The Year of the Rat
by Nico Grey
Chapter 17
I hadn't worked in Grant Park for four days. We didn't need money. And I thought it was a good idea to avoid any possible contact with Marco's pimp. He might not remember me, but I was sure he would be keeping an eye on the park. He seemed the persistent sort.
But Dylan needed to hunt. And really, with both of us in the park, the worst thing that might happen would be the risk of indigestion if Dylan had to make a meal of a hip-hop-mafia pimp.
I made excuses to Jebby and Marco. Jebby already knew that Dylan and I attended regular meetings that had something to do with my health problem. He didn't protest too much when I left the two of them together in the church.
I thought that Jebby might take Marco down to the Navy Pier, although no specific plans had been discussed. They seemed caught up in their own business when I headed out into the night to meet Dylan at Gateway Park.
Dylan and I chatted a bit about life in his crew while we strolled down Columbus Drive. It sounded like Taryn's boyfriend still had a lot on his plate and it was stressing Taryn a lot.
I scouted the area pretty carefully before I took my place among the work crew that night. A few familiar faces eyed me carefully as I joined them. They had probably heard of the drama with Marco and the pimp and were curious to find out how much I would share about that situation.
My instinct was to avoid the subject. But I realized that some general conversation, as long as I didn't reveal too much, might be helpful. If that pimp had been hanging around the park, it would be good to know.
It seems that he had. I guess you don't just give up and forget about it if you lose your winning lottery ticket. That pimp had been back every night since Marco disappeared. He was determined to recover his little golden butt. The good news is that I didn't get any sense that he was looking for accomplices.
I wasn't too surprised that one of my first customers was a fan. It wasn't great for my ego. He was quite disappointed that I was there alone. He had been quite looking forward to seeing Jebby. But he settled for me.
He was easy enough to satisfy. And in a way, I was starting to enjoy our fan club. Most of them were far more interested in having Jebby and I get naked so they could do things to us, instead of having us do things to them.
This guy just wanted a little show and touch. So I took him off into the bushes. There was no need for the privacy of the arborvitae.
I couldn't see Dylan anywhere, but I could sense his appreciation from somewhere very close. Apparently he had just faded out and sat down in a front row seat.
I had another admirer already waiting for me when I returned to the office. I was surprised. Business had been good for weeks. But this was the first time I had a queue for my services.
I wasn't surprised that he had heard of me. He was already undressing me with his eyes. I knew what that meant. I wasn't at all surprised when he inquired about Jebby. But he took it well enough when I explained that Jebby wasn't working that night. It seemed that his main interest was me.
The guy seemed a bit squirrely to me. He wasn't very old — still in his early twenties, I thought — and I got a strong impression of illicit substances radiating from him. I didn't have much experience with drug addicts. But he did seem to fit the bill.
He selected a couple items from my menu, then asked what it would cost if he licked my body from head to toe before we got down to the main event. Like I said, squirrely.
I was surprised that he didn't end the encounter when I named the price. He was surprised that I wanted payment up front. He showed me the money, but he didn't want to part with it until we got down to business.
It was strange, but you meet all types of people in my line of work. I figured it would be okay as long as he paid before we get started. I led him out into the bushes.
He was surprised when we stopped.
"I thought we were supposed to go into the trees. For the movie."
Oh, yeah. Members of the fan club often had a thing for the arborvitae.
I shrugged and led him down the path. I didn't even think to contact Dylan about my intentions. The guy seemed strange, but harmless enough. I doubted he would end up as Dylan's dinner.
As we neared the copse of arborvitae, I began to detect a faint, sweet odor. It didn't seem to be coming from my flaky employer. He was busy running his hands down my chest and up under my t-shirt.
"The money," I reminded him.
"Oh!" he seemed surprised. He reached into his pocket with one hand and urged me into the copse of trees with the other.
I hadn't even cleared the passage though the trees when I felt a sharp sting in my abdomen. Electricity began to pulse through my body. I tried to move, but nothing happened. I could feel muscles twitching all over my body. I just couldn't control them. I began to feel dizzy.
A firm hand grasped the back of my neck and a very wet cloth was slapped over my face. I tried to resist, but nothing happened. Two powerful forces gripped my head, one from in front and the other from behind. I could almost taste the sweet odor of that wet cloth.
I tried to organize my thoughts to call for help. I just couldn't seem to form anything coherent in my mind. And it was becoming harder with each passing second.
I tried to discern up from down. I couldn't maintain my balance. From what seemed like miles away, I had the distinct impression that I had wet myself. I was falling uncontrollably, but I was lowered almost gently to earth. I think my body was being dragged along the ground... somewhere. The area around me seemed more open. My mind was closing down. I lost consciousness.
Regaining consciousness felt a bit like rising from the depths of a lake — or maybe from a swimming pool filled with tapioca. I was having an awful time trying to clear my mind. The taste of tapioca in my mouth didn't help.
I tried to roll over but nothing happened. I tried again. Then I tried sitting up. Still nothing. I couldn't even open my eyes. When I tried to scream, nothing came out but a muffled, garbled sound.
It took me minutes to figure out why I couldn't move. As I slowly began to regain body and spatial awareness, I realized that I was lying spread-eagled on the ground. My arms were held firmly in place by something wrapped tightly around my wrists. I tried to move my legs. They also refused to budge. With a growing sense of dread, I felt cool air moving along my entire body. Gradually, I became aware that I was naked.
I still couldn't see, but I could sense something wrapped tightly around my head. I hoped that nothing had happened to my eyes.
When I tried to open my mouth, I realized that it was already open. Something that felt a bit like leather was stuffed in my mouth and was forcing my jaws wide open. It didn't feel like it was going anywhere.
I began to sense movement around me. I tried to clear my mind so I could reach out and read the intentions of whoever was there. I was saved the effort.
"Wayull, I see yore back with us, young bull," a male voice snorted. "It's about time we start this ro-day-o."
The voice began a running narrative. I almost wished that it hadn't.
"I wuz really hopin' yore young friend would be here, too. Yew boys made moo-vie magic together. Yew shore did."
I felt hard hands prodding at my body.
"Last time we wuz here, I told yew how we handle ornery young bulls back in Texas."
That rang a bell. It wasn't a pleasant note.
Hands were working roughly between my legs. There was some firm pulling and tugging, then a sharp pain as something was cinched tight around my balls.
It gave me a sick feeling of dread. Suddenly, I understood completely just how terrified Marco had felt out here in the bushes last fall.
I struggled to clear my head of the fear and of whatever had been used to render me unconscious. I really could only focus on one horrible thought.
And a small glimmer of hope. Taryn had told me that vampire bodies healed extraordinarily fast. Injuries that took months for a human to recover from — or maybe never healed — would heal in just a few days or weeks if they happened to a vampire. The only thing that would never heal was damage to a vampire's heart.
Taryn hadn't really explained the principle. He just said that damage always healed. But what about an amputation? Did an arm or leg just grow back? I hoped desperately. If he took them from me, was it even possible that they would grow back?
My mind spiraled back into terror.
I regained focus when I felt more rough prodding between my legs. My thighs were pressed upward until the ropes holding my ankles were straining. Something cool and smooth was being shoved between my cheeks.
"Don' chew worry there, young bull. That's just some slickum. Yore goin' to be real glad fer that when this moo-vie gets started."
And that cool, slippery stuff went exactly where I was afraid it was going. I wasn't sure at first, but I thought his penis was inside me. It took a moment to realize that I didn't feel his body between my legs. Nothing more than a limb or two, I decided. On reflection, a few minutes later, I wished that had been his penis.
After a few moments, whatever was moving around inside me withdrew. I didn't feel any better. It meant that the show was finally about ready to begin.
"It really is a durned shame about yore friend," the voice said. "I so did want to give him yore cherry after you wuz so snotty to me last time."
My mind was slowly regaining coherence. I was starting to realize that I had help nearby. I was surprised that Dylan hadn't already burst in and settled this clown.
It wasn't anything coherent, but I thought that Cowboy Bob here sure did hold a grudge.
"And yore shore gonna wish yew had let yore little buddy have yore cherry."
The mist lifted. Painfully. With a sharp tug, my blindfold was removed. Some hair must have come with it.
"Since he ain't here, Im'a gonna be your co-star in this here moo-vie. When I get through with yew, yore gonna wish yew hadn't been so snippy with ol' Roy."
Bob? Roy? Did he think he was Roy Rogers.
And then my focus dropped below his face... and his belt.
Holy shit! He wasn't Roy Rogers, but he sure could have been Trigger!
And then I had another sick thought. There was no way that thing was going to fit inside me without doing serious, probably permanent, damage!
Roy was smiling. I'm sure he noticed the terror in my eyes. He just rubbed his pride and joy while he watched me have a breakdown.
My head was shaking wildly. Roy didn't have to understand sign language to know what that meant. His smile kept getting wider and more satisfied.
My vision was a kaleidoscope of fractured images as I flung my head from side to side. A small part of my brain took in movement to my right. Dylan!
Except it wasn't Dylan. But it was probably the reason that Dylan hadn't intervened yet.
Roy wasn't alone. He had brought a film crew.
How does someone like Cowboy Roy find a psychopath accomplice? Are they available online? He must have hired the guy that had set me up, too, I realized. Do these people advertise?
This guy appeared to be in his fifties, but he was trying to dress a lot younger. He was sleazy. His clothes were flashy and from a different era. But he looked fairly competent behind that camera. My terrified mind concluded that this probably wasn't his first ro-day-o.
"Yew look like yew have a lot on yore mind there, young bull," Roy taunted. "I'd love to hear yore thoughts. And I'm really gonna love hearin' yew scream."
He contemplated me for a moment, then bent down and fumbled with my gag.
I started to draw breath. He had said that he wanted to hear me scream.
But he clapped the gag firmly back in place. It took me a while to understand that it wasn't as tight. I could still taste the leather, but it felt like the something that had been forcing my jaws open was now missing.
"Have yew evur seen the like?" He stroked himself right in front of my face. "So what are yew thinkin', young bull? What's it like to know that ol' Roy is about to breed yew, then turn yew inta a steer?"
I was at a complete loss for words. I was terrified.
"I really wanted yore little friend to do this, young bull. I bet that afterward he'd have even done the nut cuttin' for ol' daddy if I had asked him jus' right. I shore wanted to see that." He seemed piously offended that I hadn't brought Jebby to his ro-day-o.
Slowly, it dawned on me that he was enjoying terrorizing me at least as much as he was looking forward to the rest of the show. I needed to regain enough composure to play him for a while. Dylan was nearby. I was sure that he just needed time to figure out how to dispose of both of these guys without any help from me.
So I went the terrified boy route. With the looser gag, I could at least speak. And the sound wasn't too muffled for him to understand. He was so eager, that he leaned closer to me.
"You need to untie me," I cringed, like I couldn't bear what would come next. "You'll never get inside me with... that," I could barely look at it, "if I can't raise my legs."
"Yew don't think ol' Roy is stupid now, do you boy? That would shorely hurt muh feelins." Roy grinned condescendingly. "I don't need yew pullin' any o' them slant-eyed kong foo tricks yew done last time we met."
I let him see terror in my eyes as I regarded Trigger. He just kept stroking and smiling.
"Uh, Roy," the ghoul with the camera croaked, "We can't be here all night. Let's start with the branding."
Apparently he had directed a few films before. He had that air about him.
But 'branding'?
I didn't have to think about it long. Roy smiled broadly.
"That's right, Disco," Roy winked at me. "I do need to mark this here young bull as mine before I breed him and de-ball him."
I guess it was some sort of electric device. I didn't notice any fire.
As Disco scrambled around to find the right camera angle, Roy bent to retrieve something from among the camera equipment. When he turned back toward me, he was grinning evilly.
It really didn't look like much. It had a metal shaft that was only eight or ten inches long. There was some metal device at one end that had a design on it. It looked like a reversed 'R' with an 'S' twined around it.
But when Roy lifted my right leg and stuck that metal thing against the side of my butt, I was in agony! Roy finally got to hear me scream. I could smell my own flesh burning! I must have passed out for a while.
That was probably for the best. I wasn't hungry, but a vampire can only take so much abuse. I'm sure I would have bared some fangs and given away my identity if I had remained conscious.
When I regained awareness, Roy was admiring his handiwork.
"That has gotta be abowt the purtiest little bull I ever done see. And now it's mine, all legal like."
He gave my butt a hard slap, right on the brand. I screamed and passed out again.
When I regained consciousness, Roy was already lining up to enter me. I guess Disco had pushed him to move the show along. But there was no way that huge thing would get into little me; especially with me lying on my back and my legs tied down.
I really wanted to scream again.
Instead, I felt a tug on my left wrist. Then a voice spoke inside my head. 'I'm here. Stall them. I need a minute.'
And that was about the most welcome message I could have imagined! Even more welcome than news of the Second Coming!
Roy was pushing against my entry. At first, that was all I could feel. He was really putting some effort into it. And he was huge! Then I realized that I couldn't feel the tension on my wrists and ankles any more. I didn't want to call any attention to the fact, but it seemed that Dylan had managed to loosen my bonds.
I wasn't sure what Dylan planned, but I understood that the fight was now going to be two-on-two. With those odds, I was betting my life on Team Fangs. Almost literally. I was certainly betting something pretty important on it.
Dylan had asked for time. I needed to delay Roy. I had to give him something.
It made me sick, but I pleaded. "Not my balls." I feigned confusion. I feigned terror. "Please, not my balls!"
Roy couldn't help himself. It was his moment. He needed to enjoy it.
"Don' chew worry yore purty little head about it, young bull. When daddy's through breedin' yew, yore little hole is gonna be tore up so bad yew might not even notice that knife." He reached down and gave me a twist for emphasis. His grin was triumphant.
He couldn't resist the final taunt.
"An' yew ain't gonna be missin' them little oysters fer vurruh long." He clenched his hand and I howled in agony.
"Yew may not have heard of 'em, but Disco's spe-she-al-it-tee is sumthin' called a snuff moo-vie. Do yew know what that means, little bull?"
Unfortunately, I did. You know a lot of nasty things after living on the streets for a year.
His hand started caressing my balls almost lovingly. They still hurt like hell.
"He's a gonna make yew a star! Even if yew don' live to see it," he really seemed to enjoy imparting that news. "And Ima gonna make me a mint."
He stopped to reflect for a moment.
"Yew won't believe wut Disco paid fer that show yew and yer little buddy put on. But this moo-vie we is doin' here tonight? Why, I can almost name my price!"
Roy gave my sore balls one more firm squeeze.
"Come on, young bull. We gotta put on a good show. Let's hear yew scream for ol' Roy."
And I did. I really couldn't help it.
Roy reached under me. He grasped both cheeks firmly. Right on the brand on my right side, so I screamed again. Then he pulled my cheeks roughly in opposite directions, gathered the strength in his thighs, and started to thrust forward.
I could feel Trigger straining at my barn door. It was being shoved inevitably open. That horse was just about to bust loose. I could feel muscles tearing inside me. I could hear my muffled screams echoing inside my head.
And he was gone.
It was almost like he had never been there. I didn't know where he had gone. But I heard a heavy, wet thud as something hit the ground about thirty feet away.
Disco was looking on in amazement. He began inspecting the viewfinder of his camera, like he was expecting to find Roy in there somewhere.
I wasn't sure that I could move. Roy really had done a number on my butt. But I knew that Dylan needed help. Disco was dead. And when that misbegotten era had been erased from human history, I needed to help Dylan with whatever had happened to ol' Roy.
I struggled to my feet. That finally distracted Disco from his viewfinder. His eyes said he wanted to run. But the only exit from the glade was blocked by Roy's body. And Dylan. He was feeding cheerfully.
I advanced on Disco. Every step was an agony. His eyes were still fixed in horror on Dylan and his dinner.
It didn't take much effort to subdue Disco. There really had never been much substance to it. I immobilized him until Dylan had finished with Roy and was wiping his chin.
I looked at Dylan, pointed at Disco, and cocked an eyebrow. He really didn't have room for dessert. Roy had made him a full meal.
There was no way Disco could leave that copse of trees. I was still a couple of weeks away from having to feed. But needs must. And there was no point in wasting the meal.
Poor Disco, you say? I thought it was only fair. If you share in the crime, you share in the punishment.
We cleaned up as quickly as we could. Dylan had to remove whatever was cinched around my balls. I couldn't just pull it off. That was doing more harm than good. When he was done, Dylan kissed my poor, terrorized testicles very thoroughly.
He didn't know what to do about my brand or the damage that Trigger had done. But he did reassure me. It might be a long, painful walk home. But in four or five days I could expect all of my injuries to be healed completely. That was a relief. I really didn't want to be Cowboy Roy's purty little bull for the rest of my life.
It felt ghoulish, but I couldn't resist viewing Disco's cinema masterpiece. He and Roy had wanted to stage a good show. I wasn't particularly impressed.
Dylan's opinion? He thought that cowboy had been a little too salty.
It was a very long walk home. Much of that was due to the pain. But Dylan kept solicitously pulling me onto a bench every few hundred yards. He thought I needed the rest.
He felt really bad that he hadn't been able to rescue me sooner. I had figured it out and I understood. He needed the time to loosen my bonds. Taking on both of those guys by himself would have been risky. And if that rescue had failed, it would have been the end of me.
Maybe.
I guess it depended on how they had planned to do away with me. If they hadn't damaged my heart, I assume I would have recovered from whatever they did to 'kill' me. But I was worried that I might have spent the rest of my life as a steer.
I was actually still a bit traumatized by that near tragedy. Dylan couldn't reassure me. He thought that vampire amputations did regenerate. But he had never actually seen it happen. It would definitely be better if I didn't let someone like Cowboy Roy play with my balls in the future.
With Dylan stopping and forcing me to rest every minute or two, fussing over my injuries and what he was certain was my debilitating emotional distress, we might never have made it home before daylight. I decided that there was really only one way to reassure him.
I opened my mind to him. He didn't need my guidance this time. He spent a lot of time in there, but he emerged satisfied that I was alright. He still wouldn't let go of me for a while. I think he found his time inside my head to be a deeply emotional experience.
Poor Dylan. He knew that I was okay. Or that I would soon be okay. He probably felt worse about what had happened to me than I was feeling.
He wanted to escort me all the way to my lair. He settled for a long hug and a tender exchange of kisses outside the church. He kept glancing down at my crotch. I think he really wanted to kiss my balls again. Just to make sure they were okay.
I only spent a few minutes in the church chancel. I really didn't have the energy to offer more than brief prayers for my friends. The night had drained me.
I hated to miss my visit with Mike. But I was really starting to feel the need to rest and regenerate. I stepped into Mike's lair. I stayed there just long enough to check on him and his supplies. I kissed him goodnight. I wanted it to be long and lingering. I just couldn't risk waking him and having to explain any of my strange behaviors — or possibly, injuries. I left a small handful of Dylan's Jolly Ranchers next to him, on his pillow, just to let him know that I had been there.
Jebby and Marco were already asleep in our lair.
My injuries were very sensitive. I didn't have anything except cool water to provide relief. I didn't bother to put my clothes back on when I climbed into our nest. I thought it would probably be better to expose those raw injuries to the air, rather than having them rub against my clothing while I slept.
Before I closed my eyes, I took one more look at the video stored on my new possession.
Disco's camera. Yeah. I kept it. I really have no idea why I did.
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