"Philippe! Yo', stop fucking around! Philippe?"
Pierre ran in the direction where he had heard inhuman shrieks of agony echoing off the decaying ruins. The ridiculously ripped Black jock had been half-assed looking for his missing friends but got bored within minutes. Instead, he was going to double back and prank Philippe but as he had been walking in the direction Philippe had gone, he heard horrible shrieks and the sound of a large, strange machine he couldn't identify.
Right when he got to the general area of the noises, a field of extremely decayed, not-eve-half-finished houses on a street named Wisteria Crescent, the noises had stopped. The echoes were making it hard to pinpoint the location and Pierre stood in the middle of the dark street looking around but saw nothing. Suddenly, despite the horrifying things he had heard, the goofy bro started laughing hysterically. Obviously he had been pranked.
"Okay, okay, you got me! Nice one, man!"
Pierre went from mildly panicked, to totally relaxed as he continued to chuckle at Philippe's elaborate prank. He was sure the dumb stud was going to hop out of one of the doors covered in fake blood screaming about the 'deranged brothers' from the stories. Pierre braced himself for the jump scare that he knew was coming as he confidently strolled through the lane. Pierre was a tall athletic jock with his black hair cut close to the scalp. His ebony skin wrapped around his well-defined, large muscles with broad shoulders and well defined pecs that lead to a washboard of rigid abs and a relatively small waist He had donkey cock swinging between his toned legs and was all around one hot package. He had met Philippe and the rest of the guys during his countless hours at the gym and fit in perfectly with the vapid pack of muscle and hormone.
As he made his way down the street, he whistled and glanced around, prepared for a silly jump scare at any moment. Suddenly lights bathed out of one of the seemingly abandoned front windows onto the relatively trim but still overgrown lawn. The light was so bright it seemed to be coming from construction site lamps and Pierre slow-clapped at the gang's ingenuity. He figured Philippe and probably the 'lost' Jake and Ryan had figured out how to turn on the rusting equipment scattered around the development.
"Very funny, clowns. Now turn that off so I can charge my phone,"
Pierre moved toward the lawn. Suddenly, the front door swung open and Trevor and Wesley appeared. At first all Pierre could make out were two powerfully built silhouettes but as soon as they stepped onto the yard he could see the two blood covered brutish jocks clearly. They were showered in what looked like hamburger and galloons of fake blood, bits of clothing and mud. Pierre roared in laughter as he pointed at them. He didn't recognize them, but they looked like any other gym rat - though much larger - and they seemed like guys Philippe would hang out it.
"Oh, I didn't know we were inviting the whole gym, guys!" Pierre stupidly shouted out, still assuming his buddies were within earshot.
The two brothers chuckled as they made their way forward with speed. As soon as they were a few yards away Pierre could see Trevor was holding a baseball bat and seemed to be preparing to swing.
"Yo' man, what the.... FUCK!"
CRACK
Without a word the bat solidly connected with the side of Pierre's face, sending several teeth flying and fracturing his jaw. Pierre screamed and stumbled backward temporarily stunned by the pain.
CRACK
The bat slammed into Pierre's handsome face again.
"What..."
Pierre was tackled to his back as the brothers pounced on him. The air was forced out of his lungs with a haggard gasp as hundreds of pounds of pure muscle lay on top of him. Trevor and Wesley were slamming their fists into Pierre as he struggled to curl into a ball for protection. That's when Pierre noticed the nauseating smells coming from them. A strong iron-like scent that made his primal brain immediately realize that the 'fake' blood wasn't fake at all. Pierre screamed as Trevor's huge fist slammed into his face. His nose was broken and his front teeth flew down his throat where they were reflexively swallowed.
The brothers were beating Pierre senseless for only a minute but it felt like ages for Pierre. His face and upper body were treated like a punching bag and large purple bruises were forming. His model-like face was swollen and bloody and a searing pain - a slightly cracked rib - radiated from his chest. It felt like this muscular chest was on fire.
They stood up and looked down at Pierre who was struggling to get to this feet. They stood back and let out deep, disturbing laughs as they got to his feet holding his chest and started to hobble away, weakly calling out for help. The brothers chortled and Pierre made it halfway down the street, moving with considerable speed for someone injured and confused. The brothers looked at each other just as Pierre was about to disappear from view in the darkness and sprang after him.
The sounds of the huge brutes moving sounded like a pack of animals and Pierre screamed in horror as he turned to see them. It was unbelievable to see people so huge moving so quickly and they soon overtook him. Trevor grabbed Pierre's right upper arm with both hands and Wesley took the left. The huge gym conditioned biceps and triceps bulged and creaked like they were in a vice. Pierre screamed as the brothers violently yanked on his arms. POP! Pierre felt like he was going to pass out as his left arm was ripped out of its socket.
"No!"
POP. CRACK.
His right shoulder socket broke and tore. He threw up beer and Cheetos as he fell to his back looking up at the goons. He instinctively tried to lift himself with his arms, which felt like they were on fire, but they were barely attached inside, every connecting bone had been broken and the two muscular limbs were just hanging off his body like useless decoration. He was able to manage to roll onto his stomach and start inching away like a worm but was immediately stopped as Trevor put his heavy boot on his back and stomped. Pierre howled as his spine struggled under the weight.
They grabbed Pierre by the ankles and drug him into a nearby yard under a tree. Pierre didn't see where Wesley got it from, but suddenly the large man was holding a huge axe and was looking down at him and smiling. They had dropped Pierre on his back and without a word the axe slammed into Pierre's perfect abs. His eight pack was split into two four-packs laterally and the axe slashed his stomach open. Pierre screamed as he looked down to see a fountain of blood erupting from his belly. He tried to move his hands to stem the flow but he could no longer move his arms. Wesley threw down the axe, barely missing his head and dropped to his knees. Like a depraved animal, he grabbed the wound in Pierre's abs with both hands and started prying open his chest. Pierre wailed as he heard and felt the sick tearing of his abs getting unnaturally further apart. Wesley reached his hand in and Pierre could feel the pressure of his hand squeezing his actual guts.
"Noo!"
SPLORTCH
Absolutely disgusting tearing and ripping filled the night - mixed with Pierre's frantic screams - as Wesley pulled out foot after foot of intestines like he was unspooling robe. Pierre was fading and shocked as he saw his own guts being pulled out and laid casually on his pecs. The last thing Pierre saw before dying was a pile of steaming, awful smelling intestines on his perfect Black pecs like thick red ropes.
After Wesley was satisfied he had enough guts for his twisted game, he leaned in and used his teeth like a knife to cut Pierre's guts. He had pulled out several dozen feet of the stuff and Trevor lifted Pierre like a dummy as Wesley wrapped the guts around his neck like an actual rope. Next the gut-rope was flung over a low hanging branch and Pierre's tight body was lifted a few inches from the air. It was quite a sight to see the jock hanging by his own guts! To make sure the heavy lad didn't just topple, Wesley doubled the 'rope' by pulling out another strand from the infinite supply inside Pierre's split open abs.
When the two brothers were satisfied they went behind the building and fetched their toys. Wesley went first. He was using a metal pole that easily weighed one hundred pounds like a baseball bat, slamming it into Pierre's chest like a pinata. The dead stud swung back and forth and the brothers cheered the increasingly awful looking state of his body. Trevor was next using a shovel then Wesley with a sledge hammer. So that they could really see the damage, they cut off Pierre's clothes and really went to town on his body. Loud splats met every impact and within a half hour their meat pinata was looking quite bad. His chest had completely burst open and guts were spilling out of like candy. Every rib had cracked and his one firm pecs had been beaten to mush, making his torso look shapeless and mushy. They kept whacking at the pinata until suddenly Wesley's sledge hammer broke through and got lodged into Pierre's pulverized heart. The two laughed as he pulled out the slop covered thing and that's when they really went wild.
They were both using their huge strength to pound the shit out of Pierre and his crumbling body was swinging wildly between them. Huge chunks were being knocked out of his torso and landing on the ground with splats and wounds were erupting open all over his torso, spilling even more of Pierre's candy. After they had done enough damage, the brothers grabbed one of Pierre's ankles, one for each and pulled his legs apart in opposite directions. SNAP. Pierre's legs snapped like a wishbone and a flood of guts spilled out from between his partially torn open body.
Wesley grabbed onto Pierre and pulled him to the ground. He landed on his stomach and the muscles admired his perfect sculpted back that looked relatively untouched compared to his torn open chest. They quickly rectified the indifference by stomping their heavy boots over and over onto his back. CRUNCH. SPLOTCH. CRACK. Pierre's spine snapped and broke. Boots were crushing through the skin and getting stuck in the goo. Muscles were turning into jelly. By the time they were done, Pierre's entire torso was as flat as a stack of gooey pancakes. His still-plump legs, arms and head looked comical next to the cartoon-flat body.
SNAP. SNAP.
The brothers used axes to liberate Pierre's head and limbs from his flattened torso and threw his legs and arms onto the flattened gory husk. Wesley fetched a single stick of dynamite that had been left over from laying deep foundations in the bedrock and stuck it into Pierre's mouth, jamming it down his throat until the bottom was sticking out from the bottom of the severed head. Pierre's tongue hang lazily, as if he was giving the dynamite a blow job and his eyes were staring into space.
The two admired the image before lighting the fuse and carefully placing Pierre's head on the pile. Pierre's gorgeous cheek was resting against the bottom of his right foot - a horribly unnatural position - as the fuse got shorter and shorter. The brothers stepped back a precise distance as the bomb went off. In an instant, they were showered with huge chunks of meat as the Pierre-pile was blown up. His head had erupted like a melon under a hammer, splattering out in all directions. One of his eyeballs hit Trevor in the face and exploded on impact.
Pierre was nothing but a bubbling pile of barely recognizable hunks of beef. Only one more to go, the brothers thought and his demise was going to be extra special. However, they had no idea just how cruel of a partner in crime Fate and Coincidence were going to be...
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