DISCLAIMER

The consequences of Sunny’s sheltered lifestyle had finally caught up to him when he discovered that YouTube wasn't the only source of content on the internet. Of course, he knew this beforehand; but with the gift he received on his twelfth birthday being a phone and the unlimited internet access that came with it, what's the worst that could happen? It was a detrimental moment when the real world hit him all at once. 

     He was homeschooled. Always had been. So, naturally,  he didn't know what to do with all these unsolicited opinions he was suddenly presented with. They came seemingly out of nowhere, too. What was he to do when thousands of ignorant people took his lord’s name in vain? What was he supposed to say to those who shit on his beliefs? When his innocent comments were approached such undying hatred? His parents “protecting him” turned out to be a grave mistake on their part. By refusing to expose their child to anything of the more perverted/graphic nature, they also refused to teach him how to avoid it. Ignorance was a bliss, after all. 

    It wasn't long before he had gotten into an argument on a server of an UNSPECIFIED online forum. And what was he hit with? BAM! Not a sensible comeback, oh no, but the introduction to gore. An image that was burned into the young boy’s skull for the years to follow. 

     It depicted a very real, very grotesque picture of a woman: her face was stripped raw of any skin, which exposed the pink muscle below, tainted with carmine streams of blood trickling down her mangled excuse of a head. Her still perfectly white teeth embedded into her gums stood out, as, without lips to hide them, their colors really popped. And you know what else popped? The woman's eyes. Ever wanted to know what the inside of an eyeball looks like? Well, turns out it's weirdly dark, like dark grayish to almost black. Though, that could easily be from the rot, because,  let's be real here, she wasn't exactly given the pickle treatment. This bitch was NOT preserved. Either way, instead of being greeted with juiciness, the inside of the eye looked rather solid; boiled egg-like in texture. Sure, it was moist to an extent, but merely a glaze over the now revealed inners. Her face had a nice gradient of deep cuts that trailed down her throat, some of which were deep enough to uncover the cavity of her esophagus–  just a collection of dark holes surrounded by not very “handled with care” flesh. But, her titties were out, so that was a plus. 

     Sun was horrified, don't get him wrong, but when he saw the website the image was downloaded off of’s title nestled in the top right corner of the pic, he couldn't help but type the domain name into the search bar. He took a deep breath,  and put in “www.therealbucketkicker.com” with less hesitation than one should approach a gore site with. But could you really blame him? His curiosity was almost as morbid as the pictures on the site. And not just the pictures. 

     He was immediately greeted with a video with a blank thumbnail after only a few seconds of scrolling down the disturbed images; most of which followed the red variety sample board in a HomeDepot, as far as color scheme goes. The title was, “I found part three of Poor Penelope, does anyone know where I can find the rest? Asking for a friend ;)”. Before he knew it, he tapped play.

     Let me paint the scenery: The video took place in a dark room with rugged gray concrete walls and unfinished dirt floors. The sound was distorted to the point where you could hear that someone was talking, but you couldn't quite tell what they were saying. The video was low quality, and relatively pixelated, but not so much that you couldn't see the main piece, the key point, the backbone of the film– a girl who couldn't have been older than nine. She was entirely nude, which should've been a dead giveaway to the legality of the site. She looked relatively fine, if you ignored the heinous amount of crimson liquid pouring out of her privates and puddling on the ground below. The cause of the injury seemed to be the knife she had, on her own, inserted into her vaginal tunnel. She was sobbing uncontrollably, tears streaming down her face as someone talked to her in a muffled yet outrageously calm voice. But her cries never grew any quieter–  the screeches sounded inhuman, like the result of throwing a baby in a blender.

     The supposed Penelope kept going as instructed, pulling the blade out, and running it back into the slit she had created. Sunny didn't want to keep watching, but the absurdity of it made it so that he couldn't look away. He watched in horror as a new rush of blood would come gushing with every slide out. Sometimes, the rosey fluid would be a little extra chunky, especially when the man behind the camera presumably told her to pick up the pace. She hesitated, only daring to continue when the man and the camera started to rise from their seats. She wailed, but no one could hear this poor girl. No one ever would.  

     Sunny heard a knock on his door, making him swipe out of the tab quicker than a porn addict who lived with their overbearing parents. Was that the case? In a way, kind of. Minus the getting off part, it was a “same-same-but-different” scenario. 

     “Yes!?” He asked frantically, this feeling of immense shame washing over him. 

     “Honey, supper’s ready,” came his mother’s voice in response. 

     “In a minute!”

     “Alright, be down in five. Otherwise, no phone time for the rest of tonight.”

     “Yes, ma’am.” His heart had slowed its unfathomably fast pace, the post-nut-without-the-nut clarity hitting him. He felt… disgusting. For good reason too. So, he did what he could and deleted his search history, tried to bury what he had just witnessed down into the depths of his little twelve year old mind, and decided to go eat. And he only realized how hard it would be after all that when he got there, but even still, he managed.  

 

×××

 

     The next night, those visuals had stayed with Sunny, almost like the devil was mocking him. He wanted to see more. He needed to see more. Why? He couldn't tell you, he just had this strange attraction drawing him in. Of course, it was no sexual attraction, and it was most certainly nothing to romanticize, but at the same time, it was alluring to the mind. So, around twelve o’clock at night, when no one would ideally bother him, he searched www.therealbucketkicker.com once more. 

     Sunny scrolled down the list of images that would haunt any sane person (including himself). He saw another video on his feed, this one displaying a man with a spoon. No blood, no guts, just a spoon. Intrigued at what could possibly happen with such a tame utensil, he tapped play.

     The man was relatively handsome, with a well kept beard and freshly trimmed hair. He was talking to the camera, but in a language the boy did not understand. He brought the thumbnail spoon to his eye, and while still talking to the audience of sickos he would post this for, he pulled down his lower lid a little. Then, with almost no ease at all, he began attempting to wedge the spoon between his eyeball and the surrounding tissue. As the man pushed, making the eyeball bulge over the spoon, he opened his mouth but didn't make a sound. It was like watching a girl apply mascara. Very grim mascara. It, by some miracle, didn't bleed at first. Sure, the eye grew red with irritation, but that wasn’t nothing compared to what would happen next. He seemed to be getting frustrated with the non-results of using subtle pressure, so next thing Sunny knew, he was watching the man pull the curve of the spoon out gently before absolutely RAMMING it back into the socket. This, to absolutely no one’s surprise, did cause bleeding. It also made it so the curvature of the entire eye could be seen, meaning that it was uncomfortably hanging on by the optic nerve. Though it was clearly outside of the lids’ protection, it wasn't at the point where it was fully dangling. Until, of course, when the man started using the spoon like a car jack and violently pumped away. Now this was juicy. The mixture of eye juice, brain fluid, and blood dripped down his face, making his own nasty human soup. But, hey, it was probably high in protein, so that soup might've, at the very least, been Keto. 

     The video ended pretty abruptly, not showing the full consequence that the self harm created. But what didn't end abruptly was Sun’s infiltrated mind. It was no devil that did this, but the evils of humanity alone. Only God could have created something this foul. BUT, the philosophy behind it aside, it was GROSS. But Sunny wanted more.  

     He went back to the homescreen. There was a search bar and three categories below it: Pictures,  Videos & Store. Store… He assumed it was to buy clips or exclusive flicks. At least, he hoped. As messed up as it was, there was always another option. One that he was about to find out. He tapped on the button which took him to a list of names.

 

Tony

Clark

Amber

Cliff

Brad

 

     No last names. And upon further inspection, those titles were supposedly “In His Area”. Which, he would've thought was a hoax, if it didn't have his area code displayed next to it. He was honestly freaked the fuck out, even his curiosity couldn't keep him on that site. 

 

×××

 

    Sun did his best to forget about it. And for the most part, www.therealbucketkicker.com was a lost memory. 

     Yeah, no, that's what he WISHED happened. Instead, he spent the next few nights browsing through the endless catalog of snuff; it had basically become a ritual at this point. It was so consistent that soon the horror of it had vanished, and introducing his brain to it would calm him. He couldn't explain it–  any and every bottled up negative emotion was released and he didn't have to do anything but watch. Something about the destruction of these people soothed him. Probably because, to him, these weren’t people anymore.

     He didn't imagine them with lives or unique personalities, he didn't even picture them as separate individuals. Instead, he envisioned them as the hollowed out versions of the few people in his life. Of course, only when he was mad at them, he wasn't a bad person. He wasn't a bad person. It wasn't like he was doing the dismembering. And it's not like he ever would be. 

     It wasn't long before he dared click on the first name on the list: Tony. Immediately he was greeted with options. $50,000 or $100,000 with the fifty grand being “quick” and the hundred grand being “snuff”. A little red mark indicated that it was a required field, but he ignored it for now and decided to scroll down. Sunny was greeted with an array of questions.

 

• The Star’s Full Name:

• The Star’s Address:

• The Star’s Household Security:

• Will The Star Be In A Separate Location From Their Home? Yes × No

• The Star Will Be Located:

 

• Does The Star Have Anyone Living With Them? Yes × No

• Does The Star Have Any Close Relatives Who Would Know Their Whereabouts? Yes × No

• If So, They Would Be:

 

• Will Be The Date: XX/XX/XX

• Special Requests (ALL NEW Snuff Exclusive):

 

     Sunny couldn't help but wonder, what the actual fuck did “snuff” mean? He'd seen the word a few times, but never truly new. So he decided to look it up. 

 

“Snuff”

noun

informal

a pornographic movie of an actual murder.

 

     With the new knowledge lodged in his brain, he didn't feel better. At all. If anything, he felt worse. Watching porn was definitely labeled as a sin, but then again, he could only imagine so was watching brutal killings. 

     Sunny was… concerned. By entering the site, he had come across, and possibly made himself a target to, literal murderers. To be honest, he didn't know assassination was so cheap. Who knew? It was shortly after Thanksgiving, so it was possible they were doing a Black Friday deal. He couldn't even respect the hustle of these basically Craigslist rapist-serial killers; there was a fear that shrouded his mind that wouldn't let him– he really didn't wanna be the next “Star” on the big screen.  

     

×××

 

     Sunny was sitting out in his backyard, fucking around with anthills here and there, but he was just chilling for the most part. He liked the backyard for a number of reasons: there were no windows to observe him through back there, not to mention, he had a shed with things like scooters, bikes, and basketballs (despite their hoop having been torn down during a storm a while ago). There were also bush trimmers and a variety of sharp objects, so Sunny had to have an adult with him while entering. Was it overkill? Yes, but that's just how things were.

     Sunny was looming over a miniature kingdom of dirt, poking holes in it with his fingers before quickly taking them back out. He liked watching the ants fill the freshly made tunnel as their home collapsed in front of him, creating a tiny sea of crawlers in each crevice. No real damage done, every kid has probably done something like this at some point. Whether that be using a magnifying glass to burn the little fellas or stomping on them intentionally, Sunny wasn’t alone.

     He continued doing this until he saw a blur of white zip by, drawing his head upwards. It was just a cat. Sunny sniffled, getting up and walking over towards it carefully so as to not scare it. He liked cats.

     When he got close enough, he crouched back down and clicked his tongue repetitively to get its attention. It was a white cat with calico spots, no doubt a mix. It was kinda chunky, but animals tended to be cuter that way. It had big, round eyes like an owl’s, and a tiny, fat face to match. Said face perked up at the sound, which slowly turned into the younger feline slowly walking closer. 

     When it got up to Sunny, it rubbed its head against his knee, like it was begging to be pet. He caressed its soft coat gently, hearing the hairball erupt into purrs.

     But the louder the purring got, the less Sunny wanted to pet it. It was honestly pretty annoying. It had a whistle to it, which Sunny didn't like at all. He wanted the cat to just shut up. Visions of choking the feline till it went silent flickered in his mind. Thoughts of him stomping on the cat’s skull until its brain matter splatters on the grass wouldn't go away. First, the pressure would make his eyes start bleeding, watering like carmine tears. And then, his skull would cave in, and a crunchy but squishy squelching sound would be heard. And just like that, inspiration struck.

     He picked up the pussycat with little protest, and began walking to the shed. It wasn’t locked or anything, the “don't go in without an adult” was strictly a part of an honor system. And, with one final look around to make sure no one was watching, he shut the door. 

     A nice collection of tools hung over a workbench to his immediate right, and to his left were the bikes, leaving just enough space to squeeze in-between. He set down the cat on the table. It just plopped over on its side and tugged at Sunny’s hoodie strings playfully, with no idea in its innocent little mind about what was about to transpire. It was in the perfect position, too. Belly out, with nothing to protect it.

     Sunny grabbed the hedge clippers he found dangling just within his reach, before lifting it up in the air and bringing it down on the stomach of the feline with all the strength a twelve year old could possibly have. The cat yowled in pain, trying to twist itself so that it could get away, but the blades had it pinned. Fight or flight had taken over at this point, and the pussy was tearing itself apart in an attempt to flee. But it didn't work.

     Sunny opened the clippers, causing a rush of blood to come spurting out much like in “Poor Penelope”. The smell was, right off the bat, nauseating. It was a combo deal: sickly sweet and at the same time savory. Think chocolate dipped pretzels but more rancid and slightly more sticky. The wider he opened them, the more he could see, and, honestly, the better it was for him. He had felt an excitement, a volt of adrenaline go through him, directly sending blood to his penis. He didn't know why, but the sight of the pink and red organs slurping each other up out of sight as the cat squirmed. He opened the cutters, pulling one blade out the fleshy hot pocket he'd made while using the other to make the cat stay, and, with the skin now between the blades of the oversized scissors, he used them how they were supposed to be used.  Kind of. Its strained meows sounded like gurgling by now,  and Sunny was starting to get worried that someone might hear. But his arousal had made it to the point that he didn't particularly care. Blinded by a vile horniness, he finally removed the hedge clippers from the shrieking cat. It shot up, trying to jump off the table while its internal tissue hung out devastatingly. It dragged its intestine across the floor, scraping its guts along wood that would surely give one a splinter. 

     But the door was closed and there were no open windows; escaping wasn’t really an option. It walked itself into a corner, looking at him petrified like a gargoyle. It hissed this blood curdling hiss, and just like the purring, the redundancy was starting to annoy him.  

     He unzipped his pants, slowly waltzing over to the feline as it watched in horror. It's going to die anyways. Who cares what I do with it now? Which was the mentality that led to him picking the cat up,  wettening his hands in its blood and letting the organs dangle, almost threatening him with the mess that would come with any further mutilation. He brought the cat’s stomach to his groin and dug his dick out from his underwear awkwardly. It groaned and griped, gurgled and gargled, but the noises didn't change with the forced penetration, so it couldn't have been that bad. All that he could really focus on was the nice, warm feeling on his cock; like a fleshlight filled with thick spaghetti. The blood had covered his pants with the first thrust, as well as his shirt. The creature was scraping at him, possibly drawing blood but it was really hard to tell. It was probably a good ten minutes before the kitty went as limp as its innards, but to Sun it felt like less– he was really enjoying himself. The mangy cat was no more, but this zoosadism was quick to add necro to the unholy mix as he continued. In and out, it looked and smelled like fresh, slightly less deflated roadkill. Say what you will, he murdered that pussy.

 

×××

 

     He had covered his tracks as far as hiding the corpse went. But, unfortunately he had to ditch his clothes in the trash because a blood stain on a white hoodie was no joke. 

     Finding the dirtied clothes while taking out the trash were the first signs that his parents had ever seen. Unfortunately, they wouldn't save him in time. Hell, even directly after they saw the evidence it was too late. 

    They had brought it up to him, but he had insisted he had vomited the red Kool Aid he had drunk earlier all over himself– which didn't smell like the case, though, that was the only answer he gave them. 

     And as for the dying animal sounds, they didn't exactly live in a neighborhood. They lived a little ways away from one actually.  Not so much that it would be a hassle getting there; about a five minute bike ride would do it. So, it was no wonder that no one heard. Not like anyone else was outside at the time. 

     The years went on, and the further he sank into the gore abyss, the less he would talk to people. It got to the point where he would wallow in his room all day, the only occasion where he'd “touch grass” being when his parents dragged him out to church every Sunday. 

     He was fourteen when it happened.  

     Sunny was sitting down at Christ Welcomes Church in the second to last row, slouched over with the posture of a pig’s tail, and listening to the clusterfuck of sounds creating the holy music that would play before the sermon. It didn't particularly sound holy, given that the lead singer had already fried her vocal cords years ago through a pack of cigarettes a day, but what would Sunny know? 

     He was sitting still best he could, but the struggle was real. Especially since that feeling came over him. He didn't know what set it off, all he knew was that his horniness would soon show through his pants. 

     “Hey, I'm going to go to the bathroom real quick,” he informed his mother, waiting for her nod of approval before taking off towards the front of the church. Past the wide variety of snacks was the bathroom in the far corner. From there, he would further his isolation by choosing the stall in the back.

     The moment that stall door was closed, his pants had come clean off. He had his phone in his pocket, but he didn't need it. He would just use his imagination. 

     But his mind had a hard time focusing on what he'd normally get off to. He'd had these intrusive thoughts before, but he'd always buried them. Barely, but he still had the seal of humanity to puncture. Had. When all he could think about while jacking his lil jimmy was the image of the faceless lady and her exposed breasts, he finally gave in and put a gloryhole through that humanity. He reached for his phone and went to his primary source of entertainment: www.therealbucketkicker.com.

     It didn't take much scrolling to find that black thumbnailed video,  and it took even less time to open the comments and click on the link on the comment “Found It”. 

     The link took him to a video titled “Piggy Penelope”. Tapping on it, it looked to be the first video in the child-porn franchise, even though it was listed under a different title. 

     He had the volume on mute–  he was a degenerate but no fool. And he let the video play.

     There she was. Penelope. Bound by restraints that tied each hand to each corresponding ankle. She was crying, but the muffledness wasn't from the camera quality this time. Instead, she had a wide ball gag stretching her jaw to the limits,  one that she had not been seen with prior. 

     Watching the masked man behind the camera emerge and approach Penelope filled Sunny with this sick excitement that made him bring his hand to his loins. 

     The mask was latex, and like a typical BDSM one,  it covered his entire face. 

     He watched as the man, for lack of better words, raped her. It was rather boring, description-wise, as there was no extra gory detail. No bleeding, no nothing. And that's what Sunny was there for. He skipped through the mini movie, watching as the girl desperately cried out for someone to help and nothing else. Or at least, that what he supposed was going on from her pained facial expressions and the heavy rise and fall of her chest. Her throat was strained, like she was exerting effort into her pleas, but at the same time, maybe she was dead silent. Unlikely, but fuck if he knew. 

     Either way, deciding he was bored with the horrid events that undoubtedly ruined and ended an unfortunate young soul’s life, he went back to the main site. 

     Sunny found a video with a very random name for the lack of context– “Did Nazi That One Coming”, the thumbnail being a man who was morbidly obese and who was seemingly going through an autopsy. It displayed the following:

     The dude was laying there, the only indication that he was still alive and conscious being the rhythmic blinking of his eyes. Which,  at first, he didn't even notice. How was he possibly still alive? He was cut open down the center, letting the now separated fat hang out from each side, and creating a devastating muffin top. Said fat looked like curdled milk infused with pieces of cheddar cheese and doused in butter. It looked like pre-digested fast food, a McMess of demise. Just gelatinous masses that awkwardly slid off of the stained bones below. His intestines were slippin’ and slidin’ on their own, almost as if they were alive. Like opening a can of worms. But, most notably,  mold was also there: large, hairy clumps of greenish-black littered his guts, ultimately adding some grip and lessening the worm-organ movement in those areas. His fatty tissue wasn’t spared by any means–  they were absolutely freckled with large, dalmation-like spots. Oddly enough, the man wasn’t bleeding. A little extra moist on his outside-inners? Yes. But not with blood.

     Staring at the video while he wanked his willy frantically, nothing had even happened and he was almost there. He let those thoughts take over and envisioned himself right next to the man, plummeting his cock in the expired mess of guts galore. He could almost feel the slimy intestines on his cock, moving around on their own like a vibrator for men–  just like the kitty.

     Sadly, he had been so carried away that he was a tad louder than he should've been. As well as that, sadly he didn't hear the door to the bathroom open. But what he did hear was–

     “Oh my god, are you jacking off?!” 

     He quickly closed the tab and deleted his search history, not even being able to protest or plead for whoever it was not to tell before they left the room. Almost as quickly as he came, too–  which is a sentence open to interpretation.  

     Sunny quickly cleaned himself up, washed his hands, and made his way back. Maybe he didn't snitch?

     Based on the stares he received alone as soon as he entered the main area of worship, it didn't take long for him to figure out that wasn't the case.

 

×××

 

     His parents had remained silent on the drive back. Too silent. But his father’s face was flushed with anger, and he knew damn well once he got home the facade was up. 

     He got out of the car and was instantly grabbed by the arm and dragged inside. The first thing Sunny remembered happening when that door shut was the blunt force that collided with his face in the form of a slap. He was shocked, he wouldn't lie; his parents never hit him before. He was a good kid. Well, to them anyways.  

     “WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU DOING? IN THE MIDDLE OF CHURCH?” His father yelled, pushing Sunny against the wall. “DO YOU WANT TO GO TO HELL? DO YOU WANT THE COMMUNITY TO LOOK DOWN ON US?” 

     “Dad, I'm sorry–” Sunny started, only to be cut off by a hand around his throat. 

     “HARRY!” His mother screamed. 

     “STAY OUT OF THIS, MELISSA!” His father tightened his grip on his neck. “YOU DISGUSTING PIECE OF SHIT! IS THAT HOW I RAISED YOU? THAT'S NOT HOW I RAISED YOU!”

     Sunny was horrified. He had never seen his dad so upset. He’d never acted that way. At least, not recently, not towards his family. He'd heard stories of his father’s temper, but never witnessed it. 

     The screaming slowed with his thoughts as the oxygen and blood flow was cut off, swirling into blackness.  

     

×××

 

     Sunny woke up with a sore throat and a black eye–  which, obviously he couldn't see, but he sure as hell could feel. He looked around, finding himself to be in his room with the lights off. But it wasn't total darkness; the door appeared to be open, with the hall lights illuminating the room to a point where, while it was dark, he could still navigate his way around easily. 

     The boy got up, nervously walking towards the lightswitch to turn it on. When he did, he found that, not only was his phone gone, but so was his door, his posters of Toby Mac and Casting Crowns (Christian rock was basically the extent of the music he was allowed to listen to openly), and his book collection. The absence of the book collection, while the books weren't the greatest or particularly interesting, pissed him off. Reading, despite his indifference to it, was his only fallback when his phone was taken away. Fortunately, there was one book left. Unfortunately, it was the Bible, which Sunny had no interest in reading. 

     An anger boiled within him. Something that would plague his already infected mind. The obsession had never been this bad, and now he didn't have an outlet. Now he didn't have the comfort of knowing it wasn't going to be him setting up the camera. 

     He knew he had no shot at redemption. No god would save his soul. The afterlife would burn him endlessly. So why not? If he was going anyways, why not?

 

×××

 

     Finding the boy who ratted him out was easy, all he really had to do was ask. His name was Kenny McLane, which made it waaay easier on him since he knew Kenny. Though, getting him was the hard part. 

     Kenny was a burly redhead– a fifteen year old brute with freckles on every surface of himself imaginable. He had tiny brown eyes full of nothing but an undying hatred for anything and everything.

     Sunny actually didn't have to do any sweet talking, he was pretty direct about his ill will towards Kenny. And, even with their size difference, the boy wasn't afraid. In fact, Sunny invited him over to his house for a fight, and the redhead was more than happy to oblige. Was it under the pressure of his peers? Yeah. He proposed the fight in the same way you'd propose a marriage in public (in the “do it in front of people” aspect, he didn't get down on one knee) that Sunday. And McLane being “no pussy” agreed. He only found out where it would be afterwards, when everyone left. McLane’s ego blindsided him, he didn't even think that it would just be him and Sunny. He didn't know that Sunny’s parents were out at the time, and that no one else was around. He didn't know that Sunny lived in the middle of the woods. But, no matter the chills the evening wind sent his way, he wasn’t scared. He was bigger than Sunny. 

     Kenny pulled up to the house and got off his bike. At first, Sunny was nowhere to be seen. “Sunny, get out here, you bastard!”

     Nothing. 

     “What, you're too scared to fight me? You wanted to do this, wimp!”

     When he got no response, Ken started to wander around to the back of the house. “Where–”

     He didn't see him, he didn't hear him, and he most certainly didn't have time to react to the shovel that had just blundered into the back of his head, knocking him out cold.

 

×××

 

     Kenny woke up to find himself in binds: thick rope that tied him down doggystyle and another that worked as a gag, wrapped around his head and preventing him from talking. But not screaming. Panicked, McLane started making these pathetic wheeze-howls, which only intensified the more he observed the room.  He was pressed against bikes, the metal cold on his bare skin. Which is when he realized that he was entirely naked. He also saw a stool in front of him, blocking the door. But not to prevent escaping, oh no, it simply propped up a camera. 

      That camera served a purpose that Kenny didn't understand yet. 

     Sunny was also there, still analyzing his choice of weapons like a rich girl picking out a purse from her collection. But he couldn't lie, the muffled wails were starting to get annoying. “Can you shut up?”

     Ken didn't listen. Why would he? Why should he? Dispite his distance from the rest of humanity, there was a possibility, that maybe, just maybe, someone would pass by. Maybe someone would come to his rescue. He didn't know what was about to happen to him, and to be quite honest, Sunny didn't fully know either. But, figuring out what he'd do was the fun part. 

     “I said SHUT UP!” Sunny sent his foot flying to meet the underside of Kenny’s jaw. Even through the shoe, he could feel the boy’s bones rattle, trying to close at a rate that surely damage the teeth. Particularly because the rope was still lodged in there, his teeth now sunken into it. His gums were dripping with a red that excited him, something that made him want to take this to a more perverse level.  

     He reached behind him for the trusty-dusty hedge clippers. They were a little rusty as well, but being completely real, tetanus was the least of Ken’s worries. 

     Sunny took the clippers and positioned Kenny’s arm at the joint between the blades. Then, using pure man power, the boy snapped it shut. Kind of. It wasn’t a clean cut: despite the bone snapping, the skin was hanging on pretty good. He has some thick skin for a boy who squeals like a pussy, Sunny humored to himself. Which was true–  the fifteen year old snitch didn't have the manliest of cries. But then again, in this situation, who would? He continued to try and cut through the splintered bone and still connected tissue, but the blood kept spattering, making it rather difficult to not slip up. Last thing he wanted to do was lose his own finger. 

     As he scissored his way through the flesh worse than a lesbian, the hedge clippers did their best, but it wasn't good enough. By this point, a major artery had been hit and the boy was bleeding out. If he wanted him to feel the consequences of his actions, he had to act fast. He dropped the tool and grabbed into Kenny’s arm as he thrashed about to no avail. Sunny then, putting his foot against Ken’s side, began tugging on the semi-severed arm. The skin didn't give much at first–  who knew it would be so stretchy? But, just like with his bone, there was a snap as everything tore apart. This one moreso the feeling of a snap than the sound. The arm was still tied by a rope to his other, so it led to Sun accidentally pulling him down on his side and Sunny himself landing back on his ass. He wasn’t very good at this torture porn thing.  

     “Oh, fuck it,” Sunny grumbled, helping himself up using the table above him. He grabbed the clippers again, this time with Kenny trying to crawl his way to the door. After all, his arms were free. One much more than the other, but still. Thankfully, Sun remembered to tie his ankles together, so any idea of a get-away would be false hope. 

     In one snip, he did manage to cut the rope. He grabbed the dismantled limb and spat on the open wound. It was still heavily seeping with chunky carmine, some yellow-white bone splinters falling off with the vivid waterfall. He could cut the rest out, this was the part he wanted to show.

     He practically jumped on top of Ken, wrestling him back into position. The moment the redhead’s ass was free letting him feel that breeze, Sun aimed straight for the hole. Now, it didn't go in very easily. Kenny continued to shred his vocal cords pointlessly as Sunny applied more pressure. He thought it was going in, but that could’ve just been him crushing the flesh into a goop. It was pretty wide for a first-timer, so he didn't expect it to actually go in… until it did.  The muscle and skin mushed back outside of the hole, but the spikey snapped bone went straight in with enough force. And in… and out… it didn't matter how much Ken attempted to leave, he was held down.  

     Sun didn't have any funny one-liners, even though he knew a joke was right there. Right on the tip of his tongue. 

     Either way, he could feel the struggle of the sharp end as it cut through Kenny’s rectum. His ass was probably bleeding internally at this point, but Sun couldn't be totally sure. It was kinda bloody everywhere, so where another douse of sweet, sweet salty body cider was from would just be lost in the mix. Sunny thought the texture was probably like something that had just been grinded by a cheesegrater. Maybe that's what it feels like. Sun didn't particularly care; not like he was on the recieving end of the forced sodomy. 

     After a good few minutes of hanging on, Kenny’s screaming went out–  probably with him. Whether he was really deceased or had just passed out from the pain was a mystery. And that's when Sunny got it.

     “I told you to go fuck yourself,” Sun laughed. His cackle died faster than Kenny did. Fuck you,  you fucking retard, letting him die that fast, Sunny scolded himself. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted Ken to have heard him. The boy sighed. Oh well. Not like I actually told him that. 

     On that note, he cut the camera.