Big Red :: Jennifer's Body, Needy/Jennifer, trapped
Another one too long for this porn battle.
Her Mom isn’t always sharp - okay, maybe she was never that sharp… six pack short a few… but Needy remembers that one time, outside of the Kangaroo convenience store and curses about an empty pack of cigarettes and shutting the door on her sticky-faced little girl.
Needy was in that car for two hours and couldn’t even crack a window.
Mama Bear was a big ol’ fail that night.
And Needy never forgot the feeling of being… well, forgotten and unable to change it.
Needy never forgot the feeling of being trapped by another.
*
Jennifer doesn’t look like Jennifer.
In fact, if you were to put up a picture of how Jennifer usually looks (porcelain skin and ruby red lips and slightly challenging eyes) and then looked at the hot mess in Needy’s kitchen - you’d say that Jennifer Check is like a poster for what happens to your brain on drugs.
Your brain. Not Jennifer’s.
Jennifer’s brain is surely filled with cocks and red-white-and-blue shots and mystery vans filled with boy-bands - not Scooby and the gang, ascot blonde and nerdy girl and a dog.
But tonight, Needy wonders what the hell is in that beautiful brain.
And will it be like some story she had to read in Lit class, where she is faced with the mirror of her soul or some shit in that vacant gaze?
But then Jennifer gags up viscous tar, spiky and dangerous, and it is a billion rolled-up windows again.
*
“Are you scared?”
Needy is fucking terrified.
Because there is blood. And there is black stuff all over the floor.
And Jennifer is basically sniffing her like shop-class junkies hit up glue bottles, all shaky and hungry.
But then Jennifer’s tongue is in her mouth, spreading the taste of something a lot like what Needy might call ‘evil’ - copper and river water, curry and ashes - and pushing the girl away is the smart thing to do.
Because there is blood. And there is black stuff all over the floor.
And Jennifer is eyeing her like a dog does a bone, paws twitching and lips being licked.
Am I scared? Of you? Jesus, I always have been. Just more so tonight.
Jennifer takes her tattered body upstairs, though, as if she owns this house and everyone in it.
And the only one in it is Needy.
As if she owns Needy, lock… stock… and a fucking barrel.
*
Then again, Needy follows.
She always has - from sketchy bars to boring parties, from missed classes to never-ending pep rallies - trailing behind Jennifer like a kid sister.
But Jennifer always made it feel like something sort of special, the last piece of gum when you’ve got a dry throat and its Big Red and cinnamon is so good anyhow.
That’s how Jennifer makes her feel. Sometimes.
The last piece of something good and something that you want.
Other times, it is quite the opposite.
Its Big Red alright, on the bottom of Jennifer’s shoe - stuck to her whether you want to be or not.
Needy walks into her bedroom and Jennifer stands there, shedding off this new skin of death and wet leaves - creating a puddle of clothing on the floor.
And, just like an Etch-a-Sketch, Needy watches red gashes fade away on Jennifer’s chest.
“Jen, w-what the fuck h-happened to you?”
Jennifer giggles and it is surprisingly deep and then that now naked body is moving way too close and Needy is forced to the wall - hands steadfast at her trembling side.
And Jennifer pushes against her, sliding up and down like Needy is a fireman’s pole, and teeth graze Needy’s neck.
And it really shouldn’t feel good. It really shouldn’t at all.
Because this is all really freaky. Because there’s blood. And black stuff all over the floor.
Then a firm thigh is slammed between Needy’s legs and Needy gasps and her hands are up before she can stop them, gripping Jennifer’s shoulders.
Those challenging eyes flash an eerie white and Needy wants to scream, but her terror is stolen by that awful tongue again and sharp fingers are jerking her hips - rocking her against Jennifer’s bare skin and it shouldn’t feel good, it really shouldn’t.
It shouldn’t be making her so wet and it shouldn’t make her legs open wider and it shouldn’t make her want to be naked, too.
Oh, but sometimes you are on the bottom of the shoe and special, too.
Sometimes that is all Jennifer can ever let you be.
And Needy doesn’t want to follow this time, doesn’t want to be left in a car with all the windows rolled up tight, doesn’t want to be caught with no way out.
But suddenly her body is down on the floor and her hands are fucking liars - because they are fisting Jennifer’s kind of dirty hair - and Jennifer is ripping away those pants like feathers in the breeze and everything is so quick and so rough and it shouldn’t feel good.
It shouldn’t feel good at all.
And, if Needy is honest with herself, it isn’t good.
But it isn’t bad enough.
*
Needy wakes up and, if it wasn’t for the soreness, she’d believe it was the most twisted dream of her young life. But no, there are her pants in a bundle on the floor.
And while Jennifer is gone, no torn clothing or muddy footsteps left in her wake, Needy can feel Jennifer everywhere - inside of me, white hot and scalding, inside of me, thrusting inside of me and lapping at me until I felt raw, so deep inside of me that I could hear her thoughts in my fucking mind.
Needy goes downstairs and there is the black stuff on the kitchen floor and she scrubs and she cries like she has lost her best friend.
And she is pretty certain that she has.
Because there is blood and black stuff and the taste of bad things still lingering in her mouth - where her tongue plundered and set up camp, her flesh the flavor of rot and knives and pain and too many kisses that bruised and too many bites that will leave marks and moans that were too lovely, too broken, too much of everything… this is too much of everything… all lodged in my body like shrapnel.
*
Jennifer looks like Jennifer again.
And Needy thinks maybe it is all a twisted dream after all.
But Big Red doesn’t taste good anymore and that’s enough to convince Needy that nothing will ever be the same again.
*
::END::
Her Mom isn’t always sharp - okay, maybe she was never that sharp… six pack short a few… but Needy remembers that one time, outside of the Kangaroo convenience store and curses about an empty pack of cigarettes and shutting the door on her sticky-faced little girl.
Needy was in that car for two hours and couldn’t even crack a window.
Mama Bear was a big ol’ fail that night.
And Needy never forgot the feeling of being… well, forgotten and unable to change it.
Needy never forgot the feeling of being trapped by another.
*
Jennifer doesn’t look like Jennifer.
In fact, if you were to put up a picture of how Jennifer usually looks (porcelain skin and ruby red lips and slightly challenging eyes) and then looked at the hot mess in Needy’s kitchen - you’d say that Jennifer Check is like a poster for what happens to your brain on drugs.
Your brain. Not Jennifer’s.
Jennifer’s brain is surely filled with cocks and red-white-and-blue shots and mystery vans filled with boy-bands - not Scooby and the gang, ascot blonde and nerdy girl and a dog.
But tonight, Needy wonders what the hell is in that beautiful brain.
And will it be like some story she had to read in Lit class, where she is faced with the mirror of her soul or some shit in that vacant gaze?
But then Jennifer gags up viscous tar, spiky and dangerous, and it is a billion rolled-up windows again.
*
“Are you scared?”
Needy is fucking terrified.
Because there is blood. And there is black stuff all over the floor.
And Jennifer is basically sniffing her like shop-class junkies hit up glue bottles, all shaky and hungry.
But then Jennifer’s tongue is in her mouth, spreading the taste of something a lot like what Needy might call ‘evil’ - copper and river water, curry and ashes - and pushing the girl away is the smart thing to do.
Because there is blood. And there is black stuff all over the floor.
And Jennifer is eyeing her like a dog does a bone, paws twitching and lips being licked.
Am I scared? Of you? Jesus, I always have been. Just more so tonight.
Jennifer takes her tattered body upstairs, though, as if she owns this house and everyone in it.
And the only one in it is Needy.
As if she owns Needy, lock… stock… and a fucking barrel.
*
Then again, Needy follows.
She always has - from sketchy bars to boring parties, from missed classes to never-ending pep rallies - trailing behind Jennifer like a kid sister.
But Jennifer always made it feel like something sort of special, the last piece of gum when you’ve got a dry throat and its Big Red and cinnamon is so good anyhow.
That’s how Jennifer makes her feel. Sometimes.
The last piece of something good and something that you want.
Other times, it is quite the opposite.
Its Big Red alright, on the bottom of Jennifer’s shoe - stuck to her whether you want to be or not.
Needy walks into her bedroom and Jennifer stands there, shedding off this new skin of death and wet leaves - creating a puddle of clothing on the floor.
And, just like an Etch-a-Sketch, Needy watches red gashes fade away on Jennifer’s chest.
“Jen, w-what the fuck h-happened to you?”
Jennifer giggles and it is surprisingly deep and then that now naked body is moving way too close and Needy is forced to the wall - hands steadfast at her trembling side.
And Jennifer pushes against her, sliding up and down like Needy is a fireman’s pole, and teeth graze Needy’s neck.
And it really shouldn’t feel good. It really shouldn’t at all.
Because this is all really freaky. Because there’s blood. And black stuff all over the floor.
Then a firm thigh is slammed between Needy’s legs and Needy gasps and her hands are up before she can stop them, gripping Jennifer’s shoulders.
Those challenging eyes flash an eerie white and Needy wants to scream, but her terror is stolen by that awful tongue again and sharp fingers are jerking her hips - rocking her against Jennifer’s bare skin and it shouldn’t feel good, it really shouldn’t.
It shouldn’t be making her so wet and it shouldn’t make her legs open wider and it shouldn’t make her want to be naked, too.
Oh, but sometimes you are on the bottom of the shoe and special, too.
Sometimes that is all Jennifer can ever let you be.
And Needy doesn’t want to follow this time, doesn’t want to be left in a car with all the windows rolled up tight, doesn’t want to be caught with no way out.
But suddenly her body is down on the floor and her hands are fucking liars - because they are fisting Jennifer’s kind of dirty hair - and Jennifer is ripping away those pants like feathers in the breeze and everything is so quick and so rough and it shouldn’t feel good.
It shouldn’t feel good at all.
And, if Needy is honest with herself, it isn’t good.
But it isn’t bad enough.
*
Needy wakes up and, if it wasn’t for the soreness, she’d believe it was the most twisted dream of her young life. But no, there are her pants in a bundle on the floor.
And while Jennifer is gone, no torn clothing or muddy footsteps left in her wake, Needy can feel Jennifer everywhere - inside of me, white hot and scalding, inside of me, thrusting inside of me and lapping at me until I felt raw, so deep inside of me that I could hear her thoughts in my fucking mind.
Needy goes downstairs and there is the black stuff on the kitchen floor and she scrubs and she cries like she has lost her best friend.
And she is pretty certain that she has.
Because there is blood and black stuff and the taste of bad things still lingering in her mouth - where her tongue plundered and set up camp, her flesh the flavor of rot and knives and pain and too many kisses that bruised and too many bites that will leave marks and moans that were too lovely, too broken, too much of everything… this is too much of everything… all lodged in my body like shrapnel.
*
Jennifer looks like Jennifer again.
And Needy thinks maybe it is all a twisted dream after all.
But Big Red doesn’t taste good anymore and that’s enough to convince Needy that nothing will ever be the same again.
*
::END::