Loose Lips Sink Ships

Loose Lips Sink Ships

(CW/TW: Rape, Extreme Language, Blood, Dismemberment, Extreme Violence, Sex, Sacrilege.)

Her Vagina sat exposed facing the river. Just above it. Welcome to the jungle.

Cherry took off her clothes and sat at the waters’ edge herself.  Her warm cheeks pressed hard against some cold rocks.  She lit up her joint again and took a few puffs.  “I’m so high.”  She put it out in her vagina and said “Hallelujah.”  She removed a small hand gun from a bag she was carrying.  Pressed it against her temple and pulled the trigger.  The noise cracked through the night.  A flock of birds flew up into the air. 

“Jesus Christ.” one cop said to the other as he found the body.  “We got another one.”

“Go fuck yourself.” She pulled it back out of his mouth and cocked back and threw it as far as she could across the rivers beautiful moonlight surface.  Another of God’s creations destine to be thrown away. 

He laid there at the waters’ edge.  Blue and purple dead, leaned up against some fair sized boulders.   An appendage in his mouth that would later be identified as his Penis.  Shirt pulled up and written in his chest in the blood of his severed Penis.  “Jesus loves ME this I know.”  The groin of his pants were saturated in a darker red blood almost black. 

            She squatted over him in the dark, only the moon a witness.  She had found solace in his death.  To make sure he was really dead she took a rock the likes that took two hands to hold and proceeded to bash him over and over until the skull sunk in a bit.   Like some witchy river creature, she squat there animal like, finding her path to God.  Holding his penis in her hands the last time ever.  Holding it backwards and squeezing it like a cake piping bag.  As the fresh blood shines under the shine of the yellow moon, it doesn’t look the same once it dries. 

            Sound of the river.  Rocks everywhere.  Stumbling in the dark.  He started to grow weak, tired, and faint.  Trees stare as a sacred congregation.  Not judging.  Not apathetic.  Just watching, there.  Too much blood loss.  The adrenaline and bloodthirsty revenge had run its course without finding a victim to retaliate against.  He was crashing down.  Swirling into the unknown.  Into the Abyss. “You know where you are? You’re in the jungle baby.  You’re gonna die.”

Running, crashing, under the side of the bridge.  Down to the river, babbling its peaceful song into eternity.  No one’s listening.  Dry dirt flying up.  Floating in the air.  Cascading down around each shoe print like a small volcanic eruptions ash coming down.  Sneaker and boot footprints and drips of blood. 

            “Come here you fucking Bitch!  I am going to FUCKING MURDER YOU when I get my hands on you!  You are SO FUCKING DEAD YOU FUCKING CUNT.”  He began to run across the bridge.  Entering the green steel beams like a serpent who might eat him.  The river below unaffected.  The moon reflecting beautifully.  All was at peace there.  Stumbling and hobbling as he attempted to run and catch her.  Every step becoming slight more difficult than the last.  There was no remorse or guilt or awareness he had ever done anything wrong.  He could only understand things as being done to himself.  Now he was a dickless mess.  He wouldn’t ever be able to appreciate the road he was on. 

            He was running out of the building.  She was coughing out blood from the back of her throat.  She waited there at the bridges edge calling out.  “Here I am MOTHER FUCKER, COME AND GET ME!”  She grabbed a joint from her pocket and light it.  The tip cherried.  She took a few drags and slipped one hand into the elastic waistband of her denim jean daisy dukes so that there was a few inch gap.  There was a blue cherry tattoo on the side of her lower abdomen just to the side and above her mons pubis.  She put out the cigarette into the tattoo.  From just everything she was so high.  And when you’re high you never ever want to come down.  Above her mons pubis in small cursive read “Welcome To The Jungle.”    

            She licked and sucked on him.  She was losing her religion.  She was gagging a bit and had the whole thing in her mouth.  It was in the back of her throat and then she bit down like a fucking bear trap snapping closed.  “AAAAGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”  He passed out instantly and slid down the bench seat.  A few minutes went by and she slapped him wake and used some sniffing salts to assist.  Dazed and confused he was looking at her not knowing what was going on.  She held his dick in her hand and jiggled it around like a dog toy.  “I bite your fucking dick off!  You want if back?  Come and get it Fido! Arf, Arf!”

In the back room behind one of the private dance curtains, she grinded up against him.  Her supple round ass in daisy dukes.  Ass cheeks hanging out.  Black fish net stalking running up her legs.   Gyrating and twerking back and forth bent over.  Bent over, grabbing her ankles, her hair hung over touching the floor.  Some music from the club still finding its way in.  She turned around and moved her hand up the inside of his leg and found him.  She began to move her hand around back and forth finding its shape.  Back and Forth making it hard.  “You want me to suck you daddy?”  A nod yes from the head in a shadowed corner of the booth.  She unzipped him and slipped it out.  “Oh you’re so fucking hard for me daddy!  I’m going to suck your cock like a fucking lollypop daddy.  R.E.M.’s losing my religion came on in the background. 

She was dancing on stage.  A man was in the audience she recognized.  A preacher from a cult church she used to go to as a girl, Cannibals of Christ.  Real fucking sick demented pervs.  They thought neither faith nor works could save you.  Only suffering would give you favor in the eyes of God.  Just like Jesus Christ.  This individual was the main Preacher.  Serpent of the devils tongue. She went up to him and worked her magic.  “Want a private dance? as she worked her way around him like a snake. 

Cherry was lead singer for Jungle Pussy.  It was a small band that was coming up.  They did covers of Guns N’ Roses Welcome To The Jungle obviously.  They had produced a few albums too.  Later their second album Swamp Fever would make it big, Pussy Jungle topping the charts for some time.

The girls were dancing up and down the phallic gold and silver poles strewn about the club.  The speakers were bass heavy.  Between the strippers and the music, the whole club was alive.  Gyrating with what seemed like its own beating heart.  The club was called The Velvet Chode.  Came under new ownership recently.  Before it had been called Paradise City and before that The Devils Poontang.  They had ladies night on Thursdays.  Some of the ladies and men could live out their fantasy and grind the velvet chode of the Owner/bartender if they wanted a private dance.  Also they had a few Sybian sex machines and third Thursday you and your friends could pay to see who could stay on the longest.  They called it The Buckin’ Bronco Fucking Rodeo and you got to wear a cowgirl hat and tit tassels and stirrups.  Nobody usually lasted more than three minutes but one time this six hundred pound lady came in and she sat down on that thing and she just stayed there for half an hour or so and that machine broke.  She just stared at everyone and never even flinched once.  When it was over she just got up and said “I’ve had better in a woman’s prison.” and then left with some skinny as a bone fellow wearing a cowboy hat.  I always felt worried for that man and hope he’s alive.

“Reaching for some pussy,

Someone’s going to push me,

Over the edge,

That’s alright,

Some Dickless creature,

Demented preacher,

Beseech me,

I want to fight,

You say my pussy is a must,

I say your dick is dust,

That’s alright,

That’s alright,”

Cherry played on stage lead vocal and guitar, with two female backups which comprised the band Jungle Pussy.  Cherry’s black afro bush jumped out the edges of her daisy dukes like a lioness attacking prey in the jungle.  Leopard leotards under fish net stalking, 80’s hair.   They looked like an 80’s female hair band that rocked.  She had tattoos of Elvis and Miley Cyrus on her inner thighs that appeared to kiss when her leg gap closed.  They both had the tongues from the original cover of Poisons Open Up and Say… Aghh!  The girls wore so much mix and match animal print clothes it did look like something had truly escaped from the jungle.  They had animal magnetism. 

Her hair glistened in the stage lights and the shithole strip club was getting more than its money’s worth with Jungle Pussy.  The sweat glistened and rolled of Cherry’s mocha colored breasts and her band mates rocked the house every time.  Everything moved in slow motion.  Somewhere in the flow of playing music space and time didn’t exist and everything just was being and ecstasy.  Nirvana. Liquids were secreting. Chemical orgasm.

Nauseous.  Memories raping her brain, no foreclosure.  They call it PTSD.  Sometimes it’s just remembering.  He was on her from behind.  It started with a private scolding which turned to inappropriate touching.  Next he was inside her.  He said her labia was loose.  He threw her clothes back at her when he was done.  Called her Loose Lips.  Under her lips she whispered, “I’m going to kill you one day Father.”  Dreams come true. 

Her parents had disappeared when she was twelve or thirteen.  She couldn’t remember.  They want on a missionary trip never to return.  After that sometime she had lost all that was really keeping her there.  She decided to make her move and run away at some point and did.  She had been living in the church at that point and the Preacher was able to make her obedient to the lord any time he wished.  He would lay with her and enter her from behind and tell her about Gods kingdom.  About how they would be in the kingdom together.  Two of Gods children. 

Blood was shooting from pipes in the ceiling of the church.  The congregation was drenched in Jesus’s blood.  It was a holy baptism.  The blood of Christ.  “May God bless and keep you always” said the preacher.  Blood soaking down the heads of the congregation.  Eyes covered like a baby.  Blood running into their mouths.  “Drink my children and be strong.”  They all held cups being filled with blood.  It wasn’t really Jesus’s blood, it was pigs blood mixed with wine.  “Drink from it, all of you. This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins.”  This was announced through the speakers on the wall like it was God speaking. 

They filled a cross with a cut out of Jesus and hung it in front of the church at a slight angle.  In it they filled it with different types of meat.  “This is my body, broken for you.”  They pulled it down and put it into the center of the church. “Take and eat.  This is my body.”  The congregation ate Jesus off the cross like pigs at the troth.   Some of the Catholics would be jealous.  They thought they were the only ones really eating and drinking the body of Christ.  What Cannibals of Christ had was the HD experience.  Some members jumped around joyously, flopping sausages in hand.  Covered in blood and wine.  One grabbed one like it was Jesus’s cock and was healed by the touch. Some speaking in tongues.  This was delirium.  This was a holy experience.  This was just another weekend at church. 

“Sinners, who has sinned this week?”  This was a pastor of brimstone and damnation.  “Who has chosen to live in the pit of fire for all of eternity?”  “Who has fallen short of the glory of God this week?”  “I stand before you all, and I think my whole congregation that stands before me will be damned to the eternal pits of hell and suffering.  So I have failed you.  I have failed you sinners.  You have fallen short, and so it must be I who has as your Shepard, led you astray.  If one of us must suffer, than all must suffer together.”  From there they would heat up hot coals and make everyone run across them barefoot.  All the congregation would scream at them as they ran across.  “Enjoy you trip in fucking Hell!”  Most would just make high pitch screams and yelps like demons, ear piercing.  Some would fall and roll around and get burned badly.  The madness of these people.  Not knowing they were insane.  This was Hell.  Cherry ran across.  The pastor slapped her on her sweet ass.

On Good Friday the pastor would be nailed to the crucifix and placed upon his head a crown of thorns until he bleed.  They would nail his hands which had scarring from the years prior.  They would lift the crucifix up and watch in silence from the pews.  In the ninth hour the pastor would say, “Eloi Eloi lama sabachthani?”  (My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?)  They would then lower the cross and that service would be over.  Only Cannibals of Christ had “The Truth” and all other denominations and churches were misguided by the devil and going to Hell.  People were afraid to leave because everyone had been brainwashed and turned against each other and you would lost everything if you tried to leave.  Leaving also was a certain damnation to Hell and the lost with all the rest. 

Cherry’s parents weren’t too bright.  She never liked going.  But she couldn’t ever leave.  Church and God were Hell and evil.  This wasn’t God she knew but no one else seemed to.  She never knew at first herself until she found a flyer stapled on the outside of a church building before anyone else had gotten to it.  “Are you in a cult?”  Are you subject to enforced giving?  This is called tithing.  Say they are the only true group, or the best.  Experiential rather than logical.  Not allowing their teachings or practices to be questioned.  Pushing you to obey by using guilt.  Demanding complete submission to the group and its leaders and its teachings.  This and many other techniques are used to recruit individuals into cults.  Their goal is to break your will by causing mental anguish.  Contact Cultwatch.com to find out more information if you may be in a cult and what to do.”

There was a charismatic preacher and smiling faces all around.  The congregation had been told to be extra nice to the newcomers and put on their happy faces.  There was a shark swimming just underneath the skin of the preacher.  White teeth all straight in rows.  Tall and muscular, dressed well and always smiling, chipper, social.  They were looking for a church that fit. 

That’s the fucking end mates.