Memento Mori

“Just one more week, Mr. Winslow. The shop is slow, my boss reduced my hours. But I have enough coming in this next check to pay off some of the arrears…” David pleaded, his voice quivering. After several bad months, he was behind on rent for the very first time in his life. Was that enough to convince the landlord for some patience and leniency? Of course not. As he droned on about the lease and the state laws, David kept typing furiously on his laptop. All the stress of daily bills and daily life had taken it’s toll on his degree, and his grades had started to slip. What he needed was an injection of funds, and within the next few days. He hung up the cell phone, hit the submit button on his essay, and immediately starting hitting the job boards. His new Applicant Headshot proudly sat atop his impressive résumé filled with internships and volunteer work. A deep breath and he started searching.

First listing: Receptionist Needed, part time, 7.25/hr. Definitely not enough to even cover the electric bill. ISO Experienced Line Cook, at least 6 years of experience required. Not even gonna try with that one… Now Hiring Sales Representatives for multi-level marketing firm, $50k Introductory pay possible. Possible? What the hell does that even mean? Scrolling through Indeed, it was clear there were slim pickings, and that was being awfully optimistic. David sighed, thinking of every past due balance, the credit cards, the rent, the student loans, the utilities. At bare minimum he’d need a job paying at least $18-20/hr. But without a completed masters, few openings would even come close. Just as he was about to slam the laptop shut in utter frustration, the little ping of a new notification rang from the speakers. He scrolled up and read the listing.

“Assistant Needed. $25/hr. Part time, full time possible with successful first gig. Training provided. Apply below.” The listing was bare bones, but it caught his attention. If anything it was rather mysterious, and somewhat alluring to him. Either way, mysterious or not, he clicked the submit resume button. The only listing he was remotely qualified for now submitted, he closed his laptop. Almost immediately, his phone rang. The number was unrecognized, and didn’t even show a Caller ID. Normally, he’d ignore such calls, but perhaps it was a recruiter, or perhaps it was a debt collector. He closed his eyes, swiped accept, and pulled the phone to his ear.

“This David Bellingham?” The voice was youthful but gruff, and a bit odd. He affirmed his identity with caution. “Yeah, we got your application, and wanted to get you in for an interview as soon as possible. Are you available?” David’s heart plummeted to his toes.

“Yes! Absolutely. I can be there immediately if you give me the address!” The man on the other side of the line began to whisper, clearly not to David, and after a few moments, he responded.

“Knock knock.” The line disconnected. Trying to call the number back, he found it to be “unreachable at this time.” Concerned he was the victim of doxxing, he threw the phone across the room just as the heavy pounding on his door echoed from the front of the apartment. David sat nervously in his desk chair, unable to bring himself to even stand. He watched the front door, only the doorknob and lock viewable from his perch. To his horror, the top lock swiped to the left, and the knob quickly turned. The door swung open and a tall, lean man entered the room, quickly shutting the door behind him. The heavy footfalls from his gigantic Nikes slamming against the hardwood approached quickly, and the full sight of the man came into view.

He was inked from the face downward. A teardrop just under his right eye, various designs littered his shirtless torso and crept beneath his ratty grey sweatpants. A good looking guy for certain, but the air about him was certainly heavier with a sense of dominance and malfeasance. This was not a “good guy.”

“You stay right there, and don’t move. Got it?” The voice was the very same from the phone call. How could he have possibly found him this quickly? Let alone let himself into his own private domicile? Terrified, he nodded gently at the man as he leaned his sweaty body against the wall. “Interview time. You need a gig, right? Quick money?” David nodded, trying to coyly pull at his pockets for his phone, only to remember he’d tossed it across the room in rage. “Phones over there. I wouldn’t go for it if I were you.”

“What do you want?” David’s voice was trembling, the fear overtaking any bout of feigned defiance he’d intended to convey. The man smirked and looked around the apartment.

“I want an assistant for a job. You applied for the job. Now I’m interviewing you, right?” Knowing full well he’d lost complete control over the situation, he accepted he just had to make it through this interaction and wait for the man to leave before he’d be able to call the cops. “The group I work with are… let’s just say repo men and leave it at that. We need a guy that certain people wouldn’t recognize, and I think you fit the bill nicely.” The man looked David up and down, the pristine black button up and jeans contrasted entirely with his own attire. “I’ll sweeten the deal for ya. $75k for this one time job.” David’s jaw dropped. There was no way in hell this guy was legit. Nor was he offering a job that law enforcement would likely approve of. He could read between the lines. Mustering his strength, he found himself able to mutter out a single question.

“What’s the job, exactly?” The man smiled, his one gold tooth sparkled in the sunlight coming in from the window.

“All we need you to do is drive a car for me. In fact, I’ll drive the car, all I need is you to be in the drivers seat.” David was confused, terrified, nearly delirious with desperation to escape whatever scheme he was to be implicated in should he go through with it. Certainly the money would help, but with no guarantee he’d ever get that sum, paired with the fact his potential boss had literally broken into his home sparked should have sparked a fight or flight response within him. However, whether it was his brain misfiring or fear just getting to him, he found himself nodding once again and quietly saying:

“Okay. I can do that.” The man put his hand up to his ear, needing one more bout of confirmation. “Yes, I’ll do it.” It was a lie. Anything to escape the situation. But that confirmation to the man was in line with a verbal contract. The deal was sealed.

“Aight. Get up. Time for training.” Shit. It had backfired. The man walked over to him, extending his hand to pull the lanky young man out of the perceived safety of his swivel desk chair. His body moved of its own accord, accepting the hand, and the yank to his shaking feet. The man towered above him, looming over him like a monolith of muscle, skin, and ink. He began to poke and prod, seemingly making an inventory in his mind of what David could offer. “Tight squeeze. But you’re a good fit I think, Bellingham.” He pointed to the wall. “Put your hands against the wall, don’t fucking turn around. Do you understand?”

David did as he was told. He scampered to the wall, placing his clammy palms on it, breathing heavily. The room fell silent aside from the labored breath, and the cacophonous footsteps from the man. Against the back of his neck, he could feel the breath of the man mere inches from the little hairs standing on end.

“Try not to moan too loudly.” The man’s hands slithered around his skinny waist, riding his shirt up ever so slowly. Looking down, he could see the man’s black fingernails glide across his bare midriff, pulling him close until he could feel his warm, wet chest against his back. He let out a quiet gasp, as the fear began to subside under his gentle touch. “Mmmmmm yeah, baby. This is gonna feel good.” The man’s right hand made its way to the back of his shoulder blade, the fingertips massaging his tight deltoids. The second hand followed suit, pressing and pulling against his boney shoulders until he could barely feel them. That’s when the numbness made way to a new sensation, undefinable by mere words. It was fullness, it was tightness, it was euphoric, it was… stretchy.

Opening his eyes for a moment, he looked down to see the outline of two large hands pressing outward from beneath the skin of his chest. He gasped, but the sound was immediately caught in the back of his throat. The man hummed low and quiet, as the sound of elastic stretching followed the hands slowly pressing into his shoulders and down into the top of his arms. As if his body was slurping and sucking them into place, they traveled down his biceps, the intricate ink faintly visible beneath his pale porcelain skin. The hands were pulled by an almost vacuum force down his forearms and slipped into his hands. David’s skin began to pulsate and creak under the pressure of this alien mass as the fingers pushed the tips of his own further outward. He could feel the man’s larger biceps and longer arms stretching and stretching until a loud “Schlick” signified their suction in place. Against the wall, where his hands once were, were a pair of massive meaty hands: tattooed, black nails, thrice their original size. The man rested his chin on David’s shoulder as the hands began to move on their own, cracking their knuckles and caressing their tight muscles.

“Yeah, we gonna get you all trained up for the job.” David looked down as he felt the tips of the man’s massive toes pressing against his Achilles’ tendon. He moaned in pleasure for a mere second before his left hand clasped over his mouth as the foot pushed into his. His thighs ballooned out as the man’s legs began to slide into him, the creaking and groaning of his elastic skin growing louder as he pushed himself deeper into David. For a moment, he thought he could hear the sound of bones cracking as his foot stretched out to accommodate the invader’s, but as the tips of his toes were finally filled, they had grown into two high arched, musky size 15s. The heat from his new soles created a steamy footprint against the wood floor, and only as he backed up did he see he’d grown almost a foot taller. His jeans struggled to contain the cut, chiseled quads and calves. One firm push further, and he felt a squirming within his groin.

“Ahh, fuck. Let me just…” His hands unbuttoned the waist of his jeans, pulling down the whitie tighties which had cupped his modest package. With a firm grip from his calloused hand, he pulled the tip of his cock outward, watching in erotic confusion as the lurking outline of the man’s monstrous duck slurp up the base of his own- pushing farther and farther, until the man let out a loud sigh as it had expanded fully into David’s, snaking longer and wider than ever before.

Gently stroking his new python, the man pressed his chest against David’s back, squeezing his own shoulders together to squirm and shimmy into the tight confines of their soon-to-be home. As if crouching, David felt the man slip into him, the elastic skin of his back slowly sealing shut behind the invading torso. Finally within him, the man stood up straight, letting his shoulders stretch outward, and his pecs burst out of the formerly skinny body. Hearing the soft chuckle of a devious thug growing closer and closer, David could only watch in the mirror as the man’s face pressed out from beneath the skin of his neck, protruding sharply as it slid upward. He could feel the man’s sweaty black hair in the back of his throat, pressing hard against the tight hole leading to his mouth; and thus his head. Pressure had mounted, vision became blurry, his eyelids flickered open and shut just as he felt the crown of the man’s head finally stretch past his jaw. It was seconds. The man’s head was immediately suctioned into the smaller skull of David. As his now dark Hazel eyes opened, David could only watch as the man pinched and contorted his face; pressing his nose, lips, chin, ears into their respective places. The man smiled, his one gold tooth now sparkling from within the merged body of his host.

“Not bad. Lookin good, if I’m being real. You in there, little man?” The man tapped on his temple, David acknowledging the echoing beating from the dark void of his mind. “Yeah, you watchin’. I told you I was gonna train you.” The man flexed his new muscles. “This is just part one. Now we get your mind all fixed up.” David’s consciousness was merely floating in the endless abyss of darkness, unable to resist as a flood of foreign thoughts began to pour in. The man continued to jack his thick rod, the pace quickening as David’s mind was filled with the man’s own memories and experiences. Or, rather was filled with Dante’s memories. Whatever rage, discontent, or distrust flashed away, and the figure of Dante, the invader of his body quickly shifted from an adversary to a mentor. Methods of hot wiring cars, lock picking, slide of hand, coke sniffing, ass fucking, pussy licking, pit sniffing, sneaker huffing, tongue kissing, machismo all but replaced whatever he once had stored in the vault of his memory. Dante and David were no longer two, but for the moment at least, were one.

Dante blew the load of David’s useless collegiate education, meek insecurities, nervous demeanor, and whack sense of right and wrong right out of his long thick cock into a puddle on the floor. He flopped backward onto the rug, and lay there huffing and sweating.

“Fuck yeah, man. You feelin’ good up in there?” The faint murmur of his new pupil within him purred in ecstasy. “Let’s get this job done, get you your money. Then we’ll see how you feel about goin’ full time.” Dante smirked from within him, knowing all too well that he had a new member to his crew.

———————

“State police are still on the lookout for those involved with the robbing of a New Orleans bank approximately seven months ago, a small bounty has been offered to anyone with pertinent knowledge of…” Dante smirked as he closed the YouTube video. Sitting in plain daylight on the steps of the Courthouse, the gang flaunted just how untouchable they were to all who knew who they were. There wasn’t ever going to be any leads for the police, no one would ever dare. Besides. Rob from the rich, give to the poor. The poor, of course being themselves.

Walking over to Dev, their new getaway driver, he handed him a cigarette from his own personal collection. The sneering visage of his crewmate and pupil was thanks enough for him as he flicked his lighter and ignited the Treasurer Luxury smoke. Training went well over the past few months, and after five or six successful heists, the newest Libertine boy found himself a permanent fixture. Now rolling in the finest cars, fucking the hottest guys and girls in the club, and throwing hundreds like they were dollars, Dev was rearing for the next payday. And as a professional, he was bound to deliver.