Non Sequitur

On Mark's desk (side by side): rusty, trusty straight razor; coil of fishing line; surgical sewing needle swiped from the medical supply trash bin outside the local clinic; super glue; a serrated butcher knife from the kitchen; tin-snips.

On Mark's bed (on top of one another): the Dennisons' newly-installed next-door neighbor, not much older than Mark himself, a blonde with a tiny waist and fat-less curves over the rest of her body, who, an hour or so earlier, had stopped by with her infant daughter to introduce herself and was perfunctorily invited in by Mark for tea and a swatch of chloroform, and now lay on her back naked and sleeping, her head propped against the headboard, her hands tied to the headboard, and her legs tied together and spread open by a taut length of rope slipped under the bed and attached to each ankle; said infant daughter, also naked and sleeping on her mother's smooth belly.

Standing by the bed: Mark, fully naked, 4-inch penis so hard that it might actually measure 4 1/8 inches now, the head dripping pre-cum like a stone drain, as he fiddles with the video camera he just bought with the money from the first 10 or 20 cocks he sucked the other day through the glory holes in the back-room video booths at BJ's.

Mark pressed RECORD, then grabbed the butcher knife from the desk and prodded the woman's neck with it. As soon as her eyes popped open, she glanced from Mark to the knife to her daughter and let out a scream that would curdle anyone's blood but didn't curdle Mark's. At this, the infant also awoke and screamed at the top of its little lungs.

"Jesus, shut the fuck up." Mark laid the knife back on his desk. "You're really annoying. You've woken the baby up." He picked up the baby by its neck with one hand and looked into its eyes as its - and its mother's - screams abated into hushed sobs. "It's hungry." Mark looked at the woman. Then her cunt.

"No!"

"Baby's gotta eat." Mark shrugged. Then shoved the infant's face into its mother's cunt, moving its head until its mouth was firmly over the clit and suckling quietly.

The woman writhed, kicking her hips side to side, the baby's head slapping back and forth against her inner thighs. But to no avail - the baby sucked harder, refusing to let go of its new nipple.

"Jesus, woman, you're cruel."

"You're a sick bastard! Let us go. Leave my baby alone!"

Mark watched the baby suckle at its mother's clit and stroked his cock with its pre-cum lube. As his chode tightened a bit, he let go of his cock and slid his wet fingers between the baby's legs. His middle finger slipped inside its tiny vagina, and the baby released the clit from its mouth and howled. Another finger in and the baby screamed as its hymen broke, the blood pooling under it on the plastic sheet covering the bed.

"No!" The woman's wet eyes glared at Mark. "No!"

He slipped his fingers out of the baby, grabbed it, and laid it across the woman's belly. He spread its legs and glared at the woman as he positioned the tip of his cock against the baby's bloody vagina. The woman closed her eyes.

"You need to watch this," said Mark. The woman closed her eyes tighter, creating two wrinkly slits under her fair eyebrows. Mark stepped away from the baby and grabbed the straight razor and the super glue. "Which one's it gonna be? Either I use 'em on you. Or it." The woman's eyes opened wide and she shook her head. And barely struggled as Mark squeezed a thin strip of super glue over each top eyelid, pressing them up with his thumbs until he was sure the woman couldn't blink.

He chucked the glue back onto the table and regained his position behind the baby as it lay whimpering on its mother's stomach. Pushing its legs farther apart where its ass met its thighs, he forced his way into it with several brutal pelvic thrusts until his pubes were flush with its flesh. And continued pumping as he watched the woman watch him fuck her screaming daughter.

"Only a baby could feel that tiny cock," said the woman.

"Oh, she's feeling it all right," said Mark.

"You sick-"

Mark laughed and rabbit-pumped into the child several - hundred? thousand? - times until the baby's screams were the calm exhalations of an unconscious person fucked silly. And almost to death. As the vagina slackened, his dick swelled and pumped what seemed like a gallon of cum into the baby's cunt. He pulled out, grabbed the tip of his dick, and squeezed the rest of the cum onto the baby's ass, where he tried his best to inscribe his initials with the tip of his cock and his cum.

"Just kill her," said the woman. "And me." She sighed, her face dry from crying so much and being unable to blink. "Just kill us."

"Okay-"

Mark grabbed the tin-snips, held up the baby's right hand - "No!" screamed its mother - and quickly clipped off each finger and the thumb. After finishing the left hand, he gathered all ten digits and slowly crammed them into the woman's cunt. He grabbed the super glue once more and traced her labia with thick lines of it. Then held them shut until they could open no more.

He dropped the tin-snips on to the bed and reached behind him for the butcher knife. Turning the infant over, he lined the blade up with the lone line on its neck - "No!" screamed its mother - and drew a perfect parabola from ear to ear. He flipped the the knife over and sawed the baby's vertebrae with the serrated edge until its cold, hardening head fell off into his hand. He wiped the blade on the woman's left breast, pressing it hard enough so that it described a slit through her nipple, then set the baby's ahead atop her head, her hair soaking through with its blood.

He reached behind him, grabbed his straight razor, and very carefully cut a circle of flesh from the woman's shaking shoulder. He threaded the fishing line through the surgical needle, then squashed the baby's head onto the open wound on the woman's shoulder as he straddled her, his asshole resting softly and open against the baby's body under him. With the diligence and dexterity of a brain surgeon - or a cat burglar - he slowly attached the baby's head to its mother, sitting back to admire his craftsmanship when he was finished.

As the woman passed into unconsciousness, Mark grabbed the knife again and set to vivisecting the infant, quartering and dressing it like a wobbly chicken. After much tedious work that used up every millimeter of the fishing line and cramped his fingers at times, he finally tied off the last stitch and jumped up behind the camera, from where he gazed upon his modern-day, Frankensteinian creation, which was really nothing more than a splendid piece of art, in his humble opinion: the dead woman - was it a heart attack or a stroke or just nervous exhaustion? he wondered though he couldn't care less - decorated like a war hero - the infant's head on her shoulders, a double-headed, incestuous marionette; and its limbs scattered about her body, arms jutting from her knees, the tiny, hairless legs protruding from her armpits, its torso rising faintly from her stomach, a beautiful re-birthing no mother could resist, and all rinsed in a thick of coat of blood that was drying black.

He reached for the camera, his finger hovering over the STOP button. And his eyes fell on the 2 1/2 inch screen: PAUSE blinked in the corner. "Well, fuck me running," he laughed.