As with the first part I must give you an elongated introduction stating that the story you are about to read is a very graphic and very perversive in nature. I would highly recommend those who offend easily from sexually explicit language and imagery, and gratuitous violence should stop reading now. This story does not reflect all other stories from Short Story Weekly, although other stories may be as violent in nature, but it is often the exception, as opposed to the rule. Still, this is not for young audiences, and may not even be legal in your country to read. Still, this is a work of fiction, and as fiction goes, is curtailed solely to the imagination. Though this story is to shock the readers, it is not without valid points, so please bear in mind that this is more than shock for the sake of shock. However, this does not make it anymore admissible to younger audiences, who I beg now stop reading immodestly. I can only give so much warning, bit it is jarring to post this portion of Enclosure without at least giving fair warning. This part is longer than the first, and much more brutal in execution (no pun intended) than Part 1.
I must also reiterate that the fiction presented here is rare to the rest of the stories told in Short story Weekly, which are as diverse and unique as to the rest of the posts on this blog. My views do not represent those of Blogger, or to other contributors past, present, and/or future of the Malacast Editorial.
Thank you for supporting the Malacast Editorial, and please enjoy this conclusion of Enclosure:
The day went by, unhampering my desires. I signed pages, treatise availed over business-strained circumstances. Albeit, I wasn't paying much mind to the complaints in the office. I had only a yearning for monsters in my mind, beasts bethrothed, pining abided by the ever-faithful ticking of the clock's seconds towards five. Tick, tick, tick, tick, went the sound if the every-passing dullness that engraved a tome upon my fleshly tomb, rising and falling with breaths of decay and resuscitation.
I pillaged the desktop for every little bit of crumbling society that laid about my workspace. I wanted to damage my civility, taint my barbarous soul with fucka less given to the cunts that asked me mundane Monday fallacies. I wanted flesh iodine-scented pools of red glory to be upon my phallic charge, thrusting into a whomping machine of invariable chagrin, chewing on mincemeat parts of frailty and pathetic function.
Finally the clock struck the five, and twelve, and with a sprint of youth in love with the damsel down the high school hall, I bolted steadfastly to my sports car whilst narrowly running over other escapees from the cages of career. I steered to my homestead, watching gardeners collapse daisies in place of tulips and perrnial marigolds. Mid-season annuals sprouted second life spores to spit seeded vestibules onto stamen tips, a goregeous misanthropic malady of natural turbulence from lawmower blades. I changed lanes, passing school buses leaving in lines back towards destitute halls of misleading learning, never realizing that nature took place not in the classroom, but hallways and playground entropy. I parked in the driveway.
The sun was setting unsteadily fast, as I changed into clothes more befitting my future frolics. Mr. Saturday was out of town, essentially on business that assorted his other contested carrion projects. A vulture of bitter strychnine cultivating in a man of nefarious beak and diseased talon. A friend when need-be, but a pawn in the game of life, and a rather unfortunately-placed one at that...pitiful.
I jumped back in my beast of a car, it purred and clicked just as I hoped my dear Cherie would, her cage not of burden, but one that was to be of passion. My mind was blank with nothing more but the desire, and the hunger within. Was I mad? A sick fuck of sorts that none other would ever comprehend? Was I just living in the moment, eccentric by the forgone conclusions of happiness mixed with lust? No! I wants to play with fire...I wanted to burn a fire most unholy. I wanted unlimited freedom...I would get it.
The zoo was closed, but with little deference,mi was given passage, pacing myself behind ample toes that so wanted to marathon out of their penny loafers towards the enclosure of the Sheeba Queen Cherie. The yearning was brewing for so much time, it was not without protest, but in the end reason was lost, sanity left someplace back in January; my heart was now in May. The iron bars of titanium were cold to the touch, impenetrable, but my throbbing heart, and equally formidable member had but ignored theconundrum...my concupiasant heat could melt galaxies, boil God's blood, I saw Cherie, and scathed soot onto my bones.
Her curiosity was darling at first, she had been fed, for her face was covered still in meat and dried, fatty blood caked around her jowls. I felt stiffness in my spine, and I had to calm myself, or else I'd finish too soon, but she looked at me with a desire that was not of haste, not of fear, but of equality. The mamilla an intelligence shined through, as she rubbed up against the bars. I had jumped the barricade, and was now face-to-face with Cherie, she was pungent in carrion, but indicating ly in heat. I smelled her stink, as she rubbed her hindquarters across the cage. She sprayed, and showered my shoes and lower pants, it mixed with a concoction of pheromones and cat urine I had begun spraying on myself, symbolically accepting that the point-of-no-return has been passed.
I coaxed her to the side of the enclosure that was more like a cave, a faux structure where the cheetah would be housed at night. I broke the lock, and made my way inside, breathing in,,and releasing the last bit of rationality I had in my body, and stripped down to my bare ass skin.
My muscles clenched as Cherie came up to me, now more curious than ever. She smelt her own spray, and a mixture of pheromones that I collected months before from male cheetahs, and boiled down to pure essence. I smelt the air and it was enough to knock most honest men out. Yet, my jutting me ever was so engorged, it spent me of blood to stay afoot. She chirped, and rubbed against my prick, the harsh whiskers poking and prodding it, my heart skipped a beat, as I began to lubricate. I was fully erect, and nothing was to stop this from happening.
Guards were paid off, the staff had all but went home, and I had tunnel vision, as Cherie presented herself to me, caught in the fantasy as much as I. I fished out protection from my shirt pocket, and tossed it to the side, already covered up in the stank bile of a closed encampment for an animal of such size. I cracked the package, and covered my organ, the stench of lubrication stronger now than ever as my nostrils were raw with musk scent.
Cherie laid baring herself to me, almost backing up with anticipation, as her perforated end, and variegated fur was alluring me further. Before I could pull back, my tip had slowly entered, and like a life-changing experience to a prophet touching palms with God, I had been kissed by a vibrant flower of sensuality, as bare flesh touched coarse fur. I could feel her insides as she purred sensing a bit of irritation on Cherie's part, as I violated the sanctity between Man and Beast. Her non-retractable claws dug deep into the dirt floor, as I began to thrust and push deeper into the narrow canal. It was unlike anything I've experienced, I felt my shaft grabbed and pulled with a ferocious twist and turn, as Cherie began to growl in cat-like delight. I could not stop myself, I sped up, humping and thrusting harder, knowing it was hurting my sweet girl, but I was enraged by the stench of sex and hard cheetah hindquarters that squeezed unbearably on my groin. Her tail rose and flickered my face, it battled me until I bit it lovingly, kissing it with hard pecks and smooching noises.
I felt so empowered, so beastly, and the when I released, I cared not that the rubber shifted, I had finished raw with the beast, and in a turn of rage she kicked back, knocking me backwards, and showcasing my raw prick, covered in Cherie's virginal blood. She rolled around in antsy jerks, licking herself clean, some of my evidence leaking out, as she cleaned up the crime scene. Several angry chirps were followed by her plopping down in exhaustion, as I slowly exited the capture, chaining up the gate with the broken lock behind me.
After I came back to my senses, that mammalian rationality had returned, and I was faced with the self-pergury of my actions. I had laid with Cherie, an innocent bystander to my self-proclaimed lust, but she seemed amply enticed to receive what I so eagerly wanted to bestow. She followed me around the cage, and chirped forlornly as I went to jump the barricade. I went back to the enclosure, and called her up to the cage. I placed my lips upon her meaty jowls, and didn't flinch a bit when she pierced my bottom lip. It was a blood kiss, and I feared not when I felt the dribble of my own blood, I walked away with my tongue, and that was all I asked.
Back over the barricade, I made my way towards the exit, it was several meters out, but the bit of shame and guilt I withheld for my own personal desires were slightly irritable, but I was too euphoric to let even the endtimes end my bliss. I'd only have been happier if I were able to have tasted the awaiting vessel prior, but I'd settle with the taste of spit and raw chicken on my tongue. Although I assuredly would've not walked away whole if I were to tempt such fate.
I went to the gate, and it was locked, a bit of an issue, but I was full of profoundly new energy, that I begun to scale the gate to return to my awaiting car, ready to go home to a meal of girth, and a drink worthy of this bestial excursion. You could imagine now dumbfounded I was when I later awoke on my back with the shock of having burned palms and melted rubber on the soles of my feet. The pain was equivalent to a monstrous bite throughout my body had snapped it's jaws clean onto my very being, and singed like a brained lobster still struggling to repair synapses.
Then I saw him standing over me like a dark shade of retribution. Charlie, the trainer, he had lifted me up from the shoulders, and shoved me against the gate. The shock was harsh, but less intense from before. It was abundantly clear now that this was no charade, I was being eletictuted on the iron gates, and it was Charlie, the Jordanian who was doing it.
"You shouldn't be here, Mr. Jake, you mistreating the animals, not good for business, not good for Charlie, see?"
He smacked me across the face, and I fell to the ground. Dirty, shaken, and a bit of blood smeared across my face from a snapped nose. He proceeded to hit me several times, and gagged me, covering my head, he dragged me off towards the far-end of the park. I felt the pressure of the gravel scrape against my sore privates, as I whimpered in a muffled pain.
I was unmasked in a dizzy spell in what could only be the caretaker's shed. It was dimly lit, and made up with gardening implements, and feed for the more herbivorous animals in the zoo.
"Ah, you're awake now Mr. Jake, good, good! We have a bit of talking to get to, before we get to it then, now; don't we?" Charlie was stringing a weedwhacker, a few feet from me. I could sense my dire circumstances growing more and more desperate as it became clear I was strapped tightly to a metal chair, bolted to the cement floor.
"What is the meaning of this Charlie?! What we you doing?!" I tried to maintain control, but it didn't seem very applicable to the circumstances.
""Aye, Mr. Jake! Don't be playing me a fool, you know very well why you're here, and why I'm going to do what I'm about to with that sun-tanned wimpy skin of yours, I'm gonna chop and cut you into ugly!" He brought the weedwhacker right up to my face and began spinning it to full rpm. It muffled even my loudest screams of terror, as the whipping strands of serrated plastic just came within millimeters to my sweaty, clammy skin. I felt the spittle of my mouth ship up into my nostril, as though he wre trying to drown me with my own fear.
Then the blades went down, and Charlie's face came up to greet mine.
"Relax Mr. Jake, I'm not gonna rip you up nice just yet, were gonna have a talk before I make you dirty, right? Gonna have you forgive yourself, then I'll cleanse you of all wrongdoing, alright?"
"Charlie! Please! This is quite unnecessary! For Christ's sakes! I am your boss! I pay your ticket to stay in this country, and your going to turn around and treat me like this! Let me go, and I'll consider not pressing charges and sending your ass back to Jordan!"
"Aye, you be the boss man and you think you be better than me with all your money, and your power, but what you got, huh? What you got for me?" Charlie came close enough thwt I could see holes where his teeth should be, and smelt a mixture of sawdust and rum.
"Fine, I'll buy you out, I'll pay you whatever you want, and I'll add to it because I simply can afford to! Now let me go, this isn't funny anymore!" I saw that this was a difficult placement to be stuck, but I wasn't going to just sit there. Unfortunately, Charlie was good at knots, and I was running out of options.
"I don't want your money, no matter what sleezy tactics you got up yo sleeves, Mr. Jake. I want to hear you pray for your sins." He face went as solemn as a lamb, judging only on the clarity of my hubris, wanting nothing more than my atonement. I'd be damned if he thought for a moment I'd grant it!
"I do not sin. There is no such thing! There is only obligation to the truth of ones actions, or the decision to pry back the truth, and suffice to tell the lie. I have no regrets, Charlie." He looked deeply into my eyes, and then grasped my groin with his clenching massive hand. I was some already, and lighting bolts begot my sight as Charlie's clamping grip kept me from abdicating any sense or cry.
"Bullshit"
He began his statement, and at the moment, I would've agreed with little wiggle room to debate.
"You see Mr. Jake, you don't have much respect for the rules of God above. You see an abomination, steady to sin because you have lost your morality."
"Morality....is....a....broken....fallacy, Charlie." I squeezed out, as grips tightened on both my sore prick, and my nails breaking against the metal armrest.
"Wrong Mr. Jake! Morality be deep in a man's heart, it is what drives him to do right or ignore his heart when he does wrong. Even if you bury your moral compass deep down until it almost ceases to exist, it still be there! If you hesitate, even for a moment of time, that is your moral telling you it's wrong! If you be a nonbeliever, you may not follow God in the sky, but all men follow God on the paper, that is why morality be real....why God be real, and why you are an abomination. You lay with beast as you'd lay with woman, that is a wretched sin!" Although I felt his anger intensify, his grip came off of me, and I cried and breathed in fresh air, my testicles getting burned from the flow of blood and oxygen again.
"You dictate to me the sin of laying with an animal, but it was not a crime of murder! Passion perhaps! Obsession, absolutely! No man was harmed by my actions, and I would never hurt Cherie! I love her, and it was more powerful an experience than Aphrodite from the foam! Did not Zeus lay with Cygnus? Creating Helen of Troy?! How could something so beautiful come from out the copulation of what you claim is so dirty?! Do I feel some shame? Yes! But more the shame of a schoolboy after his first vibrant experience of virginity's loss, it was a loss of innocence! But it was a beautiful, incredible experience that was angelic, not some disgraced monstrosity like you're accusations make it to be!"
"I stand up for Cherie! She was the victim to your devilsh lust! You made your own bed of Sodom, now I will atone you of these sins, I do so I'm the acknowledgment that I too have sinned, but you have committed sacreligious confounded acts that must be cleansed with blood. I pity you, Mr. Jake, but I detest your burden, and seek to relieve you of it!" He brought the weedwhacker to my face without much warning. The spittle of blood was almost cooling to the touch for the first second, and like a retractable head of a tortoise when attacked, I clenched my eyes and screamed through clenched, biting teeth, numbing my broken lips, and tearing skin. The pain came after the onslaught, and was surprisingly bloodier than expected. I screamed out as the blades died down a second time.
"Here, let me clean out the sin, Mr. Jake." Charlie wiped gently away the blood like the Virgin to her fallen savior.
"I...can't...breathe!" I exasperated from out torn lips. I'm sure I wasn't pretty right now.
"Aye, Mr. Jake, you're breathing just fine, probably for the first time in a long while, the sin is washing away through that kissed face. The Lord washes aways all the sins of the world, and has mercy upon you, let the cooling kiss of His world fix your wrongdoings."
"You fool! I am a man of virtue! Yet I asked to be free! My loss of virtue wasn't from a lack of faith! My loss of virtue was a freeing from the shackles of slavery! Money has allowed me the greatest wealth of freedom! I have lived the life I so desired! I've saved countless lives through charity, I've worked to replace laws with responsibility! I take responsibility for my actions, and you may see me as a man who is more downtrodden and dirty than a pedophile or a killer, but I dare you to look beyond your own holy privilege and see, I'm the free man, you are enslaved to a false idol. The false idol of idols. I judge you not for your beliefs, because my beliefs are beyond your depravities. You are the monster, you are the bad guy, I am just a man who loved a cheetah. Is that really so terrible? Of all the travesties this world offers, child murderes, rapists that keep body parts in freezers. Politicians and corporations that rape the lands upon which you were born! And I'm the fucking monster?! You are a fool Charlie, and raising a false flag of justice for some subconscious desire to bleed me.
"Do me a favor please: when you're finished with me, and you have taken all that I have to give, please Charlie, try not to finish in my hair, it's just not a polite way to snuff someone." I giggled a bit, no owing that this was not about me, this was about Chaflie, it was rather cute in it's own, sick way. He hated me because secretly, behind his false religious hubris, there was a sadist who needed an excuse to cut me. What sane man weedwhacks a man to his apparent death? What justice is there in this spectacle? Charlie had watched me fulfill my desire, and enraged for trying to fit the very moral compass he defends, is now being used in justifying his deviancies in punishing my supposed sin. His retribution is my punishment, and his secret carnal desire!
"You sick man! I am defending Cherie! The silent victim!"
"Oh please! I didn't hear her complaining, and quite frankly, Charlie, I know you're going to kill me, so get the fuck on with it. By-the-way, I see you can't contain your excitement. A word of advice, when you're torturing someone to death, try not to wear sweatpants in the future, it hides the *cough* evidence of your enthusiasm." I nodded down towards his erection, pitching a tent in his loose blue sweats. "No homo, of course." I smirked through the pain.
It didn't matter that the end was coming, I had made my point, and one the debate woth little protest, and perhaps that is why the simple-minded fight the most ferociously: violence is their shield from the intellectual mind. I was spent, the piano from the lacerations and came protruding through the quagmires of my stung being.
Charlie's fury was relenting, it was apparent when the chainsaw came out, and the gasoline nearly filled the small shed with a mirage of clarity. For the first time, I had felt something stronger than self-preservation. I had danced in the leaves with a beast of prowess and sexual prowess. I had lived the life of a free man, and was now witnessing the downfall of man enslaved to his own short-sighted fairy tales. I could accept my death, and that was becaue I had accepted years before it wasn't my choice. Then again, after having sex with a cheetah, perhaps it wasn't much more in this life that I could experience that would ever culminate to such a...dare-I-say, spiritual moment?
Yet my story wasn't some lofty fairy tale light in the loafers and filled with a happy ending. My Calvary didn't arrive, I was not fortunate enough to be saved by a white knight on a shining steed. However, my story was perhaps more like an Eastern fable, for karma was surely had:
As I laid dying, the buzzing in my ears as Charlie brought the chainsaw down onto my left shoulder, tearing limb and berserker jutting through my lung, I smiled through the pain....guess I wasn't all that good at tightening chains.
The chainsaw lowered, and a rumble came not from the mechanics of the flesh-tearer tool, but from another mechanical maelstrom of claw and fang. Cherie was loose, she must've forced open the barely-chained gate. Charlie turned around, and fear was in his eyes. I quickly kicked the chainsaw out of his hand, and it went flying across the floor, well past Cherie, barely catching her tail. It slid on my blood, a lucky break, as I sat up, gazing at the open wound on my heart's side.
"Good girl, be nice." Charlie tried to coax down the big cat, but she was having none of it, the scent of my blood all over him, and in the air had her pounce up and tear claw into his chest, making ribbons out of body in three quick strikes. Charlie was gone, and I wrestled to get out of the chair, but unlike myself, Charlie was good with thing knots.
I struggled and freed my right arm. I sacrificed the string of a left arm that was hanging juxtaposed to the chair, and howled as I let the tendons rip. I was barely coherent, the blood-loss was very serious, but I tried my best to stand up from the metal chair. After I accepted that my arm was lost, and getting to a hospital was far more important than the struggles of relearning to write with my right hand, I turned to see Cherie, licking her jowls, human flesh upon her face.
"Hey girl, you know I always loved you, righ? The second I saw you in that cage, I got this fantasy playing out in my head. At first I just thought it was cute fun, something to spice up the day, make those extra tugs at the wheel go a bit more swimmingly, but I knew that you were my desire, Cherie."
She sat there, listening to me intensely pour my heart out to her, while my literal heart was nearly pumping through my skin.
"I love you, Cnerie, I never felt more alive than when I was with you...although the women in the world, and I had experienced it all: from Thailand princesses, to French femme fatales, and I got the closest to God wheni laid down with you...a cheetah....how fucked up is that?" I joked with her, as she panted, and chirped, as she came to my side. I slid down, and she rubbed right up next to me. I couldn't move, I was losing too much blood, and in that moment I knew I'd not live to see the sun.
She cuddled,up by my side, I suppose it was some form of affection, I knew she was a big cat, not some anthrophobic creature of reason and understanding. I accepted. Y faith, and reminisced on my time spent nestled with Cherie in coupling, and the affirmation now as she nestled by my side. The. I remembered that she was a wild animal, an opportunist, a predator. Looking back in those last few seconds of mortality, I hoped it was a kindness to end my suffering.
Cherie sat up and looked me in the eyes, her foul breath notwithstanding my desire, as I leaned in and kissed her on the jowl. My lips we're shredded to merely flesh prints of their former lush, but I didn't even mind the pain. She licked my blood as I sat back like a schoolboy twerp having kissed the prom queen in front of the whole assembly, and smiled. Cherie then lunged for my neck, and the connection between spine and brain were lost, I was practically dead, as she finished me. They call the orgasm the little death, but I knew to die big. She killed me, a predator seeing an easy meal. On the savannah, she'd have been lucky to eat as well as this in a year.
I didn't care, I loved her regardless. She'd have not been my love if she had shown even the slightest bit of pity. I slowly slipped away, that wonderful memory would fade out the scene. How could I hold hate in my heart towards my dear Cherie? After all, she only did what came natural.
So concludes the story Enclosure, perhaps the more controversial, and more Libertarian-inspired story I've ever written. Firstly, thank you for reading the Malacast Editorial. For years I have been a proponent of freedom of speech, and freedom of the press. These are two of many rights we wee gifted with by the common sense that makes our world greater. When we are free, the world is a better, more just place, and this story is my evident forgone conclusion that we need freedom of the press. This story is not am exclamation point, and can be seen subjectively as poor, or bad.
However it's perceived, I believe it is proof that whatever offends,,should be allowed to offend, and I'm proud of this story, as I would be with many others. I hope this ending was worth the wait, and I hope you enjoyed it,,or at least tolerated it. Short Story a Weekly will be back next week with a brand-new story, shorter than this one I can attest, and it will not be as...provocative,,least not in the same ways.
I appreciate my readership, and I'm glad you all continue to read the Malacasf Editorial every day. I will continue to post, and as we embark on the 300th post, which is unbelievable to me. I remember the 200th post being so long ago, but I've come to terms that 300 is far more amazing an accomplishment. I hope to one-day reaching 500 posts, and in the years to follow, it should be feasible. After 500 however? I believe I will call it quits. Although it's nearly two hundred posts away, it will come up shorter than perceived, and when that time comes, I'll be ready to make a decision. Thank again for your readership! I appreciate every reader I get! As a writer, those who take the time to acknowledge your work, are worth double their weight in gold.
One last announcment, and I promise it will happen, unlike other announcements: I will be updating the Facebook profile, which means actually using it, because it seems apparent that I cannot put off the usage of it. So I'll be logging into Malacast Agentt that's right, two "Ts" in Agentt. Don't ask me why Facebook doesn't acknowledge Malacast Agent as a real name...yet Rainbow Smith is...ugh, the travesties that arise in the Western world, I swear! Nevertheless, thank you for your unrivaled support!
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