WARNING: THIS HIGHLY OFFENSIVE STORY INVOLVES PORNOGRAPHIC VIOLENCE OF AN
EXTREME NATURE. IT REALLY SHOULDN’T BE READ BY ANYONE. NOT EVEN THOSE
SOUTHPARK GUYS. BUT ESPECIALLY NOT IF YOU ARE UNDERAGE OR EASILY OFFENDED.
BE YE WARNED.
Jason Sees Through Me
By chip masterson
I’ve only just stopped shivering uncontrollably.
I was doing His laundry in the basement. He believes in personal attention to detail, and I had been
hunched over the washboard and tub for four hours, scrubbing the sweat, grease and come stains out of His
workout clothes. My knuckles were raw, my hands cramped. The lye stung my eyes. I was hungry. I had
to piss and He hadn’t been down to grant permission in two hours, despite His command I drink two
gallons of water each day to remain fully hydrated for my own bodybuilding program. The pain was really
starting to gall me. Wasn’t I working hard to get His laundry clean, to keep His house spotless? My crank
meter was edging up to Hyper-Cranky. The pressure building into the red zone. Something had to give.
He came down the stairs and watched me; I heard the steel steps groan like prayers beneath His body, I
could feel His eyes boring holes into the back of my head.
“Stand up, and turn around.”
I obeyed, with my eyes not cast down as you might expect but locked into His gaze. He held me under His
searchlight scrutiny for so long I began to sweat.
Suddenly he barked: “Do you have anything to say to me, BOY?”
The sudden tone almost made me spray come-laced urine then and there. Which would have been a
grotesque mistake.
My mouth twitched just before I said, “i have to piss, Sir.”
He simply kept looking into my eyes so sternly it took all my strength to maintain my composure,
something He demands. After all, I am more than one of his identy-less sex toys. He has elevated me to
the rank of friend. He narrowed His eyes as if weighing a decision; my cock twitched, wanting to orgasm
now more than it wanted to piss. He said “Do it and get your ass upstairs.”
He turned to leave, and once he shut the door I was free to rush over to the shower. I shouldn’t need to tell
you that I live in a constant state of agitated erection every second of the day. In fact, the only moments
I’m soft are after having come the seventh or eighth time in a row, when my body simply shuts it down.
But it only stays down as short a time as necessary; you might think it neurologically impossible, but
merely being owned by Him keeps me in an electric state of permanent hardness. It takes every fiber of
mental strength to remain concentrated on the tasks He sets for me, to ignore the continual waves of
pleasure with which my boymeat pleads with me to attend to it.
Yet I am only allowed to come at His command, and have no choice but to come every time He commands,
regardless of when I last came. By “have no choice” I mean that literally: his command forces my dick to
splooge, despite the rawness and pain. Whether or not I even have a will of my own in the matter, or any
other, is ludicrously beside the point. Needless to say, my prick remains stiff even while I sleep, but so
total is His control over me, and my loyal devotion to my Savior, that only once have I relieved myself
while asleep. As I was dreaming of Him, I was forgiven.
So pissing involves using the shower, and not the toilet, since the fountain rises straight up. The relief, the
mixture of pleasure and stinging, burning pain, made my skin tingle. Every single use of toilet, sink or
shower is followed by immediate scrubbing. He does not tolerate my filth hanging around.
I knocked on the door at the top of the steps. “Get in here,” He growled.
I stood in the kitchen, hands behind my back, dick saluting its Owner. Again He stared into my brain.
“You need to learn that I am more observant than you appear to believe,” He said. I began to quiver but a
flared nostril steeled my discipline and I conquered the spastic fear by flexing my muscles and trusting in
His affection, even in rebuke. He pushed an envelope toward me on the table and played with His
considerable manhood, tempting me to glance down at it, and at the pattern of golden hairs rippling on His
forearm in the slanted sunlight. I did not break my gaze until He nodded. I ducked my eyes briefly at his
incredible veined sausage, involuntarily gasping as I always do at its mind-boggling size, then opened the
envelope marked “Previous Chronicler” and pulled out a few typed-up pages. At His nod, again, I began
reading.
***
JASON PUTS THE SHITHEAD IN ITS PLACE
By the shithead
The wrath of a God is nothing to be desired. It is something to be feared with every fiber of your being. It
ought to instill in a boy the reverence to watch every single utterance he ever makes, and never presume
upon the God’s good graces. A God may be familiar with a boy, but a boy can never be familiar with a
God. i learned this the hardest way of all.
i am writing this by dictation since i am unable to move my limbs. There are more weights keeping my
bones in traction around this hospital bed than i ever attempted to lift with my puny muscles in the gym.
The pain is something nobody could imagine, like nuclear waste exploding over and over in my brain. But
He has forbidden pain-killers. Not only to extend my just and rightful punishment, but also to keep my
head clear so that i may faithfully relate the events of my fuck-up as an everlasting warning to me and any
other boy He deems to share this with never ever to displease Him in any way.
He said we were friends, and i thought … and that was my first and worst mistake: i thought. How did it
ever occur to me that i had the right to think on my own, apart from His express desires? That i could think
of things that He did not direct me to think? What demon of pride could have tempted me away from the
path of righteous obedience into doing such a hateful and destructive thing?
Friendship is for Him to define. i do not know what that means, what that entails. Yet i acted as if i knew
the limits and boundaries that He had most obviously not granted to me to know. Did i imagine He would
think it funny, playful, sweet? Yes. Did He direct me to imagine those things? No. So why did i imagine
something He did not command me to? Because my head is literally full of shit. i can taste it dripping
down out of my sinuses, it dribbles onto my neck out of my ears and everything i see is sepia-tinged. Dogs
try to eat my head. Cats try to bury it. Had i known what was in store for me, i would have been better off
letting them.
i had left Him a note explaining what torture it was to wait for Him to grant me another set of exploits to
publish. i used the language of an equal, a gym-buddy, a peer. Yet am i a god? a Master? a Lord? i am
not even the lord and master of the shit that fills my head. And now He has cast me away from Himself.
Since i do not even own myself, and He no longer owns me, i am the most alone thing in the universe. And
that pain is greater than double the sum of all my broken bones and ruptured organs. The limp that will be
my stride once my pathetic bones mend will not be solely due to the extent of the damage He wrought upon
me. The weight of guilt, solitude, and regret that i carry will contort my body in ways medical science
cannot begin to cure.
my first hint that something was wrong came when He did not come into the basement to feed me, or allow
me to defecate or piss. The darkness and silence continued for days, and while He had not come down to
tell me i could sleep, my pathetic body gave in to the impulse and fell asleep anyway. i would awake in
terror, only to find signs that He had not visited me at all. Though hunger and thirst made me dizzy and
sick and twisted my guts, i refused to lick the sweat off my limbs, or shit or piss without His express
command to do so; and my weak body expressed these essences of my self while i unlawfully slept. my
body now betrayed Him in echo of my mind’s betrayal.
An explosion woke me; my sphincter opened in terror but there was nothing to emerge. my shit-crusted
flanks reeked of my worth. He did not turn on a light but from the light above i could tell He punched in
the heavy door that sealed me in my basement. Splinters of oak flew through the air and He leapt over the
stairs and landed on the concrete floor so hard it cracked. His silence was worse than anything He could
ever say, and He stepped over to my cage and put His foot on top of it. And pressed down.
my cage was a standard issue dog crate, yet had it been made of iron bars it could not have withstood the
slow and steadily building pressure His holy leg exerted upon it. The steel wire collapsed beneath His boot
and bent the sides inward to follow it until the grillwork pressed into my flesh. And He kept pressing.
Blood spurted out and i could feel my arm and ribs begin to stress. my cage is not big enough for me to
stretch out in (not that i ever questioned this: i was grateful it had as much room as it did) so i was semi-
curled already. i twisted my head away from Him to avoid being blinded by His glory but He deigned to
grunt at me and i looked back up into the black oval of His shadowed visage. A enormous, viscous wad of
spit and snot with hard lumps in it hit me on the nose and He did not have to tell me to suck it down. i
shook my head and nearly tore my tongue loose trying to get every gram of it. and i held it in my mouth
until such a time as He would order me to eat it.
it took all my strength however to keep my mouth closed as the cage continued to collapsed into me. i
heard my upper arm snap and pain bloomed in my brain: but i held my lips tight lest His holy expectorant
be lost. He released the pressure upon hearing the bone snap, turned and walked out.
i awoke again when He crashed to the floor again, further pulverizing the concrete. The pain must have
made me black out; i noted my mouth was empty and i hoped to Him that i had swallowed it and not
allowed it to fall out. He did not check for that though; the light streaming in from the doorway above was
now a bulb, so i knew it was night. Soundlessly He put His hands on the bent-in upper corners of the crate
and began kneading it, forcing the meshed steel wire down, crumpling it inward upon me. my fear and
horror screamed inside me but i did not utter a sound for fear He would leave me alone, forever, to die like
that. So long as He was present, punishing me, i knew there was still some dim hope of resurrection.
But that thought soon fled my mind as the steel began folding into my body. He picked the cage up and
pressed it to His glorious, impossibly thick pecs and began crushing it from all sides. As soon as the thick
wire drew blood He turned His attention elsewhere, tightening the steel cocoon all around me, cramping
my legs until my tibias and femurs spiral-fractured from the pressure and the bones in my arches snapped.
i felt the divine heat of His hand enclose my toes and excruciating, g-force pressure pulped my toes into a
mass of bloody tissue and powder where bones had been. And the crumpled steel wire held my pulsating
flesh in perpetual constriction.
The strength of His arms in which i had rejoiced now broke wild panic and terror loose within me as they
compressed my body within the collapsing cage. i could barely move enough to inhale and i thought my
heart would burst but He relentlessly and effortlessly held me aloft and crushed me into a ball. Only my
head remained, trapped in one corner and hanging downward near the eternal expanse of His thigh. He
place the wadded-up cage down on that point, and ever so carefully pressed me against the pavement.
i could hear the steel grate against the cement as it neared my head. i thought it must be the end, that He
would collapse my head into my torso, but then again, He did not give me that thought to think, so thank
Him i did not express it aloud! Of course He knew what i was thinking. He always does. It’s not hard for
Him.
Flipping me around so fast i saw stars, He held my face away from His as His fingers mercilessly worked
the cage inward around my skull and into a tight choke around my neck, making breathing nearly
impossible, and swallowing out of the question. my skull flamed with pain as the various plates were
compacted against each other as He squeezed the cage into my skin, shattering my nose and cheeks and
chin and tearing my ears. i could feel my skull fracture in three places. His thumbs pressed the steel
against my eyeballs, creating indescribably agony. He pressed the steel into my mouth, forcing it open and
shattering every tooth as He forced the thick wire against my gums and all around the cavity. He pressed it
down into my tongue, trapping it cramped against my lower jaw, and blood trickled over my chin in a
steady stream.
Finally, i felt His fingers press steel into my asshole, stretching the steel with His digits until it broke. The
prongs of steel He then bent back, stretching my sphincter wider than even His shocking girth had
accustomed me to. i could feel the muscles spasm and tear, as the steel claws held my shitchute perpetually
available to any basement creature, spider or rat, that might want to nest there.
The steel mummification was not the end of His punishment. Not by a long shot.
He dropped me there and walked up the steps without a second thought, leaving my to bleed and draw fast
shallow breaths. my eyelids were trapped open so tears flooded my eyes in an attempt to keep them moist;
and no doubt in shame for having so displeased the only Man i’ve never known, who took it upon Himself
to befriend me, only to be paid back so miserably for His kindness.
The pain would cause me to pass out, then jolt me awake a second later. There aren’t words for the agony.
Any kind of motion, even breathing or allowing collected bloody drool to flow out caused broken bones to
scrape against my skin or break through. But i knew better than to plead with Him, or beg. That would be
the end of me for sure. And that was for Him to decide, not me to provoke.
Many, many hours later He returned, stomping down the stairs so that the steel steps bent. He was naked,
His phenomenal virility hard as an anti-aircraft cannon. He sunk one hand into the grid, and His fingers
pierced into the mass of my flesh, shattering ribs. He lifted me up and began fucking me, but not in the ass:
through the squares of the cage, right into any part of my cramped-up body He desired.
He fucked me in the leg, in my glutes, in my obliques. Organs ruptured and bones cracked upon impact
with His eternal fuckrod. He rammed His cock deep into my shoulder, the head splintering my collarbone,
its girth stretching the steel wire apart to accommodate it. For an hour He fucked every part of my body He
could except my ass or my mouth. When He was ready to come, He dropped me onto the pavement and
left me, as i was clearly unworthy of so much as smelling it, much less receiving it.
He returned shortly though. Positioning my face up, He squatted down an began to press His glutes against
my broken face. i thought for sure He would smash me the way He had those out of town punks, and thre
pressure indeed flattened my skull slightly, further cracking my temples. But instead of killing me, He
filled my mouth with His amazingly thick logs of shit. When He finished, He put His hand beneath my
chin and forced it up, breaking the jaw in multiple places as it bent the steel closed and sealed my maw
shut, unable to swallow the shit it held. i breathed panickedly through the only nostril He had left
moderately unclosed, and could not suppress the whimper that escaped my body. Even the searing pain of
compound fractures in every bodily region could not prevent the quivering which now engulfed me.
He ignored all that and turned me over. Out of a corner He fetched a rat that had been caught in a trap
some days ago. Maggots had already begun sprouting from its belly. He shoved this into my ass, stuffing
it entirely up there, and then with an easy squeeze, bent the cage and my bunghole permanently shut and
further cracking my pelvis.
Sinking His fingers into my body one last time, He carried me up the stairs and dropped me in the back of
one of His fleet of Dodge Rams. He drove over every pothole to the hospital, and stopped in a red zone.
He opened the back gate, went the front of the truck, and lifted it off the ground, curling it with His mighty
biceps higher and higher until i rolled out and bounced over the pavement to get lodged under the front end
of a truck parked nearby. He didn’t even want to touch me again.
The doctors had a hell of a time cutting me out of the steel cocoon. It took hours of surgery and will take
many more operations to try to recreate some semblance of a human being out of the pulped refuse Jason
rightly left behind. i know i may never have His love ever again … but the fact that He left me alive,
well…
That’s a kind of hope, isn’t it?
i am so sorry. i want to earn Your ownership anew, if You will grant me that extraordinary privilege.
Your weeping boy,
shithead
***
I gulped, and looked back into the eternal heaven of His eyes. He nodded once more and without touching
myself I spurted jizz into the air, immediately dropping to my knees to lick it off the clean floor even while
it still jerked and drooled. When I finished, He grabbed my cock, hard yet gently, and I felt the gorilla-
crushing strength in that hand as it gently rubbed the remaining come from the prickhead (which only made
it want to gush again, for the fourth time today). He let me lick my boyjuice off his hard, coarse fingers,
which massaged it into my gums and probed my mouth roughly. He squeezed my tongue sharply, and
stretched my lips out again as part of the continued project to help them accommodate Him without
splitting open. I took the opportunity to clean His fingernails, which He appreciated with a tiny smile. He
dried His fingers playfully in my hair as my eyes continued to adore His.
He pulled his hand back and grabbed an old iron cannonball that lay on the floor, like a lot of other
ordnance, its hefty weight easily fitting into the sweetspot of His human mitt. I recognized the look as
permission to speak, and asked in a dry, rasping voice, “What happened to the shithead?”
“What the fuck do I care,” He snarled, suddenly squeezing the ball so hard it split in half with a clang. “Its
punishment is to live forever in the hope of my forgiveness, which will never come. Far as I know, the
twisted little homunculus dragged itself into a sewer, where it will eventually die, its heart fixed forever on
me, unable to love anything else for the rest of its pathetic life. If I cared at all, it would make me happy
knowing it would fight tooth and claw to remain alive as long as possible to nurture that wasted hope, to
give me whatever time I might want to take to shine favor on it again.”
I could not look away from the savage beauty of His face and His depthless, remorseless eyes. “You need
to consider twice about anything you even want to think in my direction. Now get back to work and think
about the thing you were wanting to say to me just now.”
I went back downstairs and kneeled before the washtub and began shaking so violently I thought my teeth
would fall out of my head. If I wasn’t absolutely certain of His love, I might never have stopped at all.
The end. Until He says different.
chipmasterson@yahoo.com
(
geocities.com/westhollywood/Park) (
geocities.com/westhollywood)