SKULL FUCKERS FROM IOWA
By Buster H. McHenry
April 14th 1865. Washington DC. John Wilkes Booth grabs the butt of his pistol and slams it against the back of President Lincoln’s head. Lincoln is tied firmly to an office-rolling chair in the basement of Gerald Ford Elementary School. “What are you going to do to me?” Lincoln mutters.
“Well, Mr. President. First off, I’m planning to Skull Fuck that beard off your face.” John Wilkes Booth barks.
“Please don’t, I’ll give you what ever you want.” Lincoln cries out.
“Happy birthday, Mr. Pres-i-dent” John Wilkes Booth sings as he pulls out his knife and slits Lincoln’s throat. Lincoln begins gargling blood as John Wilkes Booth unbuttons his trousers and inserts his penis in Lincoln’s throat wound. John Wilkes Booth begins thrusting his penis in and out. “Emancipate my dick, bitch.”
The slit in Lincoln’s throat grows larger at the persistent thrusting of John Wilkes Booth’s throbbing, engorged member. Lincoln – still barely alive – gags and gargles blood and cum as John Wilkes Booth fills the president’s throat-hole with the hot, sticky semen of a high school drama student with really bad acne.
Lincoln’s head lolls to the side, the sperm of his assassin mingling with his own blood in a puddle on the floor. Lincoln eyes the puddle in his death throes – still barely conscious. John Wilkes Booth steps down from Abraham Lincoln’s used, penetrated, nearly lifeless body. His face and massive John Holmes horse-cock are covered in Lincoln’s blood. John Wilkes Booth grabs Lincoln’s head as Lincoln gargles helplessly.
“I said I was gonna skull-fuck that beard off your face,” he rips out one of Lincoln’s eyeballs, throws it to the chalkboard, where it sticks like a Nerf dart, “And I fully intend to…” John Wilkes Booth mounts Lincoln’s empty, bleeding eye-socket as the chair slips backwards and falls flat on the floor, placing Lincoln on his back – lone eyeball staring blankly and helplessly at the curious classroom guinea pig in its cage. Booth’s enormous person plummets into the president’s helpless eye socket. The guinea pig’s gaze is one of mild, innocent curiosity for a moment, before it turns back to its water bottle. Suddenly, the ground begins to shake like an earthquake. A blinding white light covers all to see.
***
April 14th, 1985. Altoona, Iowa. Jason Hartford, a fourteen-year-old science nerd stands over his bubbling chemistry set and buzzing Tesla coil. “I am to make me a woman to show that jerk Chad.” Jason angrily mutters to himself. Jason grabs an issue of Playboy featuring the beautiful Miss April, Cindy Brooks. He rips out the centerfold and crams it in a medium 16 oz beaker.
“She will be the one to love me.” Jason cries.
Suddenly the ground begins to rumble and glass starts to break around him. A bright white light blinds Jason. In his blurred vision, Jason sees two figures, a half naked John Wilkes Booth and the freshly dead corpse of Abraham Lincoln.
“Who are you? Is that Abraham Lincoln?” Jason asks.
“What year is it? Where am I?” John Wilkes Booth grumbles.
“1985 - Altoona, Iowa. Are you here to help me fight bullies and to show me how to live life?”
“I don’t know where that is and I don’t care but I do know you are about to get skull fucked in 1985.”
"What!”
“I hope you have a big family.”
“Why?”
“Cause I’m a time-traveling skull-fucker.”
“You’re a what?”
Booth pulls out a knife. “I’m about to serve up a family-size tub of skull-fuck.”
He jabs Jason with the knife in the forehead. Also, it should be noted that John Wilkes Booth is still standing over the thoroughly emaciated body of Abraham Lincoln, with his cock still hanging out of his shorts – drenched in blood and rock-hard. Jason’s body goes limp – he’s dead far quicker than Lincoln was. Booth burrows through Jason’s skull with the knife, exposing tender brain and gray matter in the boy’s forehead. Booth licks his lips, crouches down next to the gaping head-hole full of tender teenage brains and plunges his erect and blood-covered AIDS-hammer into Jason’s skull.
Jason’s parents – Cary and Laura Hartford - burst into the room, catching Booth with his historical cock destroying the brain of their first-born. Booth pulls a gun on them. “Hold on a second, I’m gonna cum.”
As Booth cums he screams loudly – the force of the orgasm spewing blood and cum and bits of brain from the young boy’s mouth, eyes, ears and nose holes. Jason’s parents lower Booth’s gun as he stands up upon finishing. Cary says to Booth, “We’ve been waiting for someone like you…”
Booth points at Cary, “I’m gonna need a mirror when I skull-fuck you.”
Cary ignores this – as he’s apparently able to ignore many things, including the dead, skull-fucked corpse of his firstborn – and turns to Booth. “Come with us – there’s something I think you should see…”
“But – I’m gonna skull-fuck the both of you, do you have pets? People tell me I’m a dog person…”
Cary cuts him off, “In time, John Wilkes Booth, in time.”
***
Cary and Laura lead John Wilkes Booth down a seedy-looking set of stairs and into a dimly lit parking garage underneath their apartment. “What is this place?” John Wilkes Booth asks.
“It was written in the ancient scrolls that the man who skull fucked a great leader would travel in time to lead a Skull Fucking revolution. Mr Wilkes Booth you are our Skull Fucking savior.”
“Winston Churchill said the same shit before I skull fucked his polio-riddled face-hole to death and I am going to say the same thing to you that I said to him: Mr. British Guy, my cock is cravin’ some skulls and you’re one cue ball-looking motherfucker.”
“You mean FDR, sir.”
“I don’t know, I skull fucked them all eye socket to eye socket on some damn hill.”
They wander into a large, open area underneath the parking garage underneath the apartment complex. A large crowd of people in skull masks all stand at attention as the Hartford's enter followed closely by John Wilkes Booth.
“Mr. Booth, they’re waiting for you…”
He approaches a microphone, blood-covered cock in hand. “Let the skull-fucking continue!” He proclaims.
The crowd cheers. Booth grabs Laura Hartford and doesn’t even bother removing her eyeball before shoving his expendable rape-rod (with kung fu grip) into her soon-to-be-bleeding-and-devoid-of-sight eye-hole. Her husband weeps from joy.
THE END?
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