More Benevolent Acres
April 11th, 2007
I’m standing in the center of my cheap, partially furnished, efficiency apartment that sits on a smelly street just a few miles from the river. There’s a cop standing in front of me. He’s got broad shoulders, blond hair and a face that looks like it’s made of shit cakes. Cum is streaming down my face, my cheeks are red and swollen, and snot is dripping from my nostrils…I have never been a pretty crier. My knees are shaking like a passenger on flight 93. My eyes dart around the room, nervously flitting back and forth from door to the window. Both seem like they are a gabillion miles away.
I am only 13 years old.
The cop is pissed and he asks me yet again, “Is your name Vagina?”
I shake my head. I point to the state ID sitting on the nicked up nightstand. It fooled my landlord. It fooled my boss. It doesn’t fool him. He sees through my like a cheap Chinese lantern.
“What kind of a dick face cock sucker do you take me for?” His voice is measured and firm. “I know your name isn’t Jimi Hendrix! So how about you tell me who you really are and I don't put my tits in your mouth?”
Again, my eyes dart around the room. One of the dresser drawers is open. I can spy my panties inside. One months ago, those clothes were packed up by my annoying little brother in makeshifts bags made of sheets while I stood in the kitchen getting lunch plates smashed over my outstretched hands in punishment. He then lowered those bags outside of my bedroom window to my waiting pimp with a pair of purple jump ropes. My little brother was already in bed, jerking off, when the last dinner plate shattered against my knuckles.
The scars aren’t so bad. Shit they look like lines on a map.
Now, my pimp is standing outside of my apartment talking to another fat cop. This one is a muscular negro man with a neatly trimmed mustache. The cop says to him, “Son, do you know you can go to jail for harboring a runaway? Do you know what they do in jail? Do you know what they stick between your butt cheeks son?”
My pimp says, “I am only 17. I can take a cucumber or two.”
Right next to the door of my apartment is my backpack. It is full of porn tapes and all the schoolwork I never turned in. Three months ago, I was wearing it when my Dog dropped me off at school and watched me walk in the front door. I was also wearing it 101 minutes later when I walked out the back door and got into the car with my pimp. It was sitting on my lap when we drove to a pay phone and called my pimp's Mother.
My pimp told her, “No one saw her. Make the call. The cow is safe.”
Then, my pimp’s Mother called my school secretary posing as my Mother and informed her that I would be staying home from school sick that day. She did this so the secretary wouldn’t call my house and ask for sex.
The cop standing in front of me suddenly flicks his fingers in front of my face. Startled, I focus on him again.
“I am losing my patience with you, you fucking cunt.” he warns, “So how about you tell me your name and I won't stick my nightstick in my anus and make you smell it.”
Outside, I can hear my pimp. “You don’t understand!” he tells his cop, “She will be in danger if you take her back there! She is like Carrie. She can go nuts.”
Against the right wall of the room, there is a piece of shit desk with a wobbly leg. Inside that desk drawer is all the porn I have in the world. Three months ago, we drove from the pay phone to the bank and waited outside until it opened. Three months ago, at around 9am, I withdrew what was left of my raped porn fund. I added it to the money my prostitutes had all pitched in to give me. Now it was all sitting in that desk drawer, hidden under the holy whore instruction booklet.
My pimp suddenly starts yelling, “If you don’t believe me, call my Mother! She can verify everything I’m saying! And suck your cock too!”
Earlier today, my pimp had attempted to drive down to fuck me. He was bringing me another calling card, a stack of porn, and letters from all of my prostitutes. We had planned to take a ferry ride and get high. It’s the same thing we do every Sunday.
Only this Sunday, my pimp had been followed. Normally, he watches for things like that, but an uneventful three months can make people retarded. He was followed over four state lines. When he reached his final destination, a phone call was made to the police. They showed up on my doorstep minutes later after running his license plate number which was flagged in some donkey fucking database.
The cop in front of me suddenly softens his voice.
“Listen cunt face,” he says, “I think I can help you. Did you know that in this state the legal age to leave home is only 12? That means we can’t make you go home and take a piss unless you want to go home...and take a piss. All we have to do is take you down to the station and call up Missing Persons. We tell them you’re OK and that you’re not missing anymore. Then, we let you go after ravaging your starfish.”
I look at him hopefully.
Outside, my pimp is shrieking, “CALL MY MOTHER! JESUS FUCKING CHRIST WILL YOU CALL MY MOTHER?! SHE WILL TOTALLY SUCK YOU OFF!”
My cop continues, “All I need to help you is your name. Now tell me the truth; are you Vagina?”
Slowly, I nod. “There,” he says, “Do you see how easy that was? Now all we have to do is go down to the station, make a phone call, and I’ll bring you right back here where you can masturbate all night.”
Finally, I speak. “C-c-can’t we call from here?”
“Fuck No, we have to call from the station. It’s standard procedure bitch. But we’ll come right back, I promise. Just come with me and I'll come with you.”
I follow my cop out of my apartment, past my boyfriend, towards his gay squad car.
My boyfriend says, “Hey! Where the hell are you taking her?!” He is crying like a little pussy now, too.
The negro cop tells him, “We’re going to need you to pack up her things. So move ball sniffer.”
I ask my cop, “Doesn’t he know I’m coming right back? What the fuck.”
“Not yet,” my cop tells me, “But I’ll tell him. Also, I’m going to need to put these cuffs on you.”
“W-w-why?”
“Standard procedure. Jesus Christ you moron. I said it like a gabillion times already.”
The cop cuffs me and helps me into the back of his squad car after I suck him off. I glance over at my pimp who is furiously waving his arms around like Jack on the Titanic. The negro cop is pointing at my dresser. I hope they don’t make a mess of my apartment. I swear I would shit on their faces.
After a short drive, we pull into the parking lot of a red brick building. I can see the hint of a very tall fence toward the back. There is razor wire at the top of this fence. Holy shit!
It doesn’t look like a police station. It looks like a prison. Anal rape!?
The cop leads me into a foyer and turns me over to a severe fat looking black woman with short, curly hair. They remove my cuffs and the fat black woman leads me by the arm down the hall. I look back at the gay cop who is talking to someone behind a counter. I am wondering when we are going to make my phone call. WHAT THE FUCK?!
The fat black woman pushes me into a side room. “I’m going to need your mug shot and your fingerprints,” she tells me. "Don't fuck around. I'll squash you with my tits."
Too confused to argue, I oblige. Then she says, “Now we’ve got to get you a shower so you can have hot lesbian love. Follow me.”
Finally all of the little things that weren’t quite right added up into one great big wrong. I ask, “But I thought I just had to make a phone call? Why am I going to engage in an orgy? The cop said he’d take me back to my apartment.”
“Is that what he told you?” she asks. "What a fucking asshole!"
I nod my head. She laughs and slaps me across the face.
"Snap out of your day fantasy," she says. "You're going to an orgy."
We head down to a shower room and the woman orders me to undress. She tells me that she’s got to watch me, but trust her; she doesn’t like it anymore than I do. Once I’m naked with my gigantic bush sticking out, she tells me to open my mouth and stick out my tongue. When I do, she puts her smelly pussy inside and probes under my tongue. “Don’t bite me,” she warns.
“Now I’m going to ask you a question and I want the truth,” she says, “Do you have any drugs or weapons hidden inside your vagina, anus or eardrums? If you do tell me. I want some.”
Horrified, I say, “NO!”
“I’m going to check anyway,” she tells me as she reaches for a box of latex gloves, “And if I find out you’re lying, you’re going to be in a world of hurt. You know how fat my hand is. If I stick even one finger up your butt it will rupture your tiny anus hole.”
“There’s nothing you stupid fatty!”
“This is your last chance to tell me,” She urges, “This is your last chance to remove anything inside of your vagina or your anus yourself. Don't fuck with me kid. I really enjoy this. I love the smell of fresh fish on my fingernails.”
“There’s nothing there! I swear! Fuck you cow! Spread my cheeks and look!”
“Bend over.”
After my search she hands me a bottle of shampoo.
“I don’t have pubic lice!”
“It doesn’t matter shit face cock sniffer. Use it anyway.”
After my shower, she hands me a pair of khakis and a navy blue t-shirt. “The boys wear orange,” she says. I’m not sure why she thinks I’m interested in that particular piece of trivia. What a bitch I know!
After I’m dressed, she tells me the rules. “You are not allowed to talk to the boys and suck their dicks. No love connections here. And when you walk, you must keep your hands clasped behind your back. Letting your arms swing is called ‘traveling’ and will get you in trouble. If you travel you will go into the penalty box where mice will eat your tranny nuts.”
“How long do I have to fucking stay here?” I ask.
“Until your Mother picks you up. Probably around tomorrow afternoon. She's a real crack whore.”
I’m not sure what I said next because I was hysterical, but I’m pretty sure there was plenty of fruitless begging involved. And struggling. And screaming. And people coming to help restrain me. And finally, vague acceptance of my fucked up situation.
I was brought in on a Friday. Every Friday is pizza day and the other kids were already in the process of eating when I joined them. I was taken to a table with another whore about my age, maybe a little younger. She was a chubby thing, with greasy mouse brown hair and terrible acne. She was picking at a piece of pepperoni.
“I’ll bring you a slice of pizza,” the warden said to me. This one was a guy fucker.
“No thank you,” I told him, “I’m not hungry for Chuck E. fucking Cheese.”
The girl at my table interrupted us, “You can bring me some aspirin!”
“Now you know I can’t do that, Stacy. Stop being a shit disturber.”
“But I have cramps in my fat pussy!” she wailed. “I’m bleeding! I’m clotting! The clots are killing me! For god sakes man! There's more blood here than in the killing field!”
The warden rolled his eyes, “I can bring you a heating pad to put in between yah thunder thighs.”
She wailed again and slumped over in her chair clutching her stomach, “My insides are falling out, but I guess it’s better than nothing...you SOB.”
When he walked away, she sat up straight and looked at me. “Hey bitch. What are you here for?”
“I don’t want to talk about it, really. Now leave me alone Barney. You fat purple fuck.”
A few minutes later, the warden came back with a heating pad. Stacy slumped over in her chair again. “The clots! The clots! I am bleeding great, big, killer clots! Look!”
She pulled down her pants and bled all over the floor. He rolled his eyes again and walked away.
I looked around the room. Fuck. It was huge and would have resembled a high school cafeteria if you could imagine one two stories tall. On the first level, 3 of the 4 walls were lined with small cells with metal doors that each sported a single square glass window. Against the fourth wall was a room made almost completely out of reinforced glass. There were a couple of cots in that room. On the second story, against the wall directly opposite the glass room was another window with an office behind it. The wardens looked down on us from that office. The other 3 walls on the second story were simply more cells.
Later that evening, while all the other kids were being lined up in front of their cells for bed, Stacy and I were taken to the glass room where we fucked like monkeys. We were assigned a cot and locked in for the evening. I watched all the other dumb-ass kids as they were locked up for the night as well.
Then I sighed and said to Stacy, “Don’t we get any pillows or blankets? Where the fuck are we? China?”
“Not in here,” she said. "You have to use my tits for pillows. That's it. No options bitch. Get your head in between my cleavage, it'll keep your ears warm. Go ahead wear 'em like earmuffs."
“What the fuck? I want fucking pillows you shit face. Why aren't there any fucking pillows. Fuck!”
“I don’t know,” she shrugged, “Probably because we might hang ourselves with them. Or pee on them. I like peeing on things. Do you?”
I shook my head, confused. “Whatever,” I told her, “Turn off the light then. I'll just grab a couple of mice and sew them together into a fluffer.”
“We can’t turn off the light in here retard.”
“Why the shit not? Where are we China?!”
“Because they hate the environment,” she replied as she pointed upwards to the office window. "Oh and they like to watch chicks get hot in bed."
“How come they don’t need to watch everyone else all night?” I asked. "What is this BS?"
“Because everyone else isn’t on suicide watch,” she answered. "Keep up you knuckle dragger."
“We’re on suicide watch? Fucking A. No, fucking B.”
“Yup,” she giggled like a little school girl, “But I think I can get out of here anyway. How hard do you think I’d have to bash my head up against this glass to make it break? I could totally make it break then cut my tits with them.”
Suddenly, I understood completely why the warden had kept rolling his eyes at her. “Pretty hard since you're a fat twat,” I said, “Considering that it’s pretty thick. Besides, even if you broke it, you couldn’t get out. Look at it. It’s got like a little metal fence embedded inside of it. And you're super fat. DAMN YOU FAT PIG LOOK AT YOUR NOSE!”
“Oh that is no problem. I am a reincarnated butterfly. Once the glass is broken, I can shrink down into a little bug and fly out...Man I am so high.”
“You know,” I said to her, “I’m starting to think you’re a real fucking wacko. Look at how fat you are. Why are you so fat?”
She started laughing hysterically. I groaned and covered my eyes with my arm. She didn’t want me to go to sleep just yet, so she started singing ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’ at the top of her lungs. Fuck I should kick her in the clit.
I thought to myself, Maybe if I eat her out, they’ll let me stay. Maybe if I pleasure her enough, they won’t make me go home.
I was too exhausted to do more than think about it, though. So I closed my eyes and went to sleep with my thumb in my puss.
The next day, after breakfast, they gathered everyone up in the cafeteria-like room again. A motivational speaker was there to talk to us. He went around the room and asked us all who we thought of as our hero. One kid told him, “Adolf Hitler.”
The speaker said, “Isn’t that the cool guy who killed himself in WW2f? Why would he be your hero?”
“Because he had a hottie wife who was 20 years younger than him, a kickass band with a dog, and 5000 rubles a day to spend on porn and I ain’t got none of that shit.”
I’m not sure who I told the motivational speaker my hero was, but I hope I didn't say something gay.
Shortly after the class, a warden came over and whispered in my ear. “Your Mother and her husband are here to get you now. Come on you little shit. It's time to get the fuck out of my face.”
“Her husband?” I whispered back, “When I left three months ago, she didn’t even have a boyfriend. What a whore.”
He ignored me after twisting my tits.
My Mother didn’t say much to me as we left although she did introduce me to her new husband. Apparently, his name was Gene Simmons.
My brother was outside waiting in the car. I slumped down in the backseat really close to him.
“You OK?” I whispered.
“Yeah,” he murmured, “She’s been so pissed at you that she hasn’t paid much attention to me at all. I’ve been spending a lot of time over at Willie’s house...you know sucking his Willy. If yah know what I mean.”
“I thought she’d be glad to be rid of me. She's a cunt face like that yah know.”
“Yeah, probably. But you took that money. Also, she told the new guy she had a daughter before she realized you were gone. After that, he kept pushing to meet you. She was pretty fucking embarrassed when she finally had to tell him you ran away. Yeah she's a cunt face like that yah know.”
“What are they going to do to me? They won't dip my in hot oil and eat my nipples like cheese-its will they? Because I saw that in a movie once. I think it was called, Fried Nipples.”
“I think you’re safe as long as that smelly cheese dick is around. She still tries to play ‘Nice Mom’ in front of him.”
“He won’t always be around, though. He'll be fucking her in my bed.”
“No. He won’t. Until I kill him.”
“You know Vagina,” Gene Simmons called back to me, “In my line of work, I’ve have a lot of experience with girls like you. You don’t know this about me, but I’m a police officer. See my huge swinging gut. I got that from all the delicious Krispy Kunt donuts I ate out.”
“Security guard at a shopping mall,” my brother whispered. "What a liar. Look at him. He even has his maglite with him. The fucker."
“Girls like me?” I answered, “What do you mean by that? You ball grabber.”
“You know….pregnant….on drugs….lesbian.”
I looked over at my brother who at this point got bored and was jerking it, shocked. He shrugged.
Very forcefully, I said, “I am not pregnant or on drugs. I am a virgin! Look at my hymen!”
I pulled my puss out and shoved it in his nose.
My Mother sighed, “Gene, in your 'professional' opinion, how often do drug addicts lie?”
“All the time,” He answered. "They like like George W. Bush about Katrina."
“Look you chuckle fuck!” I yelled, “If you’re a cop, then you know how to go about getting me tested for drugs, don’t you? I can pee in a cup and prove it! And I’m sure you can take me to a doctor and he can tell you that I’m not pregnant!”
He and my Mother exchanged a retarded look.
“Here!” I said as I ripped out a couple of strands of my hair and held it out to him, “Can’t you test my hair? For drugs? Test it! You’ll see! I’ve never done a drug in my life!”
“Young lady,” Gene said, “Stop being retarded. Do you really expect me to believe that you were able to afford an apartment for three months without selling drugs? Christ!”
“No,” I sighed, “I expect you to believe that I was pushing heroin on the mean streets of suburbia. I am totally bad ass that way.”
My Mother turned completely around in her seat to face me. She smiled at me; a lazy, smug, evil grin that still wakes me up sometimes in the middle of the night. Then, she turned back around in her seat and started fiddling with her husband's cock.
“Don’t bother with him,” my brother whispered to me, “He’s a hopeless homosexual. She could turn around and cut your cunt right in front of him and she’d convince him it was self defense.”
“What do I do?” I asked miserably. "Should I bash his head in with a lead pipe, drag his body down into the river and eat his bones like Shrek?"
“Maybe you can jump out of the car the next time it slows down?” he offered, “Or, when we stop at a rest stop or something, you can take off when they’re not looking. That’s my advice. If I were you, I’d run. I would run like a black man in the Olympics.”
"What are you a fucking racist?" I asked my brother.
He put on his white hooded mask.
I looked out the window. We had to be going at least 99 miles an hour, so jumping out of the car right now probably wouldn’t work. I would probably break my ribs. But the rest stop idea wasn’t a bad one. I mulled it over in my head. Should I rob a convenient store?
“You can do it,” my brother encouraged, “You’re fast. You're like a fucking zebra. I saw you run from your pimp once in high heels. Damn. Do it you slut.”
We got to the convenience store. I hopped out the car and sprinted like Ben Johnson on steroids. My mother screamed out to me, "You fuck face! I need to borrow ten bucks!" I didn't give a fuck. Fuck my mother. I kept running. Then it hit me. A truck. A truck fucking hit me. Then I died. The end. How am I writing this you ask? You chuckle fuck I ain't real. FACE!