*****
He came alone. That was his first mistake.
He came into HIS home. Strike number 2.
He desecrated one of HIS creations. STRIKE FUCKING THREE.
So he only had himself to blame for being held down on the floor by to pair of hands, while a certain blue eye�d creator smiled down at him.
�You killed my Willow!� The boy snarled looking at Little Red Riding Hood.
�I just made her pure.� He said simply. �And now I must make you pure. You have desecrated my home with this, this foulness.� And god is a wrathful god.
He straddled the starry eyed and struggling youth. �Peter Pan. I will call you Peter Pan.� And he grabbed the side of the kids head, and banged it against the solid wood floor.
One. Two. three times. Cause all good things come in threes. And the brown eyed brunette bleeds beneath him. And he rubs his hand on that bloody spot, enjoying the delectable taste as he brought his hand to his mouth. Jon looked down at the youth again. So pretty. So much potential. And he would not scream. God how Jon would love to bathe in the terrifying yelps he just KNOWS this kid can make. But the boy kept quiet. Even as Jon dug into his stomach. But then Jon stopped. He had been struk with a sudden delightful thought.
He looked from Dev and Freddy and decided that his boys needed a treat. A night of living in sin. And just from the smile that Jon had on his face, they new what their master wanted. He got up leaving them with the words, �Just make him scream for me.� And they giggled insanely as they turned him over.
HE sat back in his bed a watched as his brood took their pleasures with the foul mouth sinful boy. And he knew that they would need to be cleansed later. But that didn�t matter. Cause the screams filled that small little room were cleansing in themselves. Jon closed his eyes and listened to the range of vocals the kids larynx erupted. So like a beautiful heavenly chorus. The drums of the flesh tearing over and over and the sounds of the skin slapping skin. And the taste of blood that sailed through the air added to the chorus lovely. And Devon and Freddy never look so beautiful. Pushing into the prostrate body over and over again. Sharing. Finally sharing something. And feeding him the boy�s screams. And they echoed, bouncing off of the brick walls and he was in ecstasy. Gut-wrenching. And so perfect. And he loved them for their stamina as this ritual carried on till the hours of Selene�s demise by the Apollo.
And when they shared the body for the last time that day, Jon descended upon the unconscious brunette like a black angelic shadow. And he had to make this one beautiful like the others. He wrapped the boy in a long strap of black cloth from head to toe. Mummy. And he had a bath especially prepared for his creation. And if the boy had been sleep during the wrapping process he was certainly awake now, thrashing around in the horrible Christ piss as the liquid soaked through the cloth. And he tried to loosen himself from the straps only to find that his arms had been sewn into his sides and his legs had like wise been sewn together. And the screams again where heaven on earth. They drained the disdainful fluids, but the kid still whimpered and writhe under the soaked and burning cloth. And they hung him upside down on a hook and it was almost finished. One more thing. His eyes. And Jon cut the wrapping around his eyes and the terrified orbs opened. Perfect. And beautiful. Another living piece of art. And they return to bed. Sleeping as Apollo drove his burning chariot across the sky.
*end*