Selected Transcripts from the "Hard Time Chronicles" of "Billy Budz"

Section 8 (17Apr2034)

8.01 (From Billy's "blog")

Yeah, I know, nothing for over two weeks. Well, it's not like there's an internet to post to, or even anybody reading this in real time. So, what wonderful adventures have I had in the interim?

If I had any, I can't remember. I've been drunk a good part of the time.

I guess I didn't mention, in my last entries, the look on Robby's face when I came back without Joe. I tried to be upbeat. I told him how Joe had escaped the pyramid cult and been helped by the Indians. I told him how all Joe wanted to do was find him, how I was sure his big brother would make his way back to the city. We'd keep asking around, and we'd find him.

"But I wants him now," he said.

Well, if there's one thing I know for sure about the past couple of weeks, it's that we didn't find him. It's a big city, and finding one stray boy wouldn't have been be the easiest thing back in the old days, when we had a regular police force and all. Just the same, I'm starting to think he never made it out of the desert. The more I think that, the more I drink.

Stefan got the word out to the dingos that I'd pay top dollar for Joe, and I can't even remember how many unlikely boys I was offered that first week -- boys not even close to Joe in height or age, and every race from Bushman to Eskimo. If a dingo got him, it was nobody local. Then Robby started taking José out to the dumps and the other places he and Joe used to spend their time. Nothing.

Stefan's taken my Caddy out to the desert a few times, supposedly to find out if the Indians have seen any sign of him. Mostly, though, I think he's been going to fuck Jenny Two Streams. If you'd told me a month ago that Stefan would develop a thing for a transvestite Indian shaman, I'd have thought you were crazy -- but life is full of surprises. I suppose it's good news that the Indians haven't found any bodies or skeletons out there in the desert, but it's not that good. That crew is not especially expert at being Indians, and most of them would need a map and a compass to find their own asses.

So that's your update. Now, I think I'll pour myself another drink.

8.02 (From José's narrative)

Billy is passed out drunk, and we can't wake him up, but he's breathing okay. He'll come around later. In the meanwhile, though, me and Robby are kind of excited, and the recorder is laying out here on the table. No, we didn't find Joe, but maybe we got a lead on where he is.

We were over in City Heights, just looking around. Robby and Joe never went there all that much, but you never know, and we'd been to all their regular places over and over. So we're in what's left of the Vietnam section, and who do we see, standing on the corner and sucking on a spring roll like it's the best boycock he ever ate? You wouldn't guess this.

It was Jacques. Remember? Jacques, the kid from Montreal who was Conrad's apprentice, the one who helped Conrad suck the blood out of that other little kid and then ran away to join the Free Radicals. I knew it was him as soon as I laid eyes on him. Hell, how could I forget him? We used to put on sex shows for Conrad, starting pretty much the first night I got there. Henry never was any good at that kind of thing. Y'know. Henry always liked to think he was straight, so he never could get into it. Well, maybe Jacques is straight too, maybe even I am, but that didn't stop us from having some fun.

Jacques wasn't on the corner for fun, though. It was pure business. I was about to go up to him and ask if he ever found the Free Radicals and if he still wanted to kill all the rich guys, but this older guy got to him first, so I held back. The older guy was short, but he had a really solid build, big in the shoulders. Swung his arms like an ape. The way he was dressed, I figured him for a fisherman, maybe, or somebody who worked down at the docks. He was wearing one of those wool hats, y'know? The knitted ones? And it's like eighty-five out there.

8.03 (Robby interrupts)

It taken José a million years telling the story. Billy, that guy Jacques, we thinks he seen Joe! We thinks he seen him!

8.04 (From José's narrative)

Yes, like Robby says, Jacques may have seen Joe. But since Billy likes his stories all strung out in order, I'll tell it that way, and by the time I'm finished maybe Billy might even come to. I'll tell you this, though -- when he does come to, he's gonna have one hell of a headache.

So the guy peels some bills off a roll, and Jacques takes them and heads into this alley, wagging his ass all the way. Funny, he was never that big a fag when he worked for Conrad, but I guess it makes for better hustling or something. The little sailor guy, or whatever he was, follows him, and me, I follow both of them, figuring I'll talk to Jacques after he's sucked off his john.

So Jacques kneels down on this big piece of cardboard I guess he put out there so he wouldn't scrape up his knees -- did I say he was wearing shorts so short you could see the bottoms of his ass cheeks? -- and he opens sailor man's belt and the front of his pants and pulls out this big, purple dick. Really, it was purple. Not just the head, the whole thing. Me, I would think twice about sucking a dick that color, you figure there has to be something wrong. But Jacques, he just gloms right onto the ugly thing and starts sucking away.

The sailor puts his fingers through Jacques's curly blond hair, which, by the way, wasn't blond back when he was at Conrad's. The kid is like totally fagged out. Anyway, the sailor really starts bucking, ramming that ugly dick so far down Jacques's throat you'd wonder how it didn't pop clean through the back of his neck. I can see that Jacques is having a hard time trying to breathe, and he tries pushing the guy off a little, but the guy won't let him, and Jacques's face starts turning pretty near the same color as the guy's dick.

And Jacques starts pushing the guy and hitting at him, but it doesn't do no good, and I figure pretty soon Jacques is gonna have to bite him because nothing else is working -- but then this brick bounces off the side of the guy's head.

8.05 (Robby interrupts again)

I done that. Come on, José, I thinks Billy is coming around now.

8.06 (From Billy's "blog")

That was earlier. When I woke up, they both were all over me, telling me they had a lead on Joe -- but since we can't follow up on it until tomorrow, it can wait its turn in the narrative.

I splashed some water on my face to wake up a little more, and saw myself in the bathroom mirror. I really looked like shit. Whatever. I ran some more water on my head so I could slick back my hair, and downed a beer to clear the cobwebs and improve the taste in my mouth. Then we went out in the Caddy to pick up Jacques. His story comes next.

8.07 (From Jacques's narrative)

If I bit him, he woulda killed me. They told me stay away from the rough trade, but he looked okay to me. Well, what do I know? I ain't done it all that long.

That little kid got a good arm. I didn't see the brick coming, but all of a sudden the guy let go my hair and kind of fell backwards, grabbing his head. I could see blood running out between his fingers before he went down. So I said what the hell and went in his pocket for the rest of his money before I run off.

It ain't for me, you know. It's for the revolution.

...

I was at the Garretts before they sold me to Conrad, mostly Mrs. Garrett. I was her cat. Really. I had to wear this fluffy cat suit all the time, and slurp milk out of a saucer. I didn't see much of Mr. Garrett, except some nights when he came to our room to fuck her. Then, after he went, it was my job to lick her clit until she finally came. When I was little, that was the only way I tasted cum.

Then I got too big, and she'd get pissed when she seen me bulging out my cat suit. So she got a new cat and I went to Conrad. For a while there, it seemed better than being a cat -- just a little light housework and fucking him up the ass when he was up to it, which wasn't much because he was already sick. Yeah, it was kind of gross because, you know, he smelled sick, but I was that age when you're hard all the time. You know. It got a little kinkier when Henry came, but it was still okay. Conrad was mostly too sick to do anything by then, but he still liked to watch, and he came up with special shows for us to do for him.

At first, it looked like Henry wasn't good for much -- he just couldn't stay hard. Hell, I didn't care, because that meant I always got to fuck him instead of him fucking me. Then, one night, we were doing this little play Conrad came up with, and I found out what got Henry hard.

Conrad got us these costumes somewhere. Mine was a old fashioned men's suit -- you know, the kind where the pants match the jacket, and you have one of those ties coming out from under your collar. I was supposed to be the teacher. Henry was the schoolgirl. Me, I never saw any girl dressed like that, but maybe that's what girls wore to school back in the olden days. It was a white shirt with kind of a red scarf tied around his neck, and a short plaid skirt with those foldy things -- I think Conrad called them "pleads" or something like that. Then he had these shiny black shoes with a strap, and lacy socks just up to his ankles. He was maybe thirteen then, and he really looked a lot like a girl, and I think he must have knowed it, because he kept blushing.

So the story was that I was testing him, or her, or whatever, on multiplication, and he kept getting problems wrong, and I was getting mad. Then, finally, Conrad said it was time for the teacher to punish the naughty girl. So Henry has to yell, "No, please no, Mr. Jones," and I answer, "Too bad, Mary, you have to be taught a lesson." It was all pretty limp, but Conrad was liking it. So I sit in a chair, and Mary, that is, Henry, gets across my lap and I pull up his skirt, and Conrad starts going, "Good heavens, Mr. Jones, that horrid girl is not wearing any underpants! She must be punished very severely!"

I said uh huh, but that wasn't good enough for Conrad. "You tell her," he says, "that she's to be spanked until her little bottom is bright red and she's pleading for mercy!"

So I tell her, I mean, him, and then I start spanking. You know, Henry has that very white skin, so even the first slap, which wasn't very hard, starts his butt getting red. I smack him a couple more times, and Conrad says do it harder. So I do it harder, and his ass is really getting red, but Henry is into it. "Please, sir," he's yelling, "please don't spank me any more," but I can tell it's just acting because he's really hamming it up. And Conrad, he's got this big grin on his nasty old face.

Well, I got an idea then, and I asked him, "Mary, how much is six times seven?" He says something like "Thirty-nine," and I smack him again, harder. "Four times eight," I say, and he answers "Forty." Smack. He can't even do five times five, or three times three, but I'm feeling through his skirt and my pants that he's gone really hard -- much harder than he ever got when I sucked his dick. And the more I spank him, the harder he's breathing, and it really starts to look like he's gonna come. I smack him, and he wiggles on my lap, rubbing his dick against my leg, and yelling how two times two is five.

And right then, Conrad tells us to stop. "Henry," he says, "go to your room and get out of those ridiculous clothes." Poor Henry. He was all ready to come, and that bastard Conrad decided not to let it happen. Henry lets out this moan, and starts crying for real as he stands up and leaves the room, rubbing his ass.

I had to cook up a fix of heroine for Conrad then, and when he zoned out I went to look for Henry. He way laying naked on his bed, on his belly, with his flaming red ass sticking up. I asked if it hurt a lot, and he said it was okay. Then I asked if he wanted me to finish him off, but he said it was too late, but if I wanted to I could fuck him. So I did.

...

His name was Anthony. I don't think Conrad even knew that. Do I have to talk about this?

He was about seven, I think, or maybe only six. I don't know where Conrad got him. He didn't say much, mostly he just cried. And honest, I didn't know Conrad was gonna kill him.

Conrad didn't want to hear no crying, so he told me to fix the kid up with a dose of morphine. He was so little I didn't use much, but it put him right out. He didn't feel nothing, honest. There is this vein that runs like under your arm, and that's where I opened him up, like Conrad told me. Really, it didn't seem that bad, it wasn't spurting or nothing. And Conrad just put his head down and was drinking the blood. And the kid just kept on sleeping, and Conrad never moved his head. It was real quiet, and slow, and I closed my eyes and I guess I fell asleep.

When I opened my eyes again, Conrad wasn't sucking no more. The kid was real white. I touched him when I was putting the table back on the level -- Conrad had him kind of hanging with his head down -- and like I said, I touched him. And he was cold, way too cold. And I knew he didn't have no blood left because Conrad drunk it all, and that poor kid Anthony was dead. I couldn't help it, I started crying.

So Conrad, he says to stop crying and wheel him back to the bedroom because he knows he's stronger and he's going to fuck me real hard. Well, you know that never happened. Same as always, he couldn't get it up, but he says this time it's my fault because I gave the kid too much morphine and killed all the life energy, and next time we'd do it without no drugs, and the next kid could cry and scream all he wanted.

Me, I couldn't stand no next time. I ran away.

...

I told José. José is a good kid, not an asshole like Henry. Funny how he's still wearing that stupid apron, though. No telling what, I guess.

So it's a lot easier getting out of a gated community than in, and I took off. Like I told José, I wanted to join the Free Radicals and end the way shitheads like Conrad run the world. Really, though, I didn't know nothing about the Free Radicals, or about the world. I been a indentured boy long as I could remember, so when I got out over the wall I didn't know what to do or where to go until I run into Marius.

I seen a couple black guys when I was with Conrad. There weren't none when I was with the Garretts, but Conrad had a couple black guys come around sometimes. He always talked to them this funny old-fashioned way, like calling them "bro" and shit like that, and I could tell they knew what a asshole he was but they still took his money. Well, why not? That was when he was into the Oxy. One of them black guys, you know, was a doctor, and he wrote scrips. Conrad liked the legal meds best, I think, except maybe for the heroine.

Anyway, Marius picked me up that first night I was on the street. I was hungry, and he looked like he had some money, so I asked him if he would buy me a burger and fries. He looks me up and down and says I can pay him back in trade. I didn't know what that meant when he said it, but now I do.

Conrad used to talk like black guys had these giant dicks, and I don't know if that's true, but Marius sure has one. Anyway, it's a lot bigger than mine, and when he stuck it up my ass it was like I couldn't breathe I was so full of dick. Course, it ain't like I never been fucked before. Hell, Billy, you did me a couple times, and also some other guys come around Conrad's. Even Conrad managed a couple times before he got too sick, although mostly he wanted me to fuck him. None of you was like Marius, though. He is really big.

And, yeah, it hurt a little when he got started, but then it got to feel real real good. No offense, Billy, but it never felt all that good when you did me, or any of Conrad's friends. Marius, it was like he wanted me to love that giant black dick of his, maybe. Well, maybe not. Maybe it was just that he was thinking about me when he fucked me, not just thinking about his dick. I think most guys just think about their dicks.

No, he didn't love me. He let me stay with him a couple days, though. And then he took me to the bar where I got to meet Carlos, and Carlos took me to join the Free Radicals.

They didn't think too much of me. The guy runs the group around here goes by the name of Stalin, but another one of the guys told me his real name is Drew Parks, and his family is in the oil business and has a shitload of money. Why the fuck he's a Free Radical I don't know, but he is one, and wants to kill the rich fuckers bad as I do. Well, maybe more, I guess.

You see, when Carlos took me to the camp, it was Stalin I had to tell my story. And when I told him about Conrad, and killing the little boy Anthony, and running away, he looks at me and says, "Well, why didn't you kill the fucker before you took off?"

I had to think about that. Why didn't I? It ain't like he coulda fought back or nothing. Anyway, Stalin says I ain't ready to be a soldier yet, but I can help the revolution anyway. The revolution needs money, for guns and ammo and bombs and all that. And I got a cute ass. And that's why I was selling it on that corner. For the revolution.

,,,

The kid Joe come in two three weeks ago. They said somebody found him in the desert, but he got real street smarts, and Stalin right off said he could be a soldier. I only talked to him the one time, but I don't think he cares all that much about the revolution.

You see, he says some rich fucker got his little brother, and all he wants is to get the kid back again.

8.08 (From Billy's "blog")

As you certainly have figured out by now, he didn't say it in that particular order. I take certain liberties in transcription. But what the hell, I got him to cough up a sex scene or two, and I saved the part you really wanted to hear -- the part about the kid who might be Joe -- for last. Unless what you really wanted was the sex, which would not surprise me either.

Of course, the kid Jacques met could be somebody else's Joe, not Robby's. And that would really be fucked. With a little luck, we'll find out tomorrow.

billy_budz@hush.ai