Hunger and Heroin
I’d been doing this a while, and worked out a pretty good system. Sure, the first few times there where mistakes, but that was all part of the learning process. After that, I settled into it, and got so good, the cops never catch on. The first rule is never ever shit where you sleep. I live in a suburb of a big enough metropolitan area that I’ve got about four million other people for them to sift through. There’s lots more neighbourhoods, so it’s not hard to drive to another, and get the lay of the land. Rule number two is to find strangers. I bet you all know a lot of girls you’d love to use, but the more links you have to them, the more leads they have back. The next step is selection. I like them young, and skinny. The face is not important, but I don’t want any fat to get in the way.
In fact, it kind of helps if they’re a bit homely. They tend to have less friends around which could make it difficult. After that, I go on to surveillance. It happens to be my stalking trade, so I know how to do it right. The trick to it is to not look like a stalker. All it takes is one neighbourhood watcher with 911 on speed dial to get you nicked. Don’t follow your quarry around, it’s certain to cause suspicion. Find out their common paths, and walk them often enough to see their habits, and let them get used to their presence. Finally, you pick them up. The best way to do this depends on them, and where they go on a regular basis. I’ll walk you through my next one for illustration. She’s about fifteen, short, blonde, and incredibly skinny. None in their right mind would call her pretty, and she had a bit of a depressive air about her. I figured her for a cutter, anorexic, or other self destructive type on sight. Fortunately, I caught her at home, checking the mail, so I don’t have to back track her.
The first time she saw me was a block away. I started stopping by her neighbourhood, parking my minivan outside it, and walking in. Since I knew where she lived, I walked around it at night hoping she’d show up. If she didn’t, I’d find another girl, possibly in the same neighbourhood. The minivan is suburban camouflage, something I’d mastered long ago. I soon determined she was in the habit of sneaking out at night, a perfect scenario for me. Her friends lived nearby, but she still had to take shortcuts through alleys, and culverts. That convinced me she was the one.
I didn’t take her right away, I wasn’t ready. Sure, I had a rudimentary knowledge of the sub division, and her habits, but a little more wouldn’t hurt while I worked up a little more anticipation. It doesn’t hurt to space these things out a bit, let the memory cool off, and take the time to bask in the glow of the last one. Finally, I could no longer stand the temptation. I camped out in a culvert where there was a good null. All the local lights where blocked, creating deep shadow, and none of the windows had direct line of sight. It was a gamble that she’d come this way, but the perfect location made it worth the wait. Finally, on the third night, I could hear her passing through the grass. I had great light advantage, saw her in the long before she got to near which prevented me grabbing some other kid by mistake. I silently pushed myself up to a crouch, and slipped a hand into the Ziploc) I had brought.
She passed right by me, and must’ve seen, or heard my movement peripherally, because she turned at the last moment. I still got the ether soaked rag over her mouth before she could scream, and held her until she got limp. In the autumn chill, she had on long sleeves, which I easily tape over. I like to put the forearms together horizontally, it makes taping harder, but also prevents movement better, and the wide stripes don’t leave marks on her tender flesh. Another strip goes over her mouth, and I carry her light frame down the ditch too my van. There where some people still up, but I wasn’t worried about them seeing me. They’re on the light side of a pain of glass that acts as a mirror when it’s dark out. I slowed to move more quietly past the inlet she would’ve taken if I hadn’t stopped her, though. Finally, I came to my van parked out of sight.
The hatch was unlatched, but closed. I’d turned off the automatic interior lights except the one in the door which I had to take out completely. This prevented tell tale lights at night, and preserved my night vision. She went behind the back seat, which I’d pulled back to minimize the room for her, and reclined until the back rested against the door when closed. Between those close quarters, and the tape, shed be fine until I got home. I resist the urge to drive fast, and obey all traffic laws. A ticketed could very well hear her back there, thumping, and squealing through her gag. I turned up the radio because it was distracting. I hate driving with an erection I can’t do anything about.
I resisted the urge to get a quick poke in back there because it’s best to get out as quickly, and quietly as possible. At the house, I trigger the arage remote, and back up to it. Closing it behind me, I can now get her out without being seen. Here’s where it becomes a pain. The garage is barely deep enough to open the hatch in there. I have to get her out, step aside to close it, then open the door to the back room. This is basically a basement, built into the hill, so there’s no windows, and cinderblock walls. I’d replaced the flimsy door with a solid wood one with a good key lock. It was "backwards", so the twist knob is on the outside, and the keyhole is sealed with solder. I threw her onto the mattress in the corner, and shut it. The lock wasn’t necessary with me in there, because she couldn’t escape before I caught her anyway. Much as I would’ve loved to finish processing her, it was all I could do to undress her without tearing her clothes.
She was lovely, but not perfect, yet. Her skinny limbs where much too weak to put up much of a fight, and I could already see a bit of her ribs. On the other hand, she had a neat little beard of body hair I’d have to deal with later. For now, I had to relieve myself in her. I don’t bother with condoms, they aren’t old enough to be much of a disease threat, and pregnancy just isn’t a concern. She was nice, and tight, and struggled nicely. She screamed good too, which I could allow in this nice basement room. there isn’t much of a better soundproofing than the earth. I didn’t last long, but that wasn’t the point. I’d waited enough, and I’d have plenty of time later to take it easy. When I was done, she crawled back to the corner, and curled up sobbing. I went into the bathroom to get some stuff out of the ditty bag. There was just a shower, toilet, and sink in there. I had to take out the mirror, and shower door after one of them came at me with a piece of glass wrapped in a towel. I had to turn to keep an eye on her while I prepared in case she bolted.
She didn’t. First, I got out the works, and cooked up a dose. I figured her for about 100lbs, so I used the standard dose. I didn’t use myself, after once to try it, but the smack made them nice and compliant. She fights me as I force her down, and tye my belt onto her arm, but relaxes nicely once it’s released. In that state, she doesn’t even struggle much while I shave her. Her soft smoothe lips look so much better unadulterated and she looks almost like a child with her skinny young bald body, and barely notable breasts. Her large tips are oversized on the small conical swells, and a nice pail pink. I rub one, and it darkens with blood, pressing back into my thumb reflexively.
A little "A" escapes her gaping mouth. I know it’s the drug talking, but I still take it as a compliment. Slipping a finger between her other lips, I rub her sore dry tender flower. That elicits a nice moan of pain. I move down to lubricate it with my spit. I can taste the coppery tang of blood. She’s not haemorrhaging noticeably, so it’s not menstrual, but theres enough to taste it. She’s raw from my rough treatment, and red from the friction. I like the roughness of it, on my tongue, and the rest of me. Speaking of which, I can feel it reluctantly recover. Packing in the saliva, I prepare her for the second round. This time, I can take it easy, and with the lubrication, I didn’t have to be as forceful.
She doesn’t complain as much, or struggle, but I can like it like that too. It gives me a chance to enjoy her thin hard body around me, under me, her tight little tits, and hot nipples. Unfortunately, because of my recent climax, it isn’t enough for another one. I enjoy it while I can, and pull out to finish by hand. It’s not as vigorous either, so only the first of it makes it to her face. As the pathetic pressure lessens, it tracks down her chest, and finally drips onto her belly. I can still taste her as I bend to clean it up. I’m not gay, or anything, but I like the flavour, especially mixed with hers. After lapping off her midriff, and digging an errent drop from her navel, I move up to her chest.
Though it’s all between them, I move aside to give some attention to her breasts. I can almost suck them completely into my mouth, and bat at the swollen tips with my tongue. Moving along, I suck at her neck, and nibble gently. I kiss her, passing my nutritious seed to her mouth, then move up to get the rest. Again , I feed her our fluids, and gently instruct her to swallow. Her glottis twitches as she does, then her jaw falls slack again. Sated, for now, I pack up my ditty bag, and lock her in.
***
"I’m hungry," she says when I come back in the next day. "This will help," I hold up the already charged needle, "But first, you’ll need to satisfy me." She acted like she didn’t want it, but I knew the monkey she had on her back. We where partners, what I did to her body, it did to the soul. That, and my seed where the only nutrition she got from me. Soon enough, she approached perfection. I could see all of her ribcage except for the circles of her breasts. These receded to just the slight bulge of her glands. She came to love the drug, too. Begging for it, and willing to do anything for it. She got her meals willingly and ass her body got too loose to please me, I relived myself into her mouth, and the other end of the intestinal tract.
By then, I didn’t have to worry about it being clean. I stopped having to shave her too, what hair she had left grew brittle, and frizzy. I was greeted at the door to the baking bread scent of her degeneration. Finally, she left me. I dressed her, in her old clothes, drove her downtown where the runaways, junkies, and whores where, and left her there. When she was found, none was too surprised. I had to find another girl, now, but I could take my time. She’d satisfied me for now, and I could remember her fondly until I found someone else.
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