TITANS, MONSTERS, AND LEGENDS

01:01 AJ_Rollins: My name is AJ Rollins and I am, for lack of a better term, a “front man”. I specialize in “human resource consolidation”, using my considerable talents to convince smaller independent criminal enterprises that acquisition by a larger organization would be in the best interest of their shareholders’ life expectancy.

I got my start with the Merlino family in Philadelphia, helping to take down Little Nicky Scarfo and his band of psychos in the 1990s. When Joey decided to expand his family business into other cities, I was sent ahead to clear out the dead brush, recruit some loyal locals, and make sure everything was ready when one of Joey’s lieutenants finally arrived to take over. The phrase, “My name is AJ Rollins and I am here to take over your gang.” struck fear into the hearts of local crime bosses, because once they heard it, they knew that 1) I had beaten ( and fucked and most likely killed) their biggest, best fighter in hand-to-hand combat (my preferred method of establishing my authority) and 2) their reign of terror was about to be surprisingly short-lived.

I left the Merlino family in 2015, still doing occasional work for them. Joey was on supervised release after spending almost a dozen years in prison, and then a halfway house in Florida. He was less than six months away from having his parole restrictions removed, when we all got caught meeting together in Florida with other “organized crime figures”. Joey had four months added to his sentence and, on the recommendation of the family, I skipped bail and have been on the run every since.

But by this point, my reputation (and connections) was fully established, and I had no problem getting work with other families across the country. Vegas, St. Louis, Cleveland, Boulder, Jackson…I was racking up bodies faster than frequent flier miles and I had put together a small staff of hard hitting bad asses to help me with consolidation. I also took a lover, Jake, a sexy quiet bodybuilding monster who helped me keep the locals in line.

The next eight years were good to me, Jake, and my business. The pandemic was a real boon for us, as we got involved in everything from counterfeit ivermectin pills to smuggling toilet paper. And now, in 2023, I am finally considering retiring: Taking Jake, finding a few hot boys who can cook, clean, and take a brutal fuck, and moving the whole lot of us to somewhere remote, with weak extradition laws, and where a dollar can go a long way—maybe Argentina, maybe the Phillipines. I hear Estonia is nice in the fall.

Until…the notes.

“I will come for you little man.”

“I’ll tighten that flabby waist of yours.”

“Few survive the embrace of the Quicksand.”

If they were emails, I would have ignored them. If they were texts, I would have blocked them. Even if they had been nailed to my front door, I would have assumed they were the cowardly boasts of some admirer…

I found the first note in Jake’s ass crack, after we had gotten back from a five mile run. We were both sweaty and beat, and when I pulled down his shorts to take a poke at that massive muscleman ass, a small scroll fell from his ass crack when I spread his cheeks with both hands.

"Dead man jogging." Was all I could think…

I grabbed his shoulders and spun him around, furious, accusatory. "What the hell is this? Who put this in your ass, Jake? Who's been fucking my man, Jake?" But my man is a terrible liar, and I can tell by the look on his face that he is as confused (and scared) by the scroll as I am. How does a folded death threat end up in my man’s ass?

So, I do what any rational man would: I destroy a half dozen locker doors, twisted dented beige steel half-hanging from busted hinges. NOBODY fucks with me and my family like that. I grab Jake and leave, throwing ten $100 bills at the gym manager for the damage, barking at him to "Get some fucking security around here!"

The scrolls kept coming: The glove compartment of my locked car. The pocket of the suit I just got back from the cleaners. Under the placemat at my booth at the Oregon Diner. Cryptic, threatening one sentence notes. Each one sent me into a rage. This wasn't the feds. This wasn't some rival family. Nameless threats serve no purpose when it comes to family business.

No, this was personal. Intimate. Bordering on gaslighting, and I was always on edge, wondering where and when the next scroll would show up. Somebody knows me well, and NOBODY knows me well. I have grown too predictable. I am getting sloppy. This is the downside of having a lover: Complacency. So, I change up my routine, get a new cell phone, rent an apartment in Fishtown, buy a new car then exchange it for another one.

But the scrolls kept coming…

01:05 The_Quicksand: There are times when I feel like a fucking Magician. Of course, I am not. I am a tank of a man that threatens people. And yes, there’s a good number that die. I had been following this self-important jackass Rollins. He’s strong and handsome, and feared in underworld circles to the point that police leave him alone in Philadelphia. If he weren’t such a prick I would admire him.

So I find out he is the enforcer/messenger for the braying asshole Merlino. Or at least he used to be. Make no mistake, I don’t care. I am truly not a player in their game, which is why my prank was so blissful to watch. They work out on 12 street at a place called Iron Works. They train huge powerlifters. That’s when I saw AJ Rollins and his fuckman Jake.

The Voices say they would be pleased when they see the light of life flicker from his eyes, coughing up some unknown bloody organ after I squeeze him to death. I am doing my wicked best to avoid following their council, the voices, that is. I had them eradicated once. I will do it again. Yes I am mad, stop repeating that, it’s rude.

So I pinned the janitor to the wall and handed him the information he needed and got into Jake’s locker. The plant was subtle, a billet with beeswax on the waist band. As he runs, the wax melts and follows the sweat line down into that cute tight crack. Why? Because I followed Rollins home and found a vantage across the street that got me a stunning view of them fucking at his place. I dream of the day he finally finds my personal note in the valley of his pleasure.

I had to have nine notes planted before one did the magic. Others fell into toilets or were lost as road litter. This one worked. The look on Rollin’s face is precious, played back on my phone in moments when I think life is too bleak to continue. It’s cute watching your lips move when you read it. Poor Jake. His fuck got interrupted with a death threat. The tantrum is a show of singular entertainment.

Now is the work, the time and the place. He’s a killer. I’m a killer. He knows he’s being hunted. I am pleased, I suddenly feel alive again. My workouts double in ferocity, firing my 345 pound body into primal sweat soaked exhaustion every day. They train, they run. Jake and AJ together. Except every fourth Tuesday. That’s when Jake gets a massage across town.

Then I catch a maggot. He owes Rollins money. You have been sent to sort him out, and behold, I get to him first. His name is completely unimportant to me. He is The Maggot. The meeting is set for the Dolphin Tavern on S Broad st and Tasker. It’s closed Mondays and Tuesdays. Large floor, hauntingly dark balconies. A good space to fight.

Maggot arrives and sits on the stage holding the bag of money, as instructed. I am waiting on the balcony. I know he's a maggot so yes, I have a kill button that will discharge the explosive package on a chain around his neck. He’s usually a quivering worm but right now, he’s sweating quite authentically.

Now we wait.

01:09 AJ_Rollins: "Marvin called. He has the money."

I stop dead in my tracks, halfway between peeling off my skintight wife beater and shoving Jake's face in my dank late summer pit. We were at the Fishtown apartment that afternoon, and I could hear the concern in my lover's voice. He knows something is up.

"No bet?"

"No bet."

"Not good."

Marvin the Mouth was hopelessly drawn to two things: 1) Sharing his bed with members of the legal profession, preferably young (male or female) associates at one of the big law firms in the city and 2) betting against the Eagles at home against the spread. The latter often got him in hot water with the Merlinos, and the bank accounts of the former often bailed him out.

His routine was so predictable that you could plant crops by it: Marvin talks his way into the bed of some hard working legal eagle, runs up a shitload of gambling debts, drains his lover's bank account, disappears, finds a new lawyer to woo, then uses them to pay off his old debts before starting all over again.

But it always starts the same way, "Hey AJ, I got the money I owe, plus interest. No hard feelings, right? Now, how about giving me $500 on Dallas with the spread?"

Marvin never just calls to pay. Shit, he's the Where's Waldo of gambling deadbeats. He only calls if he is ready to bet.

"No bet?"

"Nope."

"Shit. Where?"

"Dolphin, tonight at 11pm."

The Dolphin was at one time the shittiest tittie bar in South Philly. The place had a real David Lynch vibe to it: Lots of bored, half naked middle aged women standing around while the owner, Neddy Five Points, played Roy Orbison nonstop of the juke box and randomly threw beer bottles against the wall. Neddy and Marvin were best friends in high school. Neddy's son runs the place now, a hangout for hipsters who drink IPAs and listen to the Black Keys.

Regardless, the Dolphin was home turf for Marvin the Mouth.

Jake calmly reaches into the kitchen drawer and pulls out his Walther PPQ. Checks the magazine. "I'll swing by the club a half hour early and position myself in the balcony. Do they still keep the spare key in the magnet box on the fire escape?"

"As far as I know." Jake can see the concern on my face. “The rules might all be different this time.”

"Shit AJ. It's Marvin the Mouth. What's the worst that could happen? He talks you to death?"

We both let out a strained chuckle. Jake grabs my crotch and silently leads me to the bedroom. I fuck him passionately, almost brutally, and he passes out before I can get back from the bathroom.

Six hours later I walk up to the front door of the Dolphin. The blinds are down and the neon CLOSED sign is on, but the door is open.

Jake texted me at 10:30 to tell me that he was in position on the balcony, but nobody was there yet. I check my phone one last time before I go in. Nothing from Jake. Maybe Marvin's newest love shyster has put the kibosh on the whole gambling thing before he could even lay a finger on his/her/their bank card.

But no, there was Marvin, sitting on a bar stool on the elevated stage, sweating bullets, a large metallic lock box on a collar around his neck.

"What's up with the collar Marvin? If I had known it was gear night at the Bike Stop, I would have worn my harness."

He finally looks at me, his face emerging from the shadow of the balcony, bloody and beaten, and the terror (not fear, actual fucking terror) in his eyes chills me to the bone, even with the AC off. His face and shirt are drenched in sweat, and he looks at me almost apologetically, and mouths the words, "You shouldn't have come here."

01:22. The_Quicksand: The maggot speaks. I have to chuckle. Even after being horribly threatened and bruised, he still runs his mouth. It’s amazing he was ever trusted out of the house without an armed escort. This is the problem with stupid people. They cause damage everywhere. We think we can be clever and inoculate ourselves from them somehow. Convince ourselves we’ll be safe from their damage. Even thinking like this leaves me open to their toxic ways. Watch as Maggot thinks he spoils my plans by talking.

I was not so naive to think you wouldn’t bring your sexy man with you to the show. It was hours of scheming I had, so many plans on how to neutralize him or capture him and make him watch your destruction. And to my surprise, here he comes to the balcony, alone.

He does not see me, and that takes talent. I wore black for the occasion. I have my shoes on. The special shoes everyone that worries about me visiting seems to talk about. I wear shoes with industrial velcro on the outer sides. It’s so strong it’s used to fix 2 ton equipment in transport. I wrap my legs around a man and cross my ankles, those strips of magic knit together, and I have a man in my grip until I work to release him. After practice, I am fast at this.

You hear a thump and a heavy bang hit the floor in the balcony. Maybe that moment I curse my clumsiness. The taser that takes out Jake left him slightly boneless a moment. My plans otherwise work out well. This is when we celebrate your good judgment in selecting a sturdy lover.

Jake is tossed over the balcony railing, much like those hanging rope dancers will, but this time, head down, suspended by his ankles! His right and left arms are wrapped over his throat roped behind him in such a way that it looks like he’s hugging himself. Three straps of thick velcro wrap his ankles. He swings slowly.

My voice comes to you from the balcony as you watch you lover swing above you. “Your squealer Marvin is correct. Your lover Jake, however, is infected with the idea that you are the only one in danger and he might be immune to the dangers around him. He is wrong.” The voice is deep, male, thickly accented with Eastern European vowels and glottal stops. Then you see the man, standing on the balcony. He’s huge. Standing over 6’5” and built like a tank, dressed in skin tight under armor and military shorts. His legs are a freakshow of muscle and mass. His face is covered by a hooded mask.

I flip over the railing and slide down the rope, my thick legs wrap Jake around the waist as I hug Jake’s leg for stability. The ankles cross and CLAMP TIGHT and you watch your man put under the vise of a BRUTAL SQUEEZE. Legs of massive thickness squeeze into Jake's core carving inches off his waist. He cries out in agony waking from his slumber to a body wrecking assault, Squirming, you watch Jake's muscled body writhe as the pressure crushes into him. “It is hard to watch your love suffer, no?” The squeeze doubles in pressure and Jake cries out only to have his pained voice struggle away to a red faced gagging as he fights for air.

01:17 AJ_Rollins: Marvin's panicked warning is immediately followed by a grunt and a thud from above, my eyes shooting up towards the shadowy balcony. "Jake? Talk to me! What is happening?" Then, the terror of seeing Jake's body hauled over the railing of the balcony and plunging towards the wooden floor. I dive towards where is he will eventually land, surprised when his huge body JERKS violently, hanging by his ankles, still 15 feet from the ground. His massive arms are bound tightly to his upper torso and, whatever has happened to him, he appears to have pissed himself. I push over a table and scramble up, but my lover is still just out of reach. "Jake! Wake up baby!"

A huge shadow appears on the balcony, blocking out the overhead light, and I squint to see the outline of the Man for the first time. He is, at the same time, both colossal and lithe, moving effortlessly across the thin railing with all the grace of the ballerina hippo from Fantasia. I can only stand and watch in amazement as this muscle-armored beast dances across the balcony.

And then, the Man opens his mouth, and for a second, I thought this whole thing was a huge setup. Heck, with that accent, I half expected him to tell me that he is looking for "moose and squirrel". In all my years in the business, I have had limited contact with the Russian mob, and nothing that would elicit such an extreme response. Even with Jake's "odd" sense of humor, this is over the top, even for him. I look back at Marvin, who is as white as a ghost. Whatever this is, it ain't a joke.

"I don't know who the fuck sent you Vlad, but keep away from my lover, you Eurotrash piece of shit! This is between you and me!" But before I can even finish my threat, my heart leaps into my throat as all 6'5" of him comes slithering down the rope like some sadistic Cirque de Soleil, his obscenely huge legs coiling around my incapacitated lover like two massive roots stretching out from a sequoia, then the unmistakable sound of velcro being strapped into place.

The stairs to the balcony are located on the far end of the bar, and as soon as I make a move, I hear Jake's agonizing groans as the Man squeezes him back to consciousness. I freeze at the sound of his oxygen-deprived moans for a second, then go to move again, only to have drops of bloody drool drip from Jake's gasping mouth and onto my skintight t shirt as the Man torques up the pressure around Jake's core.

Our eyes lock, and at that moment, I have no doubt in my mind that if I attempted to get to the balcony, my lover would be dead and the hooded behemoth would be long gone before I made it up the stairs. Those aren't the cold eyes of a trained assassin. They are the spinning eyes of a goddamn maniac.

My mind flips a few times before coming to the realization that, whatever this is, it has NOTHING to do with business. The scrolls, the gaslighting, the meticulous planning, the stalking, the kidnapping of Marvin, the targeting of Jake, the lack of any apparent motive.

No, this isn't business. This is insanity.

So I stand there, blood draining from my neck, covered in goosebumps and sweat, forced to watch as the Man, the hooded unhinged lunatic, crushes Jake between his crippling quads, his wet wheeze echos throughout the empty bar, until CRAAAAACK one of his ribs snaps in the Man's merciless vice. A steady stream of blood pours from Jake's blueing lips as he eyes roll independently in their sockets at the added agony. Marvin cringes and whimpers in response, but the rib snap is like a slap in my face, waking me from my fear-induced trance. “Stop!... I said Stop!” I call up. He keep crushing Jake and I hear things breaking.

"ENOUGH! YOU GOT MY FUCKING ATTENTION! NOW WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?"

01:23 Quicksand:
You can see little of me, my dark gear concealing my more intimate details. But the legs shine out as huge and maybe obscene compared to the size of your fuckman. You see his body engulfed from hips to sternum in thick thighs. Or maybe you are like the rest of the herd, shocked to stillness when you see blood, now dripping from his mouth. Yes, an unconscious man will experience internal damage very quickly without putting up resistance.

The room is shocked to stillness, I work on the matter at hand. Holding onto his leg, seeing I made him piss himself, I chuckle. “I blame you. You fuck him so hard he just comes apart when you squeeze him. Oh yes, I have watched… you are … vigorous. Oh yes. I see the sparks of curiosity in your eyes. Who is this monster? Who uses little maggots like Martin as bait?”

Jake suddenly shakes in spasms, like a gazelle in a death squeeze. I reach my hand around Jake’s body and grab my ankle, from this angle I force my leg and separate my ankles, a shredding tearing sound issues in an echo and my legs finally part… Jake gasps aloud, gagging on bloody spit. Swinging my legs off him I land on the floor next to the table with a thunderous impact!

Standing my full height, you see the thick pecs of a 62” chest and guess me at 340 pounds. Standing my full height I take three steps. “You see what happens when a man sinks into the Quicksand. What joy, you are next.” Closing with you quickly, you feel my powerful grip, hand on your arm first, a grip that breaks stone… the wall of muscle heat and manscent upon you!

01:27 AJ_Rollins: Even with you this close, your legs crushing the life out of my man above my head, you somehow manage to stay in the shadows. Your huge legs seem to radiate light, glistening with sweat, while everything from the waist up seems to be covered in shadow as you twist and contort Jake’s body. I see a flicker of teeth in a sadistic laugh as you point out Jake’s piss that you literally squeezed from his bladder with your knees, but blamed on my “vigorous lovemaking”. Your attempt at getting into my head is made worse by that cartoonishly villainous voice—shit, if you have been tailing us for any amount of time, it would be impossible NOT to see us bone, cuz we go at it five times a day.

You keep spewing all sorts of random shit (Why would you make Marvin the bait? That’s an easy one: He’s a worm.) But you are right about one thing: I am curious. You are batshit crazy, but you are trained. You have all the hallmarks of a hired assassin, but this is somehow personal for you. You could have killed me and Jake a dozen times over, but, instead, you stage this elaborate scene. You are cold and methodical, but also with a flair for the dramatic. It’s like you were hired by someone to do this, but no one who wanted me dead would come within fifty feet of a psycho like you. Like you were trying to send someone a message, but it went straight to voicemail.

You pour on the pressure, making my lover spasm in what looks like a death rattle, before finally reaching around his crushed core and RIIIPPPP unattaching the velcro straps that made it impossible to break the hold. Jake’s waist instantly expands almost four inches, and his gasps and coughs send a splattering of spit and blood down on my face. And with the agility of a predator cat, you release from my lover, swinging your body out and away from him, flipping once, before sticking the dismount, your huge feet hitting the wooden floor with a thunderous BOOM.

In all my years in the weight room, I have never seen a man with as big a chest as you. Easily over 60”, two massive boulders perched on your sternum, with endless layers of more muscle surrounding them. Close to 350lbs of musculature. It was like looking at the Crusher, the dim witted wrestler from the old Bugs Bunny cartoon, flexing for the crowd:

As I stare in horrified awe at the colossal man across from me, you snap me out of my trance by mentioning the word “Quicksand”---fuck, where have I heard that word recently? A Netflix show? An email? But, again, you show speed that a man your size should not possess, closing the distance between us in a heartbeat, your hand latching onto my arm, gripping it like it was caught in a massive vice, the heat and pheromones coming off your body hitting me like a blast furnace.

1:40 The_Quicksand:
The whimper of the maggot tied to his chair makes the scene complete. I am not usually keen on witnesses. This one will tell stories. But he carries Cassandra’s curse, no? His stories have warnings of Doom, but no one listens but fools and impotent kittens.

The blood from your Olympic fucktoy plays across your face, a Jackson Pollock painting titled “Horror.” You have seen nothing yet, child. Frozen in place as I advance and grip your arm, I turn hard, hurling you over my shoulder, a flawless Seoi Nage throw, but with the power of an ape. I feel the thick muscle on your chest and arm as I take you in grip, oh yes.

Hurled over my back you come to land ten feet from me, landing in a sprawl, flying like a wounded duck. The stage shakes from the impact! Maybe you won’t fight me. I have ways to inspire you. You see me reach behind me and pull a knife. The aim is casual. Betraying a level of years of focused practice, the knife tumbles into the balcony, out of the harsh spotlights, into the darkness above.

You watch as the rope holding Jake falls slack and he drops! His head aims for the floor as he quickly plummets 20 feet. I wonder, what might break his fall?

01:44 AJ_Rollins:

The ease in which you flip me over your shoulder makes me feel like a lazily tossed frisbee, my 270lbs flying almost effortlessly through the air, finally slamming to the floor before sliding six feet, my back slamming into the stage right below where Marvin is sitting. I look up, chest heaving for air, and see the terror in his beady eyes. I follow his gaze across the room towards you and the glint of your blade. My instincts kick in and I grab the closest thing that I could use to block the knife should you decide to throw it at me. Marviin looks none too pleased when I grab the chair he is tied to and swing it around, using it as a shield between me and you. He flinches and closes his eyes tight, bracing for the impact, and I expect to see his chest convulse and blood trickle from his mouth as the knife cuts through the air and plunges between his shoulder blades.

But the glint of the blade shoots up and I realize that I am not the target. If you throw as good as you squeeze, Jake’s entrails will be spilling onto the bar floor like a meat pinata before I can get to you. As you casually flick your wrist, the knife spins through the air, not at Jake, but higher up, disappearing into the darkness of the balcony. The rope.

I slam the chair to the floor, with Marvin still tied to it, then KICK it as hard as I can, sending it sliding across the bar just as the severed rope whips against the balcony with a SNAP. Jake’s half-conscious body comes plummeting towards the floor head first while Marvin lets out a scream just before the two smash into each other in a violent collision. The impact is just enough to change Jake’s projectory, and his huge shoulders take the brunt of the fall, crushing Marvin underneath his massive frame, the chair shattering into kindling on impact. The back of Marvin’s head is POUNDED into the wooden floor so hard that blood spurts out his ears. Jake barely moans, caught in a tangle of chair legs and rope and motionless limbs. But at least he’s alive. If Marvin ain’t dead, that’s a pretty convincing imitation.

You watch in bemusement as I save my man from certain death, cocking an eyebrow at me jauntily, then attack. Instead of retreating, I shorten the distance between us, then veer off at the last second and, without breaking stride, I grab the broken chair leg under Marvin’s very unalive body. I pivot on my right leg and swing, sending a brutal uppercut towards your spread legs, hoping to nail you in the balls and slow you down enough to regroup.

1:51 The_Quicksand
I knew you were a clever and mean fighter, but that touched me in my core of sick amusement! The last look frozen on Maggot’s face is one of surprise and fatalistic surrender. It’s not like he was ever in charge of anything and up to the end, that was true. The tumble of muscle and fur and desperation makes my cock throb.

I notice things. You touch his hand. He touches your back. It’s like madmen that know one thing to be true, and touch to make sure it’s there. But that never cures the madness, no? Oh imagine what would happen if he loses that touchstone?

I launch into attack, a feint within a feint within a feint, getting ready to stomp you into the floor and switch targets as you switch targets. I score… my boot drives into your fucktoy’s back seeking a harvest of pain and rage! You score… pain and fire erupts in my crotch!

I gasp in pain, yet I prevail, falling onto your lover. His face is not a study in fear but a masterpiece of fury. Oh yes, I broke things inside him and the blood dripping from his lips is the telltale sign. I DARE to ignore you as I pound fists into his defenseless face daring you to rage and violence! I hear you scrambling to your feet. Yes you hoped the testicle shot would cripple me. And most men that aren’t torture victims would crumble like a biscuit, but not The Quicksand.

My wide back flaring as I hammer his face!

01:59 AJ_Rollins: As the chair leg connects with your balls, I realize that you are not charging at me, but at my downed lover, and your boot plows into his kidneys so hard that he starts coughing up blood. You drop, but Jake breaks your fall, and your fists seem to be pounding into his handsome face before you even hit. The third punch splits Jake’s lip, the fourth one shatters his nose with an echoing CRAAACK.

Before the fifth one can find its mark, I let out a scream and send a huge size 13 boot straight into your temple, kicking you like I was punting a football, knocking you off my lover’s body and onto the floor next to him. I look down at Jake’s bleeding, gasping face, and my anger sending me into Beast Mode, I start stomping and kicking your downed form, trying to find an opening in your body armor of muscle. “YOU ARE A DEAD MAN!”

2:05: The_Quicksand:
OH yes… your balls have finally dropped! The kick to my head rocks me off Jake to the floor, on my back dazed, finally seeing the blistering glow of your rage. Thick arm comes up to block your wild kicks, scraping skin and fur from my forearm! Finally my speed and power can avail and I CATCH your boot in a crushing right hand grip!! My leg sweeps yours and you fall on your ass.

Trying to rise I stumble. That kick to the head was severe, with blood trickling down my face in a steady flow. Stumbling back I stand and my attention crystalizes the air around me. . Such touching moments come to my mind. Jake tries to rise and he’s lucky he can control his bowels right now let alone his balance. Marvin is gagging noisily as his mortal wounds take time. He whimpers a name. I finally make it out. Miles Sanders. He is speaking garbage from the football addiction he ruined his life on. I am still amazed at how men go with God.

And you, nearly screaming with every breath.

I gain my feet when you do, smiling at the fury on your face. Rushing to you and we collide. This is not a nice meeting, Slapping aside your attacks, letting my hand close on your throat! SQUEEZE! Lift! CHOKESLAM! I turn and drill you into the floor coming down onto your chest!

02:11 AJ_Rollins:
The sight of your blood finally convinces me that you are just a mortal man, and not some primeval demigod, and I am determined to stomp your body through the floor, but it is like stomping a cannon ball, just layers and layers of solid iron muscle that seem impervious to damage. But that doesn’t deter me, my rage hot red and focused. Next to us, Marvin has wandered back into semi-consciousness for his last few moments on earth, eyes rolling independently in their sockets, bloody rasping about the Eagles Cowboys game—gotta give the weasel credit, even facing death, he’s gotta get in one last bet. A long running joke in the Philly underworld was that, when Marvin got to the Pearly Gates, his first words would be, “So Peter, what is the over/under on the Second Coming?”

“AJ?” I look over and Jake is trying to get to his feet. I have no doubt that he is both concussed and in shock—he looks like a victim stumbling away from an Amtrak wreck—and as see he makes it to his feet, he falls back, as landing on Marvin’s stomach, causing a volcano of blood to erupt from Marvin’s blue lips, shooting in the air and oozing from the corners of his mouth. “Stay down baby, I can’t take care of you and him at the same time!”

I turn back towards you, screaming and swearing at you,but in that one split second that I took my attention off you, you strike: Using your legs to roll yourself onto your shoulders before springing to your feet. I take two steps towards you and we collide hard, my fist shooting towards your nose.

Again with that amazing speed, you easily bat my hand away and, using the momentum, grab my throat and almost effortlessly hoist my huge frame off the floor. My eyes go wide in pain and shock as you continue to lift me higher, My legs flailing wildly, hands clawing at yours in a futile effort to get you to release your vice like grip on my neck. You keep me suspended for what seems like minutes, making sure I know in no uncertain terms about the power you possess, before you finally SLAM me to the ground so hard that some of the hardwood floor slats CRACK under my back on impact. With the air driven from my lungs, Gasping and trying to breath but that fails. OOOOOF! Your huge weight follows me down landing on my chest hard! You POUND your knees into my heaving pecs, flattening me under you and embedding some of the shards and splinters of the broken floor into my skin.

02:18 TheQuicksand: The fight in you still burns. You will still take abuse to spare your man the horror of the Quicksand. All too many coupled men eventually tire of the gallant act and abandon their fucktoy to the meatgrinder. I have you on the floor and my knee into your sternum, your face red with pain and shock as I grind a slow circle burrowing my knee into your core. I spare your Jake a look as he watches me dismantle you.

The maggot will be nothing but useless now. My eyes burn into yours once again, now that I have settled my domination over the room. “You have so much handsome muscle. You get big dollar as a rent boy, no?” My thick Russian accent rumbles in the gloom of the cavernous night club. My knee grinds another circle, watching you fight the urge to scream. “I wish to show you why men call me Quicksand. Maybe you have been dying to know?” I chuckle at joke.

My hand grips your throat and squeezes. I am not really desiring to hear you answer that. I will wrap you in my vise in time. I get off your chest and snap my feet flat with the sound of thunder in the cave. I LIFT you off the floor and turn hard, a variation of the Judo throw and toss you over my shoulder, away from Jake to the edge of the spotlight pool, a tumbling mess of pain and hurt! I slowly close the 3 meters between us and you watch me in silhouette slowly eclipse the light around you.

02:29 AJ_Rollins:

Every second you are on top of me is another moment that Jake is not being hurt. I am hoping I can keep you distracted long enough for him to recover and escape. You take one knee off my gasping pecs and position the other one directly on my sternum. You pull your foot back and grab it with your huge and and GRIND your knee down hard, taking your other foot off the floor so your entire weight is drilling into my chest.

My eyes go wide in pain as your massive knee BORES into my chest, my hands shooting up to push it off, but experiencing the resistance of a grand piano with no wheels. Out of the corner of my bulging eye I see movement, my attention drawn to my bleeding, hurting Jake, attempting to crawl across the dirty bar floor to save me. The pain on his face is more for what is happening to me that for him.

Because of course he does. I would do the exact same thing.

You follow my gaze and give Jake a derisive glance. I gotta get you to focus on me again, so I grit my teeth and thrash under you, drawing your attention back to me. You give me shit about being a rent boy, and I KNOW that will only piss Jake off more. You do a 360 degree pirouette, the agony radiating throughout my upper body, like being crushed under a caber.

You just keep rambling in that thick accent about your name and how you got it, but the crushing weight on my sternum has made it impossible for me to even comprehend what you're saying. Just when it feels like your knee is going to penetrate my skin, you jump off me and land with a TWACK of your boots on the hardwood floor like a gun shot. My hands go to my chest but you grab my wrist before I cover them up, and you effortlessly pick me up off the floor and toss me over your shoulder like luggage on the hotel bed after a long trip. My body travels nearly seven feet before it hits the floor, Andy arms and legs flop around wildly as I roll a few times before I crash into the garbage cans at the far end of the bar, on my shoulders, legs flopped over the can, looking at you upside down.

And, again, you move so fast, it is like watching someone come at you under a strobe light. You are across the bar, then suddenly you are four feet closer, then four feet closer still. My hand scrambles around through the garbage and feel an empty Corona bottle. (Yes I can tell the difference in the brand of beer by touching the bottle! Don’t judge me!) I SMASH it onto the floor! With glass flying, then swing the jagged neck upwards, hoping that you run into it before you get to me.

02:33 TheQuicksand: You tumble like garbage and land in more garbage. I hear the glass before you swing the broken bottle. Like a rattlesnake warning, I jump back. The slash comes as I am backing up tearing a path across my chest! “AUGHGH!” Holding my chest, feeling blood run down my hand. I chuckle as I keep backing up. Then I reach the precious Jake. Turning I see him crawling to come protect you. He wisely tries to back up and takes a boot under his chin.

The world needs more men like him. Sad. They will miss him.

I turn and STOMP on his hand as he crawls. Three hundred forty pounds of wrecking power crushes his hand into the floor. He screams, pulling his hand to get free. It is wicked and unkind of me to mangle him further so I am compelled to continue. I grab his hair, that ragged mop, and Pull him standing, finally freeing his hand. The hug I wrap him in crushes bubbling blood from his mouth! LIFT and back SUPLEX! HIS FACE HITTING THE FLOOR… I roll to rise and see you on your feet finally in rage… Oh good. Very good. Jake twitches from the damage of his abuse.

02:35 AJ_Rollins:

You leap back, the bottle slashing across your massive pecs, leaving a six inch crimson gash across your sternum. But you just smile, looking at the wound before looking back at Jake, that sadistic twinkle in your eye letting me know that my man is going to pay for my insolence. You pull your foot back and KICK him in the chin, lifting his upper body off the bar floor before he crashes back down, blood pouring down his split swelling lip.

You strut up to him and, not taking your eyes off mine, STOMP on his big hand, the sound of bone snapping echoing in the empty club. Jake howls in pain and tries to pull his mangled hand away but you just GRIND your foot into it, crushing it against the floor. I struggle to get to my feet, dizzy and hurting, giving you all the time you need to grab Jake's now blood matted hair and draaaaaag him to his feet before engulfing his body in your ridiculously huge arms, flattening him against you like a steam roller, bloody bubbles of carbon dioxide forming on his blueing lips, before you unceremoniously SUPLEX him face first to the hardwood floor, two of his front teeth snapping off on impact, flying from his mouth like a pair of dice

I finally get to my feet and come charging at you in a blind fury, screaming "DEAD!" at the top of my lungs, my arms wrapping around your chest on violent impact, my legs pumping… pumping…driving you back until your spine SLAMS into the bar, and I pummel you with wild lefts and rights, determined to destroy you for what you have done to my man.

02:41 TheQuicksand: I have this sickness where I love to see what drives a man. Is it just the sex that makes you desire Jake? If so, maybe you could get sex anywhere? But no, you drag yourself to your feet and attack with the rage of a man defending his life mate. Even stupid animals in the wild have grown to fear humans for they know we will hunt them for vengeance if other sensible motivations for hunting fail us.

Your charge drives into me and carries us to the very solid bar behind me, slamming my back into the edge, splitting my back with very real pain. Your fists hit me over and over pouring petrol on the dead sensations of my heart. AND NOW I am gifted with life! You will kill me, this is true! It’s the heart deep sensation of mortality a man feels, akin to licking a razor blade. You will not stop until one of us lies dead. I cannot buy this drug on the streets or beg any doctor for this - it comes from another man, the glory of combat! In moments like this, there is no shame, I surrender to the will of the voices and their chants of mayhem!

The fire takes my blood as I grab your neck and turn us around in the dance of death, slamming your back into the bar returning the pain and damage you shared with me. A fist explodes up into your solid abdominal wall lifting your heels from the floor! Your eyes widen with the pain. Oh this is the beginning. “It’s time to feel your feet at the edge of death!” My great hand palms your face, washing you in the scent of all that I have touched in the last minutes, sweat, blood, dirt, and piss. Gripping your head by your face, I fall back and my massive legs wrap around you as we hit the floor.

The damage on my back flares as we hit the floor, but that is mild to your coming sensations! Massive 35” quads swallow your body from hips to arm pits as my ankles lock behind you. The sound of velcro knitting as the deadly cheat in my shoes is now activated. I flex and the SQUEEZE around you threatens to crush you to breathless pulp. I have you now in the Quicksand grip and we are maybe locked together until one of us dies. My heart hammers with life and the only true emotion I know - mortality! Gripping your face in a hard crush with my hand, you are locked in crushing power and pain!

02:46 AJ_Rollins:

My barrage of fists pelt you like hailstones, but that just seems to energize you, the twinkle in your eye getting brighter as the skin starts to split on my reddened knuckles. Your huge hand shoots out and clamps onto my neck, spinning me around on the heels of my boots, before slamming me back first into the bar. OOOOOOOF your massive fist plows into my abs like a battering ram smashing through a bamboo door, lifting me off my feet an inch or two, driving what little air I had left out of my lungs. My eyes go wide—it’s like drowning on dry land as my lungs beg for oxygen but my busted abs say “Fuck you”.

Your massive hand spreads open like a huge spider before GRINDING onto my face like you just hit me with pie—a total power play move, marking me with your scent and the scent of everything you have touched in the last half hour, including my man. I try to knock it away, but your fingers latch onto my face like talons, like you were palming a basketball, and I howl as your fingers dig into my forehead, my temples, my cheeks.

You start to lift and my legs flail in an attempt to keep my boots on the floor, my hands clawing at your forearm. Suddenly, you start falling backwards, and I am determined to make you pay on impact, making my body go heavy, slamming down on top of you, I get the satisfaction of your grunt, but your huge paw never releases my face, while your rippling quads start to envelop my upper body like massive iron cords.

Seeing what those obscenely huge legs did to Jake, my arms start to flail, slamming punches into your marble thighs, my vision still blocked by your massive calloused hand. We struggle back and forth until I hear the unmistakable sound of Velcro on velcro, knowing that you have the scissors locked in. I flex my core, but your constricting legs just RIP through my flex, my face starting to turn beet red as my waist size goes from a 34 to a 33 to a 32 to a 31, my once proud abs doing nothing to protect my vital organs from your onslaught. I lamely punch at your crushing legs, but I might as well be punching a statue, my bloody knuckles not even causing you to flinch.

02:49 TheQuicksand: Your fists are not trivial. I will have bruises and contusions.Your head slowly rocking back, revealing your more handsome features as my legs crush your body and I pay the price for this attack. Bleeding from my chest. Tearing claws into my arm, hammering my legs, you would bite me like a savage ape if my hand allowed you this attack. Your words defiant and furious even through your mortal agonies.

I roll left and pin your right arm under you, my hand still growing tighter on your head, fingers pressing into your temples making your eyes swell in their sockets! But the true threat - my legs SQUEEZE you deep. I am now reshaping your core, making your waist bend to my power. Your hand feels furry leg muscle, hot and human, but larger than any man you have laid with. My chest still bleeding from the slash from the Corona bottle, thick and huge, against you from time to time as we struggle. My pecs thick and huge, furry chest, sweat and blood.

And now I tighten the crush on your waist. Oh yes, I have much power in reserve! My deep rumbling voice. “You know what I want. You will give it to me! Or I will break and cripple you then fuck your Jake before your eyes.”

We violently roll right slamming you onto the floor jarring your desperate flex… sawing another inch through your waist! My hand crushing your skull relentlessly!

02:52 AJ_Rollins:

I continue to slam weakened punches down on you in a desperate attempt to get you to loosen your excruciating grip on my core until you maneuver my right arm so that it is uselessly pinned behind my back. Your massive hand crushes my skull, my howls of pain reduced to gasping grimaces, as your legs continue to compress me like a trash compactor and your fingers bore into my flesh so hard that it feels like you might rip my face off my head. I dig my fingers into the gash on your pecs, burrowing my fingers into the wound as deep as your muscle will allow. You response by FLEXING your entire body, my shirt riding up my torso, allowing you to feel my furry ab valleys FLATTEN between your crushing legs. Your fingers flex too, my eyes closed tight as I try to concentrate through the world’s worst brain freeze, feeling the blood dripping down my bearded face as your fingertips pierce flesh.

I try to flex in response, but your knees get closer and closer together, the Velcro making it impossible to pry your feet apart. You tell me to give you what you want, and we BOTH know what that is: My last breath. But when you threaten to cripple me and fuck Jake, my mind actually contemplates it for a second—there is no way you are letting either of us out here alive, no matter what you say. The thought of being forced to lay here on the bar floor, crippled and bleeding out, watching this lunatic fuck my man before he kills us both sends shudders down my compressed spine, but I drive the thought from my mind. That is the coward’s way out. I look over at Jake, still moaning and twitching. My man needs me, and I ain’t going out a coward. I let out a strangled roar and and start thrashing, gouging my fingers deep into your wound, determined to rip your pec muscle right off your chest.

02:55 TheQuicksand: You fight like a wounded animal, your furry sleek body trapped in my legs, now tearing into my chest, forcing a groan and hiss of pain from my lips. I can see the gears of your mind turn and burn - you truly have no idea why this is happening or what I want.

You would dig through my heart if you could. I am forced to release your head and stop this. Grabbing your wrist pulling you strong arm over your head.

Now, I grab your shirt. You have gotten drunk at enough Flyer’s games to see this one. I peel your shirt over your face, exposing your body, trapped skin on skin in my leg crush. Your chest is exposed and now blinded not from my hand, but from your shirt (a different forest of smells). My hand is gifted with grievous strength and now latches onto your right pec muscle, four fingers crushing under that pec shelf, thumb driving into the separation ridge between pec major and pec minor, a garden of nerves to torture with one squeeze!

“I should tear this off. You would miss it, no?” My deep voice rumbles. I WRENCH your pec muscle hard. “Scream for me little man.” The squeeze is relentlessly carving deeper into your core and now threatening to break bones.

02:59 AJ_Rollins:

You finally release my head, but my skull continues to pound in agony. In one swift move, you grab the bottom of my shirt and yank it up over my head while simultaneously RIPPING my bloody fingers from your bleeding chest, muscling it backwards, now trapping both arms. The shirt was already tight, but now that it is soaked with sweat and blood, it clings to my head like Saran wrap, and no amount of neck twisting it going to unhook it. I start to panic, not knowing where the next attack is coming from.

But I don’t have to wait long—your hard, calloused fingers lock onto my pec and KNEAD it, breaking down the furry muscle until you can work three, then four fingers under the twitching muscle, while your thumb bores into my lateral pectoral nerves, making your previous head squeeze feel like a love pat. My whole body starts to involuntarily convulse as you TEAR the muscle upwards, determined to rip it off my body. My animalistic howls are cut short by a loud SNAP as one of my left ribs breaks in your crippling grip, triggering a coughing fit that has blood splattering from my gaping mouth and onto the shirt covering my face.

I hear wheezing gasp and imagine poor Jake, eyes wide in sheer terror, his face ashen and spackled in blood, as he watches his man get crushed like a fucking bug in the huge man’s merciless legs.

03:05 TheQuicksand: It's a precious moment, feeling your body convulse in pain, yet your defiant mind keeps you fighting me, never bargaining like weak men try. I wrench your pec muscle and a bloom of bruising starts under the skin telling me I have torn muscle and nerve. Your winter will be miserable if you live to see it.

The pain makes your core flex a joke. My legs are now free to break your insides with pleasure and ease. AND I DO. I PULSE a hard squeeze around your tight body and I hear a dull THUMP inside you. I am not a doctor, but I am a killer - something deep inside broke. The cough of blood hits your shirt, sparing me having to wear it on my face.

I give you the pure feeling of being in THE QUICKSAND. I loosen and re-grip your body higher on your ribs. Then do it again slowly inching my grip up your body, giving you the sensation of SINKING in my deadly grip. "Now... you feel the Quicksand." Once more I lurch my grip up your pectoral muscle and you feel one more burst of power will wreck your ribs.

"And now, you dangle over the pit of death. What will you do, Rollins? Will you beg me for life? Or will you die."

03:09 AJ_Rollins:

The crazy assassin calls it the Quicksand, but I think it is more akin to being eaten alive by a Burmese python, every flex of his massive body driving me deeper and deeper down his gullet. With my broken abs offering no resistance to your relentless flexing, you proceed to CRUSH my vital organs into one elongated sweetbread, bringing another explosion of bloody phlegm every time you pulsate, my shirt now deep red from the inside out. Your legs digest me deeper, your huge knees just at the base of my pecs, and this flex brings another round of oxygen deprived screams as they dig into the muscle you just tore to shreds.

03:12 TheQuicksand: I am one pulse away from killing you. I TEAR your shirt off you and flop you to your back, blood leaking from your mouth. Our eyes meet. I see eyes. So many men die here. This one is too proud to beg. And I had such hope you might end this reign of terror. The voices in my head call this foolishness. It is, but must they be so predictable in always mentioning it?

I reach to my ankles and PULL with a mighty heave flexing my leg straight and pulling up… my chest and arm flex hard and you hear a tearing sound, as if someone were tearing a carpet. My legs come apart and you are kicked out.

I stand, circling you. Your waist is a mottled discolored rash of bruising. You lay on your chest. I have done you harm. I cannot stop myself from smiling. The job of stripping you naked begins. Boots first. I pull your belt. Your pants come off. The chill of the night air hits your sweat and blood soaked skin.

Then I step out of your line of sight. You hear Jake moaning in pain. Then a rough move, you are turned to your back and Jake lands on your chest groaning in pain. Three belts, Mine, yours, and Jake’s. I lash your legs together, thigh to thigh. You are held face to face. I take the rope that suspended Jake. It lashes around his neck and then yours, tying you cheek to cheek. The third belt, binding your right wrist to his right wrist. How quaint. A handfasting.

“I take it this is personal enough.”

Walking around you in a circle…

03:19 AJ_Rollins: I have coughed up so much blood that the shirt over my head is completely saturated, and it pours back down my nostrils, causing me to gag. It is like be water boarded with my own blood, and the lack of oxygen is making it harder and harder to flex against your relentless crushing legs. You finally rip the blood-soaked shirt off my face, not out of mercy, but so you can see the life drain from my eyes as you flip me onto my back, yours boring into mine as if you were looking for something. But whatever it is you desire—fear, remorse, pleading—I’ll be damned if I am going to give it to you, even as your lethal quads come dangerously close to snapping shut, cutting my body in two, with my head blowing up like a zit from the agonizing squeeze.

RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIP!

In an instant, my lungs fill with a flood of oxygen and pain explodes throughout my core as my blood pulsates into my unconstricted torso. You let me drop from your vicelike grip, collapsing face first to the dirty bar floor, coughing and groaning, puddle of blood forming under my chin. Every breath making my crushed ribs and sternum throb with agony, I can only lay there as you strip me of my boots and clothes, the cold bar air bringing goosebumps to my sweaty backside, moaning as you prepare me for a snuff fuck.

You disappear from my line of sight, and then I hear the sound of a belt being removed, followed by a low moan from Jake. I struggle to get to all fours, but I am too hurting to even lift my face from the floor, much less come to his rescue. I hear movement then OOOOOOF hard kick to my busted ribs brings another geyser of bloody phlegm exploding from my mouth as I flip onto my back, squinting against the overhead lights. I try to sit up but WHAM you toss Jake’s naked body onto mine, knocking me back to the floor flattening me and making it hard to breathe. You quickly and efficiently bind our sweaty, beaten bodies together so we are face to face, his hot raspy breath wet against my cheek, our beaten bruised muscles pressed together, our cocks stirring from the contact even through the pain. Jake’s eyes finally focus on mine, meeting for what will probably be the last time, here at the end of it all, at the hands of a madman. If I have to die, then at least I can take comfort in knowing that his handsome face will be the last thing I see.

Not that I am ready to die…

You circle us slowly, a victory lap, admiring your handiwork, as I make a futile attempt to slide out from under Jakes. My arms aren’t bound, but the tight ropes, combined with Jake’s nearly dead weight and my hurting everything, makes it impossible for me to budge him. I hear you chuckle softly as I let out a sigh of resolution and stop struggling for a few seconds, trying to conserve my energy.

You ask us if this is personal enough, and I can feel Jake’s cock throb in response—he’s still too out of it to know what is going on, besides the fact that his sweaty body is grinding on his lover’s. I stare up at you, through a haze of pain, trying to figure out your end game. You could have easily killed us both by now, and every second you toy with our broken bodies increases the likelihood of you getting caught. But whatever it is that you want, Jake and I are in no condition to stop you from taking it.

03:22 TheQuicksand: I continue circling. I’m sure it’s unnerving. You maybe notice there's a gym bag on the counter. It’s the “Money bag” that the little maggot was supposed to present to you. Clouds of cash litter the sky a moment as I toss the now loose bills aside and reach for what’s beneath. I walk into your line of sight, a handle of vodka in my grip. I slug down from the bottle like it’s a sports drink. “Ahhhhh….” The sound of satisfaction echoes in the hall.

I close with you and pour a flood of clear bright alcohol into your face, splattering on Jake, some of it filtering through his blood and sweat slick hair. The bottle comes close drawing your face in half the bottle…. Then stops. “That will help with the pain. We are not concluded, Rollins. I haven’t received what I want, and I could inadvertently crush your insides and you would die if I am not careful. That would be boring, no?”

My face leans into your face, watching you sputter with vodka in your eyes and face. “And I am very careful.”

I step aside and slowly and deliberately strip off my black shadow clothing. The shirt reveals a furry man, thick with impossibly huge muscle. I strip off my pants. You see the deadly shoes have come off…. Thick beefy ass turned away from you.

Then I face you. My swinging 11” cock looks appealing and threatening at the same time. The angle and shine on the skin makes it look unreal. I look and see what you are looking at. A small laugh.

You see me naked, as I stand
You see me twirl a tool in hand.
Behold the icepick, sharp and thin
Where should I put this little man?

My cock thick and eager, I drop myself onto Jake’s back, with a thrust, my cock carves a sweat slick path BETWEEN you and he, a third massive cock sliding on your tight packed cocks. and it’s clear to me what you crave in this man. I would fight for him as well. Groaning in deep pleasure, adding to the weight on top of you.

“Now, the icepick. It won’t make you bleed to death. The hole is delicate.” To prove it to you, the tip touches your left hip biting in gently. A trickle of blood leaks down your hip. “You will surrender to me and beg me for mercy.”

My other thick arm loops around Jake’s neck and flexes causing him to sputter and flail. As my hips hump slowly, driving my cock between your tightly pressed bodies, I DRIVE the tip of the icepick into your hip joint!

03:28 AJ_Rollins:

Ahhh, now THIS I know. Shit, this I have DONE before. Step 1: Take two wiseguys (preferably two homophobic assholes) and strip them naked. Step 2: Tie them together in a compromising position. Step 3: Pour alcohol into their mouths and open wounds to make it appear they were intoxicated. Step 4: Toss their own money around to send message that their money means nothing to us. Step 5: Burn building to the ground with them in it.

As funny as it sounds, recognizing SOMETHING about what you are doing in this whirlwind of seemingly random violence helps me recenter, slowing my heart rate, clearing my head, even with the vodka churning in my stomach and burning the cuts covering my upper body. For a second, I actually thought that I might understand you.

And then you start to strip. So much for that.

You take off your clothes quickly, meticulously laying them out onto the chair next to Marvin’s dead body like you are a businessman undressing at the doctor’s office during a lunch hour checkup. When you peel off your skin tight black shirt, I am surprised how the thick hair under it is similar in color. Under every piece of clothing, another coarse jungle of sweat-drenched fur, mounds on top of mounds of muscle underneath. Your hairy ass could be made of granite It reminded me of the scene in the movie Barbarella where the primitive “Bearman'' takes off his bear pelt, revealing an equally hairy body:

https://images.app.goo.gl/nZEvxkDaC75NuENM6

You finally turn to face me, your body looking like a caricature of one of those 1920s style muscle men at the beach, who would wear a one piece swimming suit and carry big weights that say 2000lbs written on them. You have, hands down, the biggest cock I have ever seen on a man of your musculature. Whatever you injected or ate or lifted to be the size you are today did not shrink your junk at all.

You are, without a doubt, batshit crazy. Those eyes. But as Jake is fond of reminding me, “Crazy Fucks Good” is one of my weaknesses. And when you start your little, completely unhinged poem, I admit that the boner grinding between me and Jake was only partially due to my man. But when you mention the ice pick, goosebumps start to form on my arms, despite the heat coming off the sexy man tied on top of me.

You flop down on Jake’s broad back, making us both grunt and gasp for air, the combined weight of you two on top of me (not to mention my MANY injuries), makes it hard for me to expand my lungs, even when you slide your huge fuckstick between our legs, both of us moaning at the sensation of having the undersides of our shafts massaged by your enormous cock. You throw your head back in pleasure, the rutting between our bodies, and for a second, I thought you forgot about it. But no luck. You start describing the puncture it would cause and tantalizing tease my skin with the sharpened tip, and for a second, I am wondering if this whole thing hasn’t been an elaborate setup for some painsex play—until your huge forearm snakes around Jake’s throat, making his eyes bug out, using his neck as leverage to STAB the ice pick into my hip.

My Grandma used to describe the arthritis pain in her hip as an “ice pick”, and if this was the sensation she lived with for the last 20 years of her life, I gotta put some roses on her grave if we ever get out of this.

The pick sliced through my hip muscle like a thick syringe, piercing my gluteus medius (or so I would find out later). The experience reminded me of one of my first jobs I did for the Merlinos. It was a setup and the competing gang blew up the building with us inside it. I remember crawling out of a building, dazed and dizzy, the blast force having battered my eardrums and leaving me hearing nothing but a high pitched noise that made it almost impossible to think.

Picture that as pain.

Then picture that pain amplified times 50 as you start to undulate your huge body on my man’s back, forcing our hips to grind together.

03:31 TheQuicksand: I drive my hips and spread Jake’s legs. He is a furry beast like I am. My thick arm choking him hard and my cock sliding in there a sausage sandwich with three cock. I DRIVE the ice pick into your hip bone separating everything on the way in. You will not run from me, if you survive. The rope that winds around your necks forces your face to play fulcrum to my elbow as I drive into Jake. ‘’You know what I want… why do you deny me?” My voice rumbles over the gagging and choking of Jake. I drive my cock between your trapped bodies again. “I am resigned then to crush you both to death? It's strange you prefer that, no?”

Driving and thrusting between you both, my thick cock stimulating you, even after such painful injuries, using the icepick as a handle keeping your hips there, feeling your muscled body helping me here, trying hard not to move, every frame shake a fiery stan driving into joint and nerve!I GRAB the back of Jake’s head with my free hand and force his face over yours, a kiss of desperation. “Ignore me, I am just watching. Show him your love.” The icepick TWISTS!

03:34 AJ_Rollins:

Your huge fist wrapped around the handle of the icepick, pulling yourself forward and back on it, using it for leverage. The agonizing sensation is both blistering hot and ice cold at the same time, and I have to close my eyes to concentrate past the pain. Being crushed under 500+ pounds of sweaty muscle meat is making it tough for me to breathe, even without the rope wrapped around my neck choking me. I feel myself getting light headed, which just makes my cock throb more, flattened under Jake’s equally hard shaft. Jake’s eyes are wide with fear and lack of oxygen, forearm crushing his windpipe, his salty sweat dripping down into my face. The sadistic assassin just keeps driving his own thick cock between them like he was fucking ass, his mammouth mushroom head forcing its way between the undersides of our pulsating meat, and it is hard to tell if it is precum or blood that is puddling on my lower abs and into my belly button.

You start humping into us faster, and I can feel the tendons and muscles SNAP like too-tight guitar strings with every pull on the icepick. I try to hold my leg still, but when the pick scrapes against my hip bone, my quad involuntarily starts to convulse. There will be no running away now. And no one is coming to rescue us. There is only the unlikely chance that the assassin will release us after he gets what he wants…whatever that is. And whatever it is, you will kill Jake before my eyes in order to get it.

Jake’s lips are turning blue as he wheezes for air, and I know that I am all out of options. So when the handsome lunatic grabs Jake by the back of the head and presses his face into mine, I don’t resist, even when he TWISTS the icepick, the pain flooding my head like a brain freeze. I let out a groan and PLUNGE my tongue into Jake’s mouth, kissing him deep, knowing that this will probably be the last time. We kiss passionately, desperately, as the huge man’s massive cock forces its way between us, sliding in and out, using our blood and precum as lubricant,

03:39 TheQuicksand: The passion, the lust. It’s sad really, I find two men that likely actually love each other. I want to kill them both immediately! No no, not out of hate or malice, but this moment of love can only be diminished by time - this is the apex of devotion! So fragile.

You kiss madly. My choke on Jake relents, but not out of pity. I will get what I came for! The icepick slides out of your hip and under Jake's arm. Merciless, your kiss turns into a scream of perfect agony. The icepick invading him somewhere, you cannot initially see, and it’s incredibly painful, your blood on the pick, now in his blood… you are now more than ever blooded brothers. I Wrench the pick inside him, you can tell it’s probably in his armpit, invading his shoulder joint from beneath. AND now he gives me what I want… the scream!

He lets out a wail of incredible agony and fills your lungs with it! You feel a HOT splatter hit your navel as my cock explodes a tanked up emission! AWUGHhhhhhh! My howl of pleasure meets his wail of pain!

03:42 AJ_Rollins: The next few moments happen in slow motion—both of us kissing like we know it will be the last time, the exquisite pain in my hip, our cocks being ground together with our torturer Then there is a sudden moment of clarity as you deftly remove the pick from my hip, and the pain decreases dramatically, allowing me to understand the imminent danger of the moment.

I start to pull away from the kiss when the icepick skewers Jake, his eyes going wide in agony, his teeth clenching tight and biting my tongue hard. He pulls his head back and lets out a scream like I have never heard in my life, just as our attacker grunts like a bull and erupts with hot cum all over our rock hard cocks. Jake just keeps screaming and screaming as rope after rope paints our abs and pecs.

I know that the assassin is pumping his hips in time with Jake’s screams, once per scream. He pumps his hips more than a dozen times before he finally comes to a stop, blood from my mangled tongue pouring down my throat, washed down by the tears and sweat dripping off Jake’s handsome, exhausted face.

03:45 TheQuicksand: I pull my cock out of that strange and comfortable place where three mantools mingle and one dominates. This isn’t love. This isn’t hate either. This is conquest! Your lease on the world as your property is now terribly complicated by the fine print of emerging predators. I have a decision to make.

The one belt holding you tied to each other, mine, is the only one with a buckle that’s not pot metal. I unleash your necks and with a squeezing crush break the buckles of the other two belts. The disdain I have for your world increases on this triviality. I pivot off of Jake’s back and roll the two of you carelessly. Yes, the spearpoint of agony in Jake’s armpit is withdrawn. Gagging and gasping in pain, Jake lays there in exhausted relief, yet his eyes are still wide in fear of what I will do next.

AJ Rollins now feels life in the crucible, where all useless impurities are burned away and we find whether he has anything else left. I Stand and walk to you, Pull your hand up and DROP to my ass, drawing you close. Huge legs clamp around your chest and I wrap you in my legs one last time.

With an absent toss, I cast the icepick away into the darkness of the balcony, an artifact for some floor crawler to find. The massive thighs of the Quicksand swallow you again and the crushing squeeze resumes….

“I have my prize. Now, you will tell me why you need to live.” The crushing power now locked around you tightens and your life hangs over the Abyss again. SQUEEZING hard, blood welling in your mouth! Of course, you will confess your worth without words. I watch you like an insect under scrutiny and crush you to death, forcing you to make me stop!

03:49 AJ_Rollins:

Our chests heaving together, we gasp as our necks are released from the belts, the other ones snapping like ribbon as you flex your huge body. With a dramatic flourish you PULL the icepick from Jake’s armpit and then dismount us, making it instantly easier to breathe, then use your foot to roll Jake off from on top of me, our crotches completely drenched in thick Quicksand cum, matting down our pubic hair, pooling (along with our blood) in our navels. And yes, our cocks are rock hard.

There is a certain finality to your movement, not unlike…a guy who has just shot his load and is gathering up his stuff for a hasty retreat. And, for a brief second, I think that this may be over. Jake is pale and shaking, and he looks confused. I am pretty sure he is in shock. You pick up my arm and drop your ass onto my core, smearing your own cum all over your ass. Your legs coil around my chest, one knee pressed against my sternum, the other against my spine, your feet locking over my rib cage. I can feel your still raging cock pressed against my side. My brain says a silent thanks that you took off your Velcro shoes. But given how beaten my body is, you could be wearing ballet slippers and agony crushing my chest would still feel like two telephone poles compressing my body. I know how aroused you got when you heard Jake screaming, so I figure that maybe that is what you wanted all along. And, shit, at this point, I will shriek like a 50s tv sitcom mom who has just seen a mouse if it saves Jakes. I don’t care about myself anymore.

So I screamed. Trust me, it wasn’t hard.. Even without the icepick, my hip sent tsunamis of agony across my body every time the assassin flexed his legs. Even the smallest twitch or jerk was enough to bring another oxygen deprived scream to my bluepink lips. You start shaking me in your vice grip legs, one rib snapping, then another, sprays of gore flying from my gaping mouth, pouring down my chin and splattering on your legs, my vital organs ground against my shattered bone. I can feel my eyelids getting heavy but I force them to stay open, calling out to my now crying lover as he watches in horror as his man is having his soul crushed out of him by the cruel assassin. “Jake…” I manage to sputter before another eruption of blood spackles your huge pulsating quad, my wheezing getting slower more shallow. My body makes one last muscle spasm, but I am sure you didn’t even feel it, and my exhausted flexing muscles all simultaneously quit, your huge legs feeling my core contract another two inches, unable to fight your relentless scissor.

03:53 TheQuicksand: You let out a groan of agony… sweat, spit, jizz, and blood… the leaky parts of a man, slick and stick around us as I squeeze you to death. Internal damage mounts and you groan breathless… and your last words are “Jake.”

There we go.
The test of Iron.
I will enjoy watching this from my perch.

“Jake will be preserved.” I say. My lips touch your bloody ear. I will never forget your smell.

I release you… kick you from my grip, organs burst and bleeding, many wounds, many pains. I stand and drag you to Jake and dump you on top of him. I walk away only to come back and pour the rest of the vodka on you, on your hip, on your face. The empty bottle hits the stand with a clunk. Good sturdy bottle, I muse.

One last piece of housekeeping - from my pants I pull the destruct button wired to the explosive around Martin the Maggot’s neck. The button is pressed and a loud THUMP echoes through the building followed by a raining shower of the smithereens that were Martin’s head.

You hear me collect my things. The building falls silent.

03:59 AJ_Rollins:

My body just collapses in on itself, like a rusted out old car in a junk yard compactor, blood and gore extruding from every open hole in my body. Blood pours out of my asshole and squirts from the eight inch deep hole in my hip. It gurgles out of my mouth and my nostrils, dripping from my ears and the corners of my eyes. Bloody orange piss shoots from my cockhead and puddles under us. I try to breathe, but my lungs are just too crushed to expand. It is like drowning on dry land. My tongue slides out of my bloody mouth, and I can’t believe how cold my lips are. My ears are pounding with the sound of my own slowing heartbeat, and I see Jake sobbing but I can’t hear it. The pain in my heart is only partially from the assassin’s executioner legs, and a burp out another chinful of vital organs.

And just as I am about to slide into the next realm, I feel the heat of your breath in my ear, “Jake will be preserved.” Your lips touch my bloody ear, and I let out a gargled sigh of gratitude. I will never forget your smell.

You gently turn my head so my eyes are locked with Jake’s, then the sudden blood flow as your legs release, allowing fresh blood to reach my head and extremities. My head lolls back and my raging hard cock EXPLODES untouched, huge bloody ropes of pent up jizz shooting across the room and hitting Jake on the chest and face in what is easily one of the most violent orgasms of my life. After more than a dozen huge blasts, I slump in your legs, on the brink of death, oozing blood. You unceremoniously kick me out from between your lethal legs and grab me by the hair, draaaaaagging me across the cum-slickened bar floor, my useless limbs sliding through the swamp of bloody jizz you just forced out of me. You roll me on top of him, so the blood dripping from my mouth and nose pours onto his pale, terrified face. And, just like that, you are gone. No door slamming, no sounds of footsteps. You are there one second and just gone the next. Your musk still lingers in the air.

Jake desperately tries to push me off him, but his arm has been rendered useless by the icepick. He is finally able to buck his body enough that I slide off him, both of us covered in blood and sweat. Jake frantically scans the room, looking for another attack. He can feel the assassin’s presence but he is no longer in his field of vision. He tries to crawl towards…the door? Marvin? Someone who can somehow shove all my vital organs back into my body? But my poor sexy man can’t even lift his torso off the dirty bar floor. Instead he rolls over to me, propping my head up on his lap. I can only lay there, wheezing, as a bubble of spit and blood forms on my lips…then POPS. Jake just cries and cries, stroking my head, telling me it’s all over and that I need to hold on. To please hold on. I start to shiver.

The ceiling above us starts to alternate between black and red, immediately followed by the sound of metal tapping on glass and the piercing beam of a cop’s flashlight. A loud bang followed by the splintering of wood. Yells of Freeze! Hands up! Check for a pulse! fly around us. Jake just sobs, telling me to hold on. As my vision goes black, my last thought is that I couldn’t even do that for him.

AJ never knows who called the police. He wasn’t conscious for their arrival. Of course the scene with belts, blood, cum, piss, dead accountants and what looks like a slaughter makes the news. The Merlinos have three lawyers running shifts to be next AJ you and Jake to make sure no one is interrogated on fentanyl or arrested for murder.

AJ and Jake are loaded into the ambulance. The lumbering figure of the Quicksand watches as you pull away, covering his head in a black knit cap, whistling a passage from a Russian symphony… just another working man in a city with square shoulders. No one notices the man slap at his ear… those voices. Those horrible voices.

One day when you are proud to eat solid food, even the disgusting food in Jefferson Medical Center has an attraction. Morning eggs and toast. Strawberry preserved and butter. You grab the preserves with a shaking hand and find under the foil sealed plastic container is a rolled up note.

A note.

“Preserved.” it says

Published: 2023-01-17, viewed 167 times.