Marlene had always had money, never earned it of course. You don’t know of people like this unless they had money. Not unless they were on the front page of the News Of The World for sex games with children who had been hiding mars bars in the folds of her thighs.
Marlene never worked her stubby fat little fingers at anything more laborious than removing stuck, crusty, lint and lard from her belly button; when she could find it between her flab of course. She was every negative adjective on the aesthetics of a human you could describe. Only single thing about her to shine was the silver in her ears and the diamonds on her neck; small rocks peaking from the red rashey pink seas of flesh that had deep brown tides of liver damaged spots separating the voids.
She made it rich from her dead fathers frugalness. Her sad, gaunt and yellow skinned old man had a stroke while making love to a Mexican boy during a working holiday in San Francisco. He owned a coffee company of some sort, some kind of tea baggable Arabica blend that would leave brown stains in cosmic rings around ceramic cups; black tar in your teeth. It sold well to doctors and service men, lawyers and writers who saw its stains and pungent, thick stench, as proof of its strength. It sold well in England too. People who needed to stay awake more than they needed a fresh white smile.
Omar was a small time council man, a skinny Arab with scoliosis and a cleft lip. Well, cleft mouth; both lips cleft. He had his charms however, always wore a skull cap and a three piece suit. His unfortunate looks meant he was always a lonely man, spending most nights at home with his mother watching Golden Girls. His mother had been circumcised and his father had left them after only a few months after arriving to America. He didn’t mind too much. He didn’t think much of his old man any way. When he turned 23 his mother passed away after a loose ember set her burka on fire and he moved into a one bed room studio apartment and bought a computer.
He met Marlene on a dating web site, one of them “feeders” web pages were you can randomly hook up with a big fatty and push pounds of pavlova into the open, wet, watery mouth of a hungry hookers mouth and split after you drop your load in a belly button or three. Feeders didn’t have normal orgasms. You just put in your weight worth of food, straddle up and fuck any crevice you can find.
He had never had sex before and his first experience was quite the trial. The long chubby, jiggling roles of hard yellow meat pressed into the stretched skin around her belly, like a German bratwurst sausage, hung from beneath her gravy stained t-shirt. When they made love he would have sex with the crease between her forearm and elbow. Or a nice thick ring of doughnut like chin meat. He would cum in her hollows and she would leave it, him rolling off and falling to the floor with the sea of dried beef jerky, bread crust and yellow cheesels stuck to the carpet bellow the bed.
They would make love often, always on a Friday and after the tedious few hour experience Omar would always sleep underneath the bed on the floor while Marlene snored loudly above the bed, each breath she took expanding and collapsing the strained strings of the mattress above him.
This particular morning Marlene had told Omar she was pregnant, even though the pair had never had traditional sex. She had broke down in tears that came out like vanilla syrup and rubbed her face with a wet flannelette. Omar said it was expected, the pair had been rather fond of each other and that he would be happy to be married and take care of his soon to be born child.
Omar went to the bath to read, he didn’t know why he even tried to read in the bath, his hands swell and his face would go red like boiled meat. He always had a adverse reaction to hot water. Like a shrimp in a boiling vat.
He used his toe to turn the hot water tap again, using his other to fish out the plastic plug and let most of the bath water drain. The steam in the room filled up the entire space with a beautiful internal white cloud. It helped him breath easier and not minding the heat, snuggled down with his shoulders so the water covered his chest. His skin was starting to break open in the more sensitive spots. His nipples, his foreskin, the hard scales around his fingernails and toes rupturing and curving out in grey blooms. The water raised up around his ears, his eye lids had bubbled into blisters. He mulled things over in his head as he watched his flesh turn from white to a deep bruised red
Omar was not ready for a child. Not by a long shot.
Sliding out the bath, Omar slowly and painfully walked to the kitchen on sore and bubbling red feet. He flicked the switch onto his tremendously large kettle he had taken from Marlene’s fathers estate. He could hear her laughing along to Muarie Povitch and the springs of her mattress grimacing.
In short trips he walked to and from the kitchen to the bath room, filling up the bath with boiling hot white water. High enough to submerge his entire body, Omar calmly and gently, without even so much as a reactive flinch, lowered his skinny soft skinned body into the bubbling hot bath.
His head underwater, small parts of his skin simply burning from his bones, Omar inhaled deeply three times; three deep mouth full of burning, boiling water flooded down his throat and his inside matched he fiery heat of his external. His eyes melted into a brown soup and as he drowned he felt his bowels empty.
A small note stuck to the mirror with steam read;
“Gorge on this you fat slob”
*Maury Povich plays softly in the back ground