contains non-consensual (homosexual) sex *between* minors, this particular story is m/m/f, and pretty damned violent, depending on your perspective of course, as there's no actual dismemberment or mutilation it may not be quite violent enough (?) Another time period in the continuing adventrues of The Chicken Hawk, he and his buddy 'Dozer are just out of HS.contains non-consensual (homosexual) sex *between* minors, this particular story is m/m/f, and pretty damned violent, depending on your perspective of course, as there's no actual dismemberment or mutilation it may not be quite violent enough (?) Another time period in the continuing adventrues of The Chicken Hawk, he and his buddy 'Dozer are just out of HS. Please note there are not any other stories in this third series and it's likely there may never be. This is fiction. I didn't do these things, I don't think YOU should. But it's not a crime to whack off to the fantasy, at least not until the government can figure out how to monitor brain-waves. I'm not responsible for your actions and you're not responsible for mine. MED SEP-12-93 (C) 1993 Mark E. Dassad. May be reproduced and redistributed un-edited and un-altered in electronic format for NON-PROFIT ONLY with this notice intact. The author reserves the right to sell paper copies at huge profit to the disconnected. Any other use constitutes fraud, and you'll be hunted down like a dawg and violated if you violate this. Okay you can fix typos, but only if you send me corrections. +++++++ It's not about violence, it's not about sex. +++++++ +++++++++++++++ It's about violent sex. +++++++++++++++ Chicken Hawk 3: "Loose Meat Sandwiches" * * * We'd kept her tied to the bed, stark naked and spread-eagled, for the better part of the evening without touching her, as we calmly sat, one on each side of her, guzzling some cheap brand or other of Pennsyl- vania piss-water that the goobers called `beer' and reminiscing the high points of previous encounters. It had become our customary ritual, 'Dozer and me, we liked to watch their terror rise up in waves, ebbing and flowing; it was almost as if we could see it building in the pit of their naked exposed groins, picking up speed in their bellies, cresting in their lungs, crashing against their vocal cords, their backs arching, muscles taut straining against the ropes as a ferocious tidal-wave of terror slammed wet and raspy against the ball-gag, forced back down their throat by the obstruction to settle wetly in their groin, only to rise again when their body inevitably fought again instinctively to escape the inescapable reality of their predicament. |