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The Chicken Hawk - rape, murder, bondage, kids
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
archive-name: CH-F11-1.txt
This is a new chapter in the continuing adventures of the Chicken
Hawk, detailing his new career working for the feds.
Heh, if this don't get me back on their hit list don't know what will.
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DANGER WILL ROBBINS!
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This story contains REALLY TASTELESS, vivid descriptions of rape,
torture, murder, etc. of prepubescent children, from the perp's pov
Hit "n" now, or fasten your seatbelts, hang on, and don't blame me.
Oh yeah, this is fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead
is purely coincidental. Don't try this at home.
And happy father's day. Dad taught me everything I know
Copyright 1994 the author, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
You can freely distribute electronically, where
this stuff would be welcome, so long as you don't
make a profit by doing so, and you can make one
hardcopy for yourself for personal use (wouldn't want
you spooging on the keyboard) All other rights not
explicitly mentioned remain with the author.
If you run a for-profit BBS that charges for
downloads, don't even think of archiving this,
or I"ll sic the FBI on ya for carrying kiddy-porn.
And remember my motto:
"It's not about violence and it's not about sex.
It's about _violent sex_"
FILM AT ELEVEN
by Mark E. Dassad
Not too long ago I had the opportunity to view one of the films that
was made using one of the kids I procured for Nunzio, and I'd have to
admit that some of Nunzio's boys had a rare talent for a certain sort
of cinema verite', they had an imagination for snuff that even I find
enviable.
It's an old film that's been floating the underground for over fifteen
years now, apparently a classic in it's genre, now available on
videocassette; I got access to a dub of it after the FBI busted a
kiddie-porn ring last Fall. It stars this little blonde girl I bagged
outside a Krauszer's milk store, in some grimy stinkhole North Jersey
town, Paterson maybe, or one of the Oranges, Hackensack perhaps? I
don't remember the girl's name, there've been so many of them, but I
remember this little chick because against my better judgement, I've
still got a polaroid hidden away that I took of her in one of the hotel
rooms that I kept the kids in while I was breaking them in before
selling them to Nunzio.
In this picture that I have, the girl is squatting on the bed,
bare-ass naked, facing the camera, hands tied behind her back, her
long straight blond hair is plastered to her sweating face, matted in
spots with my cum. There's a sick scared grimace on her face, she's
trying to smile, but her eyes are swollen pink from crying, and her
legs are splayed wide open, displaying the neck of a huge fucking
whiskey bottle buried in her bald little cunt. It looks like a Jack
Daniel's bottle, a square peg in a round hole, and even now, as many
kids as I've done over the years, this blurry little polaroid from my
ancient past has got my cock crawling around in my drawers, sliding
down my pant leg as it swells at the memory of the fun I used to have.
There are red marks around the girl's flat little tits, I seem to
remember biting and chewing at them as I repeatedly raped her,
missionary style. The inside of her thighs look red, I can't remember
if I'd had a go at them with my belt or not when that picture was
taken, but I do recall that I'd fucked her good and hard half-a-dozen
times or more by the time I'd needed a rest and started making her
pose for the pictures, so the insides of her legs may have just been
rubbed raw by the motion of my thighs beteen her legs.
I hardly ever took pictures, I'd always believed it was too dangerous,
apparently a good judgement call, considering how easily the guy the
FBI popped was convicted. The fool had taken thousands of pictures of
himself fucking little girls, it's hard to feel sorry for the stupid
bastard; possession of kiddie-porn alone will only get you five, but
photographic evidence of yourself engaged in dozens upon dozens of
incidents of felony child abuse. The man was a moron.
And yet here I sit, ancient polaroid in hand. Of course, there's no
evidence of my role in the picture, the worst I would get for one
obviously ancient polaroid of a crying girl with a bottle shoved up her
snatch is maybe a couple years, and probably not even that, probably
just probation and a few months of court mandated counseling.
It's worth the risk to hang onto this picture, this little girl was
special. She was one of the younger ones I bagged, fifth or sixth
grade as I recall, that made her around ten or eleven, pre-puberty but
old enough to grease up on whatever was jammed in her twat, old enough
to jerk out an orgasm or two. She was chunky but not fat, with a
plump bald pussy, her hips still narrow, not a hint of distorting
breast tissue. She hadn't been a virgin when I got to her, none of
them had, I'd remember something as unique as that. I'd come on like
a Father fucking Flanagan outside the Krauszer's that night I bagged
her and she'd told me, sobbing, that her older brother and his friends
had been balling her regularly for about a year, ever since his voice
started to change, she said. That's why she was out alone that night,
she said, her mother had gone out on a date and whenever her mother
was gone for more than an hour, her brother invited friends over and
forced her to pull a train. She thought it was safer out on the
street.
Lucky for me her brother and his friends weren't very old, still
pencil-dicked teens. Around fourteen or fifteen I think she said,
they hadn't really stretched her out too much, she was still tight
enough for me to enjoy. And somehow her spirit hadn't been broken by
them fucking her, or maybe they just hadn't been very imaginative, or
had been especially gentle with her, because she sobbed and cried and
begged and pleaded and struggled furiously, just like a normal little
kid might. A lot of the kids I'd procured over the years were too
fucked up for me to get much use out of; instead of screaming and
pleading they'd go numb, would hardly respond even to the most
excruciating pain. They'd do whatever you asked, without struggling,
as if they were used to it all. Nothing makes me limper faster than a
willing fuck partner.
The other reason I remember her is that Nunzio had given me almost 8K
for this particular little bitch, even though I'd bloodied her cunt
with that bottle and her asshole was a fucking mess when I'd finished
with her. He paid me so well because right up till the bitter end,
she never gave up struggling, no matter how futile. Apparently she'd
put on a real show, because I recall that a couple weeks later, when
Sal came around for another pickup, he had a bonus envelope, and a
message from Nunzio.
"Boss said to tell you, that little one?, a few weeks back..." I
nodded that I understood which delivery he was referring to.
He pinched his fingers together, brought them to his lips, made a
kissing sound.
"Primo," I'd agreed, almost smiling.
Sal had flicked his tongue briefly across his upper lip, unusual for him
to show even that much emotion around me, that's why I remember it.
It's only after seeing the videotape that I now understand Sal played a
much bigger role in Nunzio's business than I'd thought.
***
The film that was found in this pervert's collection was grainy, it had
obviously been badly duped from 8mm film to tape on one of those cheap
little converter boxes, and the soundtrack was a mess, most of the
speech was barely intelligible, but the screams, and the ... noises,
ah! The unmistakable sounds of sex and violence, they were fortunately
recognizable. My dick thrills as I recall the music of her thin,
shrill, child's screech of agony.
The opening scene is straightforward enough, a simple rape, taking place
in some unidentifiable warehouse, your standard cock-in-cunt pronging.
Three men are holding the girl suspended in the air as a fourth man
vigorously poles out her cunt. The camerawork is nothing special, just
a nice mid shot of a little blonde girl, one main each holding an ankle
spread as wide as her hips will allow, another man holds both her arms
pulled straight above her head, which is thrashing about as she screams.
The men are laughing, having a good time, talking to each other. We
are treated to a little variety, the camera moves in, a bit shakily,
stops on a closeup of a fat veiny cock splitting open a swollen
hairless pink snatch, there is no discoloration, no drooping pussy
lips, this is the real thing alright, honest to god baby balling.
As the action heats up, the men's voices get more excited, the
laughter is higher pitched, and it's obvious that the men holding the
girl's legs have started helping out the man fucking her, her legs are
being pulled back towards the cock splitting into her, her screaming
increasing, peaking each time the head of the cock tearing into her
tiny cunt slams into the gateway to her womb, the balls dangling
beneath the organic instrument of torture slapping against the crease
of her butt-cheeks.
Her screaming increases in desperation on each traversal of the meaty
pole in her cunt, until her voice is hoarse and ragged, a raw, painful
rasping scream, punctuated by the low-pitched, gasping grunts of
extreme male pleasure as the man raping her ejaculates his sperm
inside her small young body, his hands clutching her hips, fingers
pressing bruises into her flesh, desperately trying to force as much
of himself inside her as he can, it's my impression watching the film
that he is frustrated at the physical limitations of their coupling,
at the impossiblity of slamming his fleshy sword in to the hilt.
Whoever was operating the camera must have had experience with money
shots, because the camera backs away to a shot of the slick, veiny
cock pulled from her cunt, a slimy pinkish string of semen slowly
trailing out of her. The men are laughing, and as the one who just
dropped his load moves out of camera range, the three men holding the
girl carry her over to a pile of dirty grey striped mattresses and
dump her there, as this first scene fades to black.
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