The Baron's Thriller Novel : Part 6

Zurich 6pm:

Roy gingerly lowered his rump into the chair. It was fair to say that his ass had never hurt this much in his entire life. The rectal printing had been a humiliating ordeal rife with crying, pleading and plenty of sodomy.

But, what could Roy expect? He was being railroaded for a crime he didn't commit in a country that seemed to love violating anuses.

The burly technician rolled his now filthy metal cart out of the interrogation room. The steel door clanged shut with a verve which Roy's butthole would never again muster.

"Can I ever fart again?" Roy wondered.

He leaned to one side and attempted to tear ass. Straining through the tears Roy managed to create a weak, wet sounding little hiss. With mounting trepidation, he gingerly checked his scooby doo underpants.

"Gah!! NOOO!!" Roy screamed.

There was shit in his underoos. The Swiss had ruined his life once and for all.

Roy began to pace the room wrenching at his hair with soiled fingers. He kicked the rickety chair and it toppled into the corner. A heavily distorted voice rang out from someplace near the ceiling.

"Refrain from kicking the chair!"

Roy glared at the two way mirror comprising one entire wall of the room and grimaced, hoping to impart at least a small part of his pain on whatever greasy Swissman was watching. Roy studied his contorted face and grunted with approval.

"At least I still have my rugged good looks." He assured himself.

Roy cowboy-walked to the corner, righted the chair and sat. Who could tell how long these treacherous Swiss would make him wait? It was probably part of their interrogation technique to allow his swollen ass to fester for a few hours before offering a small concession, like a seat cushion or some advil.

The door lock engaged, clicking loudly. Roy jumped at the abruptness of it and the sudden muscle tension caused his ass to throb with pain.

The butt-probe man re-entered the room.

"eh, I forgot part of the scan herr Gimbel. Got to do it again."

Roy glanced into the two way mirror, his face a mask of panic. Begging them, beseeching them to put a halt to this rectal oppression. The tight appearance of his reflected face reminded him of his father's death mask.

That same panic. That same anguish he'd seen on Robert's pale visage.... suddenly Roy remembered a conversation he'd had with Robert in the summer of his 13th birthday and he drifted from reality in the intense recollection.

They had been sitting by the lake, fishing, kind of like in that commercial for life insurance where they show a bunch of old people doing shit in what looks like Alaska.

"Roy, you're becoming a man and I think you're old enough now to hear some things about the world." His father began.

"Like what kind of things dad?" Roy replied, pushing his grungy locks out of his eyes.

"Well three things really. First, Don't ever go down on a woman before she takes a shower in the morning. You know what that means son? Go down on?"

"Um..."

"Well sometimes a man feels the need to put his face all up in a lady's boiler room, her snatch you see my boy."

"What's a snatch?"

Roy's father placed the palms of his hands together and spread the middle and ring fingers apart. Holding his hands out vertically, he indicated that Roy should do the same with his hands, turn them horizontally. When Roy had done this the old man said:

"Now mesh your fingers with mine, pull your hands apart and look inside my lad."

Roy did as his father instructed and beheld a sight which would stay with him for his entire life. That angry, tight looking little slit. That was what the girls were hiding in their skirts and bloomers and butch suit pants.

"Now you see what a snooter is my young man. It's the landing bay to a woman's air craft carrier, the chute thing that Luke falls down to her Cloud city of Bespin, the overflow tract to her hoover damn and one cornerstone of our great business."

"Wow dad, thanks." Roy replied, a twinkle of wonder in his eye.

"So where was I?"

"Don't go down on a woman before she takes a shower in the morning."

"Ah yes, make doubly sure, thing can get like one of those styrofoam incubators you hatch chicks in in biology class. Second, if you ever clog the toilet at another person's home, lock the bathroom door, jump out the window and sneak back into the house, then pretend that you don't know who's in the can and complain about it with the rest of the guests, then leave before they find out there's no one in the bathroom. Third and most importantly, don't ever allow a Swissman to penetrate your ass. At first it may seem like harmless fun, but its deadly serious business. I'd make a face like this if I ever got sodomized by a filthy Swissman."

Roy could picture that look, that sticken look, frozen on his father's cold, lifeless face. And suddenly he realized something. Something terrible. His father had been butt-violated mere moments before his death. Roy's heart began to race.

"Calm down Roy." he thought. "Can't let that goon see how flustered you are. He'll know you know!"

The bulky man reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a particularly bulbous looking probe. It was not one that Roy recognized from the earlier ass-tango and he sensed that there was something different about it, something sinister.

"Now bend over Mr. Gimbel and we'll get this over with."

Roy glared silently and then pretended to oblige. He bent over the chair and pulled his reeking pants to his knees. The goon approached in measured steps and began sighting down the shaft of the terrible probe, lining it up with Roy's bloated chocolate starfish.

Roy could sense the probe nearing his cornhole and feel the man's breath on his majestic forest of ass hair. He would have to time this perfectly.

With a sudden explosion of force Roy lunged backwards, grunting with exertion. His buttocks wrapped nearly halfway around the interrogator's face. The man let out a muffled shriek of surprise as Roy rode his head to the hard cement floor. Roy twisted his hips with a mighty effort. A surprisingly loud pop sounded as the man's neck dislocated and his last breath escaped as a raspberry between Roy's cheeks.

Roy jumped to his feet and began fumbling for the keys the man had attached to his belt. Finally grasping the ring, he tore them free. After a few wrong guesses Roy located the correct key and carefully cracked the armored door.

Why wans't the man behind the mirror raising the alarm? Could it be that there was no one in that room at all?

Roy cautiously entered the hallway and began slinking towards the nearest exit stairwell. The door to the observation room was slightly ajar. For some unexplainable reason, Roy couldn't resist the urge to peek inside. The room was dimly lit with a red light, but what Roy saw chilled him to the bone.

Two men in Swiss poliz uniforms were slumped over a black console covered with blinking lights. Both men were covered in bloody foam so fresh that is still fizzed and popped like champagne.

Roy quietly latched the door and ran toward the stairs at a brisk trot. The building seemed deserted. Roy was terrified that an inspector would pop into the hallway at any moment.

Roy quickly glanced up at the hall clock. 6:15pm. With immeasurable relief, he realized that it was the traditional Swiss evening meal hour and that most of the officers were likely gorging on sheep's testicles and bull penis in local establishments.

Roy slinked into the stairwell and reached the ground level with surprising speed. He exited through a red, metal door into a freezing alley behind the station.

"As long as I stay out of sight.." Roy reasoned "I can slip out of here before the poliz realize I'm gone.."

Roy padded down the frozen alley and onto a back street trying not to look over his shoulder too many times.

What Roy needed now was a car.