Perfectly Wicked By Jason D. Karl, Chapter 3
Perfectly Wicked
By Jason D. Karl
JasonDKarl@proton.me
Author's Note:
This story is dark, twisted, erotic fantasy fiction about a gay vigilante killer with paranormal abilities. It is the product of the author's imagination and should not be construed as real in any way. This should be read only by adults of legal age. The story contains explicit gay sex and the type of violence found in vampire stories. Don't try this at home or anywhere else. That said, I hope you enjoy my twisted tale.
Note that this is an ongoing story, so it is necessary to read the chapters in order.
If the images don't work on your device here's a link to character images for this story.
Chapter 3
Kyle was eleven the first time Señora Marisol Navarro, his foster mother, caught him stealing. He feared she'd kick him out. He tried to explain he needed--no, they needed--the money.
Her response changed his life and he would never forget it. She looked at him. No judgment. No emotion at all. She knelt down, took off her eye patch, so he could see the wreckage left by her missing eye. "Boy, right and wrong, good and evil, that shit is the luxury of the privileged. It's all a lie. Look at me. I take in boys for money. I don't love them. I don't hate them. I just do what I gotta do. So, boy, you just do what you gotta do. I won't pay it any mind. But understand this: if I get a call about how you got caught doing something, I'll give you a whipping. Not for what you did, but for being stupid enough to get caught. In front of me, do whatever the hell you want, but you sure as fuck better never get caught out there."
Kyle took out all the stolen money from his hiding place, showed it to her, and offered her half. She only accepted a fourth as her cut. And that was that. Ever since that day, when he came in, he gave her a cut. She didn't ask where he got it. She'd never received one of those calls, so she was just fine with him.
He stayed. Countless other boys came and went, a few for up to two years, but only Kyle stayed. Now, even though he'd aged out of foster care and she no longer got a check for him, she let him stay. So, when he came in after killing thugs and robbing their remains or fucking for cash, he'd just hand her a cut. Nothing was asked. She had her secrets. He had his.
When he got in this morning, he gave her a cut. This time, however, he decided to give her all the money he'd taken off Jackson's corpse. If he were honest with himself, he didn't want it. Jackson was that revolting. She raised an eyebrow because it was far more than usual. But she didn't ask and he didn't tell.
He had enough money stashed away that he could easily get his own place, but he liked Señora Navarro. She cooked for him, did his laundry, and took care of him as if he were still a boy. They didn't love each other. No, that wasn't the right word for it. They understood each other. They were alike in some ways. Totally pragmatic. He sometimes suspected that she knew he could do some sort of magic. At the very least, she realized he would go days without sleeping and be none the worse for it.
She made him some sausage and eggs. While he was eating, she said, "That new boy I got in last week, Spencer, what fucking kind of name is that; well, he's all twisted up on account of being queer. That's why the welfare people had to take him, because his mamma beat him for just telling her he thought he might be gay. The kid's a virgin and already getting shit for being queer. Why don't you help him out? Suck him off or let him fuck you? You know, break him in a bit."
It was no hardship to Kyle. "Sure. Wait, how old is he?"
She looked at her papers. "Ah, here it is. He turned legal age when he was in the hospital, just before he came here."
"Huh? I don't get it. If he's legal age, why is he in foster care?"
"It's a new thing the city's been doing called 'Extended Foster Care.' They'll cover someone still in school even if they're eighteen. If they go to university, sometimes they'll keep covering them until they're 21--but they usually cut them off when they finish secondary school."
"I still think he's too young."
"¡Estás tan lleno de mierda!"
"Seriously? I'm full of shit?"
"Your gay ass is out on the street turning tricks and you think he can't have himself some dick? I always say if a boy is old enough to want some dick, he's old enough to get himself some dick."
"You never say that. Nobody says that. And what about girls? Should teenage girls go 'get some dick'?"
"Cock-sucking doesn't get anybody pregnant. Besides, I don't take in girls, so what the hell do I care what they do!"
Kyle was amused, but played at being frustrated. "Fine, you win, if the boy wants a fuck, who am I to deprive him!"
"Alright then." She paused for a moment, as if in contemplation. Then she said, "I think I'll give him some ganja. That pobrecito needs it."
"If you don't have any, I've got some in my room."
"No, that's alright. I just got a new milder blend for my stash. Might as well teach him to smoke it."
"Why would anyone want mild weed?"
"Because sometimes you wanna get wrecked and sometimes you just wanna take the edge off a little. Anyway, that's what they gave me at the Ganja Mart when I asked them for a starter kit."
Kyle smirked. "If he's still here, let's get him a bong for Christmas."
They both laughed. Kyle went back to eating his breakfast.
Sra. Navarro sat down beside him and sipped some coffee. "Oh, I don't know if you heard yet, but it's all over the news. That Bleeder struck again. Two of them this time. That Jackson boy and one of his cabrones. Good riddance, if you ask me. I hope he gets that asshole's preacher-man papá next time."
Kyle chuckled. "Something to look forward to."
"You know damn well that 'Reverend' Jackson takes it up the ass more than you do. Hell, he talks more about what the 'queers and homos' get up to than they do on the gay pornos. He's got a cock for a brain."
"How would you know? Do you watch gay porn?"
"Hell yeah, I do. Pussy doesn't do it for me. I like cock. With gay porn, you get two cocks for the price of one. That stuff's hot."
Kyle finished his breakfast. After a shower and a change of clothes, he was on his way out again. "I better go get--Spencer was it?" Señora Navarro nodded. "I better get him some butt plugs and toys from the sex shop."
Just as he was about to leave, she said, "¡Oye, mijo!" That brought him to a halt. Had he ever heard her call anyone "mijo"? He couldn't think of a single time she'd uttered that term of endearment. "Pobrecito?" Sure she used that, sparingly. But "mijo?" Never.
He turned and looked at her, but didn't say anything. There was no warmth or motherly affection on her face. She said, "What I said eleven or twelve years ago still applies. You do what you gotta do, but I'll still give your ass a whipping if I ever hear you got caught."
Kyle knew she wasn't talking about getting caught buying sex toys for a barely-legal teenager. No, this was something far more serious. It was the closest she had ever come to revealing she might know he was into things far worse than being a sex worker. He almost said, "Sí, mami," but thought better of it. Instead, he said, "You're the only one who ever caught me."
She said, "Well, let's keep it that way." That was as warm as she ever got. Tenderness from her was as rare as Amish whiskey.
"Okay." Then he left. He decided he would murder Reverend Jackson as a Mother's Day gift to her.
Half an hour later, Kyle had an epiphany. Fuck. He'd left a witness: that crony who ran off. He didn't know his name, where he lived, or anything. He was just one of Jackson's men. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. The cops would be investigating, so he couldn't ask around. He had gone out of his way to have a fantastic alibi. People had been there when Jackson called him the f-word a year ago, so he wanted to make sure he could "prove" he was elsewhere at the time of the crime. But a witness? That would be bad. Shit. Damn. Fuck. Motherfucker.
No, wait. He relaxed a bit. Yes, tonight would be the full moon. Okay, technically, the full moon would be about 2:30 this afternoon, so he'd get the magical jolt sometime tonight. It might give him enough power to track Jackson's goon. But he'd better boost himself up. He had a nooner scheduled with one of his regulars and the Tyrone guy at the sex shop was always good for a blowjob. That would leave just enough time for a couple of quickie murders. Altogether, that should just about max out his magical reserve.
§§§
"Charles" was the name that Kyle's nooner went by when hiring his affections. Kyle knew, but didn't care, that he was really Tajiri Mashoga, a 55-year-old wealthy gay man originally from Tanzania. He had a medium-brown complexion and dressed a little nerdy. Like most of Kyle's regulars, Charles was in the closet.
They met at their usual hotel suite. It wasn't a great hotel, but for the amount of money Charles typically paid him, Kyle would fuck on a church altar during mass. They both knew it was a business transaction, so there was no pillow talk. They usually just fucked and scheduled the next session.
Still, Charles had always been nice about it. He hadn't ever called Kyle "bitch" or "slut." No, he always called Kyle "Boy" or "Brujo" (his street name). In return, Kyle hadn't murdered him--though, strictly speaking, Charles didn't know about that potentiality. Kyle had, in fact, killed a few of his former johns for calling him the f-word.
Nice or not, this was still just sex work, so they skipped any preliminaries or foreplay. They both stripped naked. Kyle sucked his cock a while. It had the just-right size for sucking too, a perfect mouthful. Charles's cock had, Kyle would swear, a taste like chicken fried rice, full of MSG goodness, so he actually enjoyed sucking Charles.
Kyle didn't understand how or why it worked, he only knew that the better the sex, the more it fed his magic. Kyle used just a tiny bit of his magic to edge Charles.
"Goddamn, Brujo, you got a golden tongue."
Kyle licked his way down Charles's taint. Like any sex worker who wanted to stay in business, Kyle was putting on a bit of a show. He'd rather suck cock or tongue-lave some balls; but, he knew what brought in the money with this john and that was rimming. So, he slathered his way down and lapped in earnest.
Charles moaned and began to utter the sort of prayer that is never heard in church. "Oh my fucking god. Oh shit. Goddamn. Fuck me. Fuck me, Brujo boy."
Kyle slapped on some lube and pushed inside. At first, Kyle thrust with a gentle, easy-does-it rhythm. But Charles soon said, "Harder, fuck me harder." Kyle obliged, slamming his cock into the older man's ass.
Kyle didn't let it last much longer than that because he had places to go and people to kill. Charles came hard, unwittingly feeding Kyle a meal of magic.
"You're a fucking animal, boy."
Kyle smiled. "That's why they pay me the big bucks." He collected his fee, scheduled the next session, and was off.
§§§
The adult bookstore was not far from the hotel, so Kyle decided to walk because he needed time to think. He really did need to kill today. But who? He usually had a mental list of a dozen or so people who needed killing, so he just needed to pick a couple.
His musing was cut short when who should he meet but Detectives Skiderik and Klootzak, who were clearly pulling a double shift. They were canvassing the neighborhood. It would seem that Reverend Jackson was offering a reward for, as Skiderik phrased it, "Information leading to the arrest of the killer or killers of his beloved son, David Jackson, Jr., and his dearest friend, Wilmer Pislik."
When they tried to hand him a flyer, Kyle said, "It's sad what happened and I hope you catch the guy. But I was working last night, as you may recall."
Klootzak said, "You just keep your mouth shut about that, 'Brujo'."
What a load of shit! They'd fucked him in their squad car in front of a crowd of witnesses. Rather than call them on their bullshit, Kyle decided to remain decorous. "I'm a licensed sex worker: the identity of my clients is privileged information. I keep their confidence."
Skiderik sneered. "What you are is a whore and a..." He uttered the word. Skiderik called Kyle the f-word, thus signing his own death warrant.
Kyle walked off. He'd have to wait before he murdered Skiderik, so as not to leave a trail. But detective or not, nobody called Kyle that word and lived. He'd give it four months and then he would...
No! To hell with that!
Today was the day of the full moon. The exact minute of which was maybe an hour away. That meant Kyle's magic was at its most powerful. If he focused, he might just be able to kill Skiderik from a distance. Kyle walked two blocks away, turned a corner, and sat down on a bus stop bench.
He had never done this before but he was so pissed that he would try. He opened himself to his magic and used it to expand his awareness. He so easily found Skiderik's tiny little mind. And what was this? An Easter egg? Not exactly, but it would seem the detective had an aneurysm about to go off. Kyle made it pop. He felt the life drain from Skiderik as it nourished his magic. Bam! His magical reach got that much stronger.
And he didn't even have to burn through his alibi to do it. After all, the squad car's camera had recorded his sexual romp with the detectives and now the investigators would be sure to see that timestamped footage. Sure, they might ask some questions since Kyle was one of the last people to see Skiderik alive. But that was nothing to worry about since it would be shown that poor Skiderik died of an aneurysm. Boo hoo. Oh, boo fucking hoo.
Kyle laughed.
His elation soured a bit when he thought of Jackson's flunky, the one who had run off, leaving Jackson to be brutally murdered. Kyle was guessing the man would be hiding out, trying to figure out what to do. He probably wouldn't run to the police right away. But, if they questioned him, he'd talk. Still, Kyle was pretty sure he had some time.
So, okay. He just needed to stay calm and finish juicing his magic up. He had a plan. He already had a quick fuck and committed a murder. Now, he just needed to get a blowjob at the sex shop and maybe kill an extra someone on his list.
This evening he'd do what Señora Navarro asked. Mostly. If Spencer didn't initiate sex, he wouldn't press the issue. But if Spencer really did want to lose his virginity tonight, so much the better.
Thank you for reading my story. I have plans for at least 20 chapters, if anyone is interested. Please let me know if you think I should continue it. Comments and suggestions are welcome.
My other story on Nifty is "A Hankering for Pecker" which is a comedy about an 18-year-old who comes out to his hillbilly father.
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/a-hankering-for-pecker/
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