He wanted them all dead. Reduced to shit.
And his flesh now gave him the ability to do just that.
Kip stood in his room, staring at his reflection, unable to stop smiling. He used to glare at the mirror full of trepidation. Scared every day to go to school and face the other kids looking the way he did. He hated his appearance. Even though his acne was so pleasurable, it was still the cause of being an outsider, of being alienated from his entire class. He’d spent many a night crying as he looked at himself, wishing he could be someone else. Anyone else. Anyone but Toad.
But now?
Now he could see his true beauty. He could see that he was perfect.
They called to him, screaming and roaring for his pus, his blood. They cursed at each other, sounded like they were tearing each other apart down there. Kip had given them instructions to stay on the first floor and wait for him.
And they obeyed, though they weren’t happy about it. To delay their feeding another second was pure agony for them.
Kip stared at the vibrant puddle that was once Jade. Smoke still danced off the liquid, bubbling and hissing as it ate at the wood floor.
Soon, they would all be reduced to this. And Kip would swim in them. He’d engulf himself in their liquefied flesh and bone, drown in it.
He ran his fingers over his torso, his belly. His fingertips caressed his cheeks, forehead, chin. The acne begged to be opened up, begged to be drained. His entire body pulsated, and he knew it was time.
The attic steps were lowered, and Kip slowly made his way down. Then he made his way to the top of the stairway, stared down at all the kids as they argued and fought. Cussing and punching and kicking and biting. All of them claiming Toad as their own. None wanting to share his fluids.
Kip said nothing as he began his descent. Once the first set of eyes landed on him, the rest followed. All argument and ruckus quickly cut off then, each of them staring up at Kip like he was a girl on her prom night, showing her dress for the first time.
“Toad… oh god. I need you so fucking bad!”
“Please… oh please…”
Kip raised a hand to stop all talking. He didn’t have to say a word for them to understand. The only sound was his footsteps as he slowly took the steps down toward his addicts. As he grew closer, step by soft, spongy step, tongues darted out to wet lips, hands rubbed against each other, nails were raked across flesh.
Black blood and multi-colored pus rained from his body and pitter-pattered onto the steps. It was as if his flesh was completely filled, a sponge soaked to capacity.
Once he reached the first floor, they parted, almost as if they could sense danger, could sense that something was different than before. Faces twisted in disgust, and they resembled themselves before ever getting a taste of what lay within Kip’s skin. For a few seconds, they were the same kids they used to be, the same kids that would only talk to Kip to make fun of him, to make themselves feel better by making him feel like dog shit.
In those brief seconds, Kip panicked. Could feel his old self rising from the pus swamp within his mind, terrified of these people. All he wanted to do was hide in his room like he used to, curl up on his bed and cower.
But then their need, their addiction, took over again. Tongues basted lips, eyes widened. They began to close in.
Kip grinned, held his arms out, spread his legs, lifted his chin.
And they came to him. Lips and teeth and tongues. Hands and fingers and nails. Sucking and slurping and sipping and moaning. Most were too excited, too blinded by their own need that they couldn’t even tell their bodies were beginning to bubble, flesh sloughing off in huge wet chunks. Skin split, showed the red muscle and white bone beneath.
The screams started then. Mouths detached, teeth unclamped. The screams only lasted a few seconds before their throats were filled with their soupy innards pushing past their tongues to splash onto the floor.
Purples and greens oozed as the flesh melted, mixed with yellows and pinks and blues. Kip stretched his mouth as wide as it would go and cackled.
His fellow students thrashed on the floor in front of him, colliding with each other as they groaned and gurgled. The tile glistened with their fluids.
Then Kip heard a slight whimper, coming from behind him. He turned, smiled, reached out and ran his bloated, throbbing fingers through the boy’s hair. It was Cash, one of Chuck’s buddies. The boy’s flesh had begun to run, to spill off of him, but slower than the others. Must have noticed what was happening and unlatched before he could ingest too much of Kip’s new and improved pus.
Kip used his teeth, opened up a gash on his left forearm. The blood was pure black, and it oozed out quickly, splashed over the floor and onto the writhing mess that had once been the popular kids of Bowie High.
Cash shook his head, looked like he was trying to say something, but couldn’t get any words past his swollen, bubbling throat.
“What’s the matter? Isn’t this what you wanted?”
Kip gripped Cash by the back of the head, pulled his face toward the opening on Kip’s arm. He pressed the bleeding wound to Cash’s mouth, forced it past his lips and teeth until the boy had no choice but to open wide and let the black blood squirt and slide down his throat.
Once Kip finally released him, Cash scurried away on his back, his sneakers squeaking and splashing in the colorful mess of his former classmates. His skin changed from a fleshy pink color to maroon in seconds, then a dark purple, crisscrossed with black veins that pulsed and bulged. His cheeks expanded and puffed outward, and black liquid ran from his eyes, his nose and ears. Once his mouth opened, a waterfall of black blood exploded and sprayed all over his chest and stomach.
Then the front door flew open, and Kip locked eyes with Zak and Gwendolyn. His smile oozed into a scowl, and his hate went from hot to boiling.
Cash let out a tiny squeal just before his body erupted like a giant zit, splashing the inky blood all over the walls and floor and ceiling.
Zak screamed, fell onto his ass as he wiped at his eyes and spat. His face and torso were covered with Cash’s blood, and he panicked and kicked his legs as he furiously wiped and clawed.
Gwendolyn did the same, and as Kip seized her, he slapped a fat hand to her mouth before she could scream, then began dragging her up the stairs toward his room.
It felt like someone had put out a cigar in each of his eyes, filled his mouth with boiling, rancid soup.
He couldn’t help but scream as he used the heel of his palm to rub his eyes, pressing hard, kicking his legs as the pain refused to let up. Gwen had screamed too, and he knew she was right beside him, but he couldn’t help her, couldn’t reach out to make sure she was okay. His pain had his full attention, and he was sure that he was blind for life now, that whatever that liquid was that blew from Cash’s expanded, inflated body had burned his eyes away, left him nothing but scorched sockets.
But even through his torture, Zak couldn’t help but think about the nightmare he had walked into just before going blind.
Kip stood there, completely nude, his body wet and hairless and the color of a bruised corpse. Black blood ran down from his wounds, along with vivid purples and greens. His mouth pulled into a vast grin that had torn his upper and lower lips completely in half, revealing the black teeth and gums beneath.
Cash was on his back, his body bloated to the size of a small cow. It looked like he’d been pumped full of black juice until his skin was ready to rip from the pressure inside. His mouth was stretched wide, eyes rolling loosely in his sockets.