Toad Lerone woke up looking at a light
brown ceiling. The color told him right away this wasn’t his bedroom. The
ceiling in his bedroom at home was white. In fact, all the ceilings in his home
were white. This wasn’t his home at all. The queen sized bed he found himself
in was much too nice, too soft, and too big for what he was used to. The silk
sheets were pleasant, and the covers were gentle and light. He looked to his
left to see a naked woman lying in bed with him. From the back she was a
monstrosity, with a tangled black mane pouring over the pillows, and her
liver-spotted body bulging with rolls of what Toad decided had to be pillows
stuffed under her flesh, trying to find their way out. Already, Toad was not
having a good morning.
Toad threw the covers off himself to see he was fully dressed, a fact that came
as no small relief. Perhaps he and the naked woman hadn’t fucked.
The woman rolled over. “Oh, good morning Toad,” she said, yawning. She grabbed
Toad’s arm with a light squeeze.
It was Angel, his mother’s best friend. Her face was as ugly and as weird as it
always had been, with a distinct “if you touch me you might get sick” quality
about it.
“Oh fuck,” Toad muttered. “Oh fuck no.” He wanted to jump out of the bed, but
his good-morning erection told him this was a bad time.
“Hey, don’t worry,” Angel said, rubbing Toad’s arm. “We didn’t do anything last
night. It’s not what you think. Let’s cuddle.”
“I’d rather not.” He rolled out of bed after a split decision in which he
realized his erection was the least of his worries. “What’s happening?”
Angel crawled over to the warm spot on Toad’s side of the bed where his body’s
indention in the cushion was still fresh. She curled up in it and pulled the
blanket over her naked body. “We just slept,” she said. “Nothing more, nothing
less.”
Kind of hard to do less than sleep, Toad thought. “Where am I?”
“We’re at a hotel,” said Angel. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
“I remember sitting down at a table with a glass of milk and thinking, boy I
sure would like to go out and grab a drink right about now. But that was…” Toad
looked out the room’s only window, saw the sun lighting up the attractive gray
parking lot outside, and said, “last night, I think.”
As he rubbed his head, he looked around the room and noticed a familiar piece
of furniture.
“What’s that?” he asked, walking to a small table by the wall with two chairs
on either side. There was a glass on the table with about an inch of milk left
in it.
“Looks like a table, Toad,” Angel said, yawning again.
“Weird,” Toad muttered to himself. “So weird.” He examined the glass. The milk
was room temperature. He looked around the room, racking his brain for memories
that would lead him here. He spotted a large trash can by the door.
“Maybe take a look in there,” Angel said.
Toad peeked into the trash can to find a large, empty, clear plastic container
with a label on the front that said “Spirit of the South Whiskey”. It had to be at least 6
liters in volume.
“This…” he started. “Did I… I didn’t drink this, did I?”
Angel nodded, smiling.
“All of it?”
“Hell yes you did!”
“Mother of shit. Motherfucker.” Toad worried for the health of his liver at
that moment, and the possibility that he might have a drinking problem crossed
his mind. He didn’t have a headache. He didn’t feel hungover. In fact, he felt
energetic and alive, and aside from the general confusion of the morning, he was
in high spirits. He pulled the empty container from the trash can to look it
over. It was entirely empty save for a few brown drops at the bottom. He
dropped it on the floor.
“You’re quite the bathtub drain,” Angel said, “if you know what I mean.”
Toad knew what she meant and didn’t know how to respond. His erection was
finally gone and he was ready to go home.
A knock came at the door.
Toad looked at Angel, letting his eyes do all the talking. They seemed to say,
“Should I open it? You’re not even dressed. Get dressed. Or hide under the
covers. I’m embarrassed to be seen with you. I really hate everything about all
of this.”
Angel sat in the bed and didn’t move. She only smiled.
Toad opened the door and was met by a cheerful voice and a face he knew.
“Hey Toad!” the girl said, and she hugged him. “Come to our room in about 5
minutes. The party’s not gonna start without you!” She kissed him on the cheek
and ran off.
Toad let the door close behind her.
“Whoa…” he looked at Angel. “I know that girl. That was Michelle.”
“Really?” Angel said, her face betraying something not quite like curiosity,
but as though there was a gang of secrets dancing below her grotesque facade.
“I dated her in high school. We dated for a year. We haven’t spoken since we
broke up. What’s going on? She looks as good as she did back then. Maybe
better.”
“That’s so sweet!” Angel said. “I suppose I need to start getting dressed.”
“Were those pajamas she was wearing? You saw her pants? Were those pajama
pants?”
“I didn’t see,” Angel said, pulling a shirt over herself and climbing off the
bed.
Toad diverted his eyes so as to not catch a second glimpse of a half-naked
nightmare. “She said something about a party. In her room? How am I supposed to
know what room she’s in? Who throws a party in the middle of the day? Or the
morning?”
Angel put on some pants and combed her hair with her fingers, removing knots
and tangles with a moderate struggle. “Guess we’ll just have to find out, won’t
we?” She slipped into a pair of slippers.
A pair of shoes was sitting under the table where the glass of milk sat. Toad
recognized them as his own. He put them on and walked to the door, where Angel
waited.
“Shall we?” she asked.
“You’re going, too? Do you think you’re invited?”
“Do you know where you’re going, Toad?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know anything right now.”
They left the room and walked down the hall, Angel making frequent grabs for
Toad’s hands which he avoided in expert maneuvers that included sliding his
hands into his pockets, or scratching his head, or crossing his arms. It was
surprising to him how many times he had to do this on their short walk, but
Angel seemed determined to get her hands on his.
Finally, they came to a door at the far end of the hall. The plastic marking
beside the door said Presidential
Suite. Toad reached his
hand up to knock on the door, but Angel grabbed his arm, savored the touch for
a moment, and with her other hand pushed the door open.
“After you,” she said, smiling.
Toad pulled his arm from her grasp and entered the dimly lit room. It was huge.
Curtains were drawn over the windows and the only light came from small lamps
in the corners.
“Toad!” came a girl’s voice. A girl wearing pink pajama pants and a tight
baseball jersey clearly not made for playing baseball in hugged Toad.
“Oh, hi,” Toad said. “Amanda? Wow, long time no see!”
“You look great, Toad!” she said.
“So do you!”
“Toad!” said another voice.
He spun around to see Michelle again, and another familiar face.
“Abigail!” Toad said. “Jesus!”
“Toad,” said Angel, tugging on his shirt, “I think you’re really gonna have fun
here. They’re all here.”
An array of lights covered the ceiling, and the room became illuminated by
different colored glowing bulbs. Small strobe lights next to the lamps began
flashing, and a low fog drifted through the room, the kind Toad could tell was
made by a fog machine.
The room was filled with girls, at least twenty of them, maybe more. Each was a
girl Toad had dated or been intimate with at some point in his life. Some were
girls he’d had long lasting relationships with, some were girls with whom he’d
had one night stands. Others were friends with benefits of years past. It was a
bona fide sexual reunion in the Presidential Suite.
“I have no idea what’s going on,” Toad said. “And I don’t know what I’m doing
here.”
A pair of hands reached around Toad from behind and started unzipping his
pants. Before he could fight them off, Abigail and Michelle grabbed his shirt
and began tearing it from his body. The women came forward all at once and put
their hands on his skin. A swarm of female flesh and body heat engulfed him.
The strobe lights grew more intense as the bulbs overhead dimmed, until the fog
and rhythmic flash of light sent Toad’s optical nerves into a frenzy of
confusion, terror, and submission. He was pinned to the floor and stripped
naked by dark hands on a rampage. Try as he might, he couldn’t remove the women
from him.
Soon, the fog cleared, the strobe lights quit, and once again the lamps in the
corners became the only source of light. Toad was naked, and his arms and legs
were held tight by ex-girlfriends. He looked up to see a line of exes and past
lovers standing before him. Everyone was naked. Not an inch of anyone’s body
was unexposed. The mood lighting in the room tinted the skin of each girl just
right, enhancing their qualities and making the setting a little more romantic.
It was the kind of lighting Toad loved.
“It’s time to begin,” Michelle whispered into Toad’s ear.
The first girl stepped forward and climbed onto Toad, rubbing her naked body on
his. She performed sex acts on him that sent his heart’s pace into rapid,
violent pulses. His limbs were restrained and he was helpless to return any
sexual favors to the girl.
As she reached orgasm, she cried out, and told Toad she loved him. She stood up
and returned to the line.
The next girl stepped forward, climbed on Toad, and engaged in sex acts like
the first girl.
At climax, she cried out and confessed her love to Toad. She returned to the
line.
This sequence repeated for every girl. Each ex-lover fucked Toad on the floor
as he was held down, whether he wanted it or not. Each girl burst into tears by
the time orgasm was reached, and poured her heart out to Toad in an admission
of love and adoration. One by one they committed myriad sexual acts on Toad,
things he’d always loved, things he’d never considered, and few things he
hated. The morning became an enduring series of stretched muscles, body sweat,
orgasms, tears, and I love you
Toad.
The girls holding Toad down each had their turn, as their roles in restraining Toad
were taken on by the girls from the line. Pleasure had turned to pain, sensual
excitement had turned to horror. Toad was finally forced to orgasm by Michelle,
the last girl to assault him with sexual force. His seed was left to dry on the
ground in front of him as the girls released him and backed away.
As Toad winced at the pain felt in his genitals, he remained on the floor. His
muscles were too sore for him to move.
“Don’t go anywhere, Toad,” Michelle said. “We’re not finished.”
Two girls pulled a large machine forward, from behind a silk curtain, that was
unlike anything Toad had ever seen. It was five feet high, equipped with what
looked like a hydraulic pump, and it had to be at least twenty feet wide. The
girls moved the machine in front of them, between themselves and Toad. Aimed at
Toad was a small chute, about a foot wide. Extending from the machine toward
the girls were twenty hose-like, wide extensions with sharp, dangerous looking
mechanical objects on the ends. Each girl attached an extension to her chest,
letting out a yelp as she did so.
Michelle held in her hand a device with a button on it. It was attached to the
machine. She smiled at Toad and began counting. “One… two… three…”
Then all the girls said, simultaneously, “We love you, Toad!”
Michelle pressed the button on the device and the hydraulic pump on the machine
rapidly pumped with a loud, mechanical roar, and a deafening machine-like
squeal that caused Toad to cover his ears. The faces of the girls turned to
horrible, pained expressions, and they each fell to their knees, their bodies
shaking, until a loud cracking and popping sound rang out. It came again. And
again. It repeated, almost all at once, until each of the girls fell dead to
the floor, blood pouring from the hoses. The machine continued running, and
seconds later, the chute aimed at Toad emptied twenty bloodied hearts on the
floor in front of him.
They plopped with slimy, meaty grace into a red pile. Blood oozed out of most
of them, creating a crimson pool around a mountain of hearts.
Toad stared in shock at what lie before him. He was frozen, his hands still
tightly pressed over his ears, his semen drying to the floor between his penis
and the hearts.
Abruptly, the machine turned off. It took a few more beats of Toad’s own heart
before he removed his hands from his ears, though his eyes remained fixated on
the horror before him.
The room lit up and Toad heard footsteps to his right. It was slow motion to
Toad, and every movement, every sound, every thought seemed to carry with it an
inordinate amount of weight, importance, and impact. Turning his head in the
direction of the footsteps was a laborious effort. He felt his neck muscles
resist his turn. He saw Angel walking toward him. Her hands were clasped in
front of her and the same smile she’d been wearing all morning was on her face.
“That about wraps it up,” Angel said with no sign of fear or terror in her
voice, the kind of fear and terror Toad was feeling, and expected to be mutual.
She walked to a closet at the opposite side of the room, and opened the door.
Toad noticed there was a small hole in the center of the door. Angel pulled something
from the closet and turned to walk back toward him.
“We got it all!” Angel exclaimed, looking at the object in her hands. As she
got closer to Toad he could see it was a video camera. “We got the whole thing!
Your mom’s gonna love this.”
Toad wanted to cry, but he’d promised himself at a young age he’d never cry
while naked. He tried to stick to his promise.
“Happy Valamtime’s day, Toad,” said Angel, as she put the video camera into a
purse and collected the clothing of the dead girls into a pile by the bathroom.
“We have the party preserved for everyone to see! Isn’t that wonderful? I’ve
got to run, your mom and I have a lunch date in half an hour. When you’re done
here, don’t forget to check out. We only had the rooms for the night. Housekeeping
will take care of the mess!”
As Angel collected her things and made her way to the door, she reached into
the purse and pulled out a small box of candy hearts. “Oh!” she squealed. She
threw them to Toad. “Happy Valentine’s day, again!” She walked out the door and
it slammed closed behind her.
Toad stared at the box of candy
hearts. They had landed in the pile of human hearts, but some had flown out of the
box and landed in his semen on the carpet. He picked up the candy heart closest
to him and looked at it closely. The words written on the heart said, “I’m
proud of you, Son.” Then Toad cried even though he was naked.
The End.
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