Free Like Porno for Psychos by Wrath James White Page A

carving knife from the drawer. She looked at it, watched it shimmer and shine in the morning sun, then she shoved it back in the drawer and took out the slender filleting knife. She imagined what Hank would say when he saw her with all that disgusting fat finally off.
    He was always telling her that she was beautiful, that she was just fine the way she was. He even tried to tell her that she was losing too much weight and needed to eat more. He pointed out other women on the street and in magazines and told her that she was skinnier than all of them. But Tina knew. She knew that no one was calling them “Lard Ass.” She knew that Hank would love her more without the jiggling ass, and corpulent thighs, the hideous bulging layers of fat. She knew how to get rid of it all once and for all.
    The blade cut deep and Tina had to bite down on a dishrag to keep her screams from being heard. She sawed deep; cutting through the flesh of her thighs and removing layers and layers of tissue. She’d been right of course. Once she started, she knew there was no way she could stop. She wanted it all gone. When she saw the gleaming white bone poke it’s way through the layers of bloated flesh that had covered her thigh she smiled. Now all she had to do was get it off the rest of her body, then she would be skinny, then she would be happy, then no one would ever call her “Lard Ass” again, then Hank would never look at other women. She scraped the blade down her femur removing more and more flesh as she screamed into the dishrag and tears of joy ran down her face.

According to the priests and preachers and conservative moralists, everything about him was an abomination, a crime against God and nature. Mickey smiled and combed his long golden tresses out of his face with his painted and manicured talons. He applied another coat of lipstick to his full bee-stung lips, smoothed down the wrinkles on his velvet mini-skirt and adjusted his bra-strap. He was beautiful. No matter what the bible-thumpers said. Deep down, he knew that half the repressed cowards that condemned him secretly lusted for him. And why shouldn’t they? He could do things for them that no woman could. He brushed his luxurious eyelashes with mascara and winked at himself in his hand-held mirror as a potential client rolled to a stop by the curb in front of him.
    Mickey recognized the corpulent politician behind the wheel of the Mercedes. He’d seen the predatory hypocrite down there before. Hunting young street hustlers of both genders. The same gutter trash that he was lobbying hard to remove from the Boulevard. He’d watched him join televangelists on national television in denouncing the very behaviors he himself was addicted to. Often, the unfortunate victims of his lust would return to the strip with welts and bruises as evidence of the politician’s peculiar passions. Mickey smiled and batted his long eyelashes at him.
    “How much?”
    “How much you got?”
    Mickey waved his tight little ass at him and the man waved back with a hundred-dollar bill.
    They entered a rundown one-bedroom flat with a warped and splintered wood floor and yellow, grease and cigarette-stained walls. There was a bed in the center of the room with a tattered, lice-ridden mattress stained with urine, semen, and blood. Mickey turned up his nose but turned to the politician and smiled.
    “What does Daddy want?”
    The fat politician’s squinty little piggish eyes gleamed with hunger and delight as Mickey squeezed out of his mini-skirt and halter-top. Clients were sometimes taken aback when they discovered that he wasn’t entirely female. But he knew that this pervert wouldn’t mind. Just as he knew that the runes and symbols carved, branded, and tattooed across large portions of his flesh would only add to the thrill for this sadistic trick.
    Mickey withstood the man’s pawing and groping hands, endured his slimy tongue slathering his flesh in saliva. He allowed the man to spank him