Randy and Walter: Killers

RANDY AND WALTER

KILLERS

TRISTAN SLAUGHTER

Copyright
©
2009
, 2012
by
T
ristan
S
laughter

ISBN     Softcover   ISBN 13:  978-1-
61199
-
066
-
9
  

                                   ISBN 10:  1-
611990
-
66
-
1

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmi
t
ted in any form or by any means, electronic or m
e
chanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any inform
a
tion storage and retrieval system, without pe
r
mission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and inc
i
dents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the
United States of America
.

For more info on obtaining additional copies of this book, co
n
tact:

STFU Publishing.com

Foreword

F
ire.

Fire can come from anywhere, from anything; it can burn ev
e
rything and everyone.

The fire of passion, the fire of anger, of hatred, of disgust, r
e
vulsion, seclusion, obscurity, obscenity.

Any man can start a fire, any man can keep it going, anyone can feel the burn, anyone can taste the ash and everyone can feel the same... but it takes a true man to put it out.

Truth doesn’t always mean good; sometimes truth can be evil, can’t it?

W
e see now don’t we?

Just how disillusioned we are...I wonder, is there any truth left in the world?

Or is there just fire?

In retrospect, perhaps the fire is the truth... Think about it
,
and while you do that
,
wonder
:
Is it truly evil to be oneself? Is evil even true?

Do you really and truly care?

Somehow...
I doubt it.

             
             
             
             
             
Tristan Slaughter

             
             
             
             
             
August 2009

RANDY AND WALTER
: KILLERS

RANDY

Chapter 1

T
he white wooden door slammed
closed
behind Randy Barcer. Sunlight stung his eyes as they adjusted to the bright light around him. He had spent too much time in the dark, been a bit too cruel. It was now
over
though
;
it didn’t matter anymore. The screams of pain and anguish had long since passed
,
along with the sounds of his pleasure and rage. He hadn’t meant to be so cruel or so vicious, but
it was done now
.

He
woul
d return at night and clean up the mess.

For now, though, the little coffee shop six blocks away called his name. He could drive, but why waste the gas? Besides, he needed the
fresh
air and the long walk. Perhaps on his way past the school he would spot something pretty.

I need to repaint the house
, was his only thought as
he
d
e
scended down his wooden, rickety front steps. The wood beneath his feet was splintered and stained with past fluids. The white paint covering the house was cracked
.
T
here were a few spots that had begun to turn a greenish color. The co
n
crete blocks in the ground, which
were
the path to the public sidewalk, were no prettier. The color of the blocks was fading and the edges were beco
m
ing gravel.

Maybe I’ll replace the blocks also
, he thought to himself as he walked t
o
wards the street.

Once he reached the street, he turned right onto the sidewalk, beginning his trek towards the school and the coffee shop. He checked the time on his wristwatch and saw that it was 7:30 a.m.

The perfect time for coffee and a perfect time to see some pretty things. Right now they would all be standing around outside
,
waiting for their day to begin.

Careful though
, he thought,
some of the elders are ge
t
ting suspicious
. Through years of hunting his precious prey, Randy had never even come close to being caught
,
despite the fact
that
he’d done it on the same street at the same school for several years. Eight years to be exact. Eight years of hunting and searching, of torture and sexual humiliation.

Looking back now, he remembered exactly when everything began. It
had
all beg
u
n with his daughter, Georgia Lynn Barcer. She was so precious and beautiful, so innocent.

It had turned him on, made him hard for her.

When he fucked his wife, he
’d
pictured his daughter. In the shower he would rub himself to the mental image of his sweet, sweet daughter. The ideas and feelings intrigued him…and scared him. As time passed, the fear he felt dissipated and all that was left was the intrigue that plagued his mind and body like a parasite. Then one day, she came home early, with no mo
ther
in sight.

Randy had been lying in bed when he
’d
heard the door
close
, then he
’d
heard her voice calling for someone announcing her return home. He answered and asked for her to come into the bedroom.

Now, as he walked down the chilly street, he felt his me
mber
stiffen against his leg as he
remembered the
memorized encounter.

Georgia
stood in the doorway, staring at her father as he lay in bed, her face puzzled as to what exactly he wanted. He patted the spot next to him and motioned for her to come and lay with him. Her puzzlement became fear and she turned to walk away.

Randy
had
became infuriated, feeling betrayed and alone. He just wanted to touch her, he wanted her to understand what she meant to him. But no, she didn’t care about his feelings, just like his bitch of a wife. He pounced then, not caring
that he was
nude.

Randy pounced onto his daughter like an animal, his hands wrapping around her small throat. He slammed her head into the bedroom door and then into the wall. Blood flowed freely, spilling onto the floor and across his genitalia. He remembered he’d liked the feeling.

Randy slid his hand into his pocket and slowly stroked his member through the hole in the material as he thought back to that wonderful day.

Georgia
’s skull was crushed; he’d
destroy
ed it completely. He had slammed it onto the hardwood floor dozens of times as he slid his dick in and out of his daughter’s pink, bleeding orifice. She never had time to scream, she hadn’t made a noise, and that angered Randy even more. She was no longer pretty or precious. Now she was ugly and destroyed. He’d killed his daughter then, and enjoyed every second of it.
                                                 

Right now he yearned for it, yearned for her, and stroked himself r
e
membering her as he walked down the street towards his destination.

But the images were in his head now and they wouldn’t go away.
The scream came suddenly without warning. Randy looked up to see his wife, her face frozen in horror at the ghastly sight. He couldn’t help but smile…

…and he smiled now.

He never heard the door open, or anything else. But now he heard her gasps for air, her tears strike the floor; then he heard her yell something else.

“You fucking bastard!”

The fear had given way to anger. She was running at him full speed but he never flinched, never moved, he just kept smiling. He knew how weak she was, how pathetic and stupid. He stood quickly and put out a hand. She ran into it and fell down onto the floor
,
in front of the
i
r now dead daughter. Naked and still hard, Randy stood silently over his wife;
staring at her,
searching for a meaning she would never have and he would never unde
r
stand.

He straddled his wife’s chest and began to punch her in the face. After a few punches, her face was a bleeding mess of d
e
stroyed flesh and bone, but still she lived. He grabbed her by her jaws and opened her mouth.

His hand stroked violently as he walked down the sidewalk, feeling the sensation of pleasure run throughout his body.

The lower half of Randy’s body shifted forward so his dick stuck into his wife’s mouth. She may have known what was going to happen but was powerless to resist him. He began to fuck her mouth, going as deep as possible; deep into her throat. She made violent gagging sounds and he felt something wet washing his dick, probably vomit and blood. He didn’t care; he just got more violent, more intense. He could feel the sensation coming to him. His wife had died vomiting; so what was wrong with a little sticky cum in the throat added to the rest? He lifted his head and cried out in blissful ecstasy. He was finished. He slowly got to his feet and looked around the room, now covered in blood. He smiled to himself, knowing from this point on, he would do this to countless women and young girls forever.

He smiled to himself now as he reached the school.

The precious little ones were walking around the schoolyard. They were laughing and talking and thinking of nothing in pa
r
ticular. None of them even suspected the weird man standing at the school gates of being…sick.

Randy’s hand was still in his pocket, gently stroking himself through the hole in the material.

His smile widened when he saw her, the little red-haired girl. So young and sweet, so innocent and beautiful. Oh yes, she would be his. Whether or not she wanted to be, she would be. For now though, he had to keep walking. The coffee shop still called his name. Before he left the schoolyard gates, Randy lifted his head and closed his eyes, his mouth widening a bit; the pleasure of his ejaculation clinching his muscles.

His sperm ran down his legs and stained his jeans but he didn’t care.

Randy then walked on towards the coffee shop, blissful but i
g
norant.

And he was ignorant of the man standing not very far from him, watc
h
ing him ever so closely.

C
aruthers Coffee shop stood perched on the corner of an inte
r
section. The decrepit three-story building beside it was a library long due for retir
e
ment. Still, it dwarfed the little coffee shop beside it.

Randy had been visiting the shop for years, at times spending countless hours alone. Just as he did now, sitting alone at a table next to a window  while sipping his tasty coffee. He was watching the women go by, the women and the girls. All of whom he u
n
dressed with his eyes. Once again his erection sprouted as he enjoyed the view. Some of the girls were blondes, others were brunettes, but he had yet to see his favorite.

That is until she walked by. The little girl with bright red hair and frec
k
les that covered her face. She was so innocent and sweet she unknowingly enticed his appetite.

Randy stood and paid for his coffee and put a five-dollar bill in the tip jar, smiling at the woman at the counter as he did so. Then he left to follow the red-haired girl.

She was walking mighty fast, so fast that at times he had to run to catch up to her.

Behind him was the watching man, following Randy as he fo
l
lowed the girl.

Then Randy took a side alley, one that could place him in front of her if he was fast enough. A slob of drool appeared on his lips and he licked it away. The thought of the girl was antagonizing. He wanted her; he wanted to treat her as he had his daughter.

Randy broke off into a sprint through the alley, hoping to a
p
pear in front of her and catch her off guard.

Then he heard the
pop
and stopped dead in his tracks. His chest was leaking something hot and sticky. He looked down to see a gaping hole in his chest and fell to his knees.

Behind him, the watching man continued to point the gun at Randy. He wasn’t going to give him a chance. The man walked around Randy and stood in front of him and then looked him right in the eyes.

Randy looked into the man’s eyes and saw a fire in them that quelled his own. This man was here out of pure hatred. This man was after revenge. For what though? Randy didn’t know this man; he had no beef with him.

Then, the man spoke and put a nightmare in Randy’s head that would never be quieted.

“You may not know me, but I know you. I’ve watched you and hated you. You’ve tormented children and my daughter was one of them. Do you even remember her name? You don’t do you? You don’t even know her name.”

Randy’s eyes began to roll in his head, the world around him spinning.

Yet, a name came to his mind. He wasn’t sure why, but it was there and he answered the question.

“Tiffany.”

For a second the fire dimmed in the man’s eyes, but then it r
e
lit, ten times as bright as before. Once more Randy could see that this man’s madness exceeded his own.

“Yes, that’s right. My daughter’s name is Tiffany. But you took that from her, just as you took her virginity and her life. She was only eight years old.” A single tear dripped down the side of the man’s cheek as he spoke, “Her birthday was today. Today, damn you! And you took her life. You tortured her for three days before finally killing her.”

Curious that this man knew this, as her body, as far as Randy knew, was still lying in the basement of his home.

Randy replied
,
smiling, “Not three days. Three hours.”

The man seemed not to hear this statement as he said, “You want to know how I know all this, don’t you. Well, do you? He wanted me to tell you. He wanted you to know who it was that signed your death warrant.”

Randy smiled and closed his eyes; he knew the answer now. His own dear brother had done this, he was the one who had finished him. After everything, he’d won. Walter had kept his promise. His threat hadn’t been empty.

“Walter told me. He also told me where to find you. And there’s one more thing. He wanted me to tell you that he always knew and never cared. He just wanted you to know that before you died.”

Over the years, Randy had cried over several things and now he started to cry once again. After hearing what Walter had to say he just couldn’t help it. The tears flowed freely. Then, as the man put the gun to Randy’s for
e
head, he had one last thought.