by Cattus Politterarum

Read this piece’s entry on the Shousetsu Bang*Bang wiki.

Carrot Williams shifted uncomfortably. The mask was hot and itchy, he could barely see through the ragged eyeholes, and he was really unsure about Todd’s plan. It hadn’t sounded good that afternoon; it sounded worse now.

“If you get someone scared, really scared, their brain, like, floods with adrenaline,” Todd had said. He’d been worked up, his eyes gleaming. Carrot’s dick had twitched, and he’d tried to pretend it hadn’t. “And when the fear goes away, the brain energy turns into sexual arousal. You know how slasher flicks always cut between makeout scenes and stabbing scenes? That’s why. Arousal is arousal, dude. So if you scare Madison, she’ll put out for me.” He’d laughed at his own cleverness. “Shit, dude, she might be horny enough to want both of us.”

Carrot’s dick had absolutely throbbed at the thought of that.

Todd had chuckled again. “Probably not, I think that only happens in porn. But if you help me out tonight, I’ll pay you back. As soon as you get a date. I will don the mask for you, bro, and your girl will un-don her panties.”

“What about the Clarendon Slasher?” he’d asked.

Todd had punched his arm, somewhere between playful and hard-enough-to-bruise. “We are the Clarendon Slasher, dude! The guys who don the mask to help our friends score.” There it was again, that weird word, “don.” Todd’s voice had gotten dreamy. “A tradition passed down since time immemorial.” 

Carrot had agreed, because his brain always checked out of the room when Todd was around, for whatever reason.

And now he was in the woods of Clarendon Park, where Todd had dropped him off earlier. He was working his way up the steep slope below the scenic overlook, peering through an ill-made but undeniably creepy halloween mask. Looking creepy, creeping closer to the parking lot. Dun-dun, dun-dun!

The overlook was not a popular spot to park and make out. Partly because it was inaccessible; the road to it curled through the hills in almost a dozen switchbacks. But mostly because of the park’s grisly reputation. Although for some folks—like Todd, and apparently, Madison—the sense of danger was alluring.

Finally, he reached the edge of the lot. Todd’s ancient Mercury was the only car. The full moon had been playing peek-a-boo with the clouds, but it was out just then, turning Todd’s beat-up sedan silver. The car was parked so Carrot was facing its right side. Carrot raised his right hand threateningly, showing off the plastic hook strapped to it, and shambled toward the car.

Todd’s windows were down, as Carrot drew closer he could smell the spicy tang of pot on the breeze. As he got nearer still he saw Todd in the driver seat—but not Madison. Todd spotted Carrot, and made a frantic throat-cutting motion.

Carrot froze, and Madison sat up. She’d had her head in Todd’s lap.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she asked. She turned her head, following Todd’s gaze. “Why the fuck is Carrot Williams standing there wearing a goofy mask and a hook-hand?”

“How did you know it was me?” It slipped out before Carrot could stop himself. Poor impulse control, it was practically his middle name. “I mean, who is Carrot Williams?”

“Your hair, Carrot, duh.” It took Madison only another second to put it all together. “Oh my God, you absolute dorks! You’re supposed to scare me, and you’re” —she turned back to Todd— “supposed to save me, and then I’m supposed to be so grateful that I let you screw me.”

“Turned on,” Todd muttered miserably. “Fear arousal, sexual arousal.”

“Yeah, well, I’m turned off now, asshole. Goddamn, I can’t believe I had your lousy dick in my mouth. Take me home, right fucking now.”

“Aw c’mon, Madison—”

“Right fucking now, Todd, or I’m calling my brothers.”

Todd clearly knew when he was beaten. He started the car and put it in gear.

“Wait!” Carrot hollered. The plan was not for Carrot to be stranded in the park. He was supposed to sneak into the trunk of the Mercury. There was already a mess of blankets and a pillow in there.

“Go!” Madison yelled, and Todd peeled out. Carrot stripped off his mask and the hook, and  hurled them into the trash barrel. He dug out his phone and confirmed what he expected—no service. Madison’s threat had probably been empty, not that it mattered. He hadn’t even wanted to help Todd convince Madison to have sex. There was no way he’d stand by and watch Todd actually assault her. 

And now Carrot was stuck—again!—with the consequences of being talked into one of Todd’s screwy schemes. He sighed. It would take several hours to walk home on the road. But he could probably make it home in about an hour if he went straight down the side of the hill, instead of looping around it.

Getting down to the first switchback below the overlook wasn’t too bad. He’d come up that way; it wasn’t too hard to retrace his steps. It was darker than when Todd had dropped him off, but he could see pretty well by moonlight.

He started down the next section, and that was when everything went to shit.

The next section was much steeper, and there was a broad patch with no trees. If he put weight on a rock, there was no guarantee it wouldn’t fall away under his foot. If he grabbed a plant, there was likewise no guarantee it wouldn’t come free and leave him holding a root ball. He slid down several feet and fetched up against a rock with a jolt that made him gasp. Everything hurt and he had to stop to catalog it all; abrasions on his palms, his knee scraped under his jeans, stabbing agony from his ankle.

And then the moon vanished behind clouds. It was suddenly as dark as anything he’d ever experienced outdoors. There was just the barest glimmer of light from the town reflected back; not enough for him to resolve shapes. 

He huddled against the scree, not daring to move, hardly daring to breathe.

The ads the parks commission ran every year started playing inside his head. The Clarendon Slasher might not be real, but serious injuries, and even deaths, in the park were. Its slopes wouldn’t even be interesting for an expert climber, but that didn’t mean they weren’t hazardous for normal humans. He heard the mocking chitter of the animated squirrel mascot over and over: “Buddy, you gotta ask yourself: does your insurance cover the cost of the chopper, if that’s what it takes to get you out?” Carrot was presently uninsured, so he was pretty sure the answer was “no.”

And then a voice whispered right into his ear.

“Boo.”

He screamed. He jerked spasmodically. Suddenly his arms were windmilling in open air. He felt wind rushing, and then he was crashing into something, and it hurt, sweet Christ it hurt, jabbing and ripping and tearing, and then a whomp! against his back that stole his breath away.

He’d thought everything hurt before, but he’d been wrong. Now everything hurt. For a while there was too much pain to function, but gradually it subsided. Carrot tried to wiggle toes and fingers, and it seemed like they responded. The moon peeped out of the clouds. Now it was mostly hidden by the branches and leaves of a tree that had scraped him up pretty good but broken his fall, and saved his bones, and maybe his life.

And there was light enough to see something else: a man-like figure, its face hidden by a crude canvas mask, standing by his knees.

“Hi there, Carrot,” it said. Or she? The voice sounded like it could be a woman’s, but there was a buzz under it, like a low bandwidth connection.

It took Carrot a long moment to find his voice, and when he did, the words came out in a hiccupy rasp. “You’re real. You’re the Clarendon Slasher.”

“We prefer ‘Smasher.’ Femurs, Tibiae, crania. Such satisfying things to smash.” They cocked their head. “We slashed you up pretty good, though, Carrot, didn’t we? You’re bleeding from… nineteen different places. One for each year of your life. But alive. Clarendon Hill has judged you innocent. Well, of the main counts.”

“Main… counts?”

“Still guilty of aiding and abetting.”

Carrot winced. “Aiding and abetting what?”

The figure leaned over his face. “Your friend.” The final word dripped with contempt.

Cam shook his head, a mistake. The back of his skull was scraped; scrubbing it against the bark under him didn’t feel good. “Todd wouldn’t—” he began, and stopped. How sure was he, really?

“Wouldn’t what?” Now they sounded mocking. Knowing.

“Hurt her,” he muttered.

They cocked their head again. “Mm. Maybe not Madison, with her Army brother and her cop-recruit brother. But you should ask Amber.”

The moon vanished behind the clouds, and Carrot couldn’t see anything again.

Amber was the girl Todd had gone with his senior year. They’d been so in love. Todd had been planning to propose. They’d gone to prom, but broken up that summer. Todd had been crushed when she dumped him.

“Hey, Carrot.” Amber’s voice was clear and very close.

“What the fuck!” Carrot scrabbled away from the voice. There was something lumpy and rough under him, then his shoulder fetched up an unyielding mass. Roots. Tree. “You’re not dead, you’re in Connecticut! I saw your mom last week in Kohl’s. She said you were fine!”

“Part of me is alive,” Amber’s voice said. “But not fine. I’m doing fine. But I’m the dead part of her.”

“I don’t understand,” Carrot moaned.

“Yes, you do, Carrot. You just don’t want to admit it.” The buzz was back in the Smasher’s voice. Not a bad connection; multiple voices overlapping. “A slasher story needs a good twist, don’t you think? The killer is two people, the killer’s a girl, the killer’s the whole town. How about this one? The killer isn’t innocents, with a ’t.’ Innocence, with a ‘c’?”

“Amber wasn’t innocent,” Carrot regretted it as soon as he heard it.

“I loved to fuck,” Amber said, and despite everything, Carrot’s cock twitched in response to the word. “I was so horny, almost all the time. I just didn’t want to fuck Todd that night. I wasn’t horny that night. But I was innocent, Carrot. I knew there was a threat, but it was abstract. I didn’t feel it in my bones. I didn’t know how it would bruise. The Amber in Connecticut will never fuck like I used to. She’ll always remember.”

The Smasher’s voice went plural again for a moment. “We’re angry,” they said. “So angry. But also horny. Very horny.”

“Are you getting hard for me?” Amber’s voice came from somewhere lower now, near Cam’s ankles. He felt hands on his calves, moving up slowly. He raised his head for a moment, but he couldn’t see who—what—was touching him; the darkness was absolute.“You wanna fuck me? Want me to suck your cock, Carrot?”

Carrot was hard. And terrified. Fear-arousal and sexual arousal getting all tangled up, just like Todd said. But this didn’t feel right. “No,” he said.

The Smasher paused. Carrot had the uncomfortable sense of being listened to invasively, like the Smasher was rooting around inside his head.

“Oh, you poor deluded boy,” they said. “You never wanted Todd’s sloppy seconds, did you? You just wanted Todd.”

Carrot had never admitted this, not even to himself. He had no trouble getting it up and getting off with women. Any other … feelings were just a phase. Adolescent hormones running amuck. But as soon as the Smasher said it out loud, he knew it was true.

“That’s OK.” This was a new voice, a male voice he didn’t recognize. “We have a couple of boys mixed in. I can jack you off, Carrot, and you can suck my cock.”

“No,” he repeated. “This is fucked up. You—all of you—were forced, and that’s awful. And now you’re going to force me?”

The Smasher stayed with the man’s voice. “We’re hungry, not logical. One way or another, we need to be fed tonight. A real death, une petite mort, a piece of you to stay with us. It doesn’t matter to us.” The Smasher cupped his crotch, and Carrot’s dick throbbed against it. “Don’t you want you to come? Don’t you need to come?”

Carrot’s head was throbbing in time with his cock, a heartbeat hammer. “Yes,” he said finally.

“Isn’t this better?” The Smasher’s hands were moving all over him, more than two, stroking his legs, his chest, his arms, his hair. Squeezing his cock. Everywhere they touched, his pain eased.

“Yes,” Carrot repeated.

There were lips against his, a scrape of stubble against his chin, thrilling and new. Carrot opened his mouth and let the Smasher kiss him, licking into his mouth, stroking his tongue. The Smasher felt hot and wet and vital.

“I’d like to take your pants off,” the Smasher said when he broke the kiss. “May I?”

“Uh-huh.”

Hands lowered his zipper, undid his belt. He raised his hips and the Smasher tugged his jeans and his underwear down, pulled off his shoes and socks.

“May I touch you? Taste you?”

Carrot hadn’t been sure at first, even though he’d acceded, but now sex was winning against fear. “Yes,” he said more firmly. “Please.”

The Smasher kissed him again, and wrapped a hand around his cock. And then wet lips closed over his cockhead.  Carrot groaned into the mouth that was still kissing him while a second slid down his shaft. His hips tried to buck up of their own volition, but hands held him down, letting the Smasher set their own pace. More hands gently lifted his head, slid his folded-up pants between him and the roots, cushioning him, and also propping his head up.

The kissing mouth vanished, to be replaced a moment later by hot skin, firm but velvet-soft against his mouth. “Will you?” The Smasher’s breath was in his ears, warm and wet.

“Yes,” Carrot said, and he opened wide. 

There was a cock in his mouth. It was weird, and new, and he liked it more than he could have dreamed. The Smasher moved in him gently, slowly, letting him adjust. A tongue swabbed his dick, and he moved his own under and around the meat filling his mouth.

Hands stroked his balls. More hands eased his thighs apart. Finger tips traced around his anus.

“Don’t worry,” the Smasher whispered. “There’s magical ghost lube.”

“Yeah?” Carrot’s question turned into an answer as a finger probed him. He’d never done this to himself, but he’s had inklings. A doctor’s touch had always been brief, but fraught. What if I pop a boner? 

And now, touched leisurely, with intent, a finger hot and slick inside him, it felt good. Not as good as he thought it might. Better. A lot better.

Carrot moaned around the Smasher’s cock, and they responded by fucking faster into his mouth.

A second finger joined the first in his ass. Not on the same hand. Setting different rhythms, sliding against each other inside him. The stretch of his anal ring was uncomfortable, but exciting.

The mouth on his shaft was equally relentless. The cock in his mouth was growing more insistent. Feather touches tingled his balls. Hands roved over his body, stroking him everywhere. Two hot cocks pressed into his palms. His fingers curled around them, found the wet leaking from their tips.

His orgasm rose in him, as hungry and angry as the Smasher. He howled around the dick in his throat as he began to come. The Smasher shuddered all over him, against him, inside him. He felt the spurts of jizz against the back of his throat, and he thrashed against the Smasher’s restraint.

It was too much. His mind broke.

The cock was gone from his mouth, and he took a long gasping breath. Lips claimed his one last time, slick with semen. He passed out.

Carrot woke shivering, in wan predawn light, naked from the waist down, his jeans balled up under his head. The musky flavor in his mouth was unfamiliar. But Carrot knew, with an awful certainty, that he would soon get used to waking up with the taste of come in his mouth.

A line from Keats bubbled up in his mind, something he’d read back in school. A weird-ass poem, about a dude getting it on with a fairy chick. Getting kind of wrecked about it. “And I woke and found me here, on the cold hill’s side.”

When he sat up, he saw he wasn’t far above the next curve of the road. He dressed and went down easily to the pavement. He walked out of the park the long way.

And he wondered—even though it didn’t matter, couldn’t be changed—how much of himself he might be leaving behind.

Read this piece’s entry on the Shousetsu Bang*Bang wiki.