Selected Transcripts from the "Hard Time Chronicles" of "Billy Budz"
Section 4 (22Mar2034)
4.01 (From Billy's "blog")
I haven't turned on the recorder for a few days -- just too preoccupied -- so let's play a little catch-up.
Henry was telling his story when José ran in saying something was wrong with "the little kid." We followed him to a room I hadn't seen on previous visit's to Conrad's place, and I learned that Conrad, in his old age, had become a lot kinkier over the years. It looked like a cross between an operating room and a torture chamber. Well, come to think of it, I guess most torture chambers look like operating rooms these days, or at least the official government ones do.
The little kid was strapped to some sort of tilting table, spread eagled and naked except for a black cloth sack over his head. The table was tilted so far that he was mostly hanging by his ankles, with his head down. José was right -- there certainly was something wrong. It was clear from the gasping sound that was coming from the black hood that the kid was having trouble breathing, and his body was looking a little blue. The first thing I did was find the tilt mechanism on the table and turn him so that his head was higher than his feet.
Inside the black hood, the boy started to cough. I saw that the hood was held in place over his head by a locked metal collar around his neck. I tried ripping the cloth, but it was heavy canvas. "Where the hell is the key?" I snapped at the two apprentices.
"No," Henry complained, "Master won't like that. He won't like it at all!"
"I'm getting it," said José, as he opened a drawer in a metal cabinet.
Henry jumped at him, and pulled him away. "You can't," he cried, "Master wants him that way. He'll get so mad!"
Stepping up behind Henry, I smacked him hard across the side of his head. He let go of José and dropped to the floor, covering his head and sobbing. José retrieved the key and undid the lock. I pulled the hood off the boy's head.
It was Robby.
"Billy?" he said, "You's gonna rescue me?"
José already was undoing the wrist and ankle straps. Once free, Robby tried to stand up. I had to catch him, and lay him back down again. "How long was he upside-down?" I asked José.
"I don't know," José answered. "From late last night, sometime. I didn't see. Just Master and Henry was messing with him. But he was upside-down when Master sent me in here to clean up the mess this morning."
"What kind of mess?"
"You know. Vomit. Piss. Blood."
4.02 (From Robby's narrative)
Me and Joe sure likes them pork chops you gived us, but, y'know, the next day we is hungry again, and all we finds is a few scraps. So Joe asks me if I minds going to Little Igor's and I says, okay, I is hungry enough to do that. So we goes.
Little Igor is very little, maybe he comes up to my chest about. He gots tiny little bow legs and tiny little arms and a big humpy back so his head kind of sticks out in front of him, y'know? And he gots a real big nose, much bigger than yours, even, Billy. Somehow he gots some money, though, I dunno how, cause anybody could beat him up, even me. Anyways, he likes me, likes sticking his big nose and his long tongue in my ass crack and sucking my pickle. And bein' how he's so, y'know, messed up and also he slobbers a lot, it ain't fun letting him do that. But we is hungry, and he gives us a meal, mostly rice and beans.
So I drops my pants and lets him do his shit to me, and then we eats. And me and Joe is gonna leave when someone's at the door yelling "Open up, Igor, it's me!" So Igor goes on those little bow legs at the door, and Joe pulls me to go out a window but it don't open wide enough to fit. And then the dingo is in the room, looking at us. Well, Joe tries to hit him with Little Igor's little bitty chair, but it don't work, and we's caught. He puts them plastic things on our wrists behind our back and ties ropes to our necks, and we is caught.
And the dingo says to Little Igor, what, you holding out on me? And Little Igor says, no Pauly, they just comes here sometimes for eats, I don't never know when. And the dingo says, they ain't never coming back no more, they is mine now.
So he puts us in his truck and takes us to this house someplace, I don't know where, but there is some other guy there pulls down our pants and sticks his finger up our asses. And for Joe he says, this one is used but still pretty tight, should bring in a nice few bucks. And he sticks his finger in me and says this one could pass for a virgin. And the first one says, well, then I knows who wants him, and he pays real good.
4.03 (From Billy's "blog")
Henry says he's straight, and maybe he is, but he's still a pussy. He was terrified of Conrad, and Conrad was dying -- too weak to get into his wheelchair without help. Me, I'm in pretty good shape for a guy my age, but I'm still an old man. If he tried, I figure Henry could have knocked me on my ass, but he just stayed there on the floor, covering his head and sobbing. It wasn't that hard to get him to talk.
Probably I should have recorded him, but I wasn't thinking history just then. I can give you the gist of it, though. The dingo had delivered Robby the night before. Conrad had put out the word that he wanted a virgin boy. Somehow, he got the crazy idea that a virgin boy could cure the cancer that was killing him. According to Henry, Conrad thought that a boy who was "pure" enough ought to be filled with "life energy." He also had some ideas about how to get that "life energy" out of the boy and into his own putrescent carcass.
In the short time it took Henry to describe the process, I decided that Conrad would die that day.
4.04 (From Robby's narrative)
So they takes me to this guy the other boys calls Master, and they gets me naked for Master to look at me. Master he says I looks pretty good but he's worried I ain't no virgin, so the dingos pick me up and bends my legs up against my belly and points my hole at Master so's he can have a good look, and he looks and he says good, I'll take him. So the big kid, Henry, he shows them that room, and they straps me to the table and goes away.
So I'm there thinking what's gonna happen, and what I sees in the room I don't like. There is this little table with knifes and scissors and shit, and Joe told me there is some motherfuckers gets their rocks off killing boys in very bad ways, and I thinks one of them motherfuckers gots me. And later they comes in, the old man in a chair with wheels and Henry pushes him. And I is scared because I don't know what's gonna happen.
And the Master guy tells Henry to cut me, and Henry cuts me. You can see the cuts right here by my titty. And then the old guy is sucking on me, sucking my blood. Well, you know, I starts yelling but it don't matter. And I ain't bleeding enough for them, I guess, so they cuts me again, and there's more sucking, and more. And sometime they move the table so my head is down and there is more blood. And I starts crying, but they don't care. And I am so scared I pees myself.
Well, the old man don't like that because the pee runs down on my chest where he is sucking on me, and he pulls away his mouth and gets real mad and punches me right in the belly, and that's when I throws up. And he gets even madder, and says Henry should put the bag on my head and put me all the way upside-down. Then they goes away, and I am like that for a long time, and it is too hard to breathe upside-down with that bag on my head, and it was a long time.
I am thinking I should just die when the other boy comes in and says to me, shhh. Then he puts me right side up and takes the bag off my head for a while, and washes me, and cleans up the mess on the floor. I wants him to let me go, but he says he can't, they's just gonna catch us and it will be worser. Then the big kid is calling him, and he says is I ready to go back in the bag and upside-down again. Well, I am less scared, so I says okay. But pretty soon it's hard to breathe again.
4.05 (From Billy's "blog")
Yes, it's hard to breathe when you're upside-down and your intestines are bearing down on your diaphragm. It's hard to breathe when your head is locked inside a canvas bag. Add the effects of blood loss, and it's kind of amazing that Robby lived to tell the tale, even with the help he got from José. There was another boy, a month earlier, who died on that tilting table.
I have no idea where Conrad got the notion that drinking the blood of a "virgin" boy could cure his cancer, but apparently that was what he believed. Confronted with death, some people believe all sorts of nonsense.
4.06 (From José's narrative)
Don't treat me like I'm brave or something, 'cause I'm not. If you didn't come that day, Robby be dead now. I never woulda stopped Master from killing him.
I didn't do nothing about that other little kid. Well, I didn't know they was killing him, I figured they was just, you know, messing with him, but what was I supposed to do anyway? Jacques did it with him that time, all I did was help clean up, me and Henry. Jacques was crying all that next day, and Master was yelling at him for it. Then, that night, I saw him get ready to sneak away. He said he was gonna join the Free Radicals and blow up shitheads like Master. I told him go do it. Henry would have snitched.
4.07 (From Billy's "blog")
So now I've murdered a man, and a man of the ruling class to boot, but I seem to be getting away with it. Generally speaking, the very rich tend to be somewhat upset when one of their own is murdered -- but Conrad had no friends or family, and he was almost dead anyway. Who was going to pay the police to investigate?
José was holding Robby's head, and helping him drink some water. Henry was still whimpering on the floor. I left the torture room and went to find Conrad. He was awake, but heavily sedated by the heroine. I cooked up another dose for him, a very large dose. His arms were a mess, but I managed to find a vein, injected him with the drug, and left the needle hanging in his arm. A minute or so later, his heart stopped. It was a better death than he deserved.
Taking my time, I looked through the house, room by room. There was no cash, of course. The rich don't use cash. Still, I located a couple of small, valuable items that would not be missed -- a gold wristwatch and a heavy gold ring with a large ruby. I knew where to sell them, and I knew what I meant to do with the proceeds. Then I went back to the boys.
"Henry," I said, "get up and make yourself useful. Your master seems to have taken too much pain medicine. He's dead."
That got his attention. He rose to his feet, looking even more terrified than before. I sent him to fetch a constable.
Like most of the ruling class, Conrad lived in a gated community, heavily guarded. Getting through the gate earlier that day involved both a video conference with Conrad and a search of my car and my person for weapons and explosives. Getting out generally was easier than getting in, but leaving a dead resident behind and taking his boys along with me was likely to be a bit more complicated. I couldn't just put them in my car and go.
"José," I instructed, "get rid of the little apron and put on some real clothes. And find something for Robby to wear too. Hurry. You'll be coming with me."
Fortunately, the servants of the rich are accustomed to taking orders without question, and the two constables who returned with Henry were no exception, nor was the doctor who arrived with them to pronounce Conrad dead. I suggested that Conrad, ill and in pain, probably had taken his own life by overdosing with his "pain medication" -- but that to preserve his reputation, it would be better to list his death as due to natural causes. I instructed the constable to check the community records to locate Conrad's attorney to deal with the estate. Finally, I told them I would see to returning the apprentices to their families since their master was dead.
They swallowed it -- or, at least, they pretended they had. I put the boys in my car, and one constable escorted us to the gate and waved us out. I wondered how much he, his fellow officer, and the doctor would manage to steal from Conrad's house before higher authorities arrived.
Henry is back with his father and his sister now, with enough money to buy himself a job. He should do well in retail. If José has a family somewhere, it's not likely that he'll ever find them. He remains with me, and so does Robby, at least for a while.
4.08 (From Robby's narrative)
Old Billy cooked us spaghettis and meatballs tonight. Joe woulda liked it a lot.
I is real scared for Joe. The shithead got me was gonna kill me, so what if Joe is already dead? I misses him so much. I telled Billy I will do anything he wants but please try to find Joe. I telled him I will hang upside-down with the bag again, just please help find Joe. And he puts me on his lap and hugs me and says he will not hurt me. And he knows somebody maybe can help us find my brother.
I guess he'll want to bath me later. I likes when he does that.
4.09 (From Billy's "blog")
José is back in "uniform" -- he brought his little apron along. I told him he could wear regular clothes around my house, but he seems to like the apron, and he seems to like serving as my chambermaid as well. My apartment hasn't been so dust free in years, and you could eat off the floors. Also, I have to admit his bare bottom looks totally cute jutting out beneath the bow in his apron strings.
Earlier today I was sitting on the couch, and he came by to collect some used glassware from the coffee table. When he bent over and displayed those pert young buttocks about a foot away from my face, I figured it was time to discover his other talents. Grasping his legs, I leaned forward and tongued that hot little rosebud, burying my face in soft, smooth boybutt. "Oooh," he squealed, wiggling himself harder against my face, and making it clear that what I was doing was exactly what he intended when he bent over.
Delicious as he was, an old man's back is not really up to being bent forward for very long, so pulling José along, I lay back flat on the couch and put my feet up. It was a little awkward at first, but he ended up with his legs straddling me, sitting on my face. Now I know that to somebody walking by -- like Robby, for example, who walked by while we were at it -- it can look like the sitter is in a kind of dominant position, and the person whose face is under the sitter's ass is somehow being, well, demeaned. Yes, it does look that way, but in my case at least, I don't feel any need to be dominated. I'm just a lazy son-of-a-bitch who really loves to eat boybutt.
I reached up under his apron and found his raging hard little boner. Henry was right, by the way -- it is unusually short for a boy of fourteen, but thicker than average, and it made a very satisfying handful. Also, sometime in his past, somebody had decided that José should be circumcised, something you don't expect in a Mexican boy. I decided it was time to get out from under him and do a close visual inspection of his merchandise.
I arranged him on his back, the little apron pushed up on his belly, and sat between his legs. He has as nice a package as an old perv like me could want -- a smooth, brown rod ending in a sort of wedge shaped head over a tight, round scrotum enclosing two nice sized testicles. He is one of those boys whose muscle wall forms a sort of ring all around his happy bits, which always reminds me of one particular boy from my youth, long, long ago. Henry also was right in reporting that José was not particularly hairy -- just a dozen or so whispies around the base of his cock.
Stefan always hated it when I shaved his pubes. I had a feeling José might like it quite a lot. I sent Robby, who was watching from a conveniently placed armchair, to fetch a towel, my razor, and my tube of shave gel. It took him a few minutes to get back, and I heard some water running in the bathroom. When he returned to the living room, he was naked. "Can I help?" he asked.
"I think we can find a job for you," I replied.
With a big grin, he hopped onto the couch, threw a leg over the older boy, and sat down on his face. "Don't worry," he informed José, "I'm clean."
A muffled "Okay" emerged from between Robby's ass cheeks, and José seemed to grow even harder than he had been before. I moved a finger gently around the circumcised head of José's hardon, then pulled it away from his stomach so that it pointed straight up.
"Rub a little gel on, just where he's hairy," I told Robby. He did as he was told, even though he was wriggling and giggling from the feel of José's tongue working into his chute. "I'm not going to trust you with the razor," I told him. "You just hold his dick out of the way while I shave him."
Honestly, I've never known why I get such a charge out of shaving off a boy's pubes. Granted, I never cared for pubes tickling my nose while I swallowed some adorable cocklet, but it's the act of shaving itself that gets me off. I suppose it's symbolic of something, or perhaps it's just that it leaves a boy looking (and feeling) more vulnerable -- and, come to think of it, this particular boy had been sitting on my face just a little bit earlier.
It took just a few strokes of the razor to render José as smooth and naked and vulnerable looking as a baby. Well, a baby with a four-inch boner and pretty large balls. I wiped away the excess gel with the towel. "What do you think?" I asked Robby.
"Good job," Robby replied.
"I wanna see," said the muffled voice from Robby's ass.
We let him up. "Lose the apron," I said, "you're not the chambermaid now. You're our very special hot boy."
4.10 (From José's narrative)
I like being a special hot boy. Old Billy don't treat me like some lousy apprentice, but I'm still gonna work hard keeping his place neat and clean, and I know he likes my ass a lot. I want to get him to keep me. I don't know what I'll do if he makes me go.
I'm scared that if they find Robby's brother there won't be no room for me here. I guess Billy could sell me for apprentice again. Maybe he knows somebody nice. Except he was friends with Master. But he went and killed Master. Oh, shit, I don't know.
I am touching my dick, and it feels nice and smooth now. I like it better this way.
4.11 (From Billy's "blog")
Damn it, I'm old! I stayed reasonably hard through José's shave, but then I just lost my hardon. It's getting so I need the "Vitamin V" every time lately. Or maybe it's that shaving José's little pecker got me thinking about Stefan, and maybe feeling a little guilty. I don't know, maybe I could have done a better job when he lived with me. Maybe I really didn't have to chain him to the bed at night. Then again, maybe I did. He was a crazy little bastard.
Anyway, I got to thinking about this and that, so I left the boys sucking each other's dicks and went to pour myself a drink. I have to admit it to myself -- I've been acting weird since I killed Conrad. For one thing, why did I kill Conrad? Would I have done it if it were some kid other than Robby under that hood? Some kid I never saw before? Shit like that happens these days. Maybe shit like that always happened. I always just figured it was none of my business. But then I go and kill Conrad -- not in a rage, not even in a way that was particularly emotional. I just went in there and "put him to sleep," like some old dog or cat.
And then I found myself hatching plans for those boys. I found a buyer for Conrad's watch and ring and gave a chunk of the money to Henry, so he could go back to his family and buy himself a job -- and I didn't even like the young prick. I've got the two boys living with me -- something I wouldn't even have considered as recently as last week -- and now I'm working on getting Joe out of whatever boy brothel the dingos sold him into. Why? I've always been a self centered, self serving, coldly rational -- um -- I guess sociopath might be the right word for it. And now I'm acting like fucking St. Francis.
Well, maybe not St. Francis. I don't think he was one of those priests who fucked boys.
I think it was something about seeing Conrad this time, and finding out what he was doing to Robby. It was like an embodiment of the world, not just now, but even back in "normal" times before everything fell apart: a diseased old man, swimming in wealth but reeking of hubris and death, sucking the lifeblood out of a kid who was overjoyed just to have some food in his belly. Everything corrupt and decayed, sucking the life out of everything fresh and innocent. A parasite. Like me.
So I'm changing sides now?
No, I'm not looking for anything you could call "redemption" -- I don't believe in that shit. Before too long, I'll be dead, and there won't even be all that many people who remember I ever was alive. Not especially long after that, even those people will be dead, and there won't be a trace left of me on this sick, sad Earth.
Maybe that's why I'm recording these chronicles -- just to last a little longer in somebody's head. "Redemption" isn't part of it, though. That shit is just for suckers.
4.12 (From Robby's narrative)
I likes José, he's nice. Also his name is kind of like Joe. Maybe if Old Billy gets Joe back for me José and us can run together. I don't think he ever been on the street, but Joe can teach him how we gets by. Oh, Billy, please get Joe back for me.
Old Billy let me help shave José's dingle. I seen him sit on Billy's face, and Billy likes it, and I likes José, so I sits on his face too, and he likes it too. He stuck his tongue in my hole! It feels funny. Nobody done that to me before, though I seen Billy do it to Joe. I wishes Joe was here now.
Then Billy loses his boner because he is old. Anyway, that's what he says. When you is young, you stays hard all night, but when you is old, it ain't so easy. So he goes off to get drunk again, and me and José is still got stiffies, so, you know. I puts my wiener where my ass was and he takes it in his mouth, and I lays down on him to suck him right back, just like me and Joe does sometimes. He grabs my ass in his hands and squeezes, which is nice because it makes you feel like he gots to have you bad, and I do that to him too. I misses Joe so much. Yeah, José is not Joe, but their names is kind of the same, and José was good to me too.
We was there sucking each other's wieners for a while -- not hard, but kind of gentle. I wondered if he was going to finger my ass like Billy does when he baths me. We didn't have no soap, but I was pretty slick from his licking me, and I likes the way that feels. I woulda told him, but I didn't want to let go his dick from my mouth because I could tell he was liking it. Well, there it goes, his finger in my ass, which gets me going good, wiggling my wiener in his mouth and sucking him harder.
So he squirts right in my mouth. I don't expect it, because Joe don't squirt yet when he cums, and I guess I was thinking José is Joe. And because I don't expect it, I gags a little, and chokes, and then he pulls his dick out saying "Oh shit, are you okay?"
"Yeah," I says, "I'm fine, I just wasn't thinking you was gone to squirt. I forgot you really got hairs down there. You gonna finish me off?"
He did, real nice. And we all gonna sleep in Billy's bed tonight, together. I just wishes Joe was here.
4.13 (From Billy's "blog")
The phone was working for a while tonight, so I called Stefan and offered him a job. He's coming around tomorrow. I might need some muscle when I go after Joe.