Apt Pupil 2

“I won’t have my marks in until after Christmas…Yeah, I’m sure that I did okay…What time is Dad picking me up on Saturday?” Todd moved the phone to his other ear. “No, I don’t think that Chris is going home…Wait, I’ll ask him.”

Todd put the phone down on the bed. It hit his comforter with a slight “plop.”

“Chris!”

“Yeah?” Chris came back into the room, his hair disheveled and his mouth full of toast.

“Are you going home over Christmas break?” Todd spoke quickly to hide his growing disgust. (Doesn’t he ever quit eating?)

“Naw. I don’t see the point. My family doesn’t really do much for the holidays.”

“My Mom said that if you don’t have any plans, you could spend the holidays with us.”

“That’s a nice offer Todd, but I think I’ll stay here. I want to catch up on some personal reading”

“Okay,” Todd picked up the phone. His voice was neutral disguising his relief. “No, he said that he’d rather stay here…Yes, I asked nicely…Love you too, Monica-baby.”
XXX
The Bowden household was decorated with tasteful wreaths and bright candy canes. The tree was out in the living room and, although Christmas was still a week and a half away, presents were already piled under its green branches.

“Any from Santa Claus?” Todd plopped his book bag on to the floor.

“Santa doesn’t come until Christmas Day, but here are sugar cookies right now,” she smiled as she spoke. He was still such a boy sometimes.

“Works for me.” Todd took two off the offered plate.

“Me too,” Dick took the plate from his wife, who pretended to scold him in between her giggles.

Todd watched them interact with growing disgust. The cookie in his mouth stuck to the back of his throat (like bile). He was momentarily overcome by the urge to put his fingers down his throat and pull out the cookie chunks he found there. But he couldn’t, so he swallowed hard. The cookie was forced down his throat.
XXX
Todd entered the bathroom, the light reflecting off the clean white tiles. He ignored this, used to his mother’s standards of cleanliness. Lifting up the toilet seat, he positioned himself in front of the toilet’s mouth. Kneeling, he thrust two fingers down his throat. It hurt and the gagging brought tears to his eyes. He didn’t stop and moments later, he removed the fingers and sugar cookie filled the toilet.

He flushed. Rising, he used the sink to rinse his face and mouth with cold water. Seconds later he left the room. The whole ordeal lasted less than twenty minutes.

XXX
Later that evening, after the spaghetti had been eaten and Monica and Dick were in bed, Todd was in the kitchen. Drawer after drawer was emptied as Todd searched for the family carving knife. Finding it, he carefully wrapped it in a dishcloth and pushed it down the front of his pants. The handle was heavy against his belly.

XXX
Footsteps echoed on the sidewalk and Todd was relieved when he hit the soft grass of the cemetery. Using the borrowed flashlight, he found Dussander’s grave easily. The unkempt grass and broken bottles would have made it easy to find without the light, had the moon been out. As it was, Todd was glad for the aid. He noted with some disgust that without it, he would have stepped in the feces that also adorned the gravesite.

“Fuck.” And there was a note of pity in that voice.

He put the flashlight on the tombstone, the light facing towards him, while he used his father’s shovel to clear the site. Once the grass was reasonably clean, he began to dig.

He dug until his arms were exhausted and sweat, sticky and uncomfortable, was pooled in his armpits. Just when he was about to admit the futility of his mission, he hit wood. Breaking open the coffin with the shovel, Todd took a deep breath before opening the box.

The smell hit him first; so strongly that he couldn’t see. His world was temporarily reduced to the smell of rotting flesh and taste of spaghetti rising at the back of his throat. Todd turned his head, trying to escape the smell. It was too late and spaghetti came up in hot chunks. Noodle bits and watery red sauce soaked into the dirt at his feet as Todd dry heaved. Pain wracking his abused stomach as tears ran silently as tears ran silently down both cheeks. It seemed like there was no end to this torture and Todd suddenly, and fervently, wished for his mother.

The wish left him as he managed to get his body under control. By degrees the burning in his nostrils dulled and the gagging also subsided enough for him to looked at Dussander’s ruined face.

“ Poor bastard,” Todd began to pull the knife free of his jeans. “But I have to make sure you’re dead. I’m sure you won’t really mind.”

He laughed once, high pitched and hysterical, before bending over Dussander. The knife shook in his hand, weaving crazily with the tiny tremours that wracked his frame. From his new position, the smell was strong again, but it didn’t affect him as bad as it had before. He could push the taste of vomit back down this time.

Dussander was white except where dark blotches indicated the first signs of rot. If he touched the spongy flesh of his cheek, Todd was sure that his finger would go through the tissue into Dussander’s mouth. As it was, he didn’t need to touch him, except with the knife’s blade. The blade was currently over the old man’s chest and ready to plunge.

The blade ripped into the dead man at the same time that his arms came up, pulling Todd onto him. It happened so fast that Todd didn’t even have time to scream.

“Nice to see you again, Todd.”

The coffin lid closed, plunging them both into darkness, “Oh God.”

There was no cockiness this time, only pleas. Todd was too scared for cockiness, too scared to do much more than lie on top of Dussander’s frame and pray silently for some sort of rescue. For the first time in years, Todd felt small.

“Leave me alone, please. Please, just leave me alone.”

“You’re a bright boy. Why haven’t you figured this out yet? You and me, boy, we are one. Quit fighting me.”

“You’re dead!”
“Boy, you’re dead too.”

The struggling started anew and this time, Todd somehow managed to get the lid re-opened. Panic urging him forward, he scrambled out of the grave and ran. Behind him, still lying in his own grave, Kurt Dussander was laughing.

He ran until he was home and then he collapsed on his bed. In moments he was asleep, the dirt caking under him; the knife and shovel were left behind, forgotten.

As Todd lay sleeping three hours away, Chris lay quietly watching the ceiling. His ever-present long sleeved shirt was abandoned in Todd’s absence. Self-inflicted scars were clearly visible. Chris absent-mindedly traced several of them with his fingers; the intimacy of the action was so sensual that it was almost like masturbating.

His penis jumped at the thought and Chris reached down to touch it. Lazily, his fingers traced his erection; running down the shaft and gently thumbing over the head. A soft moan escaped his slightly parted lips and Chris arched into his hand.

Chris closed his eyes. They slipped shut with a sigh. In his mind, another hand touched his. Warm and sensual, they gently moved his own hands away. Chris whimpered at the loss of contact. He opened his eyes and found himself staring into the deep blue ones of his roommate.

“Shhh,” the fantasy Todd.

Todd’s pink tongue darted out; catching drops of precum, playing with his slit. Chris arched into his mouth, his penis pushing until it was completely surrounded. Surprisingly, Todd didn’t gag; instead, his lips wrapped expertly around Chris’ shaft.

“Oh my God,” Chris cried. “So good…”

He came and Todd let Chris’ softening penis drop from his lips; a string of semen stretched than broke between them. More semen splattered on Todd’s chin, semen that Chris desperately wanted to lick off.

“Kiss me,” Chris commanded and Todd moved up, their parted lips now only inches apart.

They were about to touch when Chris felt the fantasy slipping away. Hr groaned, his real eyes opening. Chris wiped his hand off onto his sheet. The sheet and blanket were both tossed onto the floor. Rolling over, he fell asleep.
XXXXX
Chris woke up to the sounds of birds chirping outside his bedroom window. He was still naked and, with his covers still on the floor, he was cold. Goosebumps covered his flesh and the soft hairs on the nape of his neck standing on end. He stood, bent over and picked up his soiled coverings. He sighed, dropping the mess into the clothes hamper.

After stealing the blanket from Todd’s bed, Chris laid back down. He pulled the borrowed blanket to his chin. His eyes felt heavy and he began falling asleep. The sleep didn’t last long enough. Just as his dream Todd began tongue fucking his naval (and God did that ever feel good), the phone rang.