Jack the Hammer: Stallions Massacre Part 11

I am excited to share a brand new series written by my good buddy Dissonant Murmur. The first 12 Chapters will feature 'The Morecock Stallions Wrestling Team' and a brand new villian 'Jack the Hammer'. More chapters to come as the slaughter spills beyond the campground. 
As with the other stories on this site, they are NSFW, explicit and contain extreme horror and gore. They are purely fiction and we do not condone acting out anything contained within, in real life! If this is not your bag, do not continue. 
The series currently does not contain images but if anyone would like to share artwork in the future, please reach out.  Feedback and comments welcome below.  

Raise the Standard

Angelo sighed happily as he stretched out on the chair. The twenty-one year old was supposed to have met with the others for some kind of team building shit a while ago, but he had blown that off to enjoy something he actually wanted to do. Instead of trust falls or whatever crap the coaches had decided to use as this afternoon’s torture, Angelo was going to work on his tan. Laying out in just his shorts, the afternoon sun felt great on his muscular flesh. Nobody had come to grab him, so he guessed they did not really care about the whole exercise either.

Unlike the most of the team, Angelo trimmed his body hair instead of shaving it off. He always thought he looked more manly that way, so his lightly tanned skin still had a dusting of black chest hairs that fanned out across his broad pectorals before narrowing to a treasure trail that ran down the middle of his eight pack abs and led into his shorts. A similar dusting of dark hair grew thicker the further up his legs you looked. Angelo grinned as he flexed his muscles and enjoyed seeing how they popped out visibly. Some of his teammates and competitors complained about how wrestling with him felt like rubbing on sandpaper, but he did not care. He liked how he looked, he was not violating any of the rules, and he honestly did not care about the rules anyway. Besides, he was not a yeti or anything. He just had the strong, manly look of his Italian heritage, and, Angelo thought as he squeezed the bulge in his shorts, the salami to go with it. 

Working on his tan was a better use of his time than anything else around here, and Angelo hated when people started telling him what to do. His parents had made him go to school despite knowing he would never need a job, but he did not have to pretend to be interested in anything but wrestling and girls. If someone told him what to do, he would sometimes do the opposite just because he could. The same applied to the sluts he would date. Sometimes they would try to back out after he got his thirteen inch cock hard and ready to go, but those dumb bitches knew what they signed up for. They were taking his meat in one of their tight holes before the night was done, and he was not going to wear protection. Unlike his parents, no bitch was ever going to tell him “no,” and even if a bitch did, well, her mouth might say one thing but her cunt would take his big cock no matter what. A quick slap across the face usually did the trick, but a few times he would almost smother a slut with one of his big arms while they screamed. He kind of liked bitches who played hard to get more than the ones that did not struggle. The fighters gripped his dick so good when they tried to resist.

He shifted contentedly beneath the warm sun, and his shorts grew tighter as he reminisced. Sometimes the cunts moaned and came, sometimes the cunts fainted, sometimes both, but again he did not care. All he cared about was filling them up with his baby batter until his seed was dripping out of their well fucked holes. He lazily brushed a hand across his muscle sheathed torso, even bigger and better looking than the idealized musculature his Roman ancestors put on their armor. Yeah, one way or another, nobody said no to this Herculean body. Or to his godly cock, he added to himself when his manhood gave a lazy pulse and expanded a little more.

Maybe he should let the boys get some fresh air and sun too. He looked around the deck. Nobody around. Just him, the lounge chairs, and the retracted awning above. Besides, so what if somebody saw him? Taylor and Angelo had been cocks out earlier today, and everybody here already had seen him naked. Hell, they had seen him walking around the lockers with a full hardon before. He had never been shy about that sort of thing, and they had all jerked off together just yesterday. Fuck it. Angelo wiggled his legs into the air and slipped off his shorts in one quick motion. 

“Much better,” Angelo sighed, and yes, his paler thighs, fuzzy balls, and growing cock felt amazing outside the confines of his clothes. Maybe that bastard Taylor had the right idea about getting a full body tan after all, Angelo thought as the sun warmed his body and slight breeze licked away his sweat. He laid there for several minutes in a slight haze, just enjoying the feeling. His semi-erect cock twitched every now and again against his rippled, furry abs, a little reminder of the sexual hunger he was feeling that had not quite yet crossed the line into need.

Guess I should do the other side too, Angelo thought. He flipped his hunky body over, placing his face in the lounge chair’s hole, and let his broad form settle back into position. His lightly haired ass cheeks were pale hills beneath the wide expanse of his muscular back. He shifted a bit, letting his heavy balls drop lower between his toned thighs. His muscular legs stretched out while his strong arms fell off the sides. Oh, yes, this was nice too. 

However the position was not completely relaxing, which Angelo discovered as the minutes passed. His cock was now pressed into the chair by his heavy body. His every slight move changed the pressure, and he found the sensation much harder to ignore than the breeze had been. At first he had made slight thrusting motions every now and then in an almost unconscious response, but soon he started the moves deliberately. His dick quickly grew to its full size, a thick, heavy dick that had fucked more cunts than he had bothered to count. A part of him knew he should probably just turn over and jerk off, but an even larger voice told him this felt so good. Angelo was not one to deny himself something that felt good. His butt steadily bobbed up and down as Angelo gave over to the pleasure. Precum started dribbling all over the chair and rubbing into his treasure trail, but Angelo was beyond caring about getting messy. All he cared about was emptying his balls.

Angelo did not care if someone saw him, which is why he never noticed his killer calmly walk up to his rutting body. In one moment Angelo’s hands had steadying grips on the chair, and in the next moment Jack had Angelo’s hands ziptied together. The thrusting jock was so caught up in his fucklust that it took a little time to realize what was going on with his arms. For a split second, the wrestler was more annoyed that he could no longer thrust as hard with only the aid of his hips. The rope around his neck quickly focused his attention.

“What the fucking… ACK!” Angelo’s angry shout was cut off as the killer raised him up out of the chair by his neck. A sturdy rope that had been connected to the automated awning extender was now quite firmly attached to the muscular neck of a beefy jock named Angelo. One of his feet ripped through the chair’s material while the struggling hunk tried to find a stable purchase. Jack laughed at this, a harsh noise filled with cruel interest, before he yanked the chair off Angelo’s foot and tossed it to the side.

By now, Angelo was standing up straight. The noose was pulled tight enough that he could not slouch, but the wrestler’s air supply was not cut off, at least not yet. His tied hands struggled against the small of his back and upper buttocks, but he could not remove the ziptie or wiggle out of it. The awkward position forced him to push his large chest forward, like he was some chick trying to show off her tits, and his cock was still quite hard. His upward angled shaft wiggled in the air before his tight abs while Angelo tried to find some way out of this situation. Jack enjoyed the sight of the muscular young jock carefully but insistently trying to move his strong body back and forth, this way and that way, in a futile attempt to free himself.

Finally, the struggling young wrestler turned to the mask wearing killer and said, “Okay, shitface, you had your fun. Now let me go!” 

Jack responded to this by stepping forward and resting a hand on Angelo’s cockhead. “You’ve bragged about using this on lots of girls. Did you enjoy that?” the creepy voice asked while the hand gave the jock’s organ a gentle squeeze.

“What the hell are you talking about? Get me the fuck out of this! RIGHT NOW!” Angelo screamed.

“I asked you a question,” the killer said, as he slowly bent the wrestler’s shaft down and down some more until it was pointing straight out instead of its usual upward angle state. Angelo huffed in pain as the killer started bending it lower towards the ground. 

“OKAY! Okay, dude, yeah, of course I enjoyed it. Who wouldn’t? Now stop!” Angelo said, and Jack released his cock, which sprang back up and landed on the stud’s belly with a meaty thud. Precum sprayed the jock’s lower torso, adding to the already dried reside matted into his treasure trail, before his cock settled back into its usual position a few inches in front of his rippling abdominals.

“Glad we understand each other,” the killer said, “Now what about the girls? Did they enjoy that?”

“Uh… I mean, sure, they were asking for it,” Angelo began, but when the killer reached down and grasped one of the jock’s big balls in his hand, the young man broadened his perspective. “I guess some might not have at first, but they got into it eventually. Most of them came, I think, you know how hard it is to tell with bitch… girls, but I’ve got a nice dick and know how to use it and they didn’t complain the next day and…”

Jack held up a his hands to stop the jock’s babbling, “So you say they came on your big, fat dick, they didn’t fuss about it later, and that makes what you did okay?” the increasingly sinister voice asked.

“Yeah, sure. We both had a good time, and things worked out,” Angelo tried to nod before feeling the tightness around his neck.

Angelo could swear the killer was smiling behind that ugly mask, but all he knew for certain was the killer said, “I can work with that.”

The killer whipped out his own huge cock from his pants and started stroking it.  “Yes, I think you need a taste of your own medicine,” Jack said as if reading Angelo’s deepest fears.

“NO! Dude, stop! No, no, its different for guys, right? Girls gotta play hard to get, but you always know if a guy…” Angelo started babbling again as the killer moved behind him. The jock’s pale ass squirmed as he tried to twist away, but Jack grabbed the stud by his bound hands and held his victim still. Angelo tried to pull away despite the rope cutting into his skin, so the killer shifted positions. One of the killer’s hands kept Angelo’s hands pressed tightly against the jock’s back while the killer’s other hand reached around the stud’s body to pull the wrestler onto the killer’s shaft.

“Don’t… please, I can’t… I’ve never…” a small part of Angelo recognized his nearly incoherent pleas as being the same things many girls had said to him when he pressed his huge dick into their tight cunts, but he was more focused on the steady pressure being applied to his virgin asshole. “No, don’t, ACK! Oh, God DAMN! NO!”

Jack’s cockhead rammed into the hot interior guarded by Angelo’s tight hole. He waited there for a moment. The jock’s meaty butt squeezed at the intruder. The stud’s once virginal pucker alternated between trying to push out and pull in the killer’s thick cock. Angelo’s babble had given way to a high pitched whine, the rope around his throat and the killer’s hands keeping him in place while the jock felt like he was being split in half. Then Jack starting fucking the bound hunk.

“Uck!” Angelo gurgled as the killer started pounding his ass. The wrestler’s instinct was to pull away or fight back, but his air supply would be choked off if he did anything but stand as tall and straight as he could. Even if he wanted to stand perfectly still, Jack fucking him made that impossible, so Angelo was constantly off balance. The fuck was not gentle either. The thrusts were not those of a passionate lover nor even those of a quick and perfunctory coupling of strangers who would soon separate and never see each other again. No, this fucking was the taking of pleasure with no regard to the enjoyment of one’s partner. This brutal, unlubricated penetration was all about the rapid, careless use and abuse of one virile, muscle bound stud’s body.

Angelo knew this without any words being exchanged. He was being used just like he had used countless cunts in the past. It hurt, oh, God, it hurt, but whenever the killer thrust at just the right time in just the right way, stars popped in his vision. He knew about the prostate and how some guys got off with butt stuff, yet he had never even considered trying such things. It did not fit his manly image. He was the fucker, not the fucked. His big cock and strong body were signs that he was intended to be in control, to be the big bull, to be the alpha stud, to breed countless sluts until they could not walk and were pregnant with his fertile seed. His world had no place for some other stud to breed his ass, yet what was even worse was the way his cock would jerk when his rapist would hit that special spot in him.

Jack sensed this change, this despair, realization, and unwelcome awakening crashing through Angelo and taunted him by saying, “Angelo! I think you are enjoying this. Looks like I’m doing the right thing here after all. I wonder if you’ll cum. I’m not going to touch your dick, but you seem sensitive enough that I doubt you will need my help. Even if you don’t now, I promise the rope will take care of it eventually.” Briefly Jack changed his pace. His thrusts became short and twisting, maliciously rubbing his shaft against the wrestler’s prostate.

Angelo wanted to yell, but the rope and the fucking made even talking almost impossible. His cock had somehow hardened even more, and fuck, he was starting to leak. A steady stream of precum ran down his towering shaft and continued onto the balls that had helped produce it, and every time his rapist hit that special spot his dick burped up more juice. The pain was almost a steady, predictable thing now, but the white hot sparks of his joybutton being hit only grew in intensity. 

While both of Angelo’s hands were firmly held by one of killer’s own, Jack’s other hand now roamed his muscular torso. The fucking was as brutal as before, but this questing hand was, if not loving, at least admiring. Angelo sighed as the hand tweaked a nipple. Damn, have his tits... no, his pecs, his muscles, tits were for cunts, but have his nipples always been so sensitive or was this a result of his ass being reamed out? The hand squeezed the biceps and triceps of a bound arm. Hard muscles were massaged and twisted and pulled. Now the hand went lower, across and down his chest. Soon the killer’s hand was so close to his cock, so very close to his hard, leaking, throbbing cock that felt like it was going to explode despite not having been touched for several minutes now. Oh, God, if only his rapist would… but no, true to his word Jack just ran his hands up and down the deep grooves of his abdominals. Fingers repeatedly brushed the treasure trail that nestled like a forest between the mountainous ridges of his iron hard eight pack.

Angelo’s addled mind latched onto this feeling. He could be admired at least. Even if he was being fucked, even if his cock was uselessly waving in front of him, even if he could not move, he still had some pride. Angelo steadied his feet as best he could and started moving with the killer’s thrusts. He stopped shying away from his rapist’s touch. So what if this guy liked his body? Everyone should like his body. He had a great body that he had built up over the last decade. So what if no cunt was gripping his cock? He would still enjoy what pleasure he could. His parents forced him to go to college, so he fucked his way through the cunts on campus. Jack forced him to give up his ass, so he would use his smoking hot body to get out of this mess a little faster and maybe even get off in the process.

“Please, sir,” Angelo croaked out, “Fuck me! Harder, yeah, harder! Use me! Play with my muscles, daddy!” He started a new litany, trying to remember whatever chicks had said to encourage him to cum faster or what lines those slutty pornstars used when they were getting fucked. He squeezed his muscular butt as tight as he could, trying to grip the cock in his ass and get his rapist to cum. The killer started thrusting faster and faster. Shit, it was working. Angelo closed his eyes, just going with the motion, sticking out his pecs to let the hand tweak his nipples some more. Oh, yeah. Jack was close now, and damn, Angelo’s balls were pulling up too. Despite having no hand, ass, or cunt around his cock, he could feel his load reaching the boiling point. Soon they would both get off and this would all be over.

Jack suddenly stopped moving and said, “You stupid slut.”

Angelo moaned in disappointment, crunching down on his core and butt muscles to squeeze the cock in his ass. Come on, they were almost there.

“Did you think you were special?” the killer roared and sucker punched Angelo in his side. Angelo gasped and groaned as new pain flared up his torso. A slap caught Angelo around the ears, sending him to the side with a ringing pain. The wrestler tried to stand to get some air, but Jack started thrusting again. Angelo had only thought the earlier fuck was rough. Now the killer showed no concern for whether the jock could take in oxygen.

“You are nothing but meat! Those muscles you are so proud of are just meat. Your big cock is just meat. Your handsome face is just meat. Your tight ass is just meat. You are nothing but a meatbag toy for me to use just like you use your cunts,” Jack punctuated his words with thrusts, with punches, with slaps, with bites.

Angelo tried to scream when the killer bit down so hard on his broad shoulder that blood started seeping out of the gnawed flesh, but he could barely breathe at all.  

Jack yanked Angelo back and hissed in the choking stud’s ear, “You made this body for me. You and every other person here spent all those years pumping, primping, jerking, and fucking just for me to take it all away from you. Do you understand? You are nothing more than a pretty, dumb, meathead fucking sextoy for my cock, and when I am done fucking you, I am going to fucking kill you.”

Angelo wailed, but Jack thrust harder. Angelo could not beg, he could not pleasure himself or his rapist, he could not control when he drew breath. The fear and humiliation burned in him. He had to be more than a defenseless fucktoy, he thought, just as the killer moaned and shoved his cock in deeper than ever. A firehose’s worth of cum seemed to be flooding his worn out ass while Jack’s bloody fingernails clawed at his victim’s chest. The disgusting feeling tore its ways through the jock’s body. Angelo’s oxygen deprived brain accepted that he was just a plaything for this monster. Like a puppet, he responded when his master yanked him back on his string.

“AAGH!” Angelo shouted as his fourteen inch cannon finally released its load while his rapist’s seed was still filling his ass. Jack held the muscle bound jock steady now, not to help the stud enjoy his orgasm, no. The killer enjoyed the sensation of the athlete’s muscled butt milking the killer’s still hard cock. Angelo gasped and shuddered, and the connection between his prostate pressing against the dick in his butt and his seed spurting out into the warm air became seared into his mind. He had not been fucked, he had been bred. Another rope of cum arced into the air, and Angelo knew deep in his soul that he had been bred and forced to cream not because his rapist cared nor because Angelo had control over his own body. Another spurt barely left his cock before dropping to the ground. He was not a puppet, he was a pussy. A small load dribbled down his cock. Angelo almost sobbed as he realized his ass still wanted to feel his rapist’s cock move inside him. His erection throbbed pitifully, and Angelo was certain he would spurt some more if only the killer would fuck him again. Worse still, a part of him wanted it to happen.

Instead Jack pulled his cock out with a slurping wet pop. Blood and the seed he had deposited in Angelo now streamed down the jock’s muscular legs just like Angelo’s seed used to run out of the bitches he had fucked. The killer sat down on a chair, enjoying a break and the sight of the humiliated stud hanging in front of him. The rebellious young man would never fully recover from this experience, not that he had long to live anyhow.

“That’s a pretty big load, Angelo,” Coach Kevin Douglas said as he took off the Jack the Hammer mask, “But I’ve seen you do better.”

“What the fuck! Coach Douglas, are you insane? You raped me, threatened to kill me. When my parents find out...” Angelo stopped when Kevin used the remote control to raise Angelo up on his tiptoes. 

“You dumb kids never know when to shut the fuck up, do you?” Kevin sighed. “Don’t you worry. I will get out of here just fine. You on the other hand are not going to be so lucky. I’ve already handle most of the team, even Coach Applegate. Yeah, no lie! I promise. Scout’s honor. Cross my heart and hope to die. Well, hope for somebody to die anyway.”

The assistant coach chuckled as he stood up and walked around Angelo’s straining body. “You don’t know how often I wanted to fuck you wrestlers and then break your handsome faces, tear to pieces your big muscles, crush your big pricks and balls. All of you always flaunt these hot bodies of yours. Taunting everyone with the knowledge of what sex machines you are. Drove me mad when I had to listen as you and your teammates jerked off in the shower while telling stories about how you were swimming in pussy. Ha, if I weren’t already a little cracked in the head, you’d have driven me crazy anyhow.”

Kevin flicked tongue out for a quick taste of one of Angelo’s nipple and was almost rewarded with a kick in his side. However the attempt threw Angelo off balance, and Kevin just smacked the jock on his still leaking ass when the younger man tried to scramble back onto his feet. “Feisty. I told you we had some agreement between our philosophies, Angelo. We like it when they struggle. I just like to watch them die after I’m done fucking them. That’s all.”

The killer circled around his victim as he continued, “I wish I could have done this with all of you. Taken my time, fucked around, get up close and personal, chatted a bit. At least I get paid some good money for each one of you I snuff on camera. Some very wealthy donors to the college paid a lot of money to turn this place into an exclusive snuff video studio with some of the hottest studs on campus as the stars. Oh, damn, Angelo, you’re still hard as a rock.” 

Kevin grabbed his wrestler’s cock and stroked it a couple of times. Some cockslime from his last load was drooling down the jock’s manhood, but already some fresh juice was leaking out. 

“Yeah, Bill hooked you up with some good shit. Not that any of you had trouble keeping your cocks up after fucking, right? Still I suppose it helps keep you hard and sensitive while I’m biting chunks out of you.” 

Kevin stopped behind Angelo and fingered the bleeding wound where he had bitten the jock earlier. Angelo’s legs were starting to shake. There was a lot of muscle being held up by those toes, and the athlete’s thighs and calves were starting to give out. 

“I was worried when an alumni fund member approached me with evidence of me killing one of the wrestlers that disappeared at my last job, but they didn’t want to turn me in or blackmail me. They wanted to give me a new job with a payment that would set me up for life. Of course I jumped at the chance,” the assistant coach said before he stopped walking again with the control in his hand. 

Kevin wished he had more time, but he really should finish up here and leave at nightfall if he wanted to keep his schedule. Seemed a shame to rush things, but he did want these final young studs to go out with a bang. Angelo took in a ragged breath after Kevin lowered the noose a little. Now the muscular jock could at least stand with his feet fully on the ground. He drew another deep breath and tried to figure out some way to escape. His hands were still tightly bound. Maybe if he could get his legs around a chair or if Coach Kevin...

“I think its time to say goodbye, Angelo. Any last words?” Kevin said and held up the control a few feet in front of his victim’s face. His finger steadily moved towards the button.

Angelo barely had time to scream “FUCK YOU!” before his muscular body was pulled upward by the noose one last time. He tossed back and forth in a vain attempt to break the rope or grab something to keep himself up. His thick legs and feet kicked the air like he was trying to pedal an invisible bike. Up the hunky wrestler went until he was a good foot or two off the ground. Angelo probably regretted having such a strong neck and cardiovascular system now. No quick, easy death for this fit, sexy piece of hanging beef.

Angelo swung out his legs in an attempt to get hold of something. The killer was happy to see Angelo still had some fight left in him, though the sight of the jock’s large feet arching out in search of some kind of purchase made the killer wonder if he should not think up something to do with another studly victim’s feet. Kevin wondered how long those sturdy arches would last over an open flame or maybe a welding torch. His cock pulsed and leaked as he started imagining different scenarios while he watched Angelo’s incredible musculature struggle to somehow get free. Angelo’s kicks were becoming less coordinated, less planned but more desperate. His skin turned red, his face started getting blue spots. His body suddenly jerked.

As promised, the pressure of the noose around his neck and the lack of long cock to shoot another sizable load. Seizures coursed through his thick muscles, and Angelo’s torso worked like a bellows in a vain attempt to pull in some life-giving air. A gout of sperm splashed his crimson face, his expression now a twisted, agonized, but silent scream. Cum instead of air clogged his closed off throat. Another burst of jock juice splashed across his heaving pecs, and Angelo experienced the painful beats of his overworked heart and spewing cock in excruciating detail. His meaty buttocks flexed in time with his unconsciously thrusting hips. The athlete’s sculpted abs rippled and crunched as his last load splattered out to leave rivers of semen running down the jock’s shuddering muscle bound torso. Long after no more jizz emerged, Angelo’s large balls bounced in their sack and his big cock pulsed in the air in time with the thrashing of his muscular body. Finally, the wrestler stopped struggling.

Angelo was ready to die now. His orgasmic release had taken last of his strength, and he just wanted the pain to stop. His body trembled with involuntary shudders, but there was no real fight left in him. Everything was slowing down, his senses were fading. He would drift away, and he did not care if he died. His suffering would soon be over. Unfortunately he had just enough sight left to see his killer approaching again with a baseball bat in hand.

“Good, I hoped you would still be conscious for this part,” Kevin said. “I love pinatas.”

Then the killer brought the baseball bat sideways across Angelo’s torso. The wrestler tried to scream, but he had no air. Instead a deep groan emerged from his chest as his cock was crushed moments before the bat hit deep into his abs. Seconds later the bat came up between his legs, smashing the jock’s balls into a bruised mush in his sack. Angelo tried to move, to yell, to do anything, but there was nothing but pain. 

Crack! His left arm was broken, bone thrust out from the skin in a shower of blood. His cock was almost torn in half by the next swing, no longer a straight tower but instead a broken ship mast. His ribs shattered with the next strike. More bones cracked and tore through flesh while his body started spinning. Blood splattered across the ground in a circle as the broken body spun about. Smash! A wet thud sounded as raped buttocks were struck so hard a yellow-purple bruise immediately started to form. Another crack, this time a foot was hit hard enough to almost break off. Instead the barely connected foot dangled at an unnatural angle. 

Another strike popped up between Angelo’s dangling legs. With a sick pop, his ballsac ripped open. The smashed remains of the former stud’s cum factories burst against the bat before falling onto the ground. More blows rained down on once mighty arms. Biceps and triceps were broken with ever increasing force even while Angelo’s dying body swung more wildly. The remains of the jock’s manhood blew to pieces from a wickedly aimed blow that kept going to tear a bloody gash in the dense thigh muscles. A strike across the chest cracked more bones of which one splinter now broke out of the skin below Angelo’s torn pectorals. Kevin laughed and hit the same spot again to hear more beautiful sounds of crushed bone and muscle. Angelo felt himself spin around again as more swings rained down upon him. And another hit and another and another and another...

Angelo could no longer see or hear, but he could feel. The pain of his broken body shredded his consciousness as the killer cheerfully bashed the muscular pinata. The once rebellious young man was now a barely living sack of broken flesh. Angelo could no longer summon the will to care about his attacker or to live. There was nothing other than endless pain until the killer finally brought the bat overhead and cracked open the handsome jock’s skull.

Kevin wrinkled his nose as the corpse’s bowels evacuated onto the floor. The jock’s brains dripped down the bat and what was left of the wrestler’s body. Hiding the evidence was the least enjoyable part of this job, but the killer would not need to do any cleaning here. These remains would be gone soon enough. Still as he watched the broken body slowly rotate before him, he had to admire the young man’s fighting spirit. Angelo lasted longer than he had thought. 

“I hope it was as good for you as it was for me,” Kevin snickered and started to make preparations. The end was in sight.