Chapter 8 – Reservoir
Hell sounded warm, and I hated the cold.
It was loud, and I hated silence. And it was much more honest than everything in the same, straight up and down, prim and proper suburban hush that was Ghoulberg.
The suburb I grew up in was the kind of place where husbands all mowed their lawns with military precision and housewives would say, “Poor dear” about my mother having to raise a faggot-for-a-son like me.
She bore that burden only for a short while. I left home that year and had been living in a shitty apartment near a service station, two streets over from the supermarket and four from the school I dropped out of. Well, not dropped out…I just never went back for my final year of high school.
I worked nights hauling crates at a warehouse that smelled of raccoon piss and discarded dreams of men who failed to live up to their dizzying high school heights. My boss was a right prick as well. He called me Trash.
Most people did. Said it with a sneer, like it fit better than ‘Eddy’.
I had stopped correcting him. Embraced it. I started to really enjoy the new persona and confidence it gave me.
Trash wore ripped jeans and faded yellow band t-shirts. Trash carried a Walkman with a copy of ‘You Make Me Feel (Mighty Real) by Sylvester on cassette. Trash kissed boys in the alley behind the bins, even let them fuck him for some extra cash, but he never once called it love.
Not even with him.
Mark.
Mark was my first and last boyfriend. He had a job in the army and was awaiting his deployment. He smoked, wore leather-scented cologne and called me ‘Eds’ when we were alone, and ‘Mate’ when we weren’t.
He said our arrangement was meaningless, and just a way to get out both of our frustrations. He said I should be grateful he didn’t discard me like the trash I was.
He liked it rough. He liked me quiet and always naked, ass up, face down.
He liked to see my ass when he walked in.
And well, I mean, who wouldn’t; it is a great ass.
Trash worked hard to get it right for his tops.
But Mark didn’t care about the effort. All that mattered to him was whether I was ready for him whenever he wanted.
I was never to look at him while he was inside me, or even whimper. I was his hole to breed.
Afterward, he’d shower and mutter, “You don’t get clingy, or anything, OK?” and then he’d vanish into the night with wet hair and a satisfied grin on his face.
Mark was also straight. So he said. The only thing straight about him was his cock when it was inside me.
He left with no trace of me left on him, and he left me lying there with his scent and cum still in me.
He went back home to the poor girl who he intended on marrying.
I knew her as well. We would chat at the service station from time to time.
Mark never knew. Like an unspoken rule, I never asked him about her. He never brought her up.
Every time he left, he said it was the last time.
And every time, he came back for more.
And me? I let him. Of course I did.
I was a slut. A broke, desperate, bottom-bin-of-a-boy who thought being wanted, even if like this, was better than having no one.
Mark had a fat, rigid dick. Knew how to use it too. And, I was a willing hole that needed to feel something. Anything.
Even if that thing was the expanding erection of Mark as he came inside of me. Because in that brief moment, I belonged to someone. Meant something to someone.
I wasn’t dumb. I knew I was a joke to most men. A secret shame of theirs. A problem to be hidden and stay that way. But Mark was routine. A comfort, in the worst kind of way.
He also had a temper, and I knew this when getting into the car that sunny Thursday afternoon. It was also the hottest day on record, so I was wearing very little. A simple singlet, with the top of my chest exposed, with a thin overshirt and cutoff jean shorts.
I heard his car pull up, and the familiar twitching in my hole occurred. I was expecting to have my apartment buzzer go off when, down the street, he honked his car. Like he owned me.
And let’s face it. He did.
I looked out the window, and there he was. Leaning his back on his car, aviators covered eyes. His chest glistened in the sun and dripped with sweat from the heat. Even from my window, I could see his tight muscles and his bulge begging to be let free from his shorts.
The window to the driver’s seat was down.
He snaked his arm in and honked again, and I got the message loud and clear.
I forgot to lock the door as I rushed out of my apartment, but I didn’t care.
This was one of the rare occasions where Mark was treating me like a person and not his personal sperm bank.
Though if I were a sperm bank, my retention rate would be very low. Especially after Mark was finished with me. Yes, that was a gaping-hole joke. You may laugh.
As I reached him on the street, he flicked his aviators down the bridge of his nose and inspected what I was wearing. He smirked and then winked, only to put his aviators back on.
Why was he being so kind today?
He cocked his head, and I climbed into his Jeep.
No seatbelt. And never any small talk.
After an hour of driving, we arrived at the reservoir on the edge of town.
I had heard stories from the guys I let do me for a twenty behind my work.
It was a local beat for all the down-low ‘straight’ men to take their secret shame bottoms. It’s a bit of a dangerous area with jagged rocks and snakes, so Mark gave me his worker boots.
Steel capped. It was gross and made me feel warmer, but better than being hurt.
It made my heart flicker even just for a moment that he cared enough to bring me a pair. He had put on his own set as well.
We get out the car and made our way to the reservoir.
Here, gay men could be free to fuck to their heart's content, hang out with like-minded men, and if their bottoms were lucky, they’d get lucky.
Your top’s friend would top you while you topped their bottom.
Gay slut math. Keep up. Or, if you were extremely fortunate, they’d swap positions and go at it all over again with you.
Mark was possessive, and I wasn’t that lucky. He barely tolerated the idea of another man looking at me, let alone being inside me. And he especially hated if I looked at other men.
“Don’t you get any ideas, mate.” He said as he got closer to the indiscernible chatter of men ahead.
“You are mine. I own you. If you be polite to my friends, I will fuck your brains out later.” He leaned closer, and his hot breath blew into my ear, making my hole quiver.
“Misbehave, and you won’t be able to walk! ”
“So, either way, I’m taking your big, meaty one?” I reached over and squeezed his cock through his shorts. I shouldn’t have. He didn’t like it and gripped my forearm, pinching it like a warning signal. I winced.
He let go and smiled, taking off his aviators and hooking them on his shirt. “Come, follow me.”
We veered from the main path and walked on a side path down to the water, near a gazebo.
It was beautiful. Stunning even. I couldn’t wait to go swimming naked.
Everyone here swam naked and fucked in and out of the water.
I looked around and, by the reservoir's edge, in the trees and bushes, groups of men were already getting it on.
We wandered back, and Mark saw some people he recognised. We walked over, and he introduced me to his friends. They were all men in their late forties. And yes, they had amazing bodies for their age. Like their entire purpose in life was to work out and look good.
And a lot of them wore the tightest clothes imaginable.
I couldn’t help but stare; full hogs on display, and I was a hungry hole for some porking.
Mark noticed, and when his friends walked off and spoke to others, he grabbed me from behind, dragged me to the gazebo and wrapped his bicep around my throat, to untrained eye it would look like an affectionate hug, but I was basically in a chokehold.
“What did I say?” he whispered into my ear.
“Are… you… testing me?” I struggled to ask back. I shouldn’t have. He gripped my neck in a tight burst then released. I gasped for air. I knew he liked it rough. So did his friends, who noticed us and came back over.
“Your bitch getting out of hand there, Mark?” asked one, causing another to turn around.
“I have to slap mine sometimes,” said another. “Remind him who’s in charge!”
It was one thing having Mark use me as his cum receptacle. It was another hearing these men talk about me like I wasn’t even there. Like I wasn’t even a person. Just an object. It was a quick yet devastatingly crushing epiphany. I wanted out, and I made to leave, but Mark grabbed my hand.
He grabbed my hand. He never grabs me like this.
Not in the rough way like he normally would. It was gentler. Apologetic. I was taken aback, and after placating his friends, he urged me to leave with him.
He took me to a secluded part near the reservoir, a clearing just before the forest started, away from the crowd. He let go of my hand and then walked forward.
“I am sorry for bringing you here. I just wanted one last moment with you before I…” he stammered but didn’t look my way.
“Before you what?”
“My deployment is starting early. I have to leave tomorrow.” He spoke.
I nodded but didn’t look at him.
“You’re gonna be OK though, right?” He asked in the voice he used when he was trying to be kind. It was the same one he used when he begged me back inside when I ended things the first time. “Eds?” He approached me, and I looked up at him.
This was my moment to actually do something with my life and be rid of this man, who had just been using me day in and day out for nothing but to satisfy his needs.
“Dunno,” I said. “Don’t think you would even come to my funeral if I died tomorrow if I am being honest.”
He snorted. “Not even if it was on garbage day, Trash.”
He stepped forward, oddly tender for him.
“But you know it's not because I don’t like you. Just in the world I’m from, they don’t understand people like you and me. I have learnt to blend in.”
Hide who he was, he meant.
A question bubbled up inside me. I needed an answer to it . If he was going off to join the army, I wondered how his betrothed was feeling?
“How’s Judy taking the news?” I asked and regretted it instantly. I broke my one unspoken rule that was never meant to be broken. He didn’t know I knew who his fiancé was, let alone her name. And now the truth was out.
“How do you know about…” his eyes flickered from concern for my wellbeing to pure rage. He continued, but with venom in his voice. “Not that it matters, but she is coming with me. We are both starting a life in the town I’ll be deployed to.”
I laughed. I shouldn’t have. He never liked it when I laughed at him.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
I couldn’t control it anymore. All the years of being used and abused. Laughed and spat at, discarded. I had enough. I didn’t care anymore.
“The fact that you are running away with your fake fiancée, when you are nothing but a closeted fag who loves to use weaker guys as your personal cumdumps.” I couldn’t stop myself.
It was word vomit. “Come out already, Mark, maybe you’ll finally be happy for once in your life.
” I make to turn, and I am pulled backwards and spun back around.
My heart fluttered. He was choosing me. Then it sunk in a crushing defeat.
The first hit was an open-handed slap. It was a warning, but I couldn’t register it. Mark was strong, and he liked it rough. He didn’t know his own strength, which made him dangerous. I knew this in getting with him but never thought he would actually be this level of dangerous.
Violent.
I was seeing stars. Dazed, I stumbled back and fell over into the dirt. I don’t know how long I lay there. But it didn’t matter.
The second hit was a rage kick to my stomach. The steel cap made the blow hurt so much more. Then another and another round of more. I tasted blood as I tried to fold in half and protect myself.
I don’t even remember the last hit. I just know it was enough to have the lights turn out.
When I woke up, I was in a bin.
Not metaphorically. It was a literal dumpster behind the service station. I lived nearby. I must have been thrown in - my body had crumbled between milk crates and split rubbish bags. There was rotting, soaked cardboard on top of me.
I don’t know how long I lay there. Maybe hours. Potentially days. I remembered seeing the sky change colour a few times between the gaps in the cardboard. I tried to call out. Tried to scream. He must have also stepped on my throat, because nothing came out but a muffled, unintelligible cry.
So, I lay there. Probably bleeding internally, aching beyond belief. Praying that if this was how I was to die, someone would at least find me and pull me out before my body rotted away.
Then I slipped away.
Deep into the abyss as my brain and other organs finally gave up. As did my soul. They had won. They had defeated me.
Trash was taken out. Mark finally got what he wanted out of me and left me there in the bin, discarded.
Dying was also the weirdest experience I have had.
There was no bright light. No voice from above.
No montage of childhood memories. Just stillness as my lungs collapsed from the weight of the rubbish.
As the final breath escaped my lips, all I could remember was…
I wish I had loved myself more. Found my mother and forgave her.
Then… I rotted away. I became one with the rot and trash.
I guess trash is what I deserved to become.