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X-Himmel: "KidSnuff Incorporated[tm]"
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Subject: KIDSNUFF $002 -- "The Intruder" -- (Mm, nc, rape, sodom, pedo, snuff, pedoshuff)
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Date: Mon, 21 May 2007 02:26:30 -0600
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===================
KIDSNUFF $002 -- "The Intruder" -- (Mm,nc,rape,sodom,pedo,snuff,pedoshuff)
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ORIGINAL PUBLICATION DATE: 09:52:25pm EDT, Thu., 29-Sep-1994.
FILESIZE (Approximations): 413 Lines, 22,416 Bytes, 21.9K.
ARCHIVE-NAME: KidSnuff.002 is the name under which this file should be
stored by archivists.
CONTENT: This story depicts the forcible rape and murder of a young boy
by a grown man, and is only intended for consumption by those 18 years of age
or older. If you are offended by this material or are underage, please skip
this article NOW.
STANDARD DISCLAIMERS: "The Intruder" is *fiction*. All poeple, places,
and events in it are imaginary; any resemblence to reality is coincidental.
NO CHILDREN WERE, NOR HAVE ANY EVER BEEN, HARMED IN THE COURSE OF WRITING
THIS OR ANY OTHER OF THIS AUTHOR'S STORIES.
This story is offered in the hope that it may provide a catharsis for
those hapless individuals -- this author included -- who, whether by random
accident of malicious fate, the dark and capricious decree of a malevolent
God, or otherwise, are cursed with a sexuality which only finds pleasure in
fantasizing about the violent rape, torture, and murder of small boys. It is
this author's hope and intention that such unfortunates will derive their
pleasure from reading this article, and not from other, more destructive
means. THIS TEXT IS *NOT* INTENDED TO PROMOTE OR TO CONDONE THE COMMISSION
OF ANY CRIME!
COPYLEFT: This E-Text may be freely reproduced and redistributed, so
long as credit in authorship is properly given to KidSnuff Incorporated[tm].
FEEDBACK: Comments on this story are welcome, flames will be cheerfully
ignored. Either way, please send them to the current newsgroup; this article
is NOT being posted under a valid return E-Mail address.
-=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=- -=-
Story $002:
*** The Intruder ***
Copyrighted (C) 1994 KidSnuff, Inc.
For the third time that day, the Man masturbated as he read the
Article. The vicious sex-killing of ten-year-old Gregory Hirsch in Idyll
Springs had thrown the state into a panic. The case had been quite
spectacular, and even though the police had a suspect, no one really
expected the case ever to be solved. That had been three months ago; but
people everywhere were still fretting and fearful.
The Hirsch boy's murder had been reported in great detail, thanks to
an intrepid reporter, who had managed to obtain a crime scene report from
an anonymous police informant. This had caused the police no end of
consternation, as they had desperately wanted to keep certain details of
the murder secret, to aid in the identification and prosecution of their
suspect, assuming they ever caught him. But for the Man -- the Suspect
himself -- the level of detail which the Article provided was a godsend, a
thrill, a special treat; an ecstasy beyond measure. It was almost like
reliving the incident all over again!
The Man came suddenly, and lay back with a sigh, enjoying the
sensation to its fullest. But after a few minutes, he sighed, reluctantly
pulled up his pants, zipped himself, and returned to the front seat and
started the panel truck. He didn't want to stay here too long -- just in
case -- and besides, if he hoped to get another victim today, he'd have to
get going and put his Plan into motion; there wasn't much of the day left.
For the Man, who was never long content with a single Modus Operandi
(and wary of staying with one for too long anyway), had decided to Try
Something New & Different. His Plan: Find some Cute Little Boy sitting at
home alone, present himself as a Meter Reader, enter the House on the
pretext of reading the water meter, then Overpower, Strip, Rape, Beat the
Living Hell Out Of, and then Kill the Little Brat in its own bedroom, and
at his own leisure. The mere thought of this was enough to bring a bulge
to the Man's crotch; he could barely restrain his excitement!
* * * * * * * * *
What had made all of this possible had been a sudden lucky break:
Shortly after coming to town, he had stumbled upon the Dellwood Municipal
Water Company. The company parking lot was filled with panel trucks, each
with the Dellwood Water Company logo on them. Here, observation revealed,
employees reported for work each day, parked their own cars in Lot A, and
drove out in a company truck signed out from Lot B. From there they would
go out into the community, to install, inspect, or repair equipment, to
read meters, or to make whatever water main repairs or inspections were
necessary. And it didn't seem to matter which truck they took, either --
trucks were logged out on a first come, first served basis. For the Man,
it had been too good an opportunity to pass up.
So the Man had abandoned his Volkswagen Beetle, and that same night
had paid a visit to the Dellwood Water Company. He had once been a
locksmith, so he had very little trouble gaining entry. And when he left,
he took one of the panel trucks with him -- along with a spare uniform
from the main building. With these new tools, it would not, he hoped, be
very long before yet another Cute Little Boy came under his kindly
influence!
* * * * * * * * *
So now the Man drove the streets of Dellwood. What he was looking for
was some sign of a child -- no, of a BOY -- at home alone. It was almost
four o'clock in the afternoon; the schools had closed for the day over
half an hour ago. On the other hand, most businesses would not close until
five; so all the little school kids would be home, but not their parents.
It was the typical "Latchkey Child" setup.
Not long afterwards, the Man came upon the house at number 483 Harper
Terrace, the middle-class home of the Thriff family. The house was
conveniently located on the end of the street, and had no neighbors on
either side. Here the Man beheld a boy's bicycle lying on the front lawn,
and an empty driveway lying before an empty garage. The Man smiled
broadly, sighed with a delighted anticipation, and parked at the curb. A
minute later the Man emerged, carrying a toolbox and a clipboard, and
approached the front door. It was eleven minutes past four.
* * * * * * * * *
The boy inside the house on this fateful day was named Randolph
Thriff, Randy for short. He was twelve years old and very small for his
age -- he never had any trouble claiming the children's admission price at
the amusement park -- with short, straight, limp dark hair, a fair
complexion with only a tiny hint of freckles, and soft, laughing brown
eyes that seemed to take in everything. At the moment, they were focused
on a mathematics textbook that sat in front of him on the kitchen table.
To the right of this was a worksheet containing the answers (not all of
them correct!) to the first sixteen of twenty problems in long division --
in short, his homework. From time to time, the boy would stop and sip the
cup of hot cocoa that sat at his left elbow. A few feet away, a television
screen displayed a Bugs Bunny cartoon. Surrounded by these minor comforts,
young Randy was still agonizing over nine sixteenths divided by seven
twelfths, when the doorbell rang. Randy sighed heavily, pushed his book
aside, got up, and went to see who was at the door.
It was not as if Randy was unschooled in home safety, it is only that
he'd had little occasion to practice it. Also, to be told not to do
thus-and-so in such-and-such a situation is one thing; to be actually
CONFRONTED with that situation is quite another matter, and Randy was by
no means sure of himself. And unfortunately, Randy's father had admitted
meter readers into the house on many occasions. Now the Polite Uniformed
Man was explaining to Randy that unless he was allowed to read the meter,
his father would be sent a very large bill -- ("Boy," thought Randy,
"would THAT ever make Dad mad!"). And so, in what would be the
second-biggest mistake of his life, little Randy Thriff opened the door.
But the Man was cautious, and did not spring his Plan at once. He
needed to be sure that this boy was alone. "Hi there, young man," he
began, conversationally enough. "I need to see your water meter. In the
basement." And, as Randy led the way, "What's your name?"
"Randy", said Randy.
"Uh-huh. How old are you?", the Man asked.
"Twelve", Randy replied.
"You got any brothers or sisters?", the Man asked.
"Uh... no.", Randy replied, a bit uncomfortably this time.
As they passed through the house, the Man noted that only the kitchen
seemed to be lighted. "I have a form for your Dad to sign," he said,
looking around, "He still at work?"
Randy was growing more and more uncomfortable with giving away so
much information; and he knew that he should NOTbe revealing that he was
alone. Trouble was, he saw no way to avoid it -- it seemed pretty obvious
that no one else was home! In fact, had Randy said that his father or
mother was ASLEEP UPSTAIRS, the Man would have ground his teeth, completed
his fake meter reading, and left in a hurry. He could NOT have taken the
chance that Randy might have been telling the truth. But Randy had never
been taught to say this, and he did not think of it himself. Indeed, it
would never have occured to him. And that is a great pity: for if he had,
it would probably have saved his life.
"Um... yeah, he's still working.", said Randy.
"Oh", said the Man, feigning disappointment. "Well then, how about
your Mom? Is she working too?"
"Y-Yes," Randy admitted reluctantly, "she is."
Opening the door had been Randy's biggest mistake. This one was his
last; the Man's eyes glowed.
"THAT, my Cute Little Friend, was all I needed to know," the Man
said.
A second later, Randolph Thriff found himself with one of the Man's
arms under his chin, and a knife at his throat! He started to protest --
and promptly felt the bite of the knife tip pressing against his skin.
"Upstairs, my little Brat", the Man hissed, "To your bedroom."
Randy, now almost frozen with terror, was forced to lead the Man up
the stairs, down the hall, and into his room.
It was a typical boy's bedroom -- posters on the wall, a globe on a
desk, books in a bookshelf, a stereo atop a bureau, a bed and nightstand
near a window, a Teddy Bear perched on a chair. A Certificate of
Membership in the Junior Vampire Club adorned one wall; a poster depicting
the landing of Apollo XI adorned another. The Man shoved Randy inside,
slammed the door behind them, locked it, and closed and lowered the blinds
on the windows.
"Get over there!", the Man said, forcing Randy to lie face-down
across his bed.
At this point, the Man put the knife away. He kneeled atop Randy's
back, and held one of Randy's arms twisted behind him. "Now, just you lie
still, brat!"
With his free hand, the Man pulled from his pocket a large roll of
gauze and some pliable wire. With practiced ease, he shoved the gauze into
Randy's mouth, pulled off Randy's red checkered shirt -- tossing it to the
floor -- and used the wire to bind Randy's hands very tightly behind his
back. Next, the Man undressed Randy, removing Rebok sneakers, brown socks,
denim bluejeans, and brown-trimmed tan underpants, tossing each article in
turn onto the bedroom floor behind him...
When Randy was quite naked, the Man flipped the boy onto his back,
and laid him lengthwise on the bed, and surveyed his victim. The boy's
skin was soft, smooth, white, and hairless; the two nipples pink and firm.
On impulse, the Man reached down and tickled the youngster's belly button;
he squirmed. The Man took note that the boy was an "innie". Slowly, the
Man ran his hand down along the boy's soft, smooth chest and stomach;
again the boy squirmed, probably from ticklishness. Randy stared anxiously
at the Man the whole time. At length, the Man decided that it was time to
stop admiring the merchandise and get down to business.
As Randy watched fearfully, the Man withdrew a length of
parti-colored, "neon" shoelace from another pocket. Now the Man clambered
atop Randy, with some difficulty, sitting astride the boy's stomach and
facing his feet. Wordlessly, the Man formed a loop in the shoelace, and
gently draped it loosely over Randy's tiny, limp little penis. Then the
Man began to masturbate the youngster.
Reflexively, involuntarily, an erection was formed, and Randy shifted
uneasily. The sex drive of a pubescent boy is a strange and wondrous
thing, apt to find arousal at even the most inappropriate times;
amazingly, even in such circumstances as these, and quite despite himself,
Randy found himself aroused. The Man saw Randy's arousal, too. "So you
like it, huh kid?", he said, bemused. "Well, just wait and see what
happens." He continued to masturbate the boy, until at length an orgasm
was imminent -- but at the very instant of Randy's climax, the Man
suddenly and with tremendous, savage ferocity, pulled the shoelace taut,
instantly and tightly closing Randy's penis off at its base. Randy's
muffled scream filled the small room, and the youngster convulsed in
agony. Gleefully, the Man tied the shoelace several times, very tightly;
then finished up with a large and fancy bow. Randy's penis, now engorged
with entrapped blood and fluids, was now a huge, swollen, misshapen purple
mass.
The Man stood up, and raised Randy up off the bed just enough so that
he might see his penis for himself. "Take a good look, at it, kid", the
Man said. "'Cause THAT'S the way they're gonna find you.", the Man jeered.
Next the Man flipped Randy over onto his stomach, crosswise on the
bed this time, and quite uncomfortably because of his penis. Randy craned
his neck and watched, sobbing apprehensively, while the Man undid his OWN
belt, and dropped his OWN pants and underwear, and revealed his OWN penis.
It was huge and hard, for the Man was now fully aroused. The Man shoved
himself up against the little boy and began to sodomize him, forcing his
penis DEEP into Randy's anus, shoving in, shoving out, shoving in... Randy
groaned with renewed agony, and thrashed furiously but vainly against his
tormentor.
The Man came suddenly, spilling semen deep into Randy's anal cavity;
Randy could feel the hot fluid as it shot inside him. Randy cried lustily.
After a long moment, the Man extricated himself, and sat down next to
the whimpering little boy. "So much for THAT", the Man said, smiling.
"Just wait'll you see what's next!" He grinned vilely.
The Man flipped Randy onto his back again and began to squeeze the
child's testicles. This was absolutely excruciating (it is a form of
torture in many countries) and Randy writhed and thrashed about in agony,
his muffled screams filling the room once more.
Mercifully, the Man became aroused again a few minutes later. This
time however the Man did NOT flip Randy over, but knelt over his stomach
instead. "Suck on my dick, you little brat", the Man hissed, "or I'll take
my pliers and crush your little rocks completely!" Randy dared not
disobey, and within minutes, the terrified and miserable little boy was
swallowing the Man's semen.
But the Man was not quite done, even now. After this oral rape, the
Man got down again and this time fetched the toolbox he'd entered the
house with. From this, he withdrew a tire-iron -- and began to beat little
Randy savagely...
* * * * * * * * *
At long last, the vicious beating was over. Randy lay half-dead upon
his bed, face-up, stark naked and sweaty, moaning faintly. Bruises covered
the child's body from shoulders to thighs, skipping only the genitals (the
Man was not into mutilation). The Man found himself feeling fully
satisfied; and that meant that it was now time to finish the job. Taking a
deep breath, he reached down, picked up Randy's bluejeans, and removed the
brown leather belt from them. He dropped the jeans, and fashioned the belt
into a loop. Then he reached over and jerked the limp and helpless child
roughly off of the bed, so that he sprawled, face-down, heavily onto the
bedroom floor. The Man stood a moment in contemplation; then, stooping, he
slipped the belt slowly over Randy's head and began fitting it around the
boy's neck...
Despite all the pain, Randy was still at least vaguely aware of what
was happening tp him; but his spirit had been broken, and he now no longer
cared. He knew he was about to die, but he did not resist at all. If
anything, he welcomed death gladly, knowing that for him, at least, it
would finally be over...
Now the Man inserted the tire-iron through the belt, and began to
twist. The belt tightened upon the Randy's throat, and the boy thrashed
and convulsed. More and more tightly did the Man twist; and still the
child writhed and convulsed upon his bedroom floor. Then at length, after
five or six violent shudders, the boy lay still. Unconsciousness. Now the
Man inserted the tire-iron through the wire which still bound Randy's
hands behind his back, so that now the Man no longer needed to hold onto
it. Now, the Man could sit back and catch his breath. After a moment, he
pulled up and fastened his pants, and then took a pair of cloth gloves
from his pocket. Wearing these, he began wiping his fingerprints from all
the places he might have touched -- not so much as a serious precaution,
as for something pass the time. By the time he had finished, a good ten
minutes had passed, and little Randy Thriff was dead.
Using the gloves, the Man removed the tire-iron and stowed it back in
his toolbox; but did not remove the belt from Randy's neck. He flipped
Randy's dead body over onto its back again so that its still-swollen penis
was visible once more, then spread the child's legs slightly apart.
Finally, unzipping his pants and bringing out his penis, the Man
masturbated, splattering the naked little corpse with his semen.
The Man sighed with contentment, zipped his pants, gathered up his
things, and went to the bedroom door. Just before leaving, he turned
around for one last look back. Sprawled face-up before him on the bedroom
floor was the naked, savagely beaten, and strangled body of
twelve-year-old Randolph Thriff. His hands were bound tightly behind his
back, his mouth was gagged, his eyes were wide open and staring blankly
upward, his cheeks were tear-stained, his penis was grotesquely swollen
and tied with a multi-colored bow, and large globules of seminal fluid
glistened and dribbled here and there along the entire length of the tiny
corpse. Elsewhere, he boy's clothing lay scattered all about the room;
the blinds were closed, and the bed was in disarray. The Man smiled:
perfect.
And then, quite simply, he left. He walked out as calmly as he had
entered, climbed into the panel truck, and drove away. It was almost ten
minutes to five.
* * * * * * * * *
Randy's father usually got off work before his wife did, and so he
came home first. Upon entering, he found the T.V. blaring, but now it
showed a talk show (something Randy hated). Nearby was a cup of cold
cocoa, and an unfinished page of homework -- but no Randy. Puzzled, Mr.
Thriff called out for his son, and got no answer. Now increasingly uneasy,
he began wandering the house, looking for him.
It wasn't long before he found him. It was five thirty.
* * * * * * * * *
Photographs had been taken, prints dusted, and the small body covered
and taken away. Merely from the appearance of the body, the police were
almost sure that their Suspect had struck again -- from that, and also
from his Volkswagen Beetle, which had been found abandoned on the
outskirts of town. Now all they had to do was find the Suspect himself --
preferably before he struck again!
But the police were stymied. There were no witnesses, no nearby
neighbors who might have seen or heard anything. Since the Man had
abandoned the Beetle, they knew that he must now have some different means
of transportation... But what? Five or six vehicles were stolen inn
Dellwood each week, usually on joyrides, and they couldn't be sure that
their Suspect had stolen ANY of them! The police detective shook his head;
it looked hopeless. Perhaps the autopsy would turn up something
interesting...
And in point of fact, it did. As the medical examiner gently
disengaged the shoelace that bound Randy's penis, the pressure within it --
which had held the swollen the penis shut -- was abruptly released. And
because Randy had been in the act of an ejaculation at the time, a jet of
semen now spurted from the youngster's dead penis and onto the clean,
shiny chrome of the examining table.
The astonished medical examiner shot Randy a very queer look indeed!
* * * * * * * * *
The funeral was held six days later. Randy was buried with his
favorite Bear and the farewells of half the town. Also with their fears,
for his killer had not yet been apprehended...
...And the Man drove on. And he smiled to himself as he drove. After
all, it had been a full and exciting day, all of Dellwood was his
playground, and he could hardly wait for tomorrow!
***** The End *****