Wednesday, December 1, 2004
Volume 5: Fear & Buggery in Las Vegas
There have been many who have been asking about the details surrounding Prairie Dogs adventure in Las Vegas and the sudden disappearance of said dog. For those people I now present the details of the nightmare I was plunged into. I swear the following is all true. The details of the story that follow are very graphic and may disturb some readers. If you are easily offended I advise you to skip the story. But as shocking as it may be, the events are all true and that is the only way it can be told. The following is my tale told exactly as it happened.
Fear and Buggery in Las Vegas
Part I – The Abduction
Who could have guessed it would end like this. In the beginning the alcohol was flowing, the laughter was rampant, the ladies were wanting and the 99cent breakfast buffets kept my belly full. I’m not sure exactly when everything went wrong but I think it was about the time I left the casino agreeing to look in the trunk of a hairy sweaty 300pound man. He had one eye and two identifying tattoos. One of them was of Celine Dion penetrating the devil from behind. The devil had a strap-on for a left forearm. The other tattoo was a detailed cock that reached up sweaty man's right arm from his elbow to his shoulder. He asked me if I would look in the trunk of his car. I said “sure” then I asked him why. He said it was a “surprise”. I know what you are thinking, I should have known better. Well you are right. In hindsight this does not look like it can end well. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the ecstasy, maybe it had something to do with the needle of unknown contents that I found in the washroom and injected into my bloodstream. Who knows? At any rate I was a tad naïve on this night. As we walked to his car (which was parked in an ally 2 blocks away) he kept joking about how he could kill me and leave me in a dumpster and he would never get caught. I laughed. He kept saying he wasn’t kidding. He also called me a Canadian cock-tease and yelled at me to shut up and stop laughing and that he really wanted to kill me. I tell you this guy was funny. I couldn’t stop laughing. I had no idea my laughter would soon turn into a nightmare I refer to as a XXX Silence of The Lambs. We finally get to his car and I look deep inside his trunk. “Deeper…” he says while apparently trying to find something in the front of his pants. Of course I get pushed into the trunk. I was the only one who didn’t see that coming. As I lay there cramped in the trunk my new friend thrusts his left forearm in my face. The arm with the Celine/Satan tattoo. He bellows at me “Lick Celine! Lick Her! LICK CELINE!!” Okay now I was starting to clue in that this was not cool. His face was turning red and I became fearful for my life so I stuck out my tongue nervously and began softly licking the tattoo. He then let out a shriek and screamed “NOT SATAN! JUST CELINE! LICK CELINE!” out of nowhere his right fist connects with my jaw knocking out a tooth. I am shaking and crying now. I resume licking his arm being sure my tongue only touches Mrs. Dion. As I do this I hear Captain Crazy softly moaning and I see what was once a loose fitting pair of sweats begin to tighten on him as I see a triangle form in the crotch. Five minutes later four apple sized knuckles head straight for my face. I’m out.
Part II – The Nightmare
I awake. I have no idea how long I’ve been out or where I am or what happened during that time. The first thing I notice is that I am naked.
Never a good sign. My ass is sore. Also a bad sign. I then look down and notice a swastika shaved in my pubic region. I swear that was not there before.
I also see pus filled sores along the shaft of my penis and most of those were not there before either. The room lacks any furnishings. The walls are bare
aside from a small mirror and a cum spattered Rick Moranis movie poster. I am hungry and light headed. I hear sounds in the hallway on the other side of the
door. I am almost to scared to check if the door is unlocked fearing what might be on the other side. I put my ear to the door. I hear footsteps. Loud footsteps.
Running up and down the hall. More than one set. Much more. I also hear snorting and heavy breathing. I know he is out there and he is not alone. I have to try.
I slowly try the doorknob. Of course it’s locked. I pull my hand away from the door and it bursts open. There he was. My cycloptic captor. Dressed only in black socks
and a much too small, sweat stained Sponge Bob tank top. My heart pounds and the room starts to spin. Running into the room behind him were about four huge pigs snorting
wildly and circling us. The room spins faster. He starts to speak but I can’t understand him. I’m sure now that I’ve been drugged. He starts to dance. Slowly swaying from
side to side, singing what seems to be “D’yer Mak’er” by Led Zeppelin, with his penis tucked back between his legs. The room starts to change color. Pink, white, red, yellow, pink, white, red…must
be the drugs. “Oh, oh, oh, you don’t have to go…”he sings. The room spins. The pigs squeal louder and run faster. These pigs! God what does he do with these pigs?
He stops singing. Shit. He looks mad. He opens his legs to reveal his raging hard-on. He shouts something at me but between the squealing of the pigs and the nightclub
drumbeat that is my head I cant make out what he is saying. The only thing I can make out is what sounds like “man pussy” whatever the hell that is. Sadly I was about to
find out as the familiar hairy fist came crashing into my face and I crumpled to the ground. I slowly slid out of consciousness to the sound of snorting and squealing and I think
I heard him cry.
I came too later and briefly experienced what was happening behind me. The pain was unbearable. I could not move and I could not even scream for him to stop. I wanted to be able
to think this wasn’t happening. While I was being sodomized I raised my head and smashed it directly onto the hard concrete floor repeatedly until I passed out. As I was drifting
away I heard him angrily calling me “Faggot” over and over, which I thought was a bit inappropriate seeing as he was the only one ejaculating. In the corner of the room I saw one of
the pigs was slaughtered. Guts were stretched out across the floor around us and then I noticed blood and guts smeared on us as will. Had we killed that pig together? What the fuck
was happening? I then thankfully blacked out.
Part III – The Escape
When I next awoke, complete dementia had taken over my brain. I was covered head to toe in dried pigs blood. The pig’s carcass was still in the corner of the room. I walked to
the mirror hanging on the wall. Sometime during the chaos it had been smashed and I saw long sharp jagged pieces lying on the floor. I now see that is what was used to kill the pig.
I bent and picked up a sharp piece of glass. I held it tightly in my fist until blood trickled between my fingers. I contemplated for a moment putting the glass to my own wrists.
But instead (for reasons unknown) I knelt by the dead pig and used the glass to slice around the head. I sat there and cut and cut until the head was removed. I failed until now to
notice that the door to my room was wide open. The Rick Moranis poster was torn down and the word “WHORE” was finger painted in pigs blood over Rick’s face. (I assume it was pigs blood).
I chuckled madly at the realization that I remember none of this happening. I carried the pigs head out of the room and wandered the house. I came across a dead pig in the hall with a large
butcher knife sticking out from its belly. I pulled the knife free and walked to a washroom. I sat on the edge of the tub using the knife cleaning out the contents of the head until I could
create a crude mask. I forced the ‘mask’ over my head and started to masturbate.
I then continued my search of the house. I found a closet completely full of Elvis jumpsuits. Holy KingShit! I’ve been abducted and buggered by a perverted Elvis impersonator with one
empty eye socket! I clothed myself in a white jumpsuit (still wearing the pig mask) and looked for a way out.
I stopped dead in my tracks as I came upon the one-eyed log pusher himself. He was naked (of course) and hanging by a noose.
An overturned stool lay under him. Beside the stool was a decapitated pig. On my kidnappers face was the pigs head just as I had done.
A lone tear escaped my eye and ran down my cheek. Then I noticed he was still barely alive. I noticed a milky fluid secrete form his right nipple.
He whispered faintly “there is no hope…all…is…lost…” His breathing then ceased. All I could manage to say was “I’m Sorry.” Before sobbing
uncontrollably. I then walked out of my temporary prison into the bright Nevada sun and started my journey home. But first I stopped at a
lovely Denny’s near the outskirts of town and had a delicious meat lovers skillet and toast. Let me tell you the service was wonderful, they kept
my coffee full and were always ready with a smile. Great place; do stop if you get the chance. But I digress.
Sometimes I wonder if I am glad I lived to tell my tale or not. Maybe I should have died. One thing is certain, a lesson was learned
to put it bluntly. If a 300-pound heavily tattooed Cyclops asks you to go to the ally to look at a ‘surprise’ in the back of his trunk, just say NO.
Prairie Dog, December 2004.
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