Page 4 of Beneath Her Skin

Little piggy groggily lifts his head, a large gash from the belt buckle now adorning it. He struggles to reach his cuffed hands down to the belt around his legs, sweat from his brow dripping into his eyes. His face hardens when he registers me standing behind him as I drop the tailgate. “You fuckin’ bitch,” he spits. “You stupid fuckin’ bitch.”

“Piggies don’t talk,” I scold, wagging the prod at him. “But if you don’t wanna play along and squeal on your own, I’m happy to make ya.”

“You crazy fuckin’ bitch!” he shouts like a broken fucking record. He starts hollering when I climb up on the tailgate. They always do, thinking if they just scream loud enough, someone will come save them. Their carrying on annoys Cat, but not me. No, I get off on it. These pigs finally know what it feels like to scream for help with no one to listen.

“Scream for me, piggy boy,” I crow, letting out a scream of my own. “Loud as you want! I promise, there’s no one out here to hear ya.”

The belt begins to loosen from his frantic scramble to shift himself upright. Not wanting to chase this asshole across the pasture, I lift his shirt with the prod and give him a jolt. His scream turns into a strangled cry as tears well in the bottom of his eyes, and his look of anger fades into fear. Another jolt makes his back contort, and he attempts to scoot away from me. I climb further into the truck, the prod held at the ready in front of me. He moves to kick me as I close in, but another two jolts leave him struggling for air, a wet spot spreading across the crotch of his jeans. The muscles in his neck spasm, rippling cords beneath a layer of dirty skin. I allow him another second to catch his breath before I zap him one more time—just for fun.

I sit on my haunches, thinking about my next move. Normally, I move the pigs with Cat’s help, while they’re still unconscious. I could wait, probablyshouldwait, for her to get here. She can’t be more than a few minutes away. The piggy uses my moment of contemplation to sit up and hawk a spray of bloody saliva at me.

“Shouldn’ta done that,” I snarl. I jam the prod to his throat and hold it there until his skin goes from a mean red to black. The scent of burned flesh lingers around us. His head slamsback down, clanging against the metal floor of the truck bed. The corner of my mouth turns up, and I wipe his spittle from my face. “That’ll teach ya.”

When he makes no further attempt to move, I shimmy towards the tailgate until my legs hang off it. I hop to the ground and walk around to the still-open truck door. I exchange the prod for a baseball bat from behind the seats. Gripping it by the end of the handle, I twirl it in slow circles as I take slow steps back to the rear of the truck, whistling to the tune of “Old MacDonald Had A Farm.” Little piggy whimpers as I appear in his line of sight again.

“Piggies belong in their pen.” I point the bat at him. His lips thin until they're almost nonexistent on his clammy face. He stares at me through the narrow slits of his half-open eyes but doesn’t budge. “Fine. Have it your way.”

I slide the bat between his legs and pull it against the rope I replaced the belt with. Using both hands, I pull him towards me. Once he’s close enough, he lurches forward while flailing his arms to grab at me. With lightning speed, I slip the bat out and deliver a blow to the side of his mouth. There’s a loud crack, and teeth go flying. At least three land with little clinking sounds against the side of the truck.Clink. Clink. Clink.On the second hit, blood sprays out in a fine mist, coating the bat and my face in a thin red sheet. The piggy’s head rolls back, and he’s out again.

I roll his slack body out of the truck and finish dragging him inside the barn. I undo the rope around his legs once he’s in the cage. I start to reach for the shackles, but the faint rumble of an engine diverts my attention. A dust cloud appears in the distance, and the piggy’s truck emerges from it, making its way towards the house.Cat’s home!

As soon as she’s in the gate, I dart toward her like we’ve been apart for days instead of minutes. Brakes squeal, and the truck stops just short of me. I continue running, letting myself collidewith the truck’s hood, slamming both palms flat against it. “What the fuck, Sadie?” Cat shouts from the cab, horror evident in her expression.

My face twists into a wide smile between pants as I catch my breath. I make it around to her window before she can open the door and wrap my arms around her neck. I use my hold to pull her head out of the open window before I pepper it with kisses. The sweet smell of her shampoo with a hint of motor oil engulfs me. She swats me away, and I jump back, giving her space to step out of the stolen truck.

“I’ve got ‘em all ready for us. I had to prod him a couple times, though. Made him piss his pants, so we’ll need to hose ‘em down next,” I yap, clasping my hands together and bouncing on the balls of my feet.

“Geez, Sadie. You couldn’ta waited just a little longer for me to get here? I was right behind ya,” she questions. She takes a step towards me, reaching for one pigtail, twirling the end around her finger. I yelp as she gives it a soft yank and bat her hand away. “I kinda miss the red, ya know?” she teases, cocking her head to the side and winking.

My jaw clicks as my face tenses. The tips of my hair were freshly dyed black last week after a failed attempt at bleaching out the red left them orange. I know she’s joking, but part of me still wonders if she doesn’t like the new color. I use a pigtail to wipe some of the blood from my face. “There,” I retort. “Now it’s got some red in it.”

“I’m just teasing,” she laughs, sweeping me up into a bear hug. She easily has six inches on me and uses the advantage to lift me until our noses touch. I groan, pretending to protest, but I quickly nuzzle myself into her neck. “Show me what’s gotten you so dirty,” she whispers into my ear.

I wiggle free from her arms, eager to show her what I’ve accomplished in the short time we’ve been apart. As we getcloser, Cat raises an eyebrow at me. The truck sits empty, soft clinking still coming from the cooling engine. “Don’t give me that look.” I pout. “The belt was startin’ to come loose, and I hadta move him before you got here.”

Inside the barn, blood and piss taints the usual smell of hay and horses. Cat’s eyes expand at the sight of the piggy slumped in his cage. His body leans against the wall, strings of drool dribbling down his cheeks. Every few seconds, his muscles twitch, like they’re trying to rouse him. Beneath streaks of blood, his swollen face is already several shades of purple.

“He wouldn’t shut the fuck up,” I explain. “So I helped him out.” I shrug and skip to the cage. I rattle the bars with both hands, like I’m trying to make a sleepy animal at the zoo move, but the racket doesn’t faze him.

“Well, he certainly seems more...compliant,” she says, letting out a whistle. “Why don’t you let him rest for a bit? Let’s head back to the house; I’m starving.”

I puff my bottom lip out, reluctant to stop playing with my new toy. She’s right, though. He won’t last long if I keep going, so I concede and set my sights on something better to play with.

“I’ve got something you can eat,” I say, wiggling my eyebrows. I take off towards the house, calling to Cat over my shoulder. “If you can catch me.”

4

“Crawl to me, piggy,” Catalina drawls, teasing me. “Shoulda run faster if ya didn’t want to be the one on your knees.” I huff out an oink, letting her gloat about beating me back to the house, like I didn’t purposely slow down just as she caught up to me. After losing our game, Catalina enthusiastically stripped me naked and placed the plastic pig mask over my face, ready to have her way with me.

I crawl across the grass, pretending to root along with my plastic nose, searching for her. Catalina’s open legs appear through the eye holes of my mask. Her center remains hidden outside the small windows of vision. I shuffle closer until the ground’s earthy aroma gives way to the sweet musk of her arousal. My snorts turn to squeals of delight when my mask crinkles against her foot. She rubs her toes underneath my chin, tilting up the bottom of the mask. “On your back,” she commands.

The mask snaps against my face as she pulls her foot back. I roll over, grunting, letting my arms and legs sway above me. Still unable to see more than what the small eye holes allow, I listen for her next move. “I was saving these for you, to hold you over,but you got so damn impatient today at Lucille’s,” she scolds. I snort in disagreement, and she chuckles.

Her footsteps creak against the wooden steps of our porch, and I squirm, desperate to catch a glimpse of her. “Uh-uh! Stay put like a good little piggy,” she clucks, and I freeze. The old screen door scrapes open, not having time to slam shut before opening again. Her steps make their way towards me until I feel the coolness of her shadow over my body.

She leans over me, her hair tickling my skin, and a tin bucket clanks down next to my head. The potent smell of innards permeates through the mask, the aroma of meat overpowering as it sits in its own juices. My body hums, and I take in small sips of air, savoring the way the scent burns in my throat. The squish of her hand in the bucket makes my heart race like a jackrabbit caught in a trap. Something smooth and damp drapes over my stomach, and all the heat in my body floods to my center. Cat pulls out more length of the slippery strand, winding it into a weighted coil on my stomach. Fluid drips from the pile down my sides, gathering into a puddle beneath me.

“I could turn you into a little sausage with these,” Cat taunts in a low, husky tone. “But I’m afraid his last romp through the arena put too many holes in ‘em.”

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