Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

     Mike was my boyfriend, and the operative word is WAS! Mike was 6’ tall, about 170 pounds, with black hair and brown eyes. We were just about to celebrate our 5^th anniversary, and he was the love of my life. I had never had a better lover, and we totally trusted each other.

     On the day of our anniversary, Mike had left for work in his Winnebago. We had made plans to eat at a fancy restaurant downtown after work to celebrated. I didn’t need to be at work for another hour, so I decided to work on the computer for a while. When I went online, I discovered that Mike had been in such a hurry that he hadn’t closed his email account. I was about to close it, when I saw the following email message, titled “Hello, Lover”.

     Fireball,

          How are you, you hot young thing? I really loved being with you in the motel room last night at the Inn and Out Motel outside of town. Have you dumped John, that loser who thinks he’s your boyfriend? I can’t wait until you do, so that we can be together. You know we were made for each other, baby! You really light my fire. I rented the same room tonight; I’ll see you at 7pm. Come straight over from work. Maybe we can make out in your van. I love the fact that you soundproofed it.

     Love,

     Brandon xoxoxoxoxo

     “Fireball”? That was my pet nickname for Mike. I knew he had a fetish for being burned at the stake, so I gave him that name. And I’m a loser who only thinks I’m Mike’s boyfriend? And who in the world is this damn Brandon? Oh, wait! He actually sent Mike a shirtless photo as an attachment. Damn! He is hot! He looks about the same height and weight as Mike, but his hair is brown instead of black. And he has a six-pack that just pops out of the photo. So, they’re planning to dump me, and live together happily ever after. Well, no one dumps John! I think I’ll surprise them.

     I call in at work; tell the boss I’ve got a touch of the flu bug that’s going around. Then I get some things together and head for the Inn and Out Motel shortly after 6pm. I still can’t believe that’s where they met. It’s where Mike and I went on our first date. How could he? I know the innkeeper very well. I go in, and we chat.

     “Hey, John! How’s everything?”

     “Great, Bill. Hey, Mike’s meeting a client tonight in about an hour, but he left some things at home. He asked me to bring them out. Can I have a key to their room?”

     “Hmmm, I don’t see where Mike reserved a room. Are you sure they’re meeting here?”

     “Oh, damn! I forgot! The client reserved the room. His name’s Brandon.”

     “Yes, here it is! Room number 6.”

     “Thanks, Bill. I won’t be a minute.”

     I head to room 6, and unlock the door. I enter and leave my stuff in the bathroom. Then I return to the office, and give Bill his key back. I make sure I leave the door to room 6 unlocked.

      “Here’s your key back, Bill. Thanks.”

      “No problem, John. Hope Mike lands that contract.”

      I tell Bill I’m sure he will and then I leave the office. I drive my car to a shopping center about 100 feet from the motel, and walk back to room 6. Now I enter the room, hide inside the bathroom and wait for my victims to arrive.

     I don’t have to wait long. It’s about 6:30 when I hear the key inserted in the lock. I wonder which guy has arrived?

     Brandon comes in and says, “Mike, where are you, stud? I see you left the door unlocked. I didn’t see the van? Where is it?”

     I prepare a rag soaked with chloroform. Mike and I used to play a game where we’d talk over the phones with other guys and pretend to be each other. We were both good at imitating each other’s voices. “Brandon, I’m in the bathroom. Come on in, and we’ll take a shower together.”

    “I’ll be right there, loverboy!” And with that, Brandon opens the door. He doesn’t see me hiding behind the door.

     “Are you playing hard to get? Come on out, fireball!”

     I don’t answer him, and he figures that I must be behind the door. As he peeks around the door, I reach out and shove the chloroform-soaked rag into his face. He gets out a muffled “MPPH” and starts to struggle with me. I keep the rag tight against his face, and hold him pressed against the wall. The struggle continues for a few minutes, but I can see his resistance weakening. His arms are trying to grab me, but their movements lessen. All of a sudden, he sighs and collapses to the floor. I follow him to the floor, holding the rag tight. Once we’re on the floor, I check him, and he’s out like a light. I quickly cuff both his hands and feet, gag him and deposit him in a large trash bag. I tie it off, leaving enough air so that he can breathe. I don’t want him dead, well, not yet. I then put the bag in the shower. Now it’s time to wait for my so-called lover to arrive.

     Just before 7pm, I hear the van pull into the parking lot. Mike never did fix that muffler. You can hear it from a mile away. I make sure the door’s unlocked, then hide in the bathroom, waiting for Mike to come into my web.

     Mike opened the door, and shouted out, “Brandon, where are you, lover? I’m home! Oh, are you playing hard to get? I love that game! Ready or not, here I come!”

      With that, Mike began searching the room. He looked in the closet, under the bed; everywhere he thought Brandon might hide. Finally, he tried the last room, the bathroom. He turned the handle and shouted, “I know where you are, you’re in the shower!”

     He entered the bathroom, and walked right by me without noticing me. He went to the shower, and as he started to pull the shower curtain aside, I stepped behind him with a fresh chloroform-soaked rag. As the fumes hit his nose, he began to struggle, but with one hand holding the shower curtain, he wasn’t able to struggle much. Like Brandon, Mike fought for a few minutes before his lights went out as well. I quickly cuffed him like I had Mike, and popped him in a second trash bag. I also took some duct tape, and gagged him with that.

     I went back into the bedroom, and messed the covers up, to make it seem as though they had slept in it. I took my spare keys to the van from my pocket, and one at a time, I took each trash bag from the room, and put them in the rear of the van. I didn’t care if I was seen, although it was well past dark. The van was registered to Mike, and anyone who did see would assume that he was taking some trash to a local dumpster. I got behind the wheel, and headed out to the Arizona desert. I had a favorite spot out in the middle of nowhere, where Mike and I would go when we wanted to be alone. I had a feeling before this day was over that it would be the last place Mike or Brandon would want to be.

     We arrived at the site, I made a campfire and I unloaded the van. Both Mike and Brandon had recovered from the chloroform, and were yelling through their gags. It did them no good, as the van was soundproof. I dumped each of my captives from their bag, and even removed their gags. I wanted to hear their pleading and begging, and as secluded as we were, there was no chance of someone else hearing them.

    Brandon looked at Mike, and said, “What the hell is going on? Who is this nut, Mike?”

    “Yes, Mike. Where are your manners? Why don’t you introduce Brandon to the guy who THINKS he’s your boyfriend?”

                       

     “Fuck, Mike! This is John? But how did he find out about us?”

     “I can answer that question, Brandon. Mike here has a bad habit of leaving his email account open. He did it again this morning. And when I saw an email from “Brandon” entitled “Hello, Lover”, well, I couldn’t resist reading it.”

     Now it was Mike’s turn to speak. “John, I’m sorry about this, but Brandon and I really do love each other. I meant to tell you about him, but couldn’t find the words. Just let us go. We won’t tell anyone.”

     “Mike, not only were you cheating on me, but you took him to OUR motel, and on our 5^th anniversary! How could you??”

     “John, don’t do anything stupid! I can’t help what happened. Just let us go. Please!!”

     “Yes, John. Like Mike said, we won’t tell anybody. Let us go!!!”

     “Oh, don’t worry. I know how much you two mean to each other. I wouldn’t dream of splitting you up!”

     They each breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that they were going to be freed. But I had other plans.

     “Now, don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back!”

     I went about 100 yards out, and found some cacti that would be ideal for my purposes. I tied off ropes to eight different cacti, two separate groups of four. Then I returned to the campsite. “OK, Mike, let’s go. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

     I marched him out to the first group of four cacti, and cut off his clothing. He began to cry and beg as I was cutting off the clothes. He knew that if I was destroying his clothes, that he wouldn’t be coming out of this alive. I then forced him to the sand, on his back. I took one of the ropes at his feet, and tied it to an ankle. I then tied a second rope to the other ankle. Now I undid his handcuffs, and tied each hand to another rope, so that Mike was spread-eagled face up on the ground.

   Now I returned for Brandon. “OK, stud, it’s your turn. Mike’s dying to see you again!”

    “Don’t hurt me, or him. Just let us go! Please! We’ll do whatever you say!”

    I don’t reply, I just shove him ahead of me. He gasps as he sees Mike, naked and bound, just ahead of us. Then he starts to beg and cry as he sees four more ropes tied to cacti a few yards from Mike. I smiled, and pushed him forward.

     “OK, pretty boy! Let’s see what Mike saw in you!” And with that, I cut away his clothing and added it to the pile of clothing Mike had worn. I pushed Brandon down on his back, and secured his ankles to two of the ropes, then repeated the process with his wrists.

     Both men began begging, pleading and crying to be released. I ignored their requests, and set up torches at each of the four corners to illuminate the men. I didn’t want to miss a minute of their long, slow deaths. Then I took a jar of honey, and poured out a trail leading between their legs and ending at their cock, balls and ass. I took a brush and painted their cock, balls, ass, chest and pits with copious amounts of honey. That should attract ants and scorpions, and other creepy crawlies. Then I took a knife, and cut shallow slits in each man’s belly. I reached in, and pulled a short section of guts through the slit. The damage wouldn’t prove fatal, well not at first, but it would attract creatures that feed on the dead and injured.

     I sat back, and listened as the men kept begging for their pathetic lives. All of a sudden, I heard Brandon cry out. I stepped up for a closer view. A large scorpion had just stabbed its stinger right into Brandon’s left ball. The skin had turned an angry red, where the poison entered. Fortunately, this species of scorpion wasn’t capable of killing a man, just making him wish he were dead. Then I heard Mike moaning. Turning around, I saw about fifty ants following the honey trail. Some entered his ass, and a few actually crawled up his piss slit. He was jumping up and down trying to dislodge them, but to no effect.

     I went back to my seat and looked up at the full moon. All of a sudden, I saw several large shadows circling in the air. I knew they were vultures, and that the only vultures in this area were California Condors. There were about four or five of them. One flew down, and landed near Mike. It stretched its neck out, and smelled the blood and fear emanating from Mike. Then it reared back, and bit Mike in the belly, ripping out some of his guts and swallowing them. He screamed in agony, and Brandon, seeing Mike being eaten alive, joined him in a chorus of screams. Sadly for Brandon, his cries had attracted a second condor, which landed between his outstretched legs. Brandon looked down in horror, and thought that maybe if he played dead, the bird would leave him alone. Such a fool! Playing dead only encouraged the bird more. It reached out and bit off Brandon’s cock and balls in a single bite. Brandon screamed and kicked, but with the restraints, he was unable to escape. About a minute later, he passed out from loss of blood, and both the first condor and its mate began greedily feasting on his body. Mike, seeing Brandon becoming bird food, began screaming anew. This, and the bleeding from his guts, caused the two other condors to begin attacking him anew. About five minutes later, he also collapsed from his wounds. The birds were now in a feeding frenzy, tearing both men to shreds. I decided I’d seen enough, secure in the knowledge that once the condors had finished their grisly meal, all that would be left would be the skeletons of the two men. I doused the torches, and went back to my campfire, and put it out. Then I got back in Mike’s van, and drove back to the motel, and parked it outside their room. I walked back to the shopping center, and got in my car and drove home.

     About three days later, the motel noticed that no one had seen Mike or Brandon in their room, even though their cars were parked outside. The police were called, and did an investigation. They called me, and I told them that I hadn’t seen Mike for three days, and that I’d never heard of anyone named Brandon. I told them that Mike had told me that he was going to meet a client at the motel after work. I suggested that maybe the client had done some harm to Mike. I waited about a month, until the case had gone cold, and then returned to the desert. I found the site, and as I suspected, the only thing I found were Mike and Brandon’s skeletons, picked clean and bleached white by the desert sun. I removed the ropes and took the skeletons to my car. I then went to a canyon, and disassembled the skeletons. I threw each skeleton down the canyon, so that the bones scattered. It gave the impression that wild animals had torn apart the bones.