Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4728245.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Rape/Non-Con,
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Hetalia:_Axis_Powers
  Relationship:
      America_(Hetalia)/Russia_(Hetalia), America/England_(Hetalia)
  Character:
      Russia_(Hetalia:_Axis_Powers), America_(Hetalia:_Axis_Powers), England_
      (Hetalia)
  Additional Tags:
      Bondage, Serial_Killers, Dismemberment, Necrophilia, Disembowelment,
      Implied_Childhood_Sexual_Abuse, Vomiting, Alternate_Universe, Oral_Sex,
      Choking, Tooth_Removal, Suicide, Hand_Jobs
  Series:
      Part 5 of The_Gore_Collection, Part 7 of Shota_Shit
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-09-04 Updated: 2017-06-08 Chapters: 5/? Words: 9020
****** Corpse Flower ******
by Tamagoakura_(orphan_account)
Summary
     The rafflesia unfurls to reveal a pattern like rotting flesh. A
     putrid bouquet fills the air. Each petal is nauseating, repulsive.
     Only vermin can flourish here. This is the Corpse Flower. [A series
     of stand-alone gore oneshots revolving in some way around Alfred F.
     Jones. Expect sporadic updates.]
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
***** Table of Contents *****
                          This will be updated as each installment is released.
 
                                Monster (ch.2)
                                    rusame
    Synopsis -  Ivan, a notorious serial child-killer, takes a new victim.
   Warnings - Underage, bondage, serial killer, guro, blood, dismemberment,
    disembowelment, necrophilia, rape, mentions of incest and csa, general
                                  grossness.
                                        
                                        
                              Car_Drabble (ch.3)
                                    rusame
                    Synopsis - Alfred gives Ivan road head.
     Warnings - Oral sex, mild exhibitionism, accidental dismemberment and
                                 suffocation.
                                        
                                        
                               Goretober (ch.4)
                                    rusame
   Synopsis - The two completed pieces from my attempt to take on Goretober.
  Warnings - Tooth removal, vomit, underage, bondage, oral sex, head trauma,
         murder, implied incestuous feels, insane anger isn't pretty.
                                        
                                        
                                 Colour (ch.5)
                                     UKUS
   Synopsis - Eager for a break from his dull life, Arthur visits a certain
                     establishment to get some stress out.
   Warnings - Cancer mention, euthanasia, hand jobs, no sex, disembowelment,
                               consensual gore.
***** Monster *****
Heavy chains rattled as the boy struggled. Blond hair parted at the side,
fringe swept over to the right, big blue eyes filled with tears. His sun tanned
arms stretched up over his head, shackled and bound to a heavy metal chain that
hung from a hook bolted to the ceiling. He hiccupped and tried to sniff a rope
of snot back up into his nose. The boy's whimpers and sobs were almost
completely lost through the makeshift gag - his own cotton briefs balled up,
soaked in piss, and jammed in his mouth. Lengths of black electrical tape wound
around his head, keeping the wadded up fabric in place.
The chain was drawn high to force him to stand on tiptoe, his ankles shackled
and chained to the floor. One swollen knee was blotched purple and black. A
large, blood-rusted circular saw rested with its jagged teeth between his legs,
inches beneath his crotch. He was naked and trembling in fear, sore from
standing for hours.
Ivan, a man easily in his thirties, stood at a large sink basin running hot
water over a collection of knives. He let out a satisfied sign and turned the
water off, then pushed one of the smaller blades into his pants pocket. His
smile was lighthearted.  "They were talking about me at work today."
The incessant clanking of Alfred struggling with the chain was the only reply.
Ivan shook the excess water from his hands then wiped them dry on his jeans.
His clothes were frayed and stained, worthless articles he had pulled out of an
old box in the attic. Nothing he cared about ruining. He combed his fingers
through his hair (pale blond, it accentuated his fair skin and violet eyes
well) and chuckled down at the trapped child.
Ivan reached out to touch the boy's cheek and Alfred jerked away as far as his
ties allowed. Ivan resisted the urge to hit him. Instead he laughed, a weak
attempt whose smile came nowhere near his eyes, and retracted his hand. His
boots thumped dully on the concrete floor as he circled around behind the
contraption to a long worktable attached to the opposite wall.
He pulled a backpack from the cupboard and did not recognize the mascot
character printed on the front. Had he become so far removed from the lives of
his beloved children?
"A shame," he murmured to himself. He spoke aloud again as he unzipped his
captive's backpack. "Many of my coworkers were talking about me today,
actually. The police found more of sweet little Devon, it was all over the
news. What they said about me..."
He pulled each item from within the bag and lined them up neatly on the table:
Notebooks, pencils, a library book, crayons, safety scissors. "They say that I
am disgusting. Evil. They certainly hate me.
"Jacob said he wants to kill me. The things he talked about doing..." Ivan
chuckled and pulled the boy's school I.D. from the backpack. "He called me a
'baby raper.' How ridiculous! You're not a baby, you're..."
He checked the card and turned to cast a sweet smile the boy's way. "Second
grade, little Alfred? That would make you... Six? Seven?"
Alfred was both unable and unwilling to respond.
Ivan set the card in line with the other items and went to stand in front of
Alfred once more. "Don't fight me." He instructed, then reached out to touch
Alfred's cheek. Alfred flinched away and Ivan slapped him hard, jerking his
head sharply to the right. He lost his footing and stumbled, his weight yanking
on the chain and making the shackles bite into his wrists. Alfred's mind swam
in pain. He could barely think but he managed to find his balance again.
"Do. Not. Fight. Me." Ivan reiterated coldly.  This time Alfred whimpered when
Ivan touched him, but did not move. The boy's cheek was so silky under Ivan's
fingertips. His perfect smooth skin was feverish and glistened with a thin
sheen of sweat. Ivan was not surprised that Alfred fell ill; he had been
hanging like this for some time in the dank basement. Before that Ivan kept him
naked in a small dog cage on the floor until he had enough free time to play.
Ivan had been in his cool down, still sated from his last victim. Devon, a
beautiful little five year old black boy that Ivan stole from a grocery store
parking lot two towns away from his home. It was little more than a month since
then when Ivan was driving home from a family event across town. Alfred had
been out crossing the street, his backpack held in one hand even through it was
late into the evening. He looked worried, his pace quick, head down. Blind to
his surroundings.
Ivan had rules, strict rules he rigidly followed. No one from his home city,
never in his personal car.
Alfred's cute face contorted in sadness overruled all of it. The street was
empty when Ivan rammed his car into Alfred's tiny body, just hard enough to
send him tumbling up onto the windshield and knock him unconscious. He was not
sure how injured the boy was at the time so he slid Alfred carefully into the
backseat, laying him on his side so that he would not choke if he vomited or
was bleeding inside. Alfred did not wake up until Ivan was carrying him down
his basement steps. The boy had been a little firecracker: he screams made
Ivan's ears ring and his struggling almost pitched them both down the stairs.
Ivan barely made it to the basement when Alfred bit him, savagely plunging his
small teeth into his shoulder. The man had howled in pain and dropped Alfred on
the concrete floor. The boy landed with a hard thud, the side of his head
smacking against the cement. Ivan kicked Alfred in the face before he had a
chance to get up, smashing his glasses and bloodying his nose. He swore and
kicked Alfred again in the head, his ribs and back, stomped on his leg. He felt
the joint crack under his boot, heard the snap, and with a groan he came in his
pants.
Presently, Ivan ran his fingertips down Alfred's thin neck, over the bump of
his collar bone. Stopped to pinch and twist one small pink nipple until the boy
screamed. Down again, flat palm along Alfred's side, squeezed his narrow hip
and made him wince. For a moment he looked at the pretty purple/black/blue
bruises that splotched Alfred's skin and the gashes carved into his thighs. The
tears sliding down his reddened cheeks. Ivan shook his head slowly, almost in
awe he found such a perfect boy.
Alfred yelped and tried to hop away when Ivan touched his little penis, but
only succeeded in throwing off his balance once again. It took him longer to
regain his footing this time, the fatigue obviously taking its toll. Ivan
waiting patiently for Alfred to stop stumbling around then touched his boyhood
again. Alfred whined but did not try to move. Ivan gently ran his finger along
the length, tickled the head, slid around to the underside all the way down to
the balls and back up again. He took it between his thumb, middle, and index
finger and began to stroke.
Alfred almost lost his balance when he tried to twist his hips away. He whined,
attempted to say something despite the gag, shook his head. Ivan laughed. "You
are quite the wiggler! That's okay though, it is very cute.
"Am I the first one to touch you like this, Alfred?" He asked, his smile
darkening into a cruel smirk. Alfred froze for a moment, those big blue eyes
staring at Ivan, then he squeezed them shut. A fresh wave of tears spilled over
onto Alfred's cheeks and Ivan blinked in surprise. "I'm not? Really?"
Alfred did not respond so Ivan gave the boy's prick a squeeze and continued.
"Who was it? Teacher? Big brother? Does daddy touch you down here?"
He chuckled meanly. "Do you like it when they touch you?"
The boy sobbed and fervently shook his head but stayed still, even as Ivan's
free hand slipped around to grope his little ass. The man massaged the cheeks,
gently swiped his hand back and forth over each of those pert globes. He slid
his middle finger down the crack to press against the hole. "What about here?"
Alfred's crying took on a more breathless, hiccupping tone. This time he tried
to pull away again but did not lose his balance. The attempt was useless - it
was impossible to move more than a couple inches in any direction. If he did
not live in the suburb, Ivan would have removed the gag so he could make Alfred
answer him. Force him to recount every instance of abuse in bitter detail. He
wanted the boy to relive those past pains before he experienced something far
worse.
Had it been scary? Had it hurt? Ivan's imagination went wild, flying through a
million dark scenarios. Alfred pushed to the ground kicking and screaming.
Alfred anxiously chewing his lower lip, eyes shut tight, trying to ignore such
intrusive sensations. Dragged into a closet by a handsy stranger. Alfred
falling silent, pliant, unsure in the tub as a family member took advantage of
his trust. So many scenarios, so many possibilities. Ivan's cock stirred to
life.
He released Alfred's boyhood in favor of focusing on his ass. So cute and
small... He steadily added pressure until the tip of his middle finger pushed
slowly into the boy's body. Alfred yelped in pain, his anus tightening in an
attempt to keep the offending digit from sliding further inside. Ivan kneeled
down and pressed his lips to Alfred's sweat-slick belly. He kissed the skin,
tiny pecks dotted around Alfred's belly button, traveled down, his finger
pushed further into that searing heat. Alfred's perfectly hairless crotch was
salty on Ivan's tongue. The boy's body quivered, his insides squeezing and
pushing.
From so close Alfred's scent exceeded the acrid stench of the basement, his
sweet yet musky sweat only just overpowering the smell of old blood and urine.
Goosebumps prickled Alfred's skin when Ivan lapped as at dick, a few playful
licks with no intention of bringing the boy any real pleasure. The man pushed
his finger in further, having to use more force to get it in past his second
knuckle without any lube. He twisted his finger around inside, sliding along
the slick, empty cavern. A few handfuls of laxatives had cleaned Alfred out
quite well.
"Does it hurt?" Ivan asked excitedly, jabbing his finger in harder and deeper,
relishing in every pained grunt and moan Alfred made. His breath quickened as
his excitement grew, his dick straining uncomfortably against his pants. He
pulled his finger out and with the help of a glob of spit, shoved both his
middle and pointer fingers back inside. Alfred screamed as he was penetrated,
the intrusion too fast and dry. Ivan thrust his fingers in a few more times,
deep and harsh, then yanked them out. He gave Alfred's ass a hard slap, the
sound and following yelp sending a sharp bolt of pleasure to his groin.
Ivan moved around to stand behind Alfred. He took the boy's small dick between
his fingers and pulled it out straight. His other hand retrieved the blade from
his pants pocket. Alfred watched the man's movements with wide, terrified eyes.
His breathing picked up speed when Ivan pressed the blade against the base of
his boyhood.
"Are you ready?" Ivan teased. Alfred stayed completely still, whimpering
muffled pleas to be let go that Ivan could just barely make out from so close.
The man waited until he calmed down a bit, wanting Alfred's full attention on
what he was about to lose. Only once he had fallen completely quiet but for his
heavy breathing did Ivan make the cut.
The knife slashed through Alfred's flesh, severing his penis completely. He
screamed, blood pouring from the wound and splattering across the saw and
concrete floor. Ivan took a few steps back, admiring the severed penis in his
palm. It was so cute! Alfred's thrashing clattered the chains loudly but Ivan
did not worry about the noise; he had spent a small fortune sound-proofing his
entire home for this purpose. He went to the sink and gave the member a quick
rinse to wash away the excess blood, then dropped it into a glass jar half-full
of formaldehyde.
Behind him Alfred had fallen quiet. His pained moans and the gentle clank of
the chains filled the space, each little whimper equal parts cute and arousing.
He walked back around behind Alfred and placed his hands on the boy's narrow
hips. The metal base of the saw clanked when Ivan kicked the trigger guard
back, exposing the power button. He flipped the safety switch with his left
hand then aimed his boot over the large red button.
When he spoke, the words came out quick, breathy. A slight tremble. "Are you
ready?"
He stomped on the button and the massive blade shot into motion. Alfred
panicked, eyes wide, thrashing as hard as he could to get away from the saw.
The large hands on his hips kept him in place over it long enough for the full
horror to sink in.
Ivan shoved him down onto the rusted teeth. The deafening whir turned into a
shrill scream as the jagged metal tore through the boy's flesh and bone. Blood
and bits of meat splattered out onto the far wall, coating the already stained
concrete in red. Ivan pushed him down further, until Alfred made a choking
sound and those pretty blue eyes rolled back into his head. He retched and two
sprays of acid from his empty stomach burst out his nose just before Ivan
stepped on the button again and stopped the blade.
Alfred's body fell limp, not quite dead but near it, in shock with the saw
blade buried deep in his gored pelvis. Ivan flipped the safety switch and put
the power button's guard securely down before giving Alfred's body a hard yank
up and off of the saw. Blood and shredded bits of muscle and organs slopped
from the gash, coating the saw's entire base and the ground around it. The
blood loss had made his skin sickly pale, clammy and lukewarm. His head hung
down, ropes of snot and bile leaking from his nostrils and around the edges of
the gag. If it weren't for a few weak trembles and an occasional gurgle (the
gag was tight; what little acid and bile he had vomited up was choking him),
Ivan would have thought he was deceased.
Ivan's hands shook as he unlocked the shackles holding Alfred's wrists and
ankles. His heart hammered in his chest, his entire body trembled. The pure,
aggressive need to use Alfred's body was nearly enough to make him throw safety
to the wind and just pull his suspended form to the side and take him right
there. That would be a terrible idea... the saw blade would be too close, too
dangerous. The last thing he wanted was to end up on the news being mocked
because he killed himself with his own machine.
The last cuff popped open and Alfred dropped to the floor, his body slapping
wetly against his own innards. Ivan grabbed him by the ankle and dragged him
(the way Alfred's legs split apart, unnaturally wide, made goose bumps break
out all across Ivan's skin) a few feet away from most of the mess. He dropped
to his knees and flipped Alfred over onto his belly. No reaction - he was
surely dead now. Ivan's own pulse was deafening in his ears as he fumbled his
pants open and pushed them down around his hips. He lifted Alfred's ruined ass,
looking at the hunks and clumps of deep red muscle, a few yellowed shards of
bone, splotches of lighter red over yellow-white globs of fat. He used two
fingers to move the meat around, pushed a bone out of the way, slipped his
fingers into three fleshy pockets before finding what was left of Alfred's
rectum.
Ivan kept his digits inside so he didn't lose it amongst the gore and used his
other hand to aim his cock at the small entrance. The head poked against
Alfred's hole, slipped in the blood, tried again and slid down the rippled
texture of torn flesh. The slick feel of the blood, the heat of Alfred's
exposed insides, they almost pushed Ivan over the edge. He squeezed the base of
his dick hard and closed his eyes shut. If he kept looking, he couldn't calm
down enough to take full enjoyment from the boy's small body.
He took a few deep breaths - each inhale tinged with the strong stink of
Alfred's guts and the sharpness of coppery blood. He stayed that way a moment,
eager to get started but unwilling to ruin this fresh kill by getting carried
away and coming too fast. A dead thing did not keep it's heat long, and that
was even more emphasized for smaller beings like pet animals or children. It
was now or never.
Ivan opened his eyes. This time when he pushed against Alfred's limp body he
slipped easily inside. A few tentative thrusts, edging deeper into Alfred's
rectum then up into his colon, vigilant for any bone fragments that may have
splintered off. Without the vice grip of an anus, it was simple enough to sink
into him once he steadied his hand. Alfred's insides were loose with death,
slippery and still hot in his deepest parts. His tiny body felt wonderful
wrapped around Ivan's sizeable cock.
Each push was deep and slow, careful, until he got about three-fourths of
himself inside and found that he could not get any deeper. Satisfied that
Alfred's body did not have any unpleasant surprises for him, he picked up
speed. Hard and fast, quick snaps of his hips that slapped wetly against
Alfred's bloodied ass. The boy's body jerked limply with Ivan's movements, left
side of his face pressed against the blood-splattered floor, dead eyes staring
blindly at the far wall.
Ivan bit his lip, leaned forward a bit more to let gravity do some of the work,
dug his fingernails into Alfred's now lukewarm hips and fucked him hard. His
knee slipped on the blood that was leaking slowly from the boy's corpse but
caught himself with one hand, his movements barely skipping a beat. His
breathing was quick, shallow, interrupted by the occasional soft grunt or moan.
A hot, electric pressure built at the base of his cock, rapidly increasing with
each harsh shove until the pleasure was too much. Ivan forced himself inside
Alfred's body as hard as he could, until he met the resistance and further, the
harsh speed tearing through the boy's colon so Ivan could bury himself to the
hilt as he came with a low groan.
He stayed there a moment, catching his breath, then slowly pulled out. Ivan
looked down at himself: his softening dick was smeared with blood and dotted
with thick clots. If he was younger the sight would have had him hard again in
an instant, but now regardless of his mind, his body refused to comply.
"What a shame." He muttered under his breath, tucking himself back into his
pants. He would worry about getting cleaned up later. Right now he had to
finish with Alfred. Ivan stood up, giving his shaky legs a moment to steady
themselves, then scooped Alfred up into his arms and carried him bridal-style
over to his work bench.
He tiled Alfred's face up, gazed into those perfect blue eyes for a moment,
then turned to rummage around in a drawer for a sharp metal scoop. With a few
practiced flourishes he dug both of the boy's eyes from his head and after a
short rinse, they joined his penis in the jar of formaldehyde. Ivan filled the
jar the rest of the way with the liquid and screwed the top closed tight. He
carried it, along with Alfred's school ID, into a pantry on the other end of
the room.
There it went, the eighth jar in a row, eighth photo and name tag propped
against the glass to know who is who. Each jar contained a floating pair of
blue eyes and a tiny dick, the parts most worth remembering. Ivan looked around
the mostly bare room. He had a lot of work to do if he ever hoped to fill it.
He sighed half-heartedly, the task a daunting one but he could not help but be
excited to complete his collection.
He left the room, eager to get back to Alfred so he could chop him up and
finally have time to hop in the shower then take a well earned nap.
***** Car Drabble *****
Chapter Summary
     Alfred gives Ivan oral sex.
Alfred bobbed his head, quickening his pace when he felt Ivan's fingers tighten
in his hair. The old car growled when Ivan changed gears and Alfred let out a
soft moan around the cock in his mouth, more than a little excited by the
exhibitionism of sucking his boyfriend off as they drove across town. He shut
his eyes and sucked harder, taking breaks to lavish the head with his tongue
before sinking back down to take as much of the length into his mouth as
possible. Lewd, wet sounds accompanied his motions, almost drowning out Ivan's
soft sighs of pleasure. A shudder ran straight down Alfred's spine to his own
manhood, making him squirm in his seat. His cock pressed uncomfortably against
his jeans, the bunched material nearly pinching him. He nursed Ivan's cock head
with his lips and tongue as he flipped his own jeans open and pulled his dick
out.
He stroked himself in time with each pass of his mouth, slowing his hand to
tease the head with his thumb every now and then when he did the same for Ivan
with his tongue. His spit and the man's precome mixed together and drooled
down, leaving Ivan's dick completely slicked from tip to base. Alfred let his
own manhood go in favor of taking hold of Ivan's so he could sit up and get a
good look at it. As he stroked the hot flesh in his hand he wondered if it was
wet enough to get inside without hurting himself. After a moment he dismissed
the idea for later, right now they were taking enough of a risk by driving in
town like this. He didn't want to push their luck and get pulled over.
So he swooped back down and swallowed a little over half of Ivan's sizeable
member without any trouble, earning a pleased groan from the older man. Alfred
focused his efforts, eager to get the man to come before they reached their
destination, quickening his movements and sucking hard enough to hollow his
cheeks.
"A-ah... Alfred, just a bit more..." Ivan breathed, using one hand to push
Alfred's head down further. "I'm going to-"
The crash was as violent as it was sudden. In his distraction, Ivan failed to
notice the car in front of them suddenly stopping for a stray cat bolting
frantically across the street and rammed his old truck into their back end. The
impact jarred them both, flinging Alfred forward and smacking his head on the
steering wheel hard enough to make his jaw snap shut. He bit clean through
Ivan's cock, severing it almost completely from just under the tip in one
sudden movement. In that moment Alfred gasped out of shock, effectively
inhaling the dismembered organ and getting it lodged in his throat.
It all happened so fast that neither of them had time to process what exactly
had gone on. Ivan bled out and Alfred choked to death before help could arrive,
leaving behind nothing but a cautionary tale for overzealous young people to
take heed of.
Road head; not even once.
***** Goretober attempt days 1 and 3 *****
Chapter Summary
     I started goretober last month and crapped out a couple entries
     before the average brain problems stamped out my enthusiasm. Two
     entries were drabbles and one was unrelated art.
     Day 1 - Yandere Al chainsaws an unexpecting Ivan in the head.
     Day 3 - Similar to Monster, Al gets his teeth pulled and throat-
     fucked.
Head Wound
 
The chainsaw bucked in Alfred’s hands and the teeth jerked to a halt, stuck
against the wooden floor under Ivan’s split skull. Alfred managed to keep his
grip on the powerful machine, the harsh rattling making his hands and forearms
ache. He flipped it off and sighed, his breath condensing against the mask over
his face.
One blood-soaked leather-clad glove pushed the mask away from his face,
revealing himself to be a handsome twenty-four-year-old man with glasses. The
white hockey mask sat, splattered in red, against his equally gore-covered
short blond hair. His one and only witness was now a corpse so there was no
reason to hide his identity.
He stood there a moment, breathing hard and glaring sternly down at his
brother’s boyfriend. Ex boyfriend. Alfred’s hard expression softened until his
blue eyes shone with mirth. His lips pulled up into a smile and a cackle
escaped. Another, another, short giggles that grew in intensity until he was
wailing with laughter. His entire body shook from the force of it, the sound
bouncing around the shadowy walls of the rented cabin.
“He’s mine!” Alfred screamed down at Ivan, forcefully twisting the chainsaw’s
spot lodged in the man’s skull until his neck contorted painfully. Alfred’s
eyes trained on the plain gold band around Ivan’s left ring finger. “Did you
really think I would let a broke piece of shit like you marry him?!
"I love him more than you ever could! I can give him anything!” He yelled, spit
flying from his lips, cheeks red and eyes wide. His pupils were tiny pin-pricks
circled in brilliant blue. Slamming his boot against the man’s ruined skull,
Alfred wrenched the saw up from the cabin floor.
He held it above Ivan, hunched over and staring down at him, his entire body
heaving with his ragged breaths. The gash was a horrid one, a jagged, deep red
canyon slicing from the upper left of Ivan’s silvery hair and stretching down
just past the lower right side of his nose. Besides the blood and hunks of
flesh that spattered a side of the yellow kitchen paint and a length of the
hall, the cabin was clean. The entire act had been surprisingly simple. There
wasn’t much someone could do to struggle against a chainsaw, Alfred figured.
His gloved hand ran across the side of the chainsaw’s orange housing, sliding
over the dripping blood almost sensually. Finally, after nearly five years,
Alfred was free of him. He had his little brother to himself again, and this
time he wouldn’t allow anyone to take him away.
 
===============================================================================
 
 
Mouth Trauma
 
Ivan shrieked, shoving the boy’s head away from his pained dick. The  segmented
ring of bloodied marks close to the base of his cock perfectly mirrored the
tween’s red teeth. Small hisses of agony escaped Ivan’s lips as he stalked
around the room waiting for the pain to subside. He glared at the kid sitting
shackled on his basement floor; Alfred, a sweet boy that attended the junior
high near to Ivan’s house - at least, the man had thought of him as sweet until
he tried to bite his cock off.
Ivan stood corrected; Alfred was a hateful little bastard.
“I told you not to bite,” the older man said through clenched teeth.
Alfred’s powerful stare bored into Ivan’s eyes and when he spoke he practically
spat, “Fuck you.”
“Nasty little shit,” Ivan grumbled to himself, happy that the pain was finally
fading. Despite the horrendous look of the wound at first, upon further
investigation it became clear that the bite was not all that deep. It would
surely leave a mark but it did not mean the night’s fun was lost.
Alfred had bitten him for the first and last time.
Ivan went over to the other end of the room, his mostly-flaccid dick (still too
sore to tuck into his jeans) bobbing gently as he walked, and dug in a few
drawers before finding what he needed: a large pair of pliers. He made sure to
show the boy his instrument and reveled in the way his pretty blue eyes, one
ringed by a purple/black bruise, grew wide with fear. Finally that impertinent
scowl was gone, replaced by something far more attractive.
“I do not think I need to explain myself,” Ivan said, approaching Alfred
slowly. Occasionally he would clack the pliers’ teeth together, amused by how
his melodramatic little show made the color drain from Alfred’s cheeks. He
would have preferred Alfred to be pleading with him not to do it, begging to be
let free. A few tears would probably bring his erection back despite the
persistent ache.
Despite his obvious fear, Alfred didn’t cry or plead. Not even when Ivan
kneeled before where he was bound to the floor and snatched him harshly by the
jaw. A tiny squeak of pain escaped his lips when Ivan wrenched his face up to
look at him. Alfred’s mouth was tightly shut and he tried to buck his head away
when Ivan’s fingers squeezed against the hinge of his jaw but it was to no
avail. Soon his mouth was forced open and the pliers tightly pinched his front
incisor.
Ivan yanked harshly down, tearing the tooth from its bed. Alfred screamed, a
full, robust sound that bounced around the walls and made Ivan’s ears ring, and
ripped his head out of the man’s grasp. His whole body thrashed as far as it
could within the cuffs and chains that Ivan had fitted him with, his yells soon
tapering off into pained moans.
Ivan smiled. Served the bitch right, he had explicitly warned Alfred not to
bite before pushing his dick between those pretty pink lips. He dropped the
tooth to the floor and it landed with a dull clatter.
Once Alfred’s thrashing eased Ivan snatched him again and, after a small
struggle, the pliers was clamped tightly on his left incisor. Ivan locked eyes
with the boy - such a lovely face he had, almost angelic under the tears and
snot and blood drooling down his chin (a fitting look for a twelve-year-old,
Ivan thought) - and tore the tooth from his head. The ensuing shriek was
ragged, higher-pitched than the previous had been. The tooth found its home on
the floor beside the other.
Minutes ticked by as Ivan worked on extracting the tween’s teeth. Each one
quickly yanked from his mouth and dropped to the growing bunch on the hard
floor, until Alfred hunched in front of him with blood flowing freely from the
dark red holes in his gums.
“Much better,” Ivan said. He winced at the pain in his knees when he stood and
took a moment to stretch before heading back across the room to put the pliers
away. Alfred’s constant soft moans of pain droned on behind him. Such a
pleasing sound, soft, quiet, raspy from screaming until his throat was raw.
When Ivan went back to him, Alfred stayed where he was. Ivan grabbed him by his
blond hair and wrenched his head up so he could look directly into his eyes.
That fire from before was gone, replaced by a foggy, unfocused gaze. As much as
Ivan had liked Alfred’s perfect rows of pearl-white teeth, this far-away stare
was certainly enhanced by the blood streaking down his jaw, neck and green T-
shirt. His mouth was little more than a fuckable hole now with those irritating
teeth gone.
Ivan stroked himself, careful to keep his hand from brushing over the painful
marks, then pushed his dick back into the boy’s modified mouth.  Alfred let out
a soft sound of pain as Ivan’s thick cock rubbed against the exposed flesh and
nerves of his gums. It slid down along his tongue, further more until it pushed
against his uvula. Alfred choked, his eyes screwing shut as Ivan forced the
entirety of his length down his throat until his esophagus visibly distended.
Alfred choked and gagged, his body trying to expel the foreign object. Each
spasm of his neck muscles felt wonderful to Ivan, the smoothness of his bloody
gums practically massaging him as Alfred struggled to breathe.
Tightening his grip on Alfred’s hair, Ivan picked up a brutal pace, ramming his
cock into his mouth up to the hilt. Alfred’s face was a bright shade of red
from struggling back the urge to vomit. He wretched every time Ivan’s cock
slammed in, grinding harshly against the back of his throat. A few more
thrusts, shallower this time, pushed him over the edge. His stomach wrenched
and vomit, a chunky thick orange and beige fluid, sprayed out around Ivan’s
cock and out through Alfred’s nose.
Ivan chuckled, the sound short and breathy, and picked up speed. The gooey
texture of vomit made the blow job feel different. Ivan couldn’t decide which
he liked better as lube; blood or sick. The electric feeling of impending
orgasm built steadily, egged on by Alfred’s mostly failed attempts to force air
into his lungs.
He pushed himself down to the hilt and came with a long, low groan, dumping his
spunk straight down into Alfred’s now empty belly. When he pulled out Alfred’s
head fell forward. The rest of him would have followed if he wasn’t restrained
to remain on his knees on the floor. A thick glob of bloody vomit, streaked
with come, slopped from his open mouth onto the pile of teeth on the floor.
Ivan wondered how long he could manage to keep this one alive. His last boy had
lasted about a month before he died, but Ivan had never removed one’s teeth
before. The chance of infection was high.
Oh well. There was a school right down the street, and endless supply of angel-
faced boys to choose from if his current toy broke.
***** Colour *****
                                    Colour
 
The sky was overcast and dark. Heavy grey clouds scudded overhead, pelting the
city with sharp raindrops. Clusters of black umbrellas glistened brightly under
harsh streetlights.  Arthur worked his way through the throngs of people
unfettered; there were little more than shadowed silhouettes to him, merely the
concept of a human being in his vicinity.
His destination, a squat grey building only two storeys tall, was no more
interesting to witness than the buildings that surrounded it. He pushed the
door open and stepped into a sparsely-decorated entrance hall, an off-white
room with two plain metal chairs together over to the left. He went through
another door and was alerted to the staff by a gentle charm. The waiting room
was the same off-white as the reception, but the plain linoleum floor was
swapped out for a dull beige carpet. There was a row of plain plastic and steel
chairs on one side of the room, the front desk on the other, and beside that a
single porcelain sink.
"Welcome back, Mister Kirkland," The receptionist said from her booth against
the right wall. Although she was an older woman, well beyond her prime with
weathered skin and frizzy grey hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, she
spoke in a chipper tone that always made Arthur feel at ease. "The usual?"
 
                        *              *              *
                                        
Blond, blue eyes, between eighteen and twenty years old. Always the boyish dumb
ones. Arthur wondered if his taste was beginning to stagnate. The room was a
simple white box, windowless, with harsh white lights set into wide circular
steel rings pressed almost flat against the ceiling. A low, electric hum was
constant. In the center of the room was a plain white bed and a white end
table, and on that bed sat the blond man Arthur had paid handsomely for. Arthur
noticed he was already naked and semi-erect. A go-getter.
The man, if he could be called that hovering somewhere between teen and adult,
smiled and his teeth were as white as the walls around them, "Yo."
"Hello," Arthur returned, removing his dreary grey tweed coat and matching
cotton scarf. He folded them over his arm then placed them flat on a low
counter. His brown leather oxfords and dripping black umbrella found a separate
home where their wetness would not spoil the pristine floor. "Have you been
here long?"
"Don't worry about it, I came early," He chuckled. "Nervous, you know?"
"I understand."
A smile tugged at the blond's lips. Arthur recognized it, the usual flutter of
apprehension they felt sitting there bathed in intense white light. The room
was hot. It was always hot. It's the lights, the man at the counter had
explained the second time Arthur visited this place. Arthur asked him to turn
them down and he said it could not be done. Against the rules.
"Is there something I should do?"
"No need, just lie back and make yourself comfortable," Arthur replied.
"Is it alright if I ask your name?" The man said, lying back as instructed.
"Arthur."
"I'm Alfred," He said as Arthur approached the table. Alfred's eyes, pupils
like pinholes from nervousness, stayed locked on Arthur as he moved around the
area.
Arthur stood over him, studying his body. Tall, well built, as if he spent a
good amount of time at the gym, smooth chest and stomach until about an inch
below his belly button where a thin line of nearly transparent blond hairs
trailed down to meet his darker blond pubic hair. His cock was a pretty shade
of pink, only slightly darker than his nipples, circumcised and of a
respectable size. Alfred squirmed, his cheeks turning pink from the
embarrassment of being studied so closely. Arthur noticed the small indents on
either side of his nose indicating that he normally wore glasses.
"You look healthy," he commented.
"I am, mostly," Alfred replied. "At least, I thought I was until a couple
months ago. Turns out I have a brain tumor. Doc said it's inoperable... They
can try chemo but the chances of it working are pretty low."
Arthur nodded and ran his finger along the length of Alfred's dick.
"I don't want to go out like that," Alfred went on, his hands fidgeting.
"Getting sick and weak... Besides, I always wanted to do this. I guess I just
thought it wouldn't be so soon."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"It's alright." His smile was genuine.
Arthur wrapped his fingers around Alfred's dick and gave it a gentle squeeze.
The younger man relaxed a bit, eyes trained on the white tiled ceiling. A soft
sound of enjoyment escaped his lips when Arthur's grip tightened and he started
to stroke. Alfred's cock was soon fully erect. On the high end of average,
Arthur assumed. Thicker than most its length. He picked up speed and Alfred
gasped, his hips bucking against Arthur's hand.
"Shouldn't you wait until... ya know," Alfred asked.
Arthur shook his head, his hand's movement steady, "You won't be able to once I
start. Even with the medicine, it's painful."
"How painful?" Alfred asked, closing his eyes and focusing on the sensation.
"I've never been in your place, so I can't say."
"Good point."
Arthur quickened his movements, hoping to finish Alfred off before his wrist
cramped. It seemed to be doing that more often lately, he had noticed. He
sighed quietly to himself; his age was certainly starting to show.
Alfred groaned softly, biting his lower lip, and came. More white, like the
room around them, contrasted against his tan skin. His eyes fluttered open, his
widened pupils quickly shrinking again under the bright light. He looked at
Arthur, "You're good at that."
He had better be good at it, he had been coming here at least once a month,
every month for the last few years. "Thank you."
"So now what?"
"Stay where you are," Arthur replied, kneeling to pull a large plastic bin from
under the bed. He popped the grey lid off and set it aside, taking his time
choosing his instrument. His fingertips glided over black-handled knives,
hammers, scissors and stakes. He could only choose one; more than one
instrument compounded on the price, something that was already almost outside
of Arthur's budget. Of all the ways to relax in the city, he had to choose the
pricey one. Arthur sighed, remembering all the holidays he had passed on to
afford these trips, and found his tool.
He covered the bin and pushed it back under the bed, "Is there anything you
want to say before I start?"
Alfred stared at the silver scalpel in Arthur's hand with wide eyes, his gaze
studying the length of it. After a moment he looked back at Arthur and smiled,
"I took care of all my affairs before I got here, so I don't have anything
important to say, really."
"It doesn't need to be important," Arthur reassured him.
"Um, well," Alfred said and swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing visibly. "Thank
you, I guess."
"Oh?"
"I couldn't do this myself, and I didn't want to go to the clinic and get the
pill. I've always wanted someone to do this for me and... Well, I guess I'm
glad it's you. You seem like a nice guy. I could have gotten a real weirdo."
Faint wrinkles appeared at the corners of Arthur's eyes when he smiled, "You're
welcome then, Alfred."
Arthur dug in the end table's drawer and found a syringe. The medicine was
measured out and left here not long before Alfred had arrived, the perfect
amount to ease some of the teen's pain while keeping him lucid. He requested
Alfred's arm and the teen held it out but refused to watch as the sharp pierced
his skin. Arthur swallowed his laughter; Alfred had come here knowing what this
was, and yet he was squeamish about a simple needle? How endearing.
Alfred sighed softly when Arthur pulled the needle from his arm, his eyes
falling shut as the drugs rushed through his body. Arthur had never tried it,
such a thing was not allowed at this establishment and he had no interest in
poisoning his body, but he had heard it was a euphoric sensation.
He waited for Alfred to come down from the initial bump, until he was there
with Arthur. in that hot room. under the harsh lights. Just the two of them
with nothing to distract from their activities.
"Feeling alright?" Arthur asked, picking up the scalpel.
"Yeah, I don't feel woo-ey anymore," Alfred said.
Arthur chuckled. Woo-ey. He hadn't heard that one before. "I'm going to start."
Alfred gave him a thumbs-up and Arthur noticed he was getting hard again. He
considered finishing Alfred off one more time but decided against it. The staff
wouldn't let him stay in here forever.
He placed one hand on Alfred's chest to keep his bearings and pressed the
scalpel's blade to the man's flesh. It was incredibly sharp, diamond-edged and
kept in pristine condition between clients. The blade slid easily through
Alfred's flesh, at first leaving no mark at all until a long line of deep,
beautiful red leaked from the wound.
Alfred bit his lower lip, his demeanor tense as he tried not to complain.
Arthur was glad for it. Sometimes they lost their nerve at the last minute,
while it was still possible to stop this, and Arthur would be forced to back
away. Yes, they gave him a refund but the frustration of losing a man was
nearly too much at times.
The scalpel slid toward Alfred's stomach, parting layers of skin down to the
muscle. One long line until Arthur reached just under his bellybutton. He
pulled the blade away, taking a moment to appreciate the leaking stretch of
crimson. How the liquid beaded at the cut until it overflowed and sent
brilliant streaks over his abs and down his sides to soak into the white
blanket beneath him.
Arthur pressed the blade down again, this time tracing long, arced lines from
the right side of Alfred's hips, up to meet the base of the initial cut, then
sloped back down to reach the other side. The other cut was more straight, one
continuous line stretching just under his collar bones.
Alfred let out a slow, shaky breath. A few tears spilled down from the corners
of his eyes, glimmering prettily in the light.
Arthur pushed the scalpel back against the cut, straight into the muscle, and
slowly, meticulously split the flesh apart. Blood started to gush free, that
cute trickle long gone. Alfred's jaw was tight, his hands balled into fists so
hard that his knuckles were white.
Once he finished tracing along the lines to sever muscle, Arthur said, "Doing
alright?"
"Y-yeah," Alfred all but croaked. He still managed to smile, "It's more painful
than I expected."
"Too much?" Arthur asked, staring at the ruby red smeared on his right hand.
Alfred shook his head, "No, it's alright. Keep going."
"Atta boy," Arthur purred, petting Alfred's golden, sweat-moist hair with his
clean hand. He set the scalpel down on the end table and put his hands on each
side of the cut. He waited a moment, giving Alfred one last chance to change
his mind. When complaint did not come, Arthur pushed his fingertips into the
open wound and started to pull the flesh apart.
Alfred screamed, the sound shrill as it echoed around the room. His legs
tensed, pulling up toward his belly before he could regain his composure.
Arthur carried on, knowing this to be the worst part for pain. Once he was open
shock would set in and things would go much smoother.
Arthur yanked at the thick strips of muscle and skin and heard the distinct,
wet sound of the fibrous tissue ripping away from bone. Alfred had covered his
mouth with his left hand, muffling at least some of the agonious screams that
threatened to deafen them both.
Arthur reached for the scalpel, needing it to trim the last hanging bits of
muscle that refused to be pulled free from bone. It was tough work, the weight
of the teen's flesh surprisingly great and the burden of it only growing
further with each minute that Arthur had to hold it up one-handed.
Soon enough, almost too soon, the meat was peeled away and left to hang limply
at Alfred's sides. Arthur set the scalpel aside and wiped his wet hands on the
blanket. "How are you feeling?"
"Pretty good," Alfred mumbled, his blank gaze aimed at the ceiling.
Arthur eyed the man's ribs. They caged his innards, yellowed bars dotted with
bits of flesh that refused to come off with the rest of his muscle. Arthur
reached under the bed and into the bin, digging blindly around, until the tip
of his finger bumped something sharp. He grabbed it and pulled it out; a bone
saw.
"This is special," he explained, holding it out so Alfred could see. "The edges
are diamond-tipped, and it's got one of the best motors. Fastest cutter on the
market."
"That's pretty cool," Alfred said, his voice wavering.
"Yes, it is," Arthur agreed, pressing the power button. The machine whirred to
life. Arthur really loved this model, it hardly made any noise until he pressed
it to bone. It allowed him to hear the cutting rather than just the noise of
the mechanism.
Alfred's hands gripped the sheets as the blade sliced cleanly through his ribs,
easily separating the bone apart. Thin drops of blood flew out as the blade
broke through the bone itself and into the marrow, misting Arthur's face, hair,
and torso. He worked as quickly as he could, eager to get inside the teen.
After he was done he dropped the collected bones onto the floor near the foot
of the bed.
"That..." Alfred squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed thickly, "That was fast."
Arthur hummed in acknowledgment then turned his attention back to Alfred's
abdomen. With the bright lights on it, there were almost no shadows inside of
him. There was only the globular yellow of fat interspersed between twisting,
pink organs and shocks of blood leaking from the gaping hole. His insides
pulsed and undulated from his heartbeat and breathing, shifting and sliding
wetly before Arthur's eyes. Clear fluid glistened over everything, making him
shine.
Arthur started with the liver. It was always the most beautiful. A lovely wine
shade, smooth to the touch unlike its lumpy mates. It was a pretty half-oval,
healthy and fresh. Arthur slid one hand under it, cupping the organ and feeling
the weight of it.
After a moment of quiet appreciation he yanked, ripping it free.
The sound Alfred made was as sharp and sudden, his entire body tensing again
before sinking back down into a half-relaxed state. His skin was clammy even in
the warm room, beads of sweat breaking out across his now pale flesh. A soft
whine escaped his lips as tears streamed down his face to leave dark blotches
in his hair and on the pillow.
Arthur ran his fingertips along the dark, almost purple length of Alfred's
large intestine. He didn't respond, his eyes unfocused and breaths coming in
shallow puffs. That was good for Arthur. At least Alfred wouldn't be screaming
anymore. His ears were still ringing from the volume of it.
"Still with me?" He asked, wrapping his fingers around the organ and lifting it
so both of them could get a better look.
Alfred blinked once, twice, then finally turned his eyes down to look. He
chuckled weakly, "Wow, my own guts. Cool."
Arthur lifted lengths of the organ out of the younger man as he spoke, laying
it in a squishy pile on the bed, "They're very nice."
"Thanks," Alfred said so quietly that Arthur almost missed it.
With the large intestine out of the way, Arthur started with the small. Rope
after rope uncurled from inside him to find a new home on the bed. Arthur
considered cutting them out but decided against it. From the feeling of the
organs, the weight of them, he was sure Alfred would make a mess if he cut it.
Gall bladder, spleen and pancreas joined their counterparts on the bed in one
pile of pinks, yellows, reds, and purples. Eventually Alfred was nearly empty,
with only his fluttering pink lungs, bladder, and dark red heart intact. he had
stopped responding to Arthur's comments a few minutes ago and from the look of
him, he didn't have long. His heart beat was weak and erratic, his breaths
stunted. Arthur doubted Alfred was conscious anymore, despite his eyes
remaining open.
The man stood there quietly, watching Alfred's heartbeat wane and his eyes go
dull. Blood pooled in his abdomen, wetting his lungs as they struggled to suck
in air. A weak clench of his heart, followed by another, another, a final beat,
and finally Alfred was dead.
Arthur set the scalpel on the end table, closed his eyes, and took a deep
breath. The air smelled like organs, blood, and sweat. When he released the air
from his lungs, Arthur felt the tension melt from his body. Yes, this was why
he came here. This blissful unwinding of the month's stress.
He wiped his hands on the blanket, getting as much of that brilliant red off as
he could. He cast a long look at Alfred's corpse, eyes lingering on the pile of
organs on the bed, then moving to the hole in his chest. Dried come was still
stuck to his skin and the blanket. Finally his gaze moved to Alfred's lax face,
his eyes still half-open. His pupils, massive in death, almost totally eclipsed
the stunning blue of his eyes.
Finally Arthur tore himself away from the body. He walked to the door and made
himself presentable, then, with one final glance back at Alfred, he left.
"Was your visit satisfactory?" The person at the desk, a mid-30s man with
woefully thin red hair asked, smiling broadly.
"Yes, it was exactly what I needed," Arthur replied, stopping at the sink to
wash his hands and face. The blue soap contrasted the drying red blood, mixed
with it, then lathered into red-speckled blue bubbles.
"And you don't have any contraband?" The receptionist asked, that wide smile
never faltering.
"Of course not," Arthur said, holding his arms out and spinning slowly around
to prove that he hasn't tried to steal any organs.
After he put his coat on when the receptionist motioned to his umbrella and
said, "Sun's out, Mr. Kirkland. I don't think you'll need that anymore."
"Oh?" Arthur hummed, raising his thick eyebrows. His phone indicated that it
should have rained through at least midnight. "Wonderful."
The receptionist wished him a good evening as Arthur left. The bell above the
door chimed as he went into the still-empty entrance hall.
He pushed the front door open and had to shied his eyes. The sun was shining
brightly in the sky with only a few straggling clouds to taint the soft shade
of blue. People walked by, some carrying dripping umbrellas, a sea of multi-
colored people streaming along the sidewalk.
Arthur let the door close behind him, the soft jingling of the bell almost lost
in the noise of the crowd.
End Notes
     Hetalia is owned by Hidekaz Himaruya, Funimation, and studio DEEN. I
     make no profit from the creation of this story. This is a work of
     fiction and any resemblance to the lives of any people, living or
     dead, is entirely coincidental unless specified otherwise. I do not
     condone any of the actions depicted herein.
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