9. Spiral
CHAPTER NINE
SPIRAL
Ilove watching her sleep.
So unaware. So unusually calm. So helpless and vulnerable.
I can’t wait to kill her.
Well, kill her again. Once I figure out how to kill a dead girl.
I take another swig of whisky, knowing I need it to sleep.
This is my nightly routine. Watch Karma sleep, drink half a bottle of alcohol, and pass out until I’m woken up by one of the clowns sucking me off.
I’m bored of it. Bored of the regular orgies and the performing and the demands. They’re a placeholder until I get Karma wrapped around my little finger. Kreo doesn’t appreciate her morally corrupt brain like I do. No one does.
But I hate her. So fucking much. I was Kreo’s fixation until she came along, and as soon as I watch those neon green eyes turn off—maybe after I play around with her body—Kreo will come back to me.
He’ll stop doing all his tests on her and his other creatures.
He’ll come back to testing me. He’ll finally fix my brain and take away the pain.
Karma thinks I hate her because I was Kreo’s star, his favourite, until he made her.
And at first, that was the truth. It enraged me.
I love the lights and the fans and the attention, and Karma has always hated it.
She hides in the shadows, so how was it fair that she got it when I didn’t?
But the more I hated her, the more I watched her, the more obsessed I became.
I loathe how obsessed I am with her. Despise it.
I tell myself it’s total hatred.
I tell myself that every day.
Kreo was so close to fixing my brain, to taking that hurt away. Then he created her, and he never bothered again. He’s done test after test on me. He’s given me extra appendages, played around with my eyeballs, tested my reproduction skills—all for naught. The pain is still there, still unbearable.
And now these boys have decided to step onto my territory. Onto my obsession.
I will kill her. And I will be the first to fuck her virgin body. Dead or alive. Then I’ll get rid of her.
I drop the flap to her tent and stumble back.
I haven’t done my evening jobs because I was too busy looking for Karma earlier before I found her on her knees with other men, which means Kreo’s caged pet will be hungry.
But that’s Karma’s fault. She unknowingly forced me to watch her inhale dick, and when I saw the three of them under the benches, I couldn’t look away.
I know she disobeyed Kreo’s direct orders the night he left—she went out when there wasn’t a show—so I’ve had my eye on her.
But to know it’s because she’s been seeing those fuckers? Yeah, I’m pissed.
My legs are wobbly as I make my way across the field to the trailers, drops of whisky spilling from the bottle to land on the grass.
The padlock takes me a couple of tries to get right, and I’ve usually done this part of the routine before I open the bottle and drink away consciousness.
Normally, I wouldn’t be allowed in here, but Kreo didn’t want his pet dying when he went away.
“Wakey, wakey,” I sing out, my words slurring as I nearly trip into the trailer. “Food time.”
I turn on the bright light, squinting my eyes. Kreo has me feeding this thing for the next two weeks. He found it a few months ago and likes to do tests on it regularly, but when he’s fixated on a new creature or concoction, he forgets about it for a while.
There’s a plate of fish left over from this morning that Kreo’s pet refused.
I pick it up and walk over to the large cage at the end of the trailer, passing the wide wooden box covered in chains that I haven’t been allowed to touch.
Kreo is incredibly protective of this trailer, and I’m the only one who’s allowed inside when he’s not here, but that box? Complete mystery.
“You better eat up this time, Fishboy.” I kick the bottom of the cage bars and crouch down to peer inside. It’s sitting in the corner, its muscled blue back facing me. “Come on. I don’t have all day.”
I throw the slab of raw fish into the cage. Kreo told me I was to watch it until it eats, but it flat out ignored the food this morning.
I slam my hand against the bars again, but it doesn’t flinch.
“You won’t get any food tomorrow if you don’t eat it.”
“I don’t like fish,” it says quietly.
Kreo found this thing near the sea. How can it not like fish?
“Well, there’s nothing else, so eat it or starve.” It continues to ignore me, and I have no patience tonight. “Kreo demands you finish all the fish.”
“He’s going to kill me anyway.”
That’s true. Eventually, when Kreo has exhausted all his tests, he’ll kill this thing and pick it apart to put it into jars.
“Yeah, you’re right. Fine, starve yourself if that’s what you want. Saves me having to come back in here.”
I’ve not seen this thing properly in the few days I’ve been tasked with feeding it.
It stays huddled in the corner. But Kreo must have knocked it out with some heavy anaesthesia to get it here because it looks big from the size of its back alone.
The steel bars are the only thing keeping it inside, but it’s not made any attempt to escape as far as I can tell.
Kreo won’t be happy if this thing dies on my watch. So, despite me wanting to leave it, I ask, “What food do you want?”
“Anything that isn’t fish,” it grumbles back. I guess it can have some of the performer’s leftovers tomorrow. Probably chicken.
“Ugh, fine.” I leave the fish in the cage. I’m not risking my arm—which has already been bitten tonight—trying to get it out. I’m sure this thing is waiting to strike.
I shut the trailer door and try to reset the numbers on the lock, but my fingers don’t coordinate with my eyes thanks to the whisky. I give up, leaving it open and taking another swig of the nearly empty bottle.
When I turn to walk down the small step, I’m faced with Moxie and her dark brown eyes, open wide and staring.
She’s one of my best clowns. Her bright pink hair is curly around her oval face, contrasting with her deep brown skin, and her lips are always red, painted with a heart.
The jumpsuits she wears are colourful, not reflecting her soul.
“What do you want?” I sigh, fed up and ready to pass out in my tent.
“You know what I want,” she says in her usual seductive tone, gripping the collar of my jumpsuit and dragging me into her. “Dolly and Baxter are waiting for me in the show ring. I thought you’d want to join us. Your big cock needs some attention tonight, doesn’t it?”
Usually, I’d say yes, despite how tired or drunk I feel because I love an orgasm.
Dolly gets herself off silently whilst Baxter and Moxie take turns sucking me dry, but tonight…
Seeing Karma with those guys has thrown me for a loop.
I can’t stop thinking about it and getting this weirdly possessive pang in my chest.
“Not tonight, Mox. Go suck Baxter off instead.”
She doesn’t follow orders well, especially when it means she’s not getting her way, so I’m not surprised she chases after me when I start heading back to my tent.
“Why the hell not? You didn’t join us last night either. What’s wrong with you?”
No, I didn’t, because I was too busy obsessing over Karma.
“Nothing. Just piss off, Moxie.”
She stops, and I don’t check to see where she goes, ignoring her distancing presence behind me and focusing on getting to bed.
Moxie has always been sure of herself. All of us are self-obsessed attention seekers, aside from Dolly.
But Moxie really doesn’t like feeling unwanted.
She thrives off the attention. Dolly is quiet—she never speaks and doesn’t like others touching her, so she gets herself off whilst the rest of us have fun.
And Baxter severely lacks personal space awareness.
The funny one who most people don’t like to be around for too long.
He’s good for getting his throat fucked.
We get together most nights, but plenty of the other performers like to join in.
A big orgy is held the night of the last show before we leave for a new city, a celebration of success.
Karma has never been involved in any of these—she’s not allowed.
Most of the others thought she couldn’t feel emotions, let alone arousal, and wouldn’t be happy with her there.
Now I know that’s not true. The feeling of her sliding back and forth over my cock as she succumbed to her desires will haunt me for the rest of my life. If I thought I was already obsessed with her… But I’m not allowed her. She’s off limits. She’s Kreo’s.
One of us is going to die if I don’t control myself.
My arm is still bleeding from where she bit me earlier, and fighting her has exhausted me. Turned me on, but it’s tiring. I should probably do something with the wound like wrap it in gauze or pour whisky over it. Instead, I head to bed.
My mattress feels so much comfier when I’m buzzed with alcohol, and the spliff on my dressing table looks real enticing.
There’s not much left, so I quickly light it and lie down, holding it in my mouth and letting smoke exhale through the corner of my lips.
Weed and whisky will have me sleeping in tomorrow, but I’m happy with that.
A wet, slopping sound is the first thing I notice when sleep slowly dissipates. My head aches now the alcohol has worn off, but before I can reach for the whisky I left beside my bed, pleasure shoots up my stomach, and my cock swells with need.
My hand finds the head bobbing up and down, my eyes scrunching shut with the oncoming orgasm. I don’t know how long this sweet mouth has been sucking me off, but I’m close to shooting ropes down their throat.
“Fuck yes,” I groan, lifting my hips and slamming into their mouth harder.
They gag, the noise music to my ears, and I repeat the motion.
I imagine Karma’s bright green eyes as she looks up at me, the thought of her sucking me off making me desperate, her pale blue lips turning white as I cut off her oxygen, not that she breathes air.
Or does she? I don’t know. All I know is that I want to fill her tight body up with my cum, empty my balls inside of her until she’s overflowing.
The mouth moves faster, begging for me to finish, and I’m so damn close. The memory of Karma humping me, my finger circling her nipple, sends me over the edge, and I hold still as warm cum spurts from my cock.
“Karma,” I groan without realising, and the mouth pulls away, my balls empty.
“What the hell?”
I snap my eyes open, and when I look down, it’s Moxie on her knees at the end of the bed. Her face is contorted with fury, lip curled and eyes narrowed.
“Oh. Morning, Mox.”
“Are you kidding me, Spiral?” Her high-pitched voice hurts my head, and I turn on my side, groaning and using the pillow to cover my ears.
“Piss off. I’m hungover.” That’s a lie; I don’t get hungover. Moxie doesn’t need to know about my wonky brain or the pain I use alcohol to run from.
“You’re always hungover because you’re always drunk, idiot. Why the hell did you say that monster’s name? You know it’s always me drinking your cum in the mornings.”
“Slip of the tongue,” I mumble. Big lie. “Don’t you have leaflets to hand out?”
“Baxter’s gone to do that.” Oh great. He’ll turn everyone away. Who would go to a circus to see that twat? “Why did you moan Karma’s name?”
“I told you. It was a slip of the tongue,” I snap, throwing off the pillow and jumping out of bed, ready to escape this conversation. “Go practice or something. Your somersaults are getting sloppy.”
She crosses her arm and huffs, quickly leaving my tent and taking the tension with her. I blow out a breath. That was close. Moxie will be obsessed with that now. She doesn’t let things go, and she really does not like Karma.
Moxie was nearly as jealous as me when Kreo introduced his latest creation.
I was always his favourite, but Moxie wanted to be noticed by him every chance she got.
Karma’s existence was sure to take that away.
Suddenly, Kreo wasn’t interested in anyone but her.
Moxie kept trying, but Kreo wasn’t bothered, always studying Karma.
He has tons of diaries dedicated to her and her alone.
Moxie doesn’t fight for his attention anymore. She fights for mine. She’s cute and takes a double stuffing like a champ, but she’s needy. I don’t do needy.
After I sort myself out, take a few gulps of whisky, and pass by Karma’s tent to see if she’s awake, I’m surprised to find it empty. She normally stays in her tent until showtime, talking to that creepy pet rat-thing.
I told her she was going to stay with me today, that she wasn’t to sneak off.
She disobeyed me, and now I have no idea where she is.