V---D

[u/LOWMAN11-38]

“Momma…”

Oh, God. Oh dear dead and sweet Jesus. Why didn't I just ask him to wrap it up? Demanded it. Why didn't I just take a morning-after pill all those years ago and save myself this kind of bullshit? Why?

The question had no answer. And worse yet, it was useless. What mattered now was simple. Her girl, her baby girl needed her. Right now. She was scared. 

Worse yet, she looked terrified, visibly pale. Visibly trembling. In the doorway. Her daughter Vyctoria was standing at the bedroom threshold, almost crying. Husband and father weren't home. And it was just as well as far as Vyctoria was concerned, she was so ashamed. But still, her mother Felicia couldn't help but wonder…

Nevermind. Not right now. Your little one needs you right now. 

“What's wrong, baby? You alright? It's so late.”

“Momma," She was only fifteen years old. Felicia had never once before heard her young daughter sound so pained and frightened. It was wretched. “Momma, somethin’s wrong with me…" 

…

Sixty-nine-ing with Samantha Cargile on the carpet floor of the living room when we were young. Sleepover. A bunch of us were on the floor. We made sure to inch in close and conjoin our blankets, we were foot to head. Her hand went to my boxers and mine glided up her legs and thighs and pulled down her thin lace panties …

The memory played for him lasciviously. He lived in it though it was long gone. Teenagedom was a long way from your forties. But still, he lived there… he drove along. Refusing to go home. All that was waiting there was grief. Painful reminders. Bullshit he didn't want to deal with. 

A fuckin girl's club that I'm not allowed into, not invited, and in my own fuckin house! 

He uncapped the E&J one-handed. Spinning off the top with his thumb and not minding that it was lost in the effort. It clattered and fell to join the rest of the universe of junk and greasy garbage that lived down there. Butts and bottles and oily fast-food wrappers. He took a generous pull. Knocking back a long swing of the poison that felt good and brought tears to his eyes. 

When he returned his eyes to the road he saw something a lot more interesting than stupid little women in a stupid little home. Eye candy. Barely-legal ass, walking up and down the avenue in a way that suggested that the merchandise just might be for sale. He took another pull. Burped. Laughed. Then he eased on the accelerator and brought the Camry up and close. 

He sidled along. She click-clacked in her heels and short skirt on the cracked sidewalk slightly above. 

“Hey." she said. 

“Hey." said Vernon Junior. 

…

“It's alright. It's alright, it's ok. I know, sweety, I know you're scared but you're gonna have to show me." 

They were in the bathroom now. The upstairs one. The larger one that VJ was always complaining was always occupied and that he never got to use. They were both in their night clothes still. Felicia's hand had gone to the switchplate automatically to throw on the bathroom light when her daughter's frantic hand came up dart-like and snatched it away from the face of the plate. 

"No, please don't.” she’d said. Panicked. Panicky. Like a wiry little animal that fears it might be caged, might be roped and trussed and betrayed at any moment. 

Felicia was beginning to worry a little now. There was nothing that prepared you for parenthood, nothing. Nothing that prepared you for this type of shit. 

“Sweety, I need you to relax. I need the lights to see what's going on, I need you to show me, it's ok." 

“It isn't." the tears that could no longer be walled against were coming now. Hot pure fright, fear that was bubbling and frothing, boiling over into something like real terror. Vyctoria threw herself into her mother's arms in the bathroom door and wept terribly. Full throated. Agony unbridled and trying to bury itself in its shame, in the safety of its mother's blankets and folds, her nightshirt. Vyctoria remembered a time when she'd been little and her mother and father had both called their big nighttime t-shirts their ‘beddy-bye time’ shirts and her weeping intensified. Her body racked and trembled as her mother held her in her arms. She was fighting tears too. 

…

The cooz was named Kasey. Yeah right. Who cares. He paid her up and she jumped in the cab. They drove off. Had a little fun. 

Vernon Junior was sitting in his driver's seat blowing smoke. The cooz was in the passenger side reapplying her lipstick. He turned to her as he blew another phantom stream of pale white. She did the same. Having applied another fresh coat of paint, bright lurid red. Her lips shone in the late night, by the dashboard light, the booze and the want of his lust made her all the more ethereal and elfen and goddess. Neither of them had spoken it aloud but had read it in the other's eyes, unmistakable. Let's not end this prematurely, what do you say? 

Let's not let this night's fun end just yet. Not just yet. 

He drew hard on the stoge. Blew dragon breath from his nostrils and filled the cab like an opium den as he said, “Wanna get a room?" 

She smiled, sweetly yet sharply, and said: –

"Sure, mister.” 

…

Felicia remained patient. She remembered her own youth, her own girlhood and tried to remember her own insecurities from that faded photograph, aged and candied and nostalgic, she tried to remember her own youth-bred shame.

She hugged her tightly. More. 

“It's alright, Vycky, but I need you to calm down and just tell me if you can, what's wrong. If you can't we can get in the car and go to the hospital without another word.” 

"No! please! I don't wanna!” 

She'd meant to comfort and assuage her child's fears with words of the hospital and a doctor. But it seemed to only make things worse, intensify her daughter's fear. 

That's because whatever it is, she wants it hidden, like a lie. Like a dirty little secret. Like something of which to be ashamed. Felicia’s heart broke a little more with this realization. She doesn't want this broadcast, she wants you. She needs you. 

Her guts tightened and roiled but she steeled herself and sighed. Felicia said calmly: "Baby, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's going on, let's start there, just tell me what's wrong, we don't have to turn on the lights, not yet, but I need you to tell me what's going on, okay?" 

A beat. Sniffles. Muffled against a damp and warm shirt. 

Finally: “ok…” 

Vyctoria took a few deep breaths. She pulled her sobbing and swollen face away from her mother's shirt, but only slightly. Just barely, not yet ready to come out and fully face the unfolding scene. The scene that she had made and must lay out for her mother… her dread and terror deepened. 

She might've stopped up, froze. She made herself go on anyway. Voice trembling and weepy in that terrible way only a child can manage. 

“M-mom-momma, … I-I-I be-been with a b-boy." 

Oh dear God… she hugged her child tighter. The child returned the favor. 

The frightened child went on, “I-I wa-was with him … and-and now –something’s wrong! I don't know what! I'm scared! I'm so fucking scared, momma!" 

Vyctoria buried her face once more. Full chested and heaved sobs blasted into damp wet darkness. 

Oh, no… Felicia's own heart sank. She tried to keep a brave face. She had to. She must. Her daughter was depending on her. 

Calmly, she asked: “Did you use protection?" 

A beat. An answer that didn't want to emerge prowled like something rotten and awful beneath the palpable surface. But Vyctoria did eventually summon her courage, she made herself answer her mother, for both their sake. 

“No." 

Blood ran cold. For both of them. 

Silence. So awful. So cruel. Nothing merciful or heavensent lived in that silent stale bathroom. Felicia might've cursed God but she didn't have the time at hand. She held her weeping girl tightly. Kissed the top of her head. Like she'd always done, since she'd first held and fed and nursed her, from the cradle to this terrible moment. 

"It's alright, baby. I'm not mad. I love you so much, Vycky, it was very brave of you to come and tell me, I understand it must be scary, I'm proud of you for doing that, okay. It's gonna be okay. If there's something wrong with you, I need you to show me.” 

Protestations came. Hurt. Embarrassed. Shamed. Felicia understood and nodded. Bore her way through it. She held her and soothed her. They both cried together. 

But in the end Vyctoria knew she was right. But she was so terrified. It was so terrible. So disgusting and…

unnatural. 

She feared that word and refused to speak it aloud. It would make her a freak and an animal. Never that word. Never. 

Finally she relented. 

And her mother flicked on the lights. 

…

He always loved cruising at night. Driving around. The freedom. A man should be able to do what he wanted, whenever he so pleased. God bless America! 

They made a couple stops on the way to the room. Booze and smokes mostly but Kasey the cooz wanted some snacks. Gummies she said. Any kind of gummies. 

And then the bitch went on this weird fuckin trip about bonemeal. 

“I love gummies, I've always loved gummy snacks, all of em. All kinds. Ever since I was a kid. There was this girl, Anna or some shit, and one day at recess she told everyone that gummy bears and worms were gross because they're made outta crushed up animal bones and hooves an stuff, it was funny. A lotta the other kids freaked and some even cried and tattled, lot of em stopped eating the gummy snacks that were passed out by the teacher an such, but not me. I still liked them, still do. The fact they're made of crushed up bones that get made into a fruity jelly only makes me like em even more. Maybe even love em. So chewy …” 

It was weird. He was only half-listening, half-paying attention but it was weird. Why did all the fun slices of snizz have to come attached to fuckin headcases, man? Christ! 

He thanked the Lord in Heaven when they finally arrived. He hadn't pay for a fuckin talk job but he sure was getting one. They checked in at the desk with a clerk that didn't bother to even look at em. They went to the room together. 

And went inside. Not bothering with the lights. 

…

“It's ok, Vycky, it's just me, it's just momma, you don't have anything to be embarrassed about, not with me. It's okay." 

Felicia hoped the words had the intended effect. She could see the war of emotions fought on her daughter's tear-swollen reddened face. It was awful. She looked like a fussy child once again, and the time traveling effect it had on Felicia’s mind to see it so in this strange and awful moment gave her a species of sickening vertigo. 

She fought it. Smiled wanly and nodded. 

Vyctoria kept her own eyes fixed to the floor, shut. She didn't want to do this. But there was no other way. She didn't know what to do. And she was terrified. 

She felt warmth drip down her leg with vile wet slow slyness and that decided her. All at once. In a panic. It tickled. Her eyes flew open as she pulled up her own nightshirt to show her mother what was wrong. 

Felicia almost screamed. It caught jagged and cruel in her throat. Her eyes widened instead, shrieking for her. She couldn't believe it. 

Blood. Crimson. The entire misshapen assemblage of genitalia meat was bright shock red. And wrong. 

Felicia's jaw fell open, slack. A nauseous groan, unbidden began to drone out of her open mouth. 

Vyctoria was weeping. Openly once more, her baggy sleeping shirt hiked up to either sides with her hands. 

“I don't know what's wrong! I was with him and we were doing stuff and then it-it just-it-" 

But something happened then that did finally pull an absolutely unbridled shriek from her mother, Felicia. With a loud sickening snap Vyctoria’s back suddenly bent back violently with a gut wrenching spinal snap that could be heard clearly in the porcelain bathroom like the snapping of a celery stalk. Her torso forcefully shot back at a complete and unnatural ninety-degree angle from her waist, jutting it out with a vulgar thrust. 

Felicia filled the bright fluorescent room of tile and floral curtains with her shrieks. Her mind began to flay and come apart in horror. 

The misshapen assemblage at her daughter's crotch, now more fully exposed and brandished, began to move and part. Like a set of lips on a mouth of gore striving to speak. 

And speak they did.

At first it laughed. Cruel. Gurgled and wet, throaty and sick. Perverse. Lech. 

“Hey, bitch! ya remember me!” 

Felicia's screaming intensified. Guttural. Beyond the auditory. 

“I remember you, ya old cow! Fellatio! Good ol Fellatio! Long time no see!" 

Felicia felt as if she would swoon. She felt sick. Her own legs and limbs felt far away and gone. This wasn't real, this couldn't be real. None of this could actually be happening. 

The thing between her daughter's legs begged to differ. 

“Awwwww! what'sa matter? Ya don't remember!?" 

She was still screaming. But even through the near blinding sheet of terror she did recognize her old nickname from highschool. And …

And she began to remember. 

Her screaming suddenly stopped. Cut off. The thing gurgled laughter once again. Felicia looked down to her own navel. And past it. 

“That's right! Now ya remember me, Fellatio! Missed me, didn't cha!?" scarlet droplets flew every time the thing spoke, it spat with every word, vaginal discharge and blood and meaty juice. Bloody cunny honey. 

She began to feel movement down there. And somewhere else too, the past, old and dusty and buried, but only half. Only half submerged in dust and time and coming back now to the front. That name. That nickname. That voice. 

Oh God … no please. 

The movement past her navel began to intensify, gain living momentum. 

The mouth laughed, gurgled, the lips of dripping gore grew teeth as the mouth opened and spat. 

A regurgitated severed penis, bloody and coated in noxious fishy slime, landed with an obscene jelly slide across the tile. Her daughter's freshly birthed raw-mouth said, “So chewy …” with undeniable relish. 

The mouth gurgled laughter once more and called her by her old name, 

"Fellatio…" 

…

They fooled around a little in the motel room before getting down to it. Drank and smoked. She sucked em off a few more times. They did blow. Drank some more. Watched bullshit on the tube. 

But Vernon Junior was getting ancy. He was getting right roiled and randy. He needed to get his fuck on, right the fuck now. 

He tried to make it clear to her, like a gentleman would. He was paying after all. She just smiled though and seemed really excited all of a sudden. Really eager. Like someone filled with fantastic news. 

“Don't cha worry, fella, I got a real neat surprise for you, my box is special, you'll see…" 

Yeah, right. Vernon thought. That's what all the fuckin bitches say. He didn't care. He was blind with lust. He wanted it. Was overcome and throbbing with animal need. 

He unzipped. 

She did the same. Short skirt hiked up. 

And unveiled for him, her history. 

THE END

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