just

a few moments proved enough for him to know who was staring back from the mirror was
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someone different, someone who seemed to metastasize ever so slowly into what was illogical

and filled with nothing more than delusion and grandeur designed to serve perhaps the Devil

himself.

The music increased in volume to such an intensity that it began to rumble the floor and

walls. Even the mirror…Hey Mister Fallen Star, don’t you know I worship you? Hey, hey,

Mister Big Rock Star, I wanna grow up just like you…Manson’s song continued, then sonically

exploding into the chorus of chaos…I know that I can turn you on, I wish I could turn you on, I

never wanted this!

Was this the feeling of real change? Was his own chaos some new catalyst for what he’d

always dreamed, but never had the courage to actually do? Was it this metal rage that was

triggering a Kafka-esque metamorphosis? And what would happen when he awakened? Could he

awaken was the real question.

Jason stepped back from the mirror, straightened to stretch out his back, raised his arms

high over his head to stretch out his shoulders and sides, resting his hands on his hips looking

now at his reflection’s entire frame. Were his shoulders different? His neck? Were his neck

muscles moving in different directions than what and how he felt his pulse? The veins in his

neck moving in the opposite directions like a stream moving against its own current?

He even smiled at the thought, then terrified to see his teeth had open, hollow jagged

cavities on what looked like every other tooth. He leaned in more for a closer look to see the

cavities were filled with something like amalgam that was used decades ago when people

couldn’t afford silver or gold fillings… Hey, hey, hey, Mister Superfuck, I wanna go down on

you… Hey Mister Supergod, will you answer my prayers? Hey, hey, hey, Mister Superman, I

wanna be your little girl.

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Jason started feeling it.

Started moving more and more into the groove of the heavy metal role.

He shifted his body in movements he’d never tried before, movements he didn’t think he

could do. He felt the music begin to spin. That was the best way he could describe it as all the

sound coming from the very walls seemed to spin along with the tilt of the room. Swaying in

coordinates designed for madness. To catch his balance, Jason braced his hands against the sink

bar, spread his legs a little more than shoulder length, lowered his head looking into the sink,

then looked again into the mirror as the music shuffled and skipped as if it were vinyl playing

with the needle missing all the grooves when Disturbed’s “Down with the Sickness” found the

needle perfectly. David Draiman’s tortured voice pummeled into not only Jason’s entire body,

but into his spirit. It wasn’t the kind of sound boom felt at a concert, but as if the sound had taken

on an alien sense of reality where the music flashed around the bathroom in swirls of colored

ribbons. Reds. Purples. Deep yellows… Drowning deep in my sea of loathing, Broken your

servant I kneel (Will you give it to me?), It seems what’s left of my human side, Is slowly

changing me, (Will you give it to me?)…

Jason leaned his face much closer into the mirror now studying his face and neck as

intimately as he could muster without his eyes blurring and losing focus. He didn’t want to lose

focus on anything at this point because he was certain he was losing his sanity. Making sure that

his veins were still in tact, not moving in the different directions he felt before.

Or saw before.

His eyes raced around his face, deeply scouring every crevice, every nuance that only he

would know and see if anything at all was out of place. Because that’s what he felt. That things
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inside of him, or moving around in him, were out of place. That some freakish infection was

overtaking him in ways that the flu could only hope to do.

He saw a pimple begin to form on the side of his nose, growing slowly and heavily, but

still fast enough to display an actual growth that swelled with heavy, deep orange puss.

Disturbed’s fierce song slowed down as to increase its anger as the horrid zit busted apart and

chunks of what looked like green rot sprayed all over the mirror. Jason recoiled in horror, but not

so much as to dismiss the fasciation of his own skin busting apart without what would usually

require his – or someone’s – forefingers pressing to pop the sore.

A second later another one grew on Jason’s forehead, then another on the side of his

cheek. Another on the middle of his neck, right on the Adam’s Apple. Each of the growing zits

swelled as the first one, then burst open like small blackberries being hit with a rock hammer.

The ones on his forehead and neck actually shot out long black strings that looked more like

rusted wires. Or were they black hairs, bloodied and ruined? Daiman’s voice shredding across

the mirror as Jason’s zit gore dripped downward…Looking at my own reflection, When suddenly

it changes, Violently it changes (oh no), There is no turning back now, You’ve woken up the

demon in me…

This time Jason recoiled rather violently as his face and neck grew more and more of the

bloody explosions that were migrating on top of each other, blasting the mirror with what were

now pellets of literal shit and puss cores that hit the mirror with such force it began to crack into

small fragments. His head started jerking from side to side uncontrollably as he began singing

along – screaming along actually – Get up, come on down with the sickness…You fucker get up

come on get down with the sickness, Madness is…

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Jason then screamed as loudly as his soul could have ever been called upon for a good

old-fashioned Barbaric Yawp right out of Whitman to snap him out of this cauldron world, back

into his somewhat normal reality with Lanny and her fearless playbook. He even screamed for

help, screamed to be saved from something he knew not what. He shot up from his bed

completely soaking wet, frozen to the bone, every muscle in his exhausted body knotted and

cramped in such distress he actually wanted to die, but still relieved the horror he’d just faced

was some fucked up moment in battle on the dreamscape front. He looked over to see Lanny

turned to her side in the fetal position, then to the mirror above their oak dresser. He knew this

was the mirror he’d just sprayed with hell from his own face and neck, but when not seeing the

mess on the glass, he felt enough relief to get up and start a fiery hot shower. He prayed that

would be enough to get his shit together, prayed it would be enough that he’d begin to feel

somewhat normal again after the Goddamn colonoscopy that he never wanted in the first place.

_____________________

Jason found himself thinking about Doctor Ibsen’s bizarre speech, his sick and blackened

sarcasm that had to be in HIPPA violation. At least ethically. He thought about the waiting room,

the curtain divider that Lanny was convinced had blood on it, how when he’d looked at it more

closely he was also convinced. Sara the Nurse who seemed to know Lanny like a lifelong

colleague. The incessant talk about the legs on the endoscopy probe. The slang. He went over

and over all of it, toweling himself dry. As he bent over to dry his feet, Jason felt a sharp, deep

pain in his lower back, deep enough to feel that something had just torn. As he attempted to

straighten up ever so carefully, blood gashed open from his ass, shot down his leg and sprayed

all over his feet. He grabbed into his stomach hard enough to gain a sense of balance as fell to
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the floor to his side, blood soaked from the waist down. He needed a shot of whiskey in the

worst way as he cried out to Lanny for help.

“Jesus fuck, Lanny, help me something’s really wrong. I can’t get up. Can you hear

me!?”

He cried out her name over and over. Cried out help and fuck and get up! over and over.

Must have done so several thousand times when he finally heard Lanny’s voice from the

bathroom doorway.

“It’s okay, Jason. It’s okay, darling. This is exactly what’s supposed to happen.

Everything’s fine,” she said, far too…cheerfully? Was that it? Was she actually in a good mood

seeing him turned out all over the bathroom tile, soaking in his own blood?

He gave a Herculean effort to raise up enough to see his partner standing in the doorway

with a presence absolutely void of offering any assistance. “Fuck is wrong with you? I need to go

the fucking hospital, Lanny.” Jason croaked out the reply with a pain in his chest that felt like

some iron twisted fist was crushing his heart valves to silence. As he said it, Lanny instantly

jerked toward him, rushing him.

In two steps – or leaps, rather – Lanny drove her right knee into Jason’s head. “You’re

not supposed to get up or make any movements! You’ll fuck everything up!” she shouted. In

Jason’s confusion and agony he passed out instantly as if being shot in the chest by a deer rifle.

_____________________

When he awakened again, he was not in the hospital. Not in his bed with Lanny. Not in

the kitchen eating ice cream, his favorite spot, his happy place when things got heavy enough to
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trigger a drink. Any drink. But this time it was thirty shots he craved, not just a single moment.

Where he found himself is what brought the desire to drown in Crown Royal: on his leather sofa

in stirrups. A stirrup contraption, actually, that seemed designed to fit on top of his sofa like an

extra chair, an extra prop. A movie set.

He could have screamed, of course. Could have started every effort to get out of the

stirrups and run away from home for time and all eternity. Instead he decided to visually inspect

everything around him including his own body. He couldn’t actually get up to check things out

for he was not only strapped in stirrups, his hands and waist were also strapped down all

together. The entire contraption was placed on the sofa with Jason in it, making him wonder just

how in fuck’s name did Lanny manage something so heavy and awkward. Or whomever put him

there. He knew trying to fight his way out of this thing was pointless, the main point being to

acclimate as soon as possible.

Think his way out of this one.

“Oh, you’re awake. Perfect. I know this may all seem quite extreme, but I’m here to

comfort you, baby, don’t worry,” said Lanny who just appeared in the living room entry way as

Jason was looking over his arms, hands, legs, feet. He was naked except for blue underwear.

Haines Boxers. He was trying not to notice the talon-like nails that were protruding from his

fingers and toes. Boney protrusions. Knuckled and wet. It was Lanny’s sudden appearance that

kept him from screaming.

“I know this is a bit on the fucked up side, Jase, but everything that’s happened has

turned me on. Can you image that?” she said, now walking toward him, seductively, slowly.

When finally standing in front of him she pulled down her jeans and lifted her sweater top over

her head, tossing it behind her. Standing now in her panties and bra, Lanny’s body was still that
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of a twenty-five-year-old Playboy Pinup even though she was in her early 40’s. Five-eight.

Hundred twenty pounds. Perpetual wind-blown hair. Jet Black. Curled. She snapped her bra off,

slid down her panties and shuffled them to side with her left foot. Not that any of this mattered,

for he was somehow already achingly hard. Engorged in fact.

“I see you’re ready for me. Shot your cock full of something a hundred times more potent

than that Ginseng shit. Or even Viagra,” Lanny said, reaching to Jason’s underwear, tearing them

off effortlessly as if they were tissues. This time he did scream. Nothing could have held

anything back as he fixated on his engorged erection that was shaped like a snake’s head with a

tongue lashing from its tip wildly as if starved for water.

Lanny pounced and straddled him with a force stronger than Jason ever produced when

he’d lifted weights in college during the offseason. She fucked him with even greater force,

lowering herself onto the abhorrent snakecock, taking him fully in, making him come within no

more than two or three unbridled thrusts. She moved off of him just as fast, moving all around

him now like a panther on its hind legs. She removed the straps from every place he was secured,

slapped him across his face with inhuman strength, threw herself to the living room floor, legs

open, arms above her head, tits still standing almost perfectly. Oddly, and reassuringly, Jason

still noticed her beauty. He moved himself off the stirrup contraption, moved over to the center

of the couch, sat down with his arms on his knees now looking down to Lanny, looking at the

repulsion between his legs, his now bat-like, oversized hands and feet he possessed. He could

feel his spine growing as he looked over Lanny unable to speak or even breathe.

“You’re different now, Jason. The envy of the world, and I must have you fuck me again

before it’s too late. You must give me what you have; me fucking you wasn’t enough. Do it now,

Jason, fuck me with your evil. Drive it deep into me. Give me back the seeds Goddamn it, now!”
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But that’s not what he did.

No, no.

Jason, for whatever bizarre reason, still possessed a few last morsels of conscience that

convinced him to get out of whatever this was by killing it. Any means necessary. He raced

across away from Lanny – or whoever the fuck she was, toward his gun case, smashing his hands

into it to, his twisted growths of boney talons. He grabbed his shotgun, completely aware of his

nakedness, yet absent of any vulnerabilities. He turned toward Lanny who was, of course, on her

feet ready to defend. The once naked lovers now mortal enemies squared off to murder each

other. Jason with shotgun pointed to her sternum; Lanny crouched and fanged, possessed,

hungry.

Jason fired into her two of the three rounds of the .12 gauge, knocking her across the

living room floor, slamming her into the far wall where she tumbled to the ground in a heaping

bloody mess.

But still moving.

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but going into his master bathroom again to see what

was becoming of him, to put whatever it was out of its creativity. Out of its continuing

metamorphosis. Now facing the mirror, shotgun in hand, what stood before him was nothing

short of an endless growth of knuckled protrusions that were now tearing through his skin at

every joint. He couldn’t allow it to live, couldn’t face any attempt to morph and adapt. With

absolutely no reason to consider any strategies or outcomes, he put the shotgun into his mouth, a

mouth now filled with sharp, twisted bolts that were quickly replacing his teeth. Pulled the

trigger to fire the last .12 gauge round, blowing his head into bloody shrapnel, yet his spirit still
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holding on long enough to his dying body which heard in the distant a laughing, cackling voice

of glee…