Free Fat Off Sex and Violence by Shane McKenzie Page B

Blood ran like crooked rivers down his face, arms, and legs.
                Yeah, that sure makes me feel cheery.
                Mary Jane’s eyes turned the place as orange as pumpkin flesh.
                “Just tell me when, Master.” Her tongue slathered her face and she clicked her teeth.
                “Let us pray,” the preacher said.
                “Wait for it,” Gary said. He eyed the congregation, looked for a nice pretty girl for him to spend some time with while Mary Jane feasted and turned the church into a fuck-fest.
                As the preacher said his prayer, every head in the place bowed. Then Gary saw her. A Hispanic girl, maybe early twenties, sitting with an older couple that had to be her grandparents. Her red lips battled her brown, yet pale, complexion. The dress she wore was far too tight for church, Gary thought. No room for the holy ghost in there. But it showed every curve, every bulge of flesh.
                “In Jesus’s name we pray. Amen.”
                “Amen,” the congregation said.
                “Now,” Gary said. He pointed at the girl. “And bring her to me.”
                “My pleasure, Master.”
                The effect was instantaneous. The preacher glanced up from his Bible, searched the ocean of believers in front of him. Then he dragged his robe up, yanked his entire package out—which hung past mid-thigh—and started bouncing his balls in the palm of his right hand while shaking his dick at the crowd with his left. The woman playing the organ hopped off her chair, crawled to the preacher, and took him into her mouth.
                “Holy shit,” Gary said. He slapped Mary Jane on the back and chuckled, but she was oblivious to him now.
                The first cloud of yellow substance rushed toward her as she inhaled, and she chewed and moaned.
                The preacher grabbed the back of the woman’s head and rammed himself harder into her mouth, surely hitting the back of her throat—the organ-player’s gag echoed off dark wood and stained glass.
                And then the church went wild. People tore clothing away, grabbed the closest person and attacked. Old wrinkly flesh flapped all over—suits, flower dresses, button-up shirts, and slacks littered the floor. Young men had the elderly bent over the pews. Young women took flaccid cocks into their willing mouths.
                Gary’s body oozed sweat as he saw his chosen girl looking at him. She weaved her way around an obese couple fucking in the aisle. The bald mountain of jiggling flesh held his wife in the air as she rocked back and forth, the fat folds on her back flapping like stingray wings.
                The girl walked past an old woman, nude except for the huge white hat atop her fluffed up white hair, who jammed a gold crucifix necklace into her dry cunt. The chain hung out like a metallic tampon string.
                Gary’s eyes rolled from the oncoming beauty to Mary Jane, who looked even more like Pac-Man in that moment—Gary couldn’t help but chortle. She unhinged her mouth, snapped it shut, over and over, as the globs of sex food came to her. Her mouth smacked and she sucked her teeth as she masticated.
                Then the girl was there. As she walked toward Gary, eyes only for him, she undressed herself. The trail of her discarded clothing lay in her wake, and she wore only her red heels and red lipstick.
                Gary pulled his pants down, leaned back. She didn’t say a word, just spread her legs and sat in his lap.
               “Mmmm.” Her fingers ran across his scalp as she humped. The wooden bench creaked with the motion of her. She was warmer than the other woman. Red hot. Gary reached up, cupped her breasts, and just like that, finished. He