Edward Lee - Family Tradition

He is! Sheree thought in a perverse shriek. He’s jerking off…with worms!

Indeed. It was not vaseline or spit in Esau’s palm, it was a fistful of live bloodworms that he squeezed around his cock as his hand shucked manically up and down. At one point, he stopped, lifted off his hand, and as he did so, the mashed worms on his cock fell in a bloody clump between his rotund legs. Esau reached aside to a coffee can on the floor, lifted out a fresh handful, and was back at it.

Sheree tugged Carol away from the window. “We’re not really seeing this, are we?” she whispered. “It’s the acid, right?”

“No,” Carol whispered back. “Bebo just makes you see trails and colors. Never any heavy hallucinations.”

Sheree felt stifled. “But—”

“Believe it.” Carol giggled. “That fat redneck in there is whacking off with a handful of worms.”

Sheree thought she’d seen it all.

Until they went back to the window.

“Holy shit!” Carl whispered. “Look! He’s only got—”

Oh, GRRRROSS!

Esau, in his lustful angst, had now brought his knees back to his belly, fat jiggling as his hips fidgeted, his buttocks spread, and it was thanks to this gesture that Sheree and Carol noticed three things. One: Esau clearly was not in the habit of using toilet paper. Two: Only one testicle occupied his scrotum, but it was as large as a kiwi fruit. And Three:

Sheree almost threw up when her eyes deciphered the rest. Esau held his cock with his right hand, and very dextrously with his left he was feeding a long, single bloodworm into his urethra with what appeared to be a Q-Tip.

“Oh, man,” Sheree moaned.

Carol grinned over at her. “Isn’t this the freakiest thing you’ve ever seen?”

Once the worm had been pushed in completely, Esau pinched off his glans with left thumb and index finger while his right hand continued to mash the worms back and forth over his penis. Now he was really fidgeting, and through the wall, they could hear him heatedly exclaiming: “Ooo- yeah, baby! Sable! Sable! Gorgeous George! Ooo- yeah! ”

A lucky hunch, perhaps, or the LSD had made her precognitive, but as Sheree turned, she caught Carol about to erupt laughter. Only a single chirp escaped, however, before Sheree clamped her hand over her friend’s mouth.

“Shhhh!” she whispered. “He’ll hear you!”

They slipped their faces back to the window, and Sheree thought again, Oh, man…

It was bad enough to see a hairless, mole-spotted 300-pound man masturbate with his knees pulled back and his shit-smeared ass-crack showing. It was bad enough, too, to see his masturbate with worms and worse yet to see him force a worm down his piss-slit.

But then Esau came.

Sheree felt like a zombie staring as she watched Esau release the tip of his dick. Several spurts of semen pumped out and landed on his belly. Along with the worm.

Then Esau plucked up the worm and ate it. Yes sir. He just dropped it into his mouth, chewed, shallowed. Licked his fingers, too.

Sheree and Carol both blanched. They sat down against the shack under the window. Sheree leaned forward to—

“Don’t throw up!” Carol ordered in a whisper. “He’ll hear it and come out here!”

Sheree choked it back, light-headed. The acid only made it worse.

A door slammed.

Sheree and Carol sat rigid, hugging each other. What if he had heard them? What would he do?

Oh, God, oh God—

The moon shown down like a spotlight. Esau, now re-attired in his overalls, had exited the shack. He stood with his back to them. If he turned…

“Ooo-eee! What a beautiful night,” Esau said, looking up at the moon. He reached back, dug his fingers deep into the ass of the overalls, scratching. “Guess I better go check on Grandpa Ab’s breakfast.”

Then he walked away into the woods, whistling.

Sheree and Carol both let out long breaths. “Christ, I almost pissed myself,” Carol said.

“I—” Sheree frowned, at once noticing the damp warmth soaking her cutoffs.

“Come on!” Carol got up, rushed forward.

“Where are you going?” Sheree followed her around. Carol was going into the shack!

“Are you nuts?” By the time she caught up, Carol was already inside. As might be expected, the shack stunk. No running water, and the bathroom was simply a seatless chair set over a hole in the floor. Sheree glanced inadvertently at the can of worms by the mattress, then felt her stomach convulse. “We can’t come in here! He could come back!”

“You heard him. He said he was going to see his grandfather or something.”

That’s right, Sheree remembered. Esau had mentioned a grandfather. Grandpa Ab? “But didn’t he also say something…about breakfast?”

««—»»

“Hey, Skinny?” Esau greeted, holding up an oil lantern. Mavis remained on her hook, in shock. When Esau bit down hard on one of her nearly breastless nipples, she flinched.

“Good gal. Yer still alive. Cain’t have ya dyin’ just yet.” He patted her stapled vagina. “Gonna let that fish in there cook just right.” Menstrual blood dripped slowly from the gaps in the staples, crusted the pubic hair. “Oh, and thanks fer the cobbler fillin’. Grandpa Ab loved it. He done et six cobblers in one sittin’.”

Just for the hell of it, then, he bit her again, on the side of the ribs this time. She flinched once more and peeped out a scratch of a scream.

“Spunky little dickens! I like that in a gal! Hail, if’n it weren’t fer yer pussy bein’ stapled shut, I’se might give ya the high, hard one!”

He turned around, then leaned over the giant metal drum sitting over the fire pit. The coals glowed bright-orange, tinting Esau’s grinning face. He sniffed at the trace steam leaking from the drum’s rim. “Ummmm- MM that smells good! We’ll let Fattie cook in their till tomorrah, let all that blubber melt down into a nice rich stock. Then the meat just falls off the bone!”

Next, Esau walked over to the canoe, and touched the head sticking out of it. The head just lolled there. “Dang, ya finally died, fella. Looks like it’s pate on toast fer Grandpa’s breakfast. Cain’t wait ta see that liver on ya, bet it’s huge. ”

Esau set the oil lamp on a table, then grabbed a hammer and with its claw began to pull out the roofing nails which he’d used to tack the tin sheets over the canoe. “ Dang! ” he remarked when he’d pried off all the tin. The canoe was full up with corn-flecked diarrhea. The stench rose like the miasma over an open sewer but this did not afflict Esau in the least; to him, the stench was just another culinary aroma. The body simply lay there, submerged in shit save for the oval of its face. Esau used his knife to cut the nylon twine lashing the boy’s wrists to the front seat prop. Then he pulled the boy out on to the ground.

“Hot damn!” Esau excitedly exclaimed. The boy’s belly looked pregnant. This internal protuberance would be the liver, swollen to four or five times its normal size from weeks of force-feeding. A delicacy. Most would be used for pate, while the ends he would grill over soaked cherrywood. The trimmings would make a delectable wurst.

The boy’s body dripped liquefied shit as Esau hoisted him up and placed him on the cutting table; Esau’s arms came away slick brown. He next cut the ankle lashes. All manner of bugs and worms churned over the boy’s excrement-shellacked skin, but that was no matter. The skin would all be trimmed off. The thighs, of course, would serve as roasts; the belly, bacon; the rest rough-chopped for bouillabaisse. But first…