Fandom: Monster
Title: The Good Son
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: NCS (shota),
violence, death
Pairings: OC/Johan
Disclaimers: Main character
is property of Naoki Urasawa. I make no money off them – although I’d more than
love to have Johan as my personal slave, but that’s just me.
Summary: On the eve of his
birthday, a young boy comes to terms with what he must do to survive on his
quest for revenge.
Notes: Just a short little
piece that came to me this evening. I don’t usually write shota, but this just
begged to be done in some way. Again, this is spur of the moment writing and
it’s unbeta’d – so please pardon any errors you see.
Enjoy!
The Good Son:
He sat as still as death on
the uncomfortable chair, staring blindly at the tattered linoleum floor beneath
his brand new loafers. There were brown in color and made a sharp contrast to
the pristine white socks he wore. He decided to stretch out his legs a little,
so he could see the loafers gleam in the late morning sun that streamed from
the narrow windows, but he was afraid that the ‘man’ would come outside to see
him do that. He was sure that the ‘man’ would not approve.
And so he sat as still as death,
with his small pale hands clutched tightly on his lap. The long hallway was
empty and quite lonesome. There was the heavy smell of dusty furniture and
moldy walls. He squinted his eyes into narrow blue slits and tried to see what
lay beyond the window, but the sun’s rays wouldn’t let him. He realized with a sudden
pang that he was hungry. He hadn’t eaten anything since last night. The ‘man’
had said he would take them to a restaurant but so far, he had been taken from
one strange building to another.
“What are you talking about?
Do you realize just how much he is wanted?
I could take him to someone
who is willing to pay even more for him!”
“Then take him someplace
else! Have you seen the look in his eyes?! That boy is a Monster! A Monster!
Get him out of here! Both of you! Get out!”
Their voices continued to
rise in the room behind him and he began to hum to himself. It was a song he
had heard on the television the other night. It was supposedly a war song. The
‘man’ had made him learn the words by heart. However, if he was prepared for
what happened next, his young and beautiful features gave nothing away.
The rapport from the gun was
like a crack of thunder in the deafening silence and the boy stopped humming.
His bright blue eyes dulled for a moment and then he kicked out his legs and
began to swing them back and forth. He heard the thud of a body falling to the
ground, the shuffle of feet and the loud bang of the door opening to reveal the
‘man.’
“Get up!” he grated roughly
as he tugged on the boy’s arm. “Walk! Faster now! Don’t look back!”
He did as he was told, but
the hot stench of lead and blood still filled his nostrils. He knew he would be
haunted by that for the rest of the day and in his nightmares.
They stepped out of the
building and into the brilliant sunshine. The boy shivered as the cool air hit
his bare legs beneath the short skirt and goose bumps broke out on his arms
since the t-shirt was hardly long enough to cover them. He should have been
angry at being made to look like a girl…again, but he was used to it by now and
didn’t really mind as much. In fact, being a girl had its perks. He got more
candy from nice old people that way.
“Get into the car,” the ‘man’
demanded and he happily slid into the passenger side, making sure his seatbelt
was buckled tight. The car peeled out of the driveway and the boy a quick look
at the abandoned building they had just left. The dead man’s car was still in
the driveway and he was sure that by morning the police would come by to see
what had happened. He turned around to look ahead, noticing from the corner of
his eye that the ‘man’ was trembling with fear. His hands were clenched tightly
around the steering wheel, his entire body hunched forward as unintelligible
words escaped his lips. The ‘man’s’ eyes were wide and wild and as the boy
continued to stare, he could feel a well of revulsion rise within the pit of
his stomach. The ‘man’ reeked of sweat and guilt. It really was sickening.
“You…you…always give me
trouble….you…”
“Are we going to eat soon?”
the boy asked quietly. “You said we were…”
“Shut up! You shut up, you
bastard!”
“But you said…”
“I’ll get you food when I
feel like it!” The ‘man’ brandished the gun in the boy’s face, darting furtive
glances between the road and the boy who looked unfazed at the sight of the
weapon. Perhaps he had been threatened with it so many times, it no longer terrified
him.
Seeing that he would make no
progress with his mad guardian, the boy sat back in his seat and closed his
eyes. Tomorrow was supposed to be his birthday and it would be Anna’s birthday
too. He wondered what she was doing now and if she was thinking about him. He
would bet she was in a nice home or still at that orphanage where she would be
treated like an angel. He didn’t resent that – at least he didn’t think he did.
He had chosen this life for himself after all. For deep down, he knew he was
nothing more than an unwanted child – a monster.
__
No matter how many times it
happened, it never ceased to stop the tears from coming to his eyes. He hated
the thought of crying for this beast whose massive cock would tear into his
anus every other night. He remembered the first time it had happened and how
badly it had hurt. He had bled for the better part of the day and had been put
in bed with a fever. Walking had been a whole new lesson for him and for a week
he had refused to speak to anyone.
He had heard them all – how
beautiful he was, how flawless his skin was, how gorgeous his eyes were. He
could smell them all – the sweat and their seed caking his tender flesh as they
drove deeper and deeper into his body.
The ‘man’ was no different and
as soon as they had gotten home, he had driven the boy to his knees before him.
Obediently and used to this, he opened up his mouth to accept the thick,
throbbing organ. He would suck as he was commanded to do, struggling to breathe
as his head was shoved forward harder. In his mind, he imagined his teeth
sinking into the penis and taking a huge chunk of flesh away, but he had once
scraped the ‘man’ and had gotten a sound spanking for that little prank. He
knew better than to annoy the ‘man’ especially after a trade gone wrong.
And now here he was, lying on
his back with his legs spread apart like a little whore on the outskirts of
“Aaah…Johan…Johan…my
beautiful Johan…” the man chanted as he quickened his pace, thrusting harder
and faster into the pliant flesh below him. His eyes were closed, his skinny
body drenched with reeking sweat. It was a small and rather stuffy room anyway and
the boy named Johan hated it.
Slowly…ever so slowly…his
hand began to curve toward his left in search of something. Those pale blue
eyes continued to watch the man now drooling above him. He felt something cold
and heavy settle in the pit of his stomach and to his amazement, his young cock
was beginning to twitch to life again. But it wasn’t from the ugly ‘man’
spending himself within him; it was from the feel of the cool object that he
now felt against his fingers. He tightened his grip around the weapon and
slowly lifted it towards the ‘man’s’ forehead.
“Öffnen sie die Augen,” [1] he said calmly. It was a voice that was devoid of
any emotion whatsoever and as he watched the ‘man’ open his eyes in surprise,
Johan felt his excitement grow.
Fear.
It really was a beautiful
thing.
“Wha…how…how did you get that
thing, Johan?”
The boy could feel the
‘man’s’ erection wither within his body. Johan held the gun within both hands
now, a small cruel smile coming to his features as he continued to watch every
expression on the ‘man’s’ face greedily.
The ‘man’ was pulling away
now, holding out his hands, with his eyes as wide as saucers. “Johan…give it to
me…Johan…you shouldn’t be playing with such things…it’s very dangerous…”
The boy was astute and could see
what would have happened if the man had taken another step backward, for there
was another gun lying on the dresser beside the bed. It was just so unfortunate
that Johan had no plans to let him go.
He pulled the trigger. Once,
twice, three times in rapid succession. Three holes filled the ‘man’s’
forehead, left cheek and jaw. For a moment, his body formed an awkward arch in
the air, before exploding in a mixture of blood, flesh and teeth. Johan rolled
quickly to his left as the body dropped heavily unto the bed. He closed his
eyes and clamped his legs together, not wanting to touch himself to release the
heavy ache of his erection. He was drenched in blood and knew he had to take a
shower. Besides, if he hoped to catch the next train to
He rose to his feet and
tossed the smoking gun next to the dead man. He walked into the bathroom with a
slight limp – still sore from his activities as the clock in the hallway chimed
the
“Happy Birthday to me.”
~Das Ende~
[1] – Open
your eyes