Posted by Fat Ass on April 03, 2003 at 17:44:23:
My name is Fat Ass, I'm a hit man. That's the truth
I know you were looking at me thinking how in the heck does a guy who flips burger for a living afford a Harley with extra heavy duty suspension. You probably think I'm a kept man, rich women pay me for my favors, stuffing thick wads of green backs in my hands as they beg to suck my dick. Poor woman offer their bodies willingly to me as sex slaves, cooking pizza for me and performing and sexual act on my demand until I tire of them and sell to rich oil sheiks. I know this is a shock but the truth is far worse. The truth is I do murder for hire.
My latest clients, we'll just call them the Smiths, a nice rich couple from the big city. You know, the type - own a house that could house a third world village in, hired me because their daughter was kidnapped. Kidnapped and killed so these nice Smith wanted to even the score. Seemed an all girl lesbian biker gang kidnapped the Smiths little princess. Road right up to the privet collage Princes Smith was attending and threw her on the back of a bike and off they went. First it was for money and then it went bad. Some of the girls got drunk and started having fun with Princess Smith. So girls being girls, and being lesbian outlaw biker chicks, the next thing you know a pair panties ended up down Princess Smith's pretty throat.
From the photos Princess Smith wasn't a easy one for the coroner let me tell you. Princess Smith laying dead there with her blouse torn open and her panties down at her knees with her eye bulging out around her surgically modified upturned nose.. Hell of a way checking out cloaking to death on another woman?s soiled underpants, but being a hit man means you see all kinds of sick shit. Gives me the creeps sometimes, there are some real perverts and sickos out there,but I can be a sensitive man.
Well the job was pretty strait forward. The Smith wanted the girl gang dead, not that I had anything against them. Princess Smith would have spit on me if I had dared talk to her in life, if she had weapons she would attack the likes of me without hesitation. Women like Princess Smith when given gasoline will quickly dose me with it and set me on fire. That's what rich bitches are like that when they want you, I should know I have had enough and have the scars the prove it, so I guess it served her right that the last thing she was smelling in life was another woman's crotch.
I cased out the joint of the all girl biker gang. They creatively called themselves the She Wolves,, must have lost sleep on that one, and hung out in a shabby house in the country. Locals said it was a farm in the '80s, all women, set up as a refuge for women abused by our sexist society. Then the She Wolves showed up and that was they wrote for the refuge. I guess the She Wolves had fun with the women there like they did with Princess Smith. What ever happened the She Wolf's hide out was perfect for me to do my job.
It was simple, child's play really, but that is the trick when you're a hit man, choosing the moment. I waited until the She Wolves were drunk as skunks and then struck. You think I, Fat Ass, am the sensitive type who wouldn?t hurt a butterfly. The truth is am a rock hard killing machine, master of the Asian martial art of Fatjustu or "Art of Power from the Bottom". I know fifty different ways to kill, twenty using no limb on my body. Given enough time to meditate even my blink and break bones in a human body. Sober the She Wolves might have stood a chance, drunk it was a massacre.
The first She Wolf opened the door, bouncing around in her latex cat suite, and got my fist with my ass right behind it (most of a man's power comes from his ass), her neck snapped like a twig. The next two I found, two red heads, stripped down to their panties and nylons so I threw them against the wall and rammed them with my belly and down they went with crushed rib changes. The next five women were on the floor in some kind of strip twister game gone crazy so a flying leap was all it took to turn them into a twisted mass of broken female flesh. On and on it went tell all twenty of them were down, dead and dying.
One room I meet the She Wolves leader, a tall woman with bleach blond hair wearing leather chaps. She was in bed with two of her girl friends, probably two local girls she had picked up but I didn't stop to ask. She came at me claws out so I swept her feet from under and sat on her face. Not the way I would chose to go suffocating to death under my ass, but hey, it was her choice. Had fun feeling her ass and tits out as she died.
Then came my favorite part, finishing the wounded off. The good girls sucked my dick for a bit so I painlessly finished them off with a neck snap. The bad ones wouldn't take my love rod in the mouth, so they just died in moaning agony as they bleed out inside. Not that it helped them any since busted up like that didn't stop me from fucking them. This isn't because I'm a cruel man, I just like to be appreciated for my professionalism.
The rest was easy. Torch the joint and start spreading rumors that some TV preacher had a party gone bad. Sure enough that hick sheriff saw all that lingerie around the place and those pentagrams I painted and he was tripping over his own feet covering it up. You probably read about it, the papers said there was a bad combine accident out at some farm resulting in a small fire and some people were injured. As for the bodies, well let's say Fido got a extra special treat in his doggy food for the next couple of weeks. God, I hope the Republicans stay in the Whitehouse forever.
As for me, I looking at some more custom work on my bike.
I am,
Fat Ass