Part Five: Transmogrification

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I. Invisible Criminal“Caution, approaching platform.” We’re nothing but invisibles nowStrangers on a train, that clichéd riftSpun up, up, up in far off Hollywood lightsWith those backstage sets and the rain machinesDropping watery gems into silver tearsThe real fucking taleBehind those Westside BluesWhere you’re a Maria and I’m a TonyJust star-crossed fuckups miscast and misplacedCuz this ain’t no Broadway sketch withLyrical grace and heavy themes to thinkSo let’s just face the fucking truth of it all… I bear more resemblance to Ralph Ellison’s man, slip sliding through life’s invisible shadows. I’m the Twomps’ pitiable ‘gangbanger’ with those tabloid crimes buzz buzzing in his head like the hornet’s nest. And you? You’re the little hood rat that could. Wild. Bohemian. Viscerally real. Yet another shade of tragic blonde beauty that’s reached her limit tryin’na save a wretched soul that doesn’t wanna be saved. Which I think cuts you deep. Cuz it’s not just me that needs the damn savin’.And yet, you’ve got claws in me that won’t let go. That say we shouldn’t be these invisible strangers in this cigar tube, hurtling both nowhere and everywhere, all at once. Past. Present. Unknowable future.Fuck.I don’t say a damn thing though. I’m just a coward in the night click clackin’ on the tracks. I’m no normal reclamation project that can be puzzled back together with duct tape and hot glue. I doubt you are either. So I ask myself this, can a sane motherfucker risk the white man’s MAD by sticking round?Stickin’ together?Keep tryin’ to keepTryin’, butFallin’ andFailin’?Shit.We’re emotional warheads,Two foreign bodies withRusted out nukesPrimed to launch.And… I’m tempeted as shitCrazy as shit,right? Aren’t I?Aren’t we, Jalen?Monster? Fuck.Master control straight failsMissile kolej escort bursts into sky.Just the one though,Cuz I welcome the release ofA blinding light showRaining down on my world.“Stand clear, doors opening.”You pause before getting off and I hope for just a second you turn round. Yea. You. Not her. You. Fucking Bubble Gum Blondie. My tiny Oaktown Aphrodite with the double bubble addiction. The roughly edged girl who drops blunt scathing truths bombs and electric love. Shit surprises me, even as the monster inside rages just below to give it up already, to burn away, paint myself into scene and fuck any hot piece of tail I stumble across rather than waste time worry’n over a bitter reminder. But you shrug and step off. And it’s kind of ironic that the backpack you’re wearing is the Disney Beast. Except, that isn’t quite accurate though, seeing as I’ve sure as fuck got no noble dandy with a heart a gold lurkin’ in my bones. And I hate that sappy shit anyway. Hard to believe stories ever end up like some molasses overdose fairytale when you grow up in a placed called the Murder Dubs. Happy endings ain’t for you and me.Are they?I look down at my sketchpad.It’s empty.Well.Empty of sanity.All I’ve done is drawn villains. Him. Me. Fucking. Drinking. Getting high. Popping X. Straight fucking the nights away on a cocktail of all three. Retrograde. The Westside tragedy self-medicating on drugs n’ pussy. Disappointment, ghosts will cry.“Hey,” a familiar voice whispers in my ear, hand on my thigh. “Remember me?”The monster growls and I let him out.II. Basic Instinct Tiled floor. Knee high socks.Fine ass.Yoga pants.Rational thought shimmers in fragmented blurs, mostly overridden by the panting bundle of hot teen pussy in front sihhiye escort bayan of me. I push it away.Her legs are spread wide, black tights pulled just below her soft curvy ass. An oversized Raider’s T teases hieroglyphic tattoos tracing down her slender spine. She’s staring back at me in the mirror of a Bart station restroom, hunched over the sink on tiptoes, a tantalizing image of uninhibited teen lust. The punk ass motherfucker tucked deep inside me beats at the walls, but he’s the one who let me out and damn if I’m not gonna enjoy my time like always. He’d prattle on about this little Asian number being worthy to paint. Froth over her elegant lines and symmetrical face. Hah. Pussy. All that matters is giving this bitch exactly what her eyes were begging for that first time. What she’s begging for now.Creamy arousal drips from dark pink lips as she strums a zebra painted nail back and forth.“Come on,” she whines, reminding me of the rich, spoiled daddy’s girls who drive around in sleek Escalades wearing fake plastic smiles. “I want it. I want it, I want it, I want it.”I frown, suddenly annoyed. “The fuck could a rich little china doll like you want from me?”“Your fat black cock inside my teeny tiny Asian pussy,” she begs. Her pupils are dilating wide and her nostrils are flaring. “I’ve wanted it since I first saw you all those months ago on the BART. My friends said you were a killer. Or a gangbanger. Maybe just a drug dealer. Some story about a dead rich girl found in your apartment. Daughter of like, some Russian oligarch or something.”I slap my heavy shaft against her delicious cheeks and pull away when she pushes, desperately trying to get me to stab into her.“And were you scared?”She moans. “No. Well. Escort sincan Maybe? I guess? Just a little. But, I dunno.” She shivers. “It made me wet. Gawd. I’ve never been so wet. And then you got that erection. On the Bart. Because of me. I’ve never been so embarrassingly horny. Wanna know something filthy and wrong? I had Blair fuck me on Becka’s bed that night after she left for work. I always make him use a condom, but…” Her face burns red and she chews her bow-shaped lips. “I wanted her boyfriend’s nasty cum swimming inside me. Leaking into my panties when she got home.”“Aren’t you a twisted little cunt,” I laugh, teasing my throbbing dick in her corrupted pussy.“It wasn’t enough,” she continues. “He’s too…” She gropes for a word. Can’t find it.“Vanilla? Boring? Safe? A tiny dicked white boy?”“Boring,” she chooses. “Couldn’t get me off.” She looks up, eyes sizzling. “I even fucked Rayna’s dad in his Porsche. Had him fuck me in the ass. Gawd I’m such a bitch. I need you!” She wiggles her hips and manages to catch the head of my cock at her messy entrance.I spank her. “I told you to be patient. I like to play with my damn food first. But if you’re good, maybe I’ll take the edge off. I’m real nice like that.”That shuts her up real good and quick.I pull her tanned cheeks apart and marvel at the clean, puckered little star of flesh above her smooth pussy. Money and vanity made the world taste good. And assholes like this were made for cock. I tell her as much and she moans.I grin.And wet a finger with her warm juices, slowly scraping her tight insides.“Holy fucking gawd,” she grunts.I push that finger against her tight little star and she squeals like a pig.“Wait,” she whimpers, but not soon enough. I bury my middle finger inside her hot dark tunnel, all the way to the knuckle. Her head snaps up, eyes squeezing shut. I hold it there for a moment before I move, slowly sawing it in and out. “I don’t…”“You want me to stop?” I pause, fingertip teasing the edges of her tight ring.Her breathing is raspy and her hands clench the edge of the sink.

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