Casca Guts Novels & Stories

It was dark inside Carla's safe house. Tension was palpable. The oscillating fan created the only sound, and that faintly, until the massive door creaked open, and Diego entered. His face a mask of exhaustion and barely held fury, he walked towards Carla, seated at the head of the room, her sharp eyes scanning the map spread on the table. Diego’s voice was heavy as he spoke. “I’ve got news, boss.” Carla didn’t look up, her fingers tracing the edges of the map. “Make it quick, Diego. We’ve already lost enough ground.”

How does that make you feel, Casey" "Lonely. I didn't know the chopper went down; I didn't know he had died and I was still alive. He had just found out he was going to be a dad; he should have survived. He should have been here today. He should be here. I gave up in the end and I zoned them out. I have scars all over my body, from foot to neck and I feel disgusted. If I didn't speak, I would suffer without food or water. I had nowhere to hide and nowhere to run. Everything they did haunts me even now"

Her presence is ruining it. "Cas!" she yells again. "Enough!" I grind my teeth, my arms shaking, and look back down to the man. He's stopped moving, dead from blood loss. Snapping his neck won't do anything now. Damn. What a waste. Mariam takes a few steps forward with her hands held out. She licks her lips nervously. "Let him go, Cas," she says slowly. "He's dead. Come on, honey. Come down from that mountain. Follow me down here, please?"

Whitney’s POV In Casio’s private gym, the Space was sleek. Black walls, polished floors, and don’t get me started on the equipment; it looked like it belonged in a military base and not in a home gym. Casio helped me with the wraps around my hands; his touch was gentle, but I knew what I was getting myself into. He might be gentle now, but I could see on his face that he was focused and determined.

Kacee looked back at Anthony and noticed the curiosity written all over his face as he examined the food on display. She couldn't help but chuckle at his expression. “Do you want to try some?” she asked. “What are... these called?” Anthony asked, genuinely fascinated. Kacee pointed to each item as she explained. “That's grilled chicken head, those are pork intestines, this one is grilled chicken intestines—isaw—and that's grilled pork blood.” “Really?” Anthony asked in amazement. He glanced at Jema and Mikay, who were happily eating with obvious enjoyment.

Cas lifted my legs up, folding me like a pretzel. I thought I would fill his dick near my entrance, but instead Cas decided to swipe his tongue over my clit. “You did such a good job sucking my cock; I think you deserve another orgasm.” Cas said, before his tongue went inside of me. Everything was out in the open now—my butt and vagina—for the world to see. Well, not the world, Cas. I might have felt shy if I had been able to see. I might have worried that this position would make my belly look fat.

“In, then. And shut the door unless you want half the pack to think you’re proposing.” Inside, the temperature jumps from ‘winter of your discontent’ to ‘sauna built in the seventh circle of hell.’ Cassie’s woodstove is already burning hot, and the living room is a greenhouse of hanging herbs, fermenting glass jars, and racks of medical supplies. A worktable in the center is littered with poultices, bandages, and a single wicked bone saw. “Sit.” She points to a three-legged stool. I obey. Cassie pads around me, eyeing my posture, the shake in my hands, the way I wince when I move my left shoulder.

My eyes widened, and my stomach dropped at the sight. “What the fuck are those?” I asked, my voice horrified, unable to move my gaze from the… collection of detachable penises, all neatly displayed. Cassie grinned, clearly thrilled with my reaction. “Oh, come on, don’t tell me you’ve never seen one of these before.” I just stared. And blinked. And quietly wondered if I would ever get the disturbing image out of my head.

“Casillas, calm down!” But calm was no longer within reach. Casillas threw himself sideways, then forward again, slamming his head against the window. The impact sent a sharp, blinding pain through his skull and the glass splintered, spiderweb cracks spreading outward. Blood trickled down his forehead, warm and sticky, but he barely registered it. “I won’t go down like this!” he screamed, his voice feral. “Do you hear me, you bastard?” He craned his neck, straining against the restraints and against Germaine’s grip. “You haven’t had the last laugh!”

Cassius said, his smile returning at the thought of Grub’s impending disaster. “I shall order one of the smalls to take him away,” Hussin said, “I have a little experience with your kind expelling their bowels. It is not edible, nor useable for anything except mushrooms, but it will not remain fresh enough to bring back to the nest for that.” “Smalls?” Rex asked as they began to make their way towards the fire.