26 comments/ 40039 views/ 14 favorites Half a World Away By: JimBob44 *Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age. * "Fucking skank!" "No! No! Please!" "Go ahead, Terri! Fuck the stupid bitch up!" "Retard!" "I won't do it no more!" He heard the shrill voices, one more shrill than the others as the owner of that voice pleaded for mercy. He grabbed his shotgun and ran out of his shack toward the creek, where the voices were coming from. He ran silently, on bare feet. He'd learned how to run while making as little sound as possible and staying as low as possible, so that the tall grass of the Cambodian fields hid his approach, or his escape. There were four of them; two girls were holding the arms of a third girl. The fourth girl had already struck the third girl; he could see the bloody nose and split lip. The butt of the shotgun slammed into the skull of the fourth girl; she didn't even make a sound as she collapsed to the ground. The other two attackers opened their eyes wide in fear as he trained the shotgun on the taller of the pair. "Let's make this a fair fight," he said and pumped a cartridge into the chamber. "You wouldn't dare," the other girl smugly said. "Try me," Bill said and began to squeeze the trigger. He jerked the barrel up at the last second and blasted the pellets into the sky. Bill clenched his jaw (to keep from laughing) as he heard the taller girl begin to whimper. Her shorts began to darken from the crotch outward as she urinated on herself. "DO you know who my Dad is?" the smaller girl sneered. "A sack of shit wrapped in human skin," Bill said. "But who your daddy is don't mean shit; you're trespassing on private property." "No we ain't," the smaller girl declared, pissing Bill off even more. He grabbed the girl by a hand full of her hair and dragged her, kicking and swinging, twenty feet to the wooden fence. "What the fuck does that say?" Bill screamed and slammed her face into the 'No Trespassing' sign. "You're crazy, the sobbing girl screamed as she and her taller friend ran away. The girl he'd struck with the butt of the gun was slowly coming to and Bill heaved a sigh of relief; he'd not meant to strike her that hard. The other girl, her bloody nose beginning to dry up, was kneeling and helping the other girl up. "Now you two go on and finish this up now that this is a fair fight," Bill said and both girls looked at him. "I don't want to hit her," the intended victim said. She actually started to cry at the thought of having to hit the other girl. "Where's Madeline and Kimberly?" the other girl said and tried to stand. "Ran off," Bill said. "Please, I don't want to fight," the intended victim continued to cry. "Those stupid fucking bitches," the girl spat and managed to get to her feet. Bill couldn't help but look in amusement as she stomped away, leaving the other girl behind. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up," Bill said and grabbed the girl by her arm. ---- He couldn't help but reflect on the manner of dress that the girls of this generation affected. The outfit of the girl in front of him would have been considered risqué, more suitable for the beach, or for a Go-Go dancer, than for a school girl to wear to school. Her shorts were barely covering her crotch or rear end; her entire thigh area was bare to the gaze. The top left quite a bit of her midsection bare, which also showed off her navel, ea deep indentation in the paunch she had. Hell, on the television show 'I Dream of Jeannie,' they wouldn't let her show her navel, even in a harem costume. "It's a different world, that's for sure," Bill said under his breath as he used a damp washcloth on the girl's face. The nosebleed had stopped and certainly wasn't serious. He applied an ice pack to the girl's split lip. "Not really all that bad," Bill declared and looked at the girl again. She was of medium height, about five foot five, and about thirty pounds overweight. Her frizzy brown hair hung down in a nondescript style and her brown eyes seemed lifeless. What was visible of her skin around the washcloth was affected by an unhealthy amount of pimples. The only attractive feature about her was her full lips, and her fairly ample chest. Bill smiled to himself; take away the baby fat that bulged out in her midsection and that large chest would most likely disappear as well. "So, why were those three bullies bragging you onto my property to beat you up?" he asked. "I don't know," she lied. "Oh, come on!" Bill said. "Three girls drag you out here, two of them hold you down and a third one starts punching you, and you don't know why!" "I don't know, they just don't like me, I guess," she mumbled around the ice pack, and screwed her face tight in a grimace of pain. The ice was beginning to sting. "So, what's your name?" Bill asked as he popped open a can of beer. "Ida. Ida Jo," she said. "Cute," Bill said. "Like Idaho, except with a 'J,' huh?" "Yeah," she agreed, obviously used to getting a bunch of grief over her name. "So, Ida, tell me, why were you getting the shit kicked out of you?" he asked again. "'Cause I sucked Scottie's dick," she said and blushed hotly. "No shit? Scottie Harrison?" Bill asked. "Yeah, him," Ida admitted, hanging her head. "He said he likes me." "Ah, okay, now that makes sense," Bill said. "And that little bitch was Terri Hebert." "Yeah," Ida said. "She thinks she's his girlfriend, but Scottie said he doesn't really like her; she won't suck his cock." Scottie was the star wide receiver for Mumphrey High School. Colleges all throughout the Southeastern Conference were vying for his attention. Terri Hebert was one of the cheerleaders of Mumphrey High; Madeline and Kimberly were her constant sidekicks. "Do you know who my Dad is?" Madeline Webber had asked him. John Webber was the Mayor of Mumphrey, Louisiana, as if that meant anything to Bill. Bill actually thought more of Evans, the owner/pharmacist of Evans' Drug store. "He actually provides a service," Bill said. "Ida Jo, Gregg?" Bill asked. "From right down the road?" "Yes sir," she said, still blushing. "I'll bet he enjoyed that little cock sucking treat," Bill thought as he looked at her full, moist lips. "Need me to call your mom, let her know where you are?" Bill asked and finished the beer. "No sir, but thank you," Ida said. "Okay, let's take a look at that lip," Bill said and took the washcloth out of her hand. "It'll be pretty," he said. "But it looks a lot worse than it actually is." ---- Sheriff Davis himself paid Bill a visit an hour later. "Hey Donnie, Been expecting you," Bill said easily. "Yeah, yeah, what's this about you taking pot shots at little girls?" Sheriff Davis asked Bill. "I was sitting here," Bill said, indicating his leather recliner. "All of a sudden, I hear this commotion coming from out back. I go out there, and there's these three girls beating up on another girl." "Uh huh," Sheriff Davis said as he followed Bill out to the area where he'd seen the four girls. "So, I stopped the fight," Bill said. "One of the girls got real snotty with me, so I showed her the 'No Trespassing' sign, up close and personal." "You sure they were on your property?" Sheriff Davis asked. "Look, there's one of their purses," Bill said and pointed. "Uh huh," Sheriff Davis said and picked up Madeline's purse. "So?" Bill asked. "Anything else?" "Nope," Sheriff Davis said and shook his head. "Thanks, Bill." ---- "I didn't expect Scottie to tell everybody," Ida admitted as she and Bill sat on the porch of his small house. "Really?" Bill said mockingly. Her lip was healing up, only a thin red line showed where Terri's fist had split it. "Uh huh, and now everybody's calling me names," Ida said. "Honey, guys talk, they like to brag, he isn't going to keep his mouth shut not about getting some head," Bill asked and finished his beer. "And now all the guys are telling me I got to suck their cocks and I don't want to," Ida wailed. "Honey, you don't suck anyone unless you want to; no one can make you do anything you don't want to," he sternly told her. "As for little Mr. Scottie..." "And this is what you do," Bill said and gave her a few suggestions. When they finished talking, Ida was smiling, almost laughing. Bill reflected that she could be passably cute, if she'd just do something about the mass of pimples, and maybe get a better hairstyle. But he knew that Glenda Gregg didn't have a whole lot of money for hairstyles or skin treatment; ever since her husband ran off, she barely had enough to feed her and her kids. Bill watched as Ida walked away toward her house. In his day, the only girls that had tattoos were prostitutes, or freaks in a sideshow. The butterfly tattoo adorned Ida's hip and it was just visible in the low rider jeans she wore. Bill couldn't help but think that the jeans were a poor choice for the extra pounds the girl sported. ---- He vaguely remembered one girl that had a dragon tattoo, on her left breast. Her golden skin had glowed in the flickering candlelight and she smiled so sweetly as she anointed his flesh with oils when she finally lowered her hairless pussy onto his cock, she groaned once and filled her pussy to overflowing. She laughed at his embarrassment; she had not even fully lowered herself onto him when he ejaculated. He paid her for the 'massage' and joined his smiling comrades. The medic had not been all that amused as he jabbed the needle into Bill. "Penicillin ought to knock out whatever that whore gave you," he grunted and exhaled the foul cigar smoke, almost directly into Bill's face. ---- Her eye was black, swollen shut. "I did what you told me," Ida sobbed. "And?" Bill asked, concerned. "Scottie got real mad, and he hit me," Ida sobbed even more. "And now he don't like me no more either!" Bill had told her to simply tell anyone that asked that Scottie's cock was very small, and that he couldn't get an erection until he started talking about playing football with all the other guys. No matter how cocky or arrogant Scottie was, the thought that his cock was small, or that anyone thought he was gay would be something he'd have a hard time combating. Bill remembered that Marlene Johnson used to curse for the shock value. She was a real breath of fresh air in 1972, when they'd graduated high school. She used words like 'shit' and 'fuck' and 'cocksucker' at a time when proper young ladies didn't do that sort of thing. But Ida casually used words like 'pissed' and 'shit' and 'fuck' without batting an eye. It was a part of her vernacular; she used the words unmindful of the fact that he was an older man. "Did you tell the school nurse? Or any of the teachers?" Bill asked. "No, he told me I better not," she sniffed. She begged him not to call the police; even though he told her several times that it was against the law for boys to hit girls. Finally, he agreed not to call the police and offered her a beer. She hesitated for a moment, then shrugged and took the can. "You know that I'm only eighteen, right?" she said as she popped the top. He'd forgotten that the drinking age wasn't eighteen anymore; when he was eighteen, that was the very first thing they'd done was buy a six-pack of beer. Now kids had to wait until they were twenty-one for that rite of passage. "I wont tell if you don't," he shrugged and poured himself a shot of whiskey. He shuddered as he swallowed; the liquid burned all the way down. "Thanks for the beer," Ida said as she got to her feet. "See you later," he called out. ---- He could hear them but the jungle did not let any moonlight through so he couldn't see them. He put himself as tightly as he could against the trunk of the tree and held his breath. Something was crawling on him but he dared not brush it away for fear that they would hear him and light their lanterns. He couldn't help but smile to himself, despite his overwhelming fear; they jabbered back and forth in their native language and Andy, his buddy, used to crack them up with his imitation of them. They sounded just like Andy as they walked along the jungle path. Every now and then, one of them would bark out an order and they would lapse into silence. That was even scarier; he could hear the rustle of leaves, but couldn't tell if it was the wind making the leaves rustles, or if they were still marching by. Whatever was crawling on him had stopped crawling and was now biting him, sucking the blood out of him. He woke up screaming and swatted at the mosquito that had gorged itself on his blood. It took another couple of shots of whiskey and a few more cans of beer before he could even talk himself into closing his eyes again. He watched the dawn come in through the dirty window. ---- He knew which car was Scottie's; he recognized it as the black car that made his windows shake and rattle as it drove past. Scottie had a subwoofer in the car that put out an unbelievable 'thump.' And he didn't seem to care that it would be two, three o'clock in the morning; he cranked the stereo up as he drove around Mumphrey. Bill looked around, then popped the hood of the car and made a few adjustments. ---- "Someone beat up Scottie!" Ida exclaimed as she put her book bag down. "Really?" Bill asked. "How'd that happen?" "I don't know!" Ida said, still excited over the occurrence. "I heard he was trying to fix his car and someone came up and beat him up!" Scottie had cranked up Metallica, adjusted the bass, then sat in disbelief as the car died. "Problem?" he heard a deep voice ask, and when he turned to talk to the newcomer, a severe pain engulfed him. His left eye was black and swollen shut, three of his ribs were broken, and his testicles were swollen to nearly four times their normal size. Worse still, whoever had assaulted him had also destroyed his stereo. The cd player dangled by a single wire, the amplifier was twisted metal, and the speakers were stomped flat. The Subwoofer had been yanked out of the trunk and actually looked as if a large truck had run over it several times. "Gee, sport," the police officer smirked. "That's a real shame about the stereo." -------- Andy had fallen back to circle out and around the perimeter. Night was falling fast; they knew Charlie was around, just didn't know where. Bill stepped into the clearing and saw Andy; his throat slashed open, eyes unseeing. Bill woke up to the sounds of screaming; his own horrified screams. He sat and watched the dawn break through the clouds. ---- "What you doing?" Ida asked and put her book bag on the porch. Her eye was almost back to normal. "Giving the place a little Spring Cleaning," Bill said as he vigorously wiped down the window. "Need a hand?" Ida asked. "Need a lot more than just a hand," Bill admitted. "Right now, I'm just getting the place a little spit and polish, but once I see what I got to work with, I'll be putting a coat of paint on this old shack." "I'll help you if you want me to," Ida offered. She was true to her word; she showed up the next day dressed in stained sweatpants and ripped and stained tee shirt. She put a bandanna on over her hair and got to work. His house consisted of a small kitchen and dining room, a small living room, one bathroom, and his bedroom, so it did not take them very long to give the inside a coat of light blue paint, with bright and cheerful yellow paint for the woodwork. They had enough of the paint left over so he decided to give the outside a good going over as well, reversing the color scheme. The walls were yellow, the trim in light blue. ---- He could smell the chemicals as the plane flew overhead and sprayed the liquid onto the jungle. Aunt Orange, a defoliant, they called it. It was supposed to kill all the plant life so the Viet Cong wouldn't have any place to hide. "Perfectly safe," the CO had said. "Kills trees and grass, not people. That's our job." They had laughed at that one. The smell was getting stronger, choking off his airway. The deforesting agent was now dripping down off of the leaves overhead and he coughed. Suddenly the jungle was alive with flashes and shouts and screams. Drowning out all of that was the 'ack-ack-ack' of the AK-47. Bill raised his own rifle, but it was jammed. He squeezed and squeezed the trigger, but nothing happened. Again, he watched the dawn come in through the window. Since he'd cleaned the window, the sunlight was a little brighter, a little more cheerful, but it did little to lift the demons from his mind. The fumes from the paint gave him a headache, but several beers and nearly a half a fifth of whiskey took care of that. ---- The young doctor was very short with him, obviously distracted. "Where's Dr. Stein man?" Bill asked as the kid scribbled something in his file. "Retired, I think," the kid shrugged. "Oh," Bill said. "So, how much do you drink, Bill?" the kid asked. "Well, Sonny," Bill answered. "About a six pack to a twelve pack a day, and I usually have a pint or two of whiskey with it." "Um, that's DOCTOR Roberts," the kid colored. "Oh?" Bill said. "And that's MISTER Hunter, not Bill." "Fine," Dr. Roberts snapped and scribbled some more notes. "And don't go putting down, 'needs to go into Rehab for alcoholism,'" Bill said tiredly. "Been there, done that, don't work." "Um, it does work for a lot of people," Dr. Roberts said. "Yeah, people that want it," Bill agreed. "I don't want it, I don't want to go to those fucking meetings with all them fucking touchy-feely dick heads that don't know shit about real life." "Well, I'm not prescribing any more medication; according to your files you've had..." Dr. Roberts said. "Did I ask you to prescribe anything?" Bill asked. "Well, um, no, but..." Dr. Roberts stammered. "Look, the nightmares are coming back, that's why I'm drinking so fucking much, how do I make the nightmares go away, and no, going to a bunch of A.A. meetings ain't going to do it," Bill said. ---- "Where were you yesterday?" Ida asked as she took her book bag off her shoulder. Bill looked at her for a moment; he could swear she had on make up. Her pimples were slightly less visible. "VA Hospital in Hammond," he said and shrugged. "Nothing's wrong, huh?" she asked, real concern in her voice. "No, just felt like wasting an entire day to see some snot nosed punk," he said lightly. "Oh, okay," Ida, said. Obviously, sarcasm was wasted on her. Bill looked at the outfit she had on. The butterfly tattoo was visible over the waistband of her shorts and the top she wore left a good bit of her belly exposed. The hooker he'd spotted on Old Hammond Highway had been dressed similarly; shorts so short they were obscene, and top that left her belly, and the undersides of her sagging tits visible. For fifty bucks, she'd swallowed Bill's cock and slurped noisily until Bill grunted and spewed his load into her mouth. She pulled her mouth off of his shrinking cock and spat the contents out into a wadded up tissue. "Thanks," she said when he drove her back to Old Hammond Highway, instead of making her walk the two or three miles back to her post. "So, how's it going?" Bill asked as Ida sat down on the other plastic chair. "School sucks," she said. "No one there likes me, even Scottie don't like me no more." "Yeah?" He asked. "But you only have what, two more months of school left, right" "Yeah, then what?" Ida asked in frustration. "There ain't shit to do in Mumphrey. I graduate, then what, go to work for Wal-Mart?" "Or go to college," Bill offered. "Yeah, right," Ida snorted. "College costs money, and my grades ain't real good neither." Half a World Away They sat in silence for a few minutes. "So, what you do?" Ida asked. "What do you mean?" Bill asked her. "I mean, you don't go to work, but you got money, right?" Ida asked. "So, what you do?" "I'm a Vietnam vet," he said. "Good old Uncle Sam gives me a disability check every month." "No shit?" Ida asked. "Yep, eighteen hundred," Bill said. "Two tours of duty, Reconnaissance division." "Did you kill anybody?" she asked, eyes wide with interest. "Yeah," Bill admitted. They sat for a few minutes, and then Bill sighed. "Yeah, I killed some people," he said. "Those bad ass rappers you kids listen to, if they're so interested in gangs, and guns, and killing, then why aren't they in the military? Why aren't they doing their part to help out their country? Instead of sitting around bitching about how bad they got it, why don't they do something about it?" "I don't know," Ida said after a long moment. "But I don't really like rap; I like country." "Oh really?" Bill asked. "Loretta Lynn? Conway Twitty?" "Who?" Ida asked. "No, I like country, you know, like Shania Twain, Faith Hill, Alan Jackson." "Who?" It was Bill's turn to ask. ---- "Ah you so big!" She was crying out as he plunged his cock into her sass hard and fast. He wanted to laugh; it was obvious that she'd had lots of anal sex before. He was battering her fast and furious and she was not protesting at all. "You so good, you good lover," she called out again. There was something odd; Bill couldn't put his finger on it. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He paused his frenzied thrusting and reached for his service pistol. The creaking of the door was drowned out by the prostitute's staged cries of orgasms. Bill put three bullets into the man's head and the prostitute started screaming in her native tongue. And she had the audacity to demand payment. This after conspiring with a North Vietnamese agent to have him killed. He woke up with an erection, a rare occurrence, and took matters into his own hands. He wondered if Ida Jo could be coerced or cajoled into showing him what she'd done for Scottie. ---- Sheriff Don Davis came out to see him about the incidence; Bill listened to Don describe the extent of the injuries to Scottie, and the damage done to Scottie's car. "So?" Bill asked and popped the top on a can of beer. "What's that got to do whit me?" "Well, Bill, you ain't exactly a real big fan of Scottie and that stereo of his," Sheriff Davis reminded him. "Oh, Come on, Donnie, I ain't the only mother fucker around ever called you to complain about that little prick driving around booming the shit out of us!" Bill protested. "No, no you ain't," Sheriff Davis agreed. He declined Bill's offer of a beer and waved to Ida as she came walking up. "What'd the cops want with you?" she asked. "He was just asking if I knew anything about Scottie's getting himself beat up," Bill answered. She shrugged her shoulders and went inside the small house and came back out a minute later with a can of beer. "Um, hey, um, think you could like ask and stuff?" Bill said and nudged her with his toe, She giggled and took a deep gulp of the beer. "Hey Bill, can I have a beer?" she asked and took another big gulp. "No!" he barked and she erupted in gales of laughter. "Too late!" she laughed and stuck her tongue out at him. "Don't stick that out unless you're going to use it," he warned, half playfully, half hoping. She laughed again and took another sip of the beer, then sat down in the plastic chair. After a few comfortable moments of silence Ida let out a large belch and they both laughed. "That was a pretty good one," Bill said. "Yeah, my momma don't like it when I do that, but I can't help it," Ida said. He looked at the shorts the girl was wearing; they were a little more reasonable, almost modest for shorts. "So, where'd you get the tattoo?" he asked. "The butterfly tattoo?" she asked and looked at her left hip. "Yes, what other tattoos do you have?" he asked her. "Just that one," she said. "Then why'd you ask if I was asking about the butterfly tattoo?" he asked in mild irritation. "I don't know," she admitted. "Okay, tell me about the butterfly tattoo," he asked her again. "I got it for my eighteenth birthday," she said happily and pulled her shorts down over her hip to show him the entire tattoo. "And man it hurt! I thought he was never going to get done with it!" In pulling her shorts down over her left hip, she exposed a good deal of her brown pubic hair to his gaze. She didn't notice this as she was intently looking at the tattoo. "So how'd you do it?" Bill asked. "Pull your shorts down like that, or what?" "No, I hat to take my pants all the way off," Ida said. I was laying there on this table and he was sitting there, looking right at my hoo-hoo!" Ida giggled at the memory of that. She pulled her shorts back up and sat back down. "I want to get another one," Ida said. "Maybe a rose or something." "Where?" Bill asked. The other hip?" Ida looked at the other hip, even pulled her shorts down on the right side, and then shook her head. "No, I was thinking on one of my boobies," she said and giggled at the naughtiness of that idea. "Wow, I'd definitely want to see that," Bill agreed and realized he was quite drunk. "Really?" Ida asked. "You think Scottie's want to see it?" "Fuck Scottie," Bill groused. "Yeah, he's a big old ass hole," Ida agreed and finished her beer. "So, how much does a tattoo cost?" Bill asked. "I don't know, my aunt paid for it," Ida said. "It was a birthday present." ---- They passed the joint around, but Bill had passed out from the combination of alcohol and hashish. Onstage, the two girls danced very poorly to the Jimi Hendrix song. They were both nude but the soldiers paid them very little mind. The 'hump' and then whistling sound was heard, and then all sound ceased. The table protected Bill who was lying on the floor half underneath it. His three buddies were not so lucky. The next sound was one of the girls screaming. Her arm lay a few feet away from her, her blood sprayed from her stump. Bill felt the warm stickiness of her blood as it sprayed on his face. He woke up, sticky in his sweat. He didn't remember coming inside, didn't remember getting undressed and climbing into bed. The last thing he'd remembered was telling Ida he'd take her to get her boobie tattoo for a graduation present. "You just want to see my boobies," she laughed, but agreed to the deal; if she graduated, he'd get her a tattoo. ---- "So, when did the dreams start?" the doctor intoned, not doing a very good job of concealing his boredom. "Gee, cock sucker, I think when I started realizing that there were some mother fuckers out there that wanted to kill me," Bill said. "There's no need for profanity or name calling," Dr. Branson said. "Look, dick wad, do you think you could act like you even remotely give a flying fuck about me?" Bill snapped. In response, Dr. Branson scribbled something on the paper in front of him. Bill realized something; the dreams had started when he'd come across the four girls on his property. Yes, he'd had the dreams before, but they always went away when he increased his drinking and prescription medication. Up until that day a few months ago, he'd been able to disassociate from the world. "SO, how old is this girl?" Dr. Branson asked, now very much interested. "Legal age, fruit loop," Bill spat. "But you say she's mildly retarded?" Dr. Branson asked. "Yeah, well, I think she is, I mean, she seems a little slow, you know?" Bill admitted. ---- Evans Pharmacy filled the prescription and Evans himself came out and talked quietly with Bill about the potential side effects of the strong medication. "I would take it easy on the alcohol, at least until your body has had sufficient time to adjust," Evans told him. "Thanks Evans," Bill said and headed home. ---- Bright sunlight poured into the bedroom and Bill groggily dragged himself from the bed. He felt sluggish as he staggered into the kitchen and fixed himself a pot of coffee. "Fuck, that is some strong shit!" he finally said aloud as he came to, the coffee cold in his cup. ---- "So, the majority of your relationships have been with prostitutes?" Dr. Branson asked. "Yeah, you know what? That's right," Bill said and cocked his head, trying to think. Finally he had to nod his head in agreement. "Other than my ex-wife, yeah, they've all been with fucking whores," Bill said. "And Stacy was nothing but a fucking whore too." "And why do you say that?" Dr. Branson asked. "Uh, 'cause she was fucking damned near everybody in Mumphrey," Bill said scornfully. "And where is she now?" Dr. Branson asked. "Remarried, Donnie, real nice guy," Bill said. "Are you being sarcastic?" Dr. Branson asked. "Huh? NO, no, Donnie is a real nice guy," Bill said. "He's a cop, but you know, when he's got to come out to talk to you, he don't send none of his little piss ants to do it; he comes out himself and talks with you, gets your side of the story." "Does Donnie have to come talk to you often?" Dr. Branson asked. "No, no, I don't start no shit," Bill said. The prostitute was at her usual post and actually smiled a little when she recognized Bill's car. One of the side effects of the medication was difficulty in achieving erection and he finally told the woman to stop. "Um, hey listen, about the fifty bucks..." she started to say. "No, don't worry about that," Bill tiredly said. "It ain't your fault my weenie won't work." "Um, thanks," she said and got out of the car. ---- He cut the pill in half and washed it down with a beer. "No, that's nasty!" Stacy laughed, but didn't pull away from his prying tongue. "Do you really want to?" she asked and he nodded his head vigorously. She grunted and groaned, but didn't ask him to stop and actually let out a little squeal when she felt his pubic hair resting firmly against her buttocks. "Go slow, Honey," she begged as he began to pull his cock out of her raw bowels. Bill woke up with an erection. It wilted almost immediately, but it was encouraging. Not only had he gone through the night without any nightmares, but he'd actually had a pleasant dream, a memory of his marriage with Stacy. ---- "I graduate tomorrow," Ida reminded him. "Graduate? From what?" Bill asked, feigning ignorance. "High School, silly!" Ida laughed and took another sip of her beer. "Really?" Bill asked "Gee, what should I get you for graduation?" "You know," Ida said and traced a finger along her right breast. "Oh! That!" Bill said. "Yeah, you ain't going to say you changed your mind and say no, are you?" Ida asked. "No, a deal is a deal," Bill, agreed. ---- "Ida Jo Gregg," the principal intoned and there was a smattering of applause as she lumbered across the stage and took the piece of paper from the man. ---- He remembered his own high school graduation, in the same auditorium/gymnasium. Had it really been thirty-four years ago? "Scott James Harrison," and there was a loud cheer from Scottie's family and several of the students. There really hadn't been a whole lot of applause when Bill graduated in 1972; his father had applauded, and one or two of his buddies, the ones that hadn't decided that they were too cool to attend. Shortly after the ceremonies, he was on a bus with thirty four other pale, frightened eighteen year olds, headed to boot camp. "Annabelle Theresa Hebert," the principal droned and Terri strode across the stage as if she could care less about the entire event. Bill smirked; the graduation gown hid the tell tale bulge Terri had started to sprout. When he'd pointed it out to Ida, she looked at him, baffled. ---- "What you think that is?" she asked. "My guess would be a baby," he said. "Really?" she gasped. "Uh, yeah," he said and smirked as Terri bossed Madeline and Kimberly around. "So you thick Scottie fucked her?" Ida asked. "Scottie, or somebody did," he said and put a couple of twelve packs of beer into their cart. "Yeah, but I'm the only one that sucked his cock," she said smugly. Bill shook his head; he was sure that Terri had sucked Scottie's cock as well, but if Ida wanted to believe that she was special in Scottie's eyes, he wasn't going to spoil that for her. He remembered Debbie Franklin. Someone had started a rumor that she had sucked Benny's cock and Coach Sanders called all of the boys into the library. Mr. Franklin, a very angry looking man was there and proceeded to make threats against whomever it was that had started the nasty and unfounded rumors. But Ida seemed to be proud of sucking Scottie's cock. Instead of whispering about it, she was loud enough to make Mrs. Fontenot look over and cluck her tongue in disapproval. Bill pushed the cart up the next aisle. He also remembered Sandra King; she'd gotten pregnant in their senior year. Instead of proudly displaying it, she'd dropped out of school and left town. No one knew who the father was, but there was a lot of gossip and speculation. He'd never heard what had happened to her. "But I like those cookies," Ida complained. "And they're not good for you," he said back. "I don't care," she sulked. "Look, it's the beer, or the cookies," Bill finally countered. ---- He looked around the auditorium, the same one he'd stood in thirty-four years ago. Scottie and his family stood around and smugly accepted the congratulations and well wishes of faculty and students. Terri and her family stood only a few feet away; Terri looking arrogant, self-assured, while her mother looked haggard, tired. Her father looked slightly overwhelmed and uncomfortable. Madeline Webber and her father stood near the door; Mayor Webber receiving more attention than his daughter. Ida Jo and her mother, Glenda Gregg, and Ida's two brothers stood around. Very few teachers or students stopped to say anything to them. Bill walked toward them and smiled. "Congratulations, young lady," he said and was surprised when Ida hugged him firmly. "Hi, I'm Bill Hunter, from right down the road," he said in way of introduction to her mother. Terri said something to her parents and they looked over at him. Her father darkened slightly and began to approach him, thought better of it and returned to stand by his wife and daughter. ---- "So, when we going?" Ida asked him. He tried to will the nagging headache away. He'd tried to sleep without the medication; the inability to achieve erections was very troubling to him. Of course, without the medication; the nightmares started with a real frenzy. "Okay, where' re we going?" Bill asked as he started his car. "To get a tattoo," Ida impatiently reminded him. "I know that," Bill said, trying very hard not to get irritated with her. "But where is that?" "Oh," Ida said, recognition setting in. "Um, it's off of Cantor Street, I think, my aunt would know." Bill drove to Cantor Street and drove up and down the street a few times, finally spotting the small sign on Abbeville Lane, off of Cantor Street. The scrawny guy smiled and Bill fought down the urge to sneer; the guy was missing quite a few teeth. Ida looked over all of the pictures of roses and finally selected one. "You going to pick her up when we done," Rickie asked and Bill shook his head no. "He wants to see," Ida giggled. "He wants to look at my boobies. Don't you, Bill?" They went into the back and Ida, after a moment of giggling and blushing, took her tee shirt off. The serviceable bra followed and Bill felt the blood began to surge to his cock. The breasts were large, pale white, and capped with dark circles. They sagged slightly under their own weight. The nipples hardened in the cold air-conditioning of the room. "Go ahead and lay down," Rickie said and Ida stretched out on the table. Bill watched as he wiped the entire breast with antiseptic sponges and Ida giggled as the cold liquid caused her already tight nipple to tighten up even more. While the guy bent to his task, Ida kept up a rambling monologue, reminding him yet again that he'd done the butterfly on her hip. "Well, would you rather have a bunch of butterflies on your breast?" he asked, and went back up to the front of the store, leaving the curtain open. He returned with a book and showed Ida a photograph of a woman's breast, five butterflies adorning the flesh. They actually seemed to be springing from the small nipple and Ida looked at it with great interest. "What you think?" she finally asked Bill. "I think it'd look great on you," he admitted. His erection was nearly painful. He tried to shift his position, but the tall stool really didn't lend itself to many positions, other than sitting. "Mind if I take a look at the old tat?" Rickie asked Ida. "See what colors I need to use?" He looked, almost nervously at Bill, but Bill didn't give him any cause for worry. Ida hesitated for a moment, then unzipped her cut-off shorts and worked them down to she the butterfly tattoo to him. Bill groaned as her thick brown bush was exposed and flooded his boxers with his discharge. Both Ida and the tattoo artist looked over at him and Bill blushed in embarrassment. Rickie smiled, then looked at the old tattoo. "Okay, got it," he said. "Need blue." "Ow!" she cried out as Rickie began his work. "Want me to stop?" Rickie asked and Ida hesitated for a moment, and then shook her head no. Bill tried to will his resurging erection down as Rickie worked on Ida's large breast. The flesh was soon mottled from the needle and Rickie seemed to be going very slowly, but Bill realized that he was being as careful as he could, trying his best to minimize the pain for Ida's comfort. Finally, Rickie let out a deep breath and sat back. "Okay, let me cover that up; remember, no getting it wet for at least twenty four to forty eight hours, you're probably going to be too sore to wear a bra for a few days," Rickie intoned and Bill shifted his erection again as Ida tearfully put her loose tee shirt back on. She absently dangled the bra as Bill paid Rickie for the tattoo and Bill gently reminded her to stick the bra into her purse. ---- The grass huts looked abandoned but Bill used caution as he approached. He heard the buzzing of the insects and looked in the first of the huts. The body was still warm, face mottled with blood. The blood had not hardened yet. He beat a hasty retreat out of the hut just as the four Viet Cong came out of the second and third huts, their AK-47s firing away. Ida's breast exploded and spurted blood and the blood threatened to drown him. He slowly sat up and walked to the kitchen. He smiled while cursing Ida; she'd drank the last beer yesterday. ---- "It itches," she complained. "Then scratch it," he said and sipped the tea. Evans had recommended the herbal tea; Bill had run into the pharmacist at the grocery store. "Why you didn't get any cookies or chips?" Ida complained. "Go look in the mirror," Bill commented. "Your skin is clearing up, and you look like you've dropped about ten pounds." "Yeah, my jeans don't fit any more," she said. "Damn, this thing itches. "Then scratch it, unless you want me to scratch it for you," Bill said. "No," Ida giggled. "You just want to see my boobies again." "Yep," Bill admitted. He didn't particularly care for the way the tea tasted, but Evans had said it was supposed to help with sleep. "Do you really?" Ida asked him and he looked at her, puzzled. "What?" He finally asked. "You really want to look at my boobies again?" Ida asked. Half a World Away "Yeah," Bill admitted. "My momma wants to know if you're my boyfriend," Ida said as she lifted her tee shirt. "And?" Bill asked, feeling the blood surge into his cock. Her breasts were magnificent. The right one still sported the gauze bandage, but her nipples were visible and Bill wondered what she would do if he touched them. "Are you my boyfriend?" Ida asked him. "You want me to be?" Bill asked her. "No, I asked you first. Come on, tell me," Ida giggled and put her tee shirt back down. "Are you my boyfriend?" "Let's see," Bill said and got to his feet. He walked into the kitchen, Ida right behind him. He opened the refrigerator and looked in. "Hmm, there's a bunch of beer in here," he said and closed the door. He opened the pantry and looked in it. "There's a bunch of cans of soup, the chicken noodle kind you like, oh, and here's that Hamburger Helper stuff you said you liked and that you were going to make for me, what's it still doing in here? And there's a jar of that spaghetti stuff you like," Bill said and closed the door. "What's that tell you?" he asked her. "I don't know," she answered. "Tells me I must care a lot about you, which probably means I'm your boyfriend," he answered her. "Oh, okay," she said and they looked at each other for a long moment. Bill finally broke the stare and returned to the small living room to finish the tea. "Um, so if you're my boyfriend, why don't we ever kiss and stuff?" she asked him and sat down on the leather couch. "Didn't know you wanted to kiss," he answered. "Yeah, I like to kiss," Ida admitted. "When I was with Scottie, he kissed me and said I was a really good kisser, and I'd probably be really good at sucking cock." "Ida, baby, I really don't want to hear no more about Scottie," Bill said as gently as he could. He took her hand and pulled her over to him. She clumsily got into his lap and he kissed her full lips softly at first. "Your face itches me," she giggled and rubbed her face where his five o'clock shadow had scratched her. He jammed his tongue into her mouth and she struggled lightly at first, then ceased struggling and returned the kiss. She moaned lightly when he cupped her left breast and hefted it. It was a very large handful and he delighted in the weight of it. She pouted slightly when he broke their kiss, then giggled when he lifted her tee shirt to expose her breasts. Her eyes opened wide and her mouth formed andO' when he took her left nipple into his mouth and sucked hard at it. "Oh!" She gasped and cradled his head in her arms. "I like that! Keep doing that!" ---- They did get a couple of funny looks as they stood in line at the movie theater, but Bill paid them no mind, and Ida was too excited about being out on a date to notice. The girl behind the counter looked at Ida a couple of times when Bill asked for the tickets but slid the tickets over the counter. The movie itself wasn't all that great, but Ida was entranced by it, so Bill tolerated it. He also tolerated her eating all of the popcorn and drinking most of the soda. As they drove home, she put her head on his shoulder. "Oh!" she gasped when he eased her jeans and panties off and rubbed her hairy slit. "Oh!" she screamed out loud when he put his mouth to her slit and stuck his tongue into her wetness. "I love you," she declared as they cuddled. "I really, really love you too," he said and then tickled her lightly. "Stop that!" she gasped and giggled. "Stop it or you're going to make me pee!" "The tattoo came out real nice," he said and traced around one of the butterflies. "Yeah, they look almost real, huh?" she said and did her best to peer down at her chest. "Yeah," he said and bent to kiss the butterfly. "I like butterflies. I think I'll kiss this one." She giggled as he made smooching sounds. "Oh, and this one," he said and kissed another one. "And this one too," he said. "You missed one," she giggled and screamed out as he lightly bit the one he'd missed earlier. ---- "I'm not here to pass judgment," Dr. Branson said. "Oh, bull fucking shit," Bill growled. "That's ALL you fucking do." "Okay, fine, Bill, whatever you say," Dr. Branson said, his own patience wearing thin. "So, am I wrong in messing around with a mentally retarded girl?" Bill asked him again. "Bill, what do you think?" Dr. Branson asked. "Are you taking advantage of her? Have you lied to her, threatened her, coerced her into doing things she doesn't want to do?" "No, actually, no. Quite the opposite," Bill said. "She keeps wanting to go all the way, but I've kept it down to mainly touching and kissing, and oral sex." "Hmm?" Dr. Branson asked, mildly interested. "Wonder if I can get her to shave that fucking forest she's got," Bill mused aloud. "Look, our time is up, and Bill, quite frankly, you do show signs of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, but it's not severe enough for me to recommend further meetings," Dr. Branson said and closed the file folder in his lap. "You know what?" Bill said as he got to his feet. "I agree with you, but I really got to tell you, I think this has helped me out a whole bunch." "Oh, well, um, good, good, glad to hear it," Dr. Branson said, startled by a positive response out of such a difficult man. Bill saw the hooker standing out on the street and did think slightly of stopping and getting a fast mouth job. He decided against it and merely waved to her as he drove past. He looked in his rearview mirror and let out his breath in relief; there was a Hammond police car right behind him. ---- "Okay, I'm going to fix that Hamburger Helper," Ida declared as she bustled about it the kitchen. "Need help?" Bill asked her "Yeah," she admitted after a long moment of silence. "I watched my momma make this and it don't look that hard, but I don't know how to do it." Bill helped her, but made her do the bulk of the work. Finally, it was finished and they sat at the table and ate it. Bill didn't think it was all that great, but Ida was so ecstatic at her success that he praised it highly. She ran to the living room and used the telephone to call her mother to tell her all about it and Bill used that time to scrape half of his food into her plate. "My momma wants to talk to you," she said and Bill went into the living room to talk to Ida's mother on the phone. "Um, yes, yes, I agree," Bill said and politely hung up. "What'd my momma want?" Ida demanded when Bill came back to the kitchen. Her mother had demanded that Bill be honest; if he was just stringing Ida along, he needed to stop it immediately. Bill didn't think he was stringing Ida along; he was pretty sure he had a genuine love and affection for the girl. "She said you needed to cook more often, since you did so good with this," Bill said. "She did not, don't be lying to me," Ida groused. "She just wanted to make sure that I'm not hurting you," he said, deciding that the truth was probably the best route to take with her. "I'm not a big baby!" Ida fumed. "No one said you were," he said. "Mommas worry, that's all." It took a long time for Ida to forget about her anger over her mother's needless worry, but by the time darkness was falling, she'd managed to regain her usual happy demeanor. ---- Ida looked on with some interest as Terri waddled in the aisle of the grocery store. "What the fuck you looking at, retard?" she spat as she pushed her buggy past them. "A fucking ugly bitch," Bill said and Terri's face clouded over with hatred. Ida gasped then giggled at Bill. "That's not nice," Ida chided him. "Fuck you, Wack job," Terri spat out. "You? No thanks, no one's that desperate," Bill smirked and Terri huffed and sped up, quickly exiting the aisle. She glowered in real hatred as Ida leaned against Bill as they waited to check out. Her anger grew in intensity as she watched Bill help Ida put the groceries into the trunk of their car and then hand Ida the keys. Ida checked the rearview mirror, the side mirrors, and then the rearview mirror again before carefully backing out of the parking space. She smiled and waved to Terri, excited that someone she knew saw her driving a car. ---- Please," Ida begged and put his cock to the mouth of her pussy. He was so glad she'd sucked him off a moment ago. Looking into those large brown eyes, so full of love and life and trust, and feeling her heat as he pushed himself into her, he would not have been able to last more than a few seconds. She screwed her eyes shut as he battered through her hymen. "It going to hurt every time?" she asked once she could speak again. "Nope," he assured her. Within moments, her pain was forgotten about and she was grunting and heaving underneath him. "Wow, I like it when you put your tongue in my hoo-hoo, but when you fuck me, that's even better," she said as they lay together. ---- The leaves rustled as he hid underneath them. The fear was nearly smothering him. He actually felt himself smothering, and yet the enemy soldiers kept coming, all around him. If one should happen to look over, they'd see the glint of the barrel of his rifle. He'd only had a few seconds to dive under the cover of the leaves when he came out of the brush, almost right in the middle of the enemy encampment. He was going to suffocate; he just knew it. "Shh, shh, I'm here, you going to be okay," her voice cut through the darkness and he sobbed in relief. He watched her sleep, she hugged a pillow to her chest, much like a child would hug a teddy bear, and smiled. Watching her sleep was a lot more pleasant than watching the dawn break. Epilogue: Kimberly left Mumphrey, Louisiana to go to attend Louisiana State University. She majors in being drunk and stupid. Somehow, though, she does manage to get passing grades in most of her classes. Madeline Webber decided to attend Loyola University, in New Orleans, her father's alma mater. Unlike her father, though, she didn't apply herself, expecting college to be an extension of high school. After her first semester she was placed on academic probation and after her second semester, asked not to return to Loyola University. She is currently enrolled at Delgado Community College, enrolled in the remedial courses until she can pull her GPA up enough to transfer to Louisiana State University. Terri Hebert gave birth to Harrison Jonathon Hebert. After the birth, she continued to lie around and expect everyone to cater to her. Her parents are raising Harrison. Scottie went to play football for Mississippi State. An overenthusiastic free safety ended his football career in the training camp. Unable to adjust to life as just another student, Scottie soon found himself flunking out of college. He took a job dancing in a Biloxi nightclub. A couple of months later, his roommate approached him with an offer to star in a porno shoot. The video of Scottie losing his anal virginity was a very popular dvd among the gay population. Scottie starred in three more gay porno movies, until he finally took his own life with a shotgun blast to the head. Ida Jo Gregg became Ida Jo Hunter and is pregnant with what she hopes will be William Hunter, Junior. "He or she will love butterflies," Bill laughed. Ida begged and pleaded and Bill finally agreed to pay Rickie to adorn the left breast with a few more butterflies. Every now and then, the past does come back, but Ida calls out to him and pulls him back from half a world away. The End. **Author's Note: I write these stories for my pleasure. I post them here for your pleasure. If this isn't your genre, your cup of tea, then don't read it. If you want to leave me feedback but don't have the balls to use your name, then go get your mother to do it for you. I don't mind negative feedback; some of it is warranted, much of it is actually helpful and appreciated. But if you're pissed off at the world and want to take it out on me, be man enough to avoid hiding behind 'Anonymous.'