Perfectly Wicked, Chapter 7
Perfectly Wicked
By Jason D. Karl
Author's Note:
This story is dark, twisted, erotic fantasy fiction about a gay vigilante killer with paranormal abilities. It is the product of the author's imagination and should not be construed as real in any way. This should be read only by adults of legal age. The story contains explicit gay sex and the type of violence found in vampire stories. Don't try this at home or anywhere else. That said, I hope you enjoy my twisted tale.
Link to character images for this story.
Chapter 7: Vignettes and Revelations
Forty-four years ago.
Isabel lay crying on the floor. The man she'd been forced to call her "esposo" was no husband. No, she had been sold by her drug-addict father to this monster to pay a debt to the cartel. This "husband" had just gouged out her left eye because he didn't like the way she looked at him.
He was yelling at her to quit sniveling, when shadows began to form behind him. Out of those shadows a creature emerged. Without a word, it grabbed her "husband" and bit into his shoulder. He fought back, but the creature was far too strong.
Isabel watched without any fear. This creature, she thought, had to be better than the monster she'd been living with. Her "husband's" resistance grew weaker as the creature drained him. When he finally died, the creature looked over at her.
"You know what I am?"
Isabel nodded. "Sí, un vampiro."
It said in awkward, schoolbook Spanish, "That is not what we call ourselves, but I suppose it will suffice. But do not worry. We only feed on the worst humans. You have nothing to fear, but I do need to make you forget what you have seen."
Isabel, speaking in the local Spanish dialect, begged, "Please, no. What you did is the best thing that's ever happened to me. Can't you see what he put me through? I can't go on if I don't remember. I need this... I need to know this."
The creature studied her for a while. "What you have seen tonight can never be spoken of."
Isabel agreed.
"If I grant your request, then there will be a price to pay. Our species are all what humans call 'gay,' so we do feel a tenderness for gay boys who are mistreated. But we are not suited to helping them directly. If you wish to keep this memory, to know of our existence, you must promise to help these boys."
"I'll do anything."
The creature looked into her one good eye and said, "I shall take you to live in a city far from here, but you will need a new name. Do you have one you would like?"
"Marisol. I've always liked that name."
"Then you shall be called Marisol Navarro."
§§§
Eighteen years ago.
Sandra Williams, six months pregnant, sat in the church office of the Family Values Tabernacle and Worship Center.
Reverend David Jackson steepled his fingers. "Tell me, Miss Sandy, what brought you to this point?"
Sandra's eyes watered. "I sinned, Reverend. I slept with a man I thought was a homo. I thought it would be fun to turn him straight. But, as soon as we were done, he just slumped over and died. I panicked and ran off."
Rev. Jackson showed no concern about the father's death. "Ah, the wages of sin is death. Suffer not a sodomite to live."
Sandra said, "But it's not just about me, Reverend. It's about the baby. I don't want people to judge him because of what I did."
"Well, Miss Sandy, serving the Lord means making sacrifices. If you're willing to dedicate your life to this church, to raising this child in the light of the Lord, then perhaps we can help you."
"I'll do anything, Reverend."
"The Lord is ever-forgiving, but you committed a grave sin, Sandy. The child you carry is a testament to your transgression. However, there is a way for you to atone."
Sandra looked up at him. "What do I need to do, Reverend."
"Well, Sandy, it's simple. As the Apostle James wrote, true religion involves aiding widows and orphans in distress, and to keep unsullied by the world. Now, I am a man of God, but I'm still a man. My wife is an adulteress who left me for another man. If you were to comfort me in my time of need, to keep me from sullying myself, then I'll help you in your distress. I could even arrange for papers to be drawn up, proving you were widowed while with child."
"But, Reverend, wouldn't that be sin?"
Reverend Jackson's smile was not kind. "Ah, but even the Lord Jesus healed on the Sabbath. He knew that sometimes rules need to be bent for the greater good. And what greater good is there than saving a man of the cloth from having to consort with whores?"
"Okay, Reverend."
"And remember, 'Widow' Sandy, this is just between us. Our little secret."
Sandra nodded again.
"Have you picked a name for the baby?"
"I haven't thought of one yet."
"Well, Sandy, I've always been quite fond of Spencer Tracy. A strong name if it's a boy, don't you think?"
§§§
Sixteen years ago.
Boy had a name, of course. Had to. Everyone did. He didn't know his. Domingo only ever called him "Boy" if he called him anything at all. But there just had to be a piece of paper somewhere that had his name on it and said who his parents might have been. But now wasn't the time to think about it. Now was the time to act. Boy knew he had to do it tonight because the sickness was getting worse, and he might not have the strength tomorrow.
Domingo was a pig of a man, always drunk, always demanding. "Boy, suck my cock!"
Boy slipped out the steak knife he'd hidden under the sofa cushion.
"Boy, I said to suck my cock!" Domingo bellowed.
With all the strength Boy had, he shoved the blade into Domingo's throat. Blood spurted out. The man's eyes bulged in shock. As Boy stabbed his tormentor's throat again and again, something strange happened. A power surged through Boy. The pain, the sickness, and the weakness vanished. He felt powerful and more alive than ever.
But then...
Wait...
How did he get here? Why was he stabbing this man? But there was nothing. He couldn't remember anything before this moment. Not even who he was.
He ran out of the house and wandered the streets as he tried to remember anything at all. But there was just a void where his past should be. It was like he just popped into existence holding that bloody knife.
§§§
Ten years ago.
Marisol Navarro sat in the new case worker's office. This new social worker, a smug man named Mr. Heuchler, flipped through the paperwork. "Now about that boy that's been placed with you for the last two years, Kyle Rogue."
"What about him?"
The social worker, who had an ornate, gilt-edged Bible on his desk, said, "I see that you are not married, Miss Marisol. Well, a boy needs a mother and a father to guide him in the ways of the Lord."
Navarro knew how to hide her emotions. "I've been widowed these 34 years. No one could ever replace my late husband; so I devoted myself to doing the Lord's work by caring for children who have no home. Besides, Kyle's been through a lot, and now he's finally happy. He doesn't need to be uprooted again."
"Mary... Mary... A motherly touch is fine for a short-term placement. But long-term? I understand your attachment, but a boy of Kyle's age requires a firm male presence. I'm sure you're doing your best, but a woman has her limitations in guiding a boy down the righteous path."
Navarro maintained her composure. "Mr. Heuchler, I assure you, Kyle's devotion to the Lord is just where it needs to be."
"A boy needs a godly man's influence. I'm sorry, but I must recommend to the department that Kyle be placed in a more conventional family environment."
It was just then that Navarro noticed the church bulletin sticking out of Mr. Heuchler's Bible. The Family Values Tabernacle and Worship Center. Well, that cinched it. She had a promise to keep, one she hadn't broken in over 30 years. This rank amateur wasn't going to stand in her way.
"Could I freshen up your coffee, Mr. Heuchler?" she asked in feigned deference.
The expression on his face was of one who thought he'd put her in her place. "Much obliged, Mary."
She slipped in a little something extra as she poured. Three hours later, Mr. Heuchler died of a massive heart attack.
Kyle remained with Señora Navarro.
§§§
Eight years ago.
There were specks of blood in Kyle's laundry. That was nothing new. Initially, Navarro had thought he was being bullied or getting into fights. But that just didn't seem to be the case because he'd never had a scrape or a bruise.
Just last night, Kyle had talked to the new foster boy and had then taken off. That boy's abusive father had been found beaten to death just this morning. Somehow, in her gut, she knew that Kyle had killed that man. She washed off the blood specks and said nothing.
She thought about that creature who'd saved her all those years ago. Then something fit into place in her mind. She thought about Kyle's peculiarities. He would often go days and days without sleeping or getting tired. He never got sick, not a sniffle or a cold. What if Kyle were one of those creatures or something like them? If vampires, or whatever they were, could be real, what else might there be? Maybe Kyle was something "other."
Well, if Kyle really was taking out monsters like her husband had been, then she had no problem with it. There wouldn't be any need for Kyle to know what she suspected. But she decided to quietly keep closer tabs on his doings.
That same night, she called Kyle "Brujo" (witch boy) for the first time. He liked it and would even start calling himself that.
§§§
One month ago.
Spencer woke with the aftertaste of pot in his mouth. He couldn't believe his foster mother hadn't just let him smoke weed, but actually insisted on it. How cool was that?
At breakfast, Señora Navarro, his honorary Abuelita, handed him a coffee and sat down beside him. "Spencer, I have some rules for you."
"Okay, Abuelita."
"Well, I know you've been through some shit. All of the boys I take in have, but some more than others. Truth is you've got a stick up your ass. So, rule number one is that between now and the time you learn to chill the fuck out, I expect you to smoke everyday. And I mean ganja, not tobacco. Cigarettes are slavery. The tobacco companies hired scientists to make that shit the most addictive thing in the world. So, no smoking that crap. But weed? That's nature's gift to us, to help us relax and enjoy life."
"Okay, Abuelita."
"The next rule is that you have to get yourself some cock."
Spencer was stunned at her audacity. "I don't know if I'm ready for that."
She huffed. "Nonsense. You're eighteen. You need to get laid and get rid of that toxic shit your crazy bitch of a mother put in your head. Having yourself some fun is good for you. Look at me, I'm old and gray, but I still get myself some cock once in a while."
Spencer's eyes went wide. "Abuelita!"
She laughed. "I'm old, not dead. Listen, I'm not saying you have to fuck some guy today, but it needs to be soon. And you can even bring him here. I won't mind."
He took a sip of coffee before responding. "So the rules are: smoke pot every day; don't do tobacco; and get laid?"
"You got it. Get that stick out of your ass and live a little."
"Okay, Abuelita."
"Now go out there and get yourself some cock. Or at least have some fun." Then she handed him a couple of joints and a lighter. He had to remind himself that marijuana was completely legal now in Pior Fossa.
It was late morning when Spencer went out and just wondered about for a few hours. Then he saw a blond guy who looked just a little older than himself. The guy offered him a drag off the joint he was smoking. He took one and then said, "Thanks. I'm Spencer."
"I'm Sven."
Spencer took another drag of the joint and handed it back. "My Abuelita gave me a couple of joints just this morning. She said I should go out and have fun."
Sven took another hit. "Sounds like a cool granny."
They talked and smoked a while. When Sven's joint was finished, Spencer lit one of the ones his Abuelita had given him. He took a deep drag and felt the smoke tickle his lungs. It made his eyes water a little. He handed the joint back to Sven. "Thanks. It's just weird, you know?"
"What's weird?" Sven asked.
"This. Smoking weed with a hot guy I just met. I've never done that before."
§§§
Two weeks ago.
Kyle was in a dark alley where Kushim was giving him another lesson. "So, you're saying I can teleport using shadows?"
"No, Kyle," Kushim corrected. "It's not teleportation. It's more like riding them. But, yes, you can travel quickly using shadows. It's like using a surfboard or a hang glider."
Kyle wasn't sure he believed this, but Kushim had shown him how to do other seemingly-impossible things when there wasn't even a full moon. "Okay..."
"Think about where you want to go and let the shadows carry you there."
Kyle thought about the other end of the alley. He thought about the shadows being, not a surfboard or hang glider, but one of those moving walkways found in some airports. And, suddenly, he was standing at the other end of the alley.
"Impressive. Most Erkek can't ride the shadows like that until they're at least fifty."
After the lesson, they hunted down and killed the brother of that rapist Kyle had killed a few weeks ago (the one who knew his brother was a rapist and did nothing about it).
Later, back at La Chien Royal, Kushim told Kyle about his observations. "The good news is that you have a very strong stealth field."
Kyle raised an eyebrow. "What's that?"
"It's a covering produced by our Mana when we're hunting that keeps us from being noticed. It works on cameras and mirrors, too. But we can go into all that later. Right now, we need to talk about your Mana core."
"What's wrong with it?"
"You're safe for now, but it has a small leak. If we can't find a way to fix it, then it will get worse. And if your Mana level drops too low, you'll die. But the good news is, it's more stable than any other Abjo's I've ever seen. "
"What about that species that you said created the Erkek... what did you call them?"
"The Skapararnir."
"Couldn't you ask them to fix me?"
"They're involved with billions of worlds spread out all over the universe. So, we don't exactly have them on speed dial. The Emperor did transmit a message to them, but we shouldn't count on a reply."
Kyle sighed. "Well, what the fuck do we do, then? Wait, what about that other one you said lived as long as me? Can we do whatever he did?"
It was clear that Kushim didn't want to talk about this but knew he had to. "That was before my time, but I do know a little bit about it. He found another Abjo, one who was near death. He removed his Mana core and merged it with his own."
"Did it work? How long did he live?"
"Yes, it cured him and transformed him into a full Erkek. He's still alive, though he's not on this world."
"So, you're saying that all I've got to do to survive is find another Abjo, murder him, steal his Mana, and I'll inherit eternal life?" Kyle said with obvious sarcasm.
"I'm afraid not. First, Abjo are exceedingly rare. The chances of there being two alive at the same time are quite slim. Second, even if you found one, he would have to be malicious. Remember that we were designed to prey on the malicious. Killing anyone else can be fatal to us."
"So, I'm fucked and there's not a damn thing I can do about it?"
"I didn't say that. There might be other ways. For now, you need to continually resupply your Mana: torture and kill the most malicious people you can find. That and have a lot of sex."
Kyle needed to de-stress, so he joined Javert in the dungeon and had a great deal of fun torturing Travis that night. It was amazing what could be done with just a ghost chili and a turkey baster.
Travis begged for death. Kyle declined.
§§§
Present Day.
Spencer couldn't get Sven Elskan off his mind. They'd met a month ago. Sven was really easy to open up to. Spencer had shared stuff with him, like how abusive his mom was, how shitty her church was, how he had to go to the Freak School. Sven even knew he was a virgin and had offered to be his first without being pushy about it. So far, they'd just kissed a couple of times. Spencer felt ready for more.
"I met a guy," Spencer said. "His name is Sven."
Abuelita said, "And?"
"And I think I'm ready."
"For?"
"Ready to... you know."
Señora Navarro was not one to beat around the bush. "Get some cock?"
"Yes," Spencer mumbled out.
"Good, it's about damn time," she said.
Kyle came in just then and sat down beside him.
"Oh, hey, Kyle."
Kyle cocked his head a bit before asking, "What's with the dreamy look?"
"He's been thinking about Sven," Abuelita said.
Kyle said, "And he is...?"
"He's a guy I met a few weeks ago." Spencer couldn't hold back his smile. "I've been thinking..."
"You want him to fuck you," Kyle finished for Spencer.
"Yeah, I think I'm ready."
"You been wearing your butt plugs, bro?"
Spencer felt embarrassed, but he nodded. "I've been working on it every night. And this morning... uh... I put the biggest one in."
"Getting your ass stretched out is just part of it. You need to loosen up."
Abuelita handed Spencer a joint. "Here, try this. It's a step up from that beginner stuff I usually give you."
"Thanks, Abuelita." Spencer took the offered joint, lit it, and took a deep drag.
She gave him a nod of approval. "You've got a big night ahead of you. It'll help you take that stick out of your ass so a cock can fit up there."
Abuelita handed another joint to Kyle and lit a third one for herself.
Spencer felt himself getting high much faster than usual. "Damn, that's strong."
Kyle took a drag off his own joint. "You okay, bro?"
"I'm fine," Spencer managed to croak out as he exhaled. "Just really fucking high."
Kyle chuckled. "Good. That's the point. It'll help you loosen up."
Spencer brought along a small bag of weed, some lube, and a box of condoms when he went to meet Sven at their usual spot on a bench just outside a park restroom. Sven was already there and clearly had been busy.
"You got a little cum on your chin."
Sven wiped it off and then licked his fingers. "Hey, Spencer."
Spencer held out the bag of weed. "I brought this," he said. "And these." He showed the condoms. "I think I'm ready."
They walked to the apartment Sven had been renting for the last few months. Once inside, Sven rolled a joint and lit it. They shared it. Spencer's earlier high had worn off, so he was ready for this second round.
Mellowed out, Spencer said, "Sven, I still want you to be my first, but I don't want to be boyfriends or anything. I just want to have some fun."
"Good, because I'm not made for monogamy."
"The cum on your chin kinda gave that away."
Sven seemed pleased with himself. "Why suck just one guy when you can suck a dozen?"
"So we're like Winston and Julia?"
"Who?"
Spencer explained. "From Nineteen Eighty-four. Julia tells Winston that she's slept with hundreds of men. Winston says the more men she fucks, the better. He hates virtue and wants everyone corrupt to the bone. And then Julia says she ought to suit him just fine because she's corrupt to the bone."
Sven looked at him. "I'm afraid I've never read it. But I guess I'm corrupt enough for you; I've fucked more guys than I can count."
Spencer took a drag from the joint. "Good. The more, the better. Now add me to your list."
When they finished smoking, they made their way to Sven's bedroom and lay down. Then Spencer remembered something. "Oh, wait. I'm wearing a butt plug."
"Really?"
"Yeah," Spencer admitted. "I wanted my first time to be good."
"Don't worry. I'll make sure of it." He undressed Spencer and then took off his own clothes. Spencer relaxed as Sven caressed him and played with the butt plug.
"Ready?" Sven whispered.
"Yeah."
He swallowed Spencer's cock. His mouth was wet and warm and wonderful. It was heaven. After a few minutes, Sven stopped and moved up to kiss him. Spencer kissed back with all the passion he had been holding in for so long.
The words he'd told Kyle a few weeks ago came to his mind. "I'm gay. I'm gay. I'm gay. I'm a gay, queer, homo, cocksucker." He bent down and took Sven's dick into his mouth.
Sven gently placed his hand on the back of Spencer's head and guided him, gently giving instructions. "Easy does it. Use your tongue. That's it."
Spencer had practiced on those beef-jerky dildos Kyle had given him, but this was so much better. He felt the heat and could swear he felt a pulse in Sven's cock. It was wonderful beyond words. As Sven grew closer to climax, Spencer felt the energy building up. And when Sven finally came, it was like a release of divine grace into his mouth. He swallowed it. He had supped from the Holy Grail. It was Shangri-La and Nirvana and Eden.
They kissed for a while. The taste of Sven lingered on Spencer's tongue. It was salty and sweet and just a little bit bitter. It was a taste Spencer knew he could get addicted to.
Sven's hand drifted down to Spencer's ass. "Now, are you ready for the main event?"
"Yes."
Sven carefully eased out the butt plug, tossed it aside, and reached for the bottle of lube on the nightstand. He coated his fingers, and slid them back and forth in Spencer's now-exposed hole. The butt plug had done its job, so there was no need for Sven to stretch him. He pulled his fingers out and picked up the lube again. This time, he applied it to his own cock. Spencer didn't notice that Sven didn't bother with a condom.
Sven put Spencer's legs over his shoulders and positioned himself. And then, with a gentle push, Sven was inside him.
It wasn't like the butt plugs and dildos he'd been practicing with. It was better. Holy fucking shit! He loved this. Sven gave him a moment to adjust before slowly pushing in further. Slowly, carefully, Sven started to fuck him.
Spencer had read that the first time was supposed to hurt, even if one prepares for it. But there was no pain at all. There was pleasure. Absolute, unparalleled, complete bliss.
Sven kissed Spencer's nipples, sending bolts of lightning down to his cock. Spencer felt the ecstasy building until he was sure he couldn't hold on much longer.
Sven's cock hit that magical spot inside him. It was impossible. Nothing could feel this good. Nothing. The human body just couldn't feel this wonderful. Sven nestled in close as he made Spencer's first time perfect. Just when Spencer thought he couldn't experience anything better, he felt the cum spraying inside him. And the bliss was a hundred times better. And...
And...
And that word again.
The word that was not a word. Erkek. Erkek. Erkek. I am an Erkek. No. It wasn't his thought; it was Sven's. Sven was an Erkek, whatever that was.
But it didn't detract from the splendiferousness, the magnificence of his first time. He was a virgin no more.
Later, after he had fucked Sven, and Sven had fucked him a second time, they lay sated and curled together. In that afterglow, Spencer asked, "Sven, what's an Erkek?"
Sven jolted up. "Where did you hear that word?"
Spencer swallowed hard. "The first time we kissed, it just popped into my head. And just now, when we were together, it happened again."
"What do you mean, popped into your head?"
Spencer tried to explain. "I don't know how, but sometimes thoughts come into my head. Thoughts that aren't mine. Sometimes, they're in languages I don't even know. And just now, somehow I know you are something called an Erkek, but I don't know what that means. I've never heard that word spoken or read it anywhere. It just came into my head."
Sven's expression grew serious. "We can't talk about this. It's not allowed. Don't ever say that word. Promise me."
"Is it like the mafia or something?"
"No," Sven said. "It's nothing like the mafia. It's something else entirely."
"Okay, I promise. You have my word that I won't say anything. But you are an Erkek, aren't you?"
"Yes, I am. But, Spencer, you must never utter that word again."
§§§
Once Spencer fell asleep, Sven tenderly caressed his cheek. "What a puzzle you are," he said to himself.
Sven took no pleasure in what he must do now, but it was his duty to perform. He opened his Mana and readied to delve into Spencer's mind to erase the memory of their encounter. He would have to make Spencer forget him entirely. It was the only way to be sure.
Only, he couldn't.
What the fuck?
Sven was nearly a thousand years old and had mastered mind-riding centuries ago. He could make heteros think absolutely anything or even leave their mind an empty shell. But this cute guy he couldn't read at all, let alone make him forget.
Baffled, Sven stood up and rode the shadows to La Chien Royal.
He had to tell Kushim.
Thank you for reading my story. Please let me know if you think I should continue it. Comments and suggestions are welcome.
My other series on Nifty is A Hankering for Pecker which is a comedy about an 19-year-old who comes out to his hillbilly father. https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/a-hankering-for-pecker/
I also have a standalone story on Nifty called The Boys Who Loved. It is a sweet fairytale about two boys who fall in love at a tender age and how their parents deal with it. https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/young-friends/the-boys-who-loved.html
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