A Duck-Billed Travesty: Melvin's Journal – The Lost Pages
[A Duck-Billed Travesty: Melvin's Journal - The Lost Pages]
I had to stop.
It was too soon after the ordeal, and I was really shaken. The more I wrote down, the more I became worked up inside, and the more I approached a distorted and fictitious view of the events that partook. These pages are about the truth - however painful and ugly it may be. I can't let such a fundamental principal be compromised by an irate emotional state.
I changed my mind. I don't think I'll be burning these pages after all.
It's the morning now, and all is so crisp and still. Everything is unnaturally silent - it's as if I'm temporarily suspended in a cross-section of my own life. Like a long forgotten snow globe, completely settled and undisturbed. Clarice is surely sound asleep right now, and my Father? Who the hell knows... I bet he too is deep asleep, in some town, in some hotel room, in some bed, with his secretary - or something like that. I hope his breakfast will taste awful. I hope he roles over in his sleep and snags the bitch with his venomous spur. I hope there will be some form of poetic justice for the platypus who works and fucks too much to watch over his own delinquent children... But even if there is, I probably won't find out about it.
I digress.
The point here is about last night. It's about my sister, Clarice, and all the things she puts me through. It's about the chaotic and frightening relationship I have with her. Where love, hate, lust, and pity all become truly indistinguishable from one another, and all that's left is a blur of sin.
I believe I left off last night at the turning point in our little adventure: I was naked; Clarice was clothed. I was spread eagle, cast upon my own bed; her paw was grasped tightly upon my cock, her beak planted beneath my balls. I was about to cum; she delighted herself in stopping. Yes. I think that sums up the moment nicely.
I didn't know what to think at that moment. Past experience dictates one of two things: a change in position/type of foreplay, or the intro to one of her many forms of psychological and/or physical torture methods. I also knew there was no means of predicting which one it would be. I was afraid - this was going to be either very interesting, or very painful.
"Do you love me, Melvin?" She whispered with startling sincerity.
"No. I don't think I do."
...
"That hurts, Melvin. It really does. I'll have you know, that I love my big brother very much."
"Why don't you love me, Melvin?"
...
"Because you're a raving sadistic bitch?..."
Natural selection rarely favors me when I open my beak - especially when around Clarice. Like all momentary eclipses of pleasantry in my life, I just had to shatter it. Fuck it. If she's going to abuse me, I might as well give her reasons from time to time.
"WHAT the FUCK did you just say to me?!"
Her face grew a deeper shade of red with each passing moment, as its features distorted ever slightly from the fur standing on edge. Her back arched; head tilted back. She took a moment to clear her nasal cavity, then released. A hot and sticky mixture of her saliva and mucous was sprayed all over my face. Disgusting, vile demon - I didn't know she could stoop so low.
"Do you think I'm fucking kidding here?! Say it or there will be hell to pay!!"
"Clarice, you can't possibly be serious! You - "
"Lights out, Melvin. You know the rules... if you peek, even just a bit... Well, our latest incident will feel like a walk in the park."
I parted my beak to tell her - I had to let her know; my worst nightmare is impregnating my own sister. But all that came out was a choke, and a weak squawk. Words... truly eluded me. I think she got the point though, or had been sensing it for a while. She reluctantly pulled my cock out of her orifice and dismounted. My penis felt very cold and naked against the air - it was fresh, sensitive, on the utmost verge of releasing its joy.
The last few pumps finally arrived - I don't think it took more than three - and it was climax at last. My balls screamed, but the rest of my body sang, as I ejaculated load after load of amber hot cum.
"Go get yourself cleaned up. I'm going to go finish myself off, seeing as you couldn't do it for me, you fucking pansy."
"Clarice... I hate you."
...
"If that's true, then you deserve everything I just did."
I think I dozed off for a while, but I eventually, achingly came to my senses. I was alone, and for the moment I could hear nothing of my sister. Covered in my own sweat, semen, and even a small amount of my blood - I got out of bed and sat before this very typewriter. I had to write. I just had to get it out of me. I can't burn these pages like I have so many others. I have a story that needs to be told, even if just to myself.
My name is Melvin Alexander Truefeather...
...and this is how my story begins.
Date: 4/11/2007
Written By : Peppermint Roo