One Eunuch, Fifty Rabid Women, Some Scrap Metal, and a Pigskin
When Stone Motherless, a chemical castrate, finds himself the only remaining male in the village, he sets about finding a unique solution to satisfy fifty lonely, rabid women.
*excerpt from ‘Queen of the Hog’
“Hi, Stone.”
“H-H-Haggis! Umm… hi! Why are you here? During this… night.”
“There are three things I need in this world, Stone. I want simplicity. I want convenience. I want the pleasure that you couldn’t possibly provide.”
“Um… what?”
“Look Eunuch, our men have been warring for nigh on three years. Many of us have husbands either dead, missing in action, or maimed where no man should be maimed. Useless to the core. We are marauding by night, lost. Scattered to the ashes of celibacy.”
“Uh-huh.”
“With each passing night more and more of us are giving ourselves to the moon. And Stone, tonight is very special. The moon is full and bloody. Do you know what that means?”
“Why would I?”
“Because with a blood moon the earth must rumble beneath, an uneasiness must reign above. Blood must be spilled.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“If I were you, Stone, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere near these lowlands tonight. Three years without a good fuck and a rare blood moon? Clearly, there has to be a sacrifice.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, there will be a sacrifice!”
“What will you be sacrificing?”
“You, Stone. You’re as good as useless anyway. Might as well get some kicks with the blood of a man… well… half-a-man.”
In time, Stone Motherless will heal, this unwilling celibate, charming the role of his twilight with vengeful fate, without primal urge. And knowing that slicing this beast’s jugular may save his own, he commences the slaughter. “Straight to the fifteenth round, Jack!”
The left side is torn, exposing the gauche of slender calf, the right, complete in a juxtaposition of truths. And his ass, peached in his outfit, protruding a proud cut-out. Flamboyant. A garish monster. With bloodied hands he rubs his sides, in search of arousal. Guts deep, hard in spirit only.
Scalded skin can be crafted into the most perfect labia. The way the pink flaps to an open lip, angry, pouting, is cruel and unusual to a eunuch. The origami of his filthy mind, driven to lick lick lick the warmth of the meat — a true divine to the ultimate faith of man. “Once the skin is scalded, peel over a pot of steaming vinegar. The celebration is to roll it upwards from neck to toe. Do it right, and you’re gravy.”
*Due for release in 2025
© Chuck Hagen
