Becy's Really Hot Day

Although I did not think it was necessary the first time I submitted this story for publication, I will say now; THIS IS FICTION! It is a SPOOF on the BTB genre. DO NOT ATTEMPT THIS AT HOME!

Now for the good part, sbrooks103x kindly edited the previously published version of this story to make it acceptable for the site.

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No one was harmed in the typing of this story, although I did strain my left-hand pinkie finger a few times when hitting the "q" key.

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As part of my 12-Step program, my Anger Management Therapist says I need to write about why I am stressed before I can release it... so here goes...

Hi! My name is Chuck! (Yes, I heard all the freak in' jokes in school ... "what's up Chuck?" ... get it... UP CHUCK!) Real mature guys... but it gives you a peek into my formative years. I was a super nerd in high school. Back in the day, you could actually play with the chemicals in Chem Lab and have access to all those 1940's science books in the library.

I was not a jock or a greaser or a motorhead but I was allowed to hang around the edges of the cliques. I didn't have a real job in high School, but I had a pony car that could make the drive to Montreal and back overnight and I knew not to ask questions about what was put in the trunk.

Anyway... graduated High School, went into the service, got out, went to college, got a job... boooooooriiiiinng! Yup, the all American Average Joe. Then I met Becky. Actually, she backed her car into mine while I was in the store. I came out and this really, really, really cute girl was crying while trying to tuck a sheet of paper under one of my wiper blades.

Using my native charm (OK, mostly HER guilt), I got her to sit with me for a coffee. The coffee led to a date which led to more dates, then I proposed and finally we got married! Life was great and I had it by the short and curlies!

Fast-forward 3 years; I was working as the Office Manager for the local branch of an office furniture manufacturer. Yah, we sold all that metal crap, but our real spot was top end executive desks and such. Hell, a full up office set was worth more than the equity in my house!

"THAT" morning, Phil, the Branch Manager, came into my office holding a coffee mug in one hand and a, I shit you not, 5 inch thick stack of folders in the other. He sat in the guest chair as he laid that ominous pile of paper on my desk. "Sorry, Chuck," he said as he looked down at the pile. He then looked up at me and said, "You have been doing a really good job here and I think it is time to get you familiar with some of the Home Office reports... sorta groom you for bigger and better things." He grinned at me and continued, "Our branch numbers since you joined us have been excellent. The Home Office is talking about poaching someone from here for a new satellite branch over in Raccoon City. I'm thinking, why not Chuck!" I was grinning back at him, my heart was pounding. What a chance! A promotion meant money which meant Becky and I could finally get our family started. WOW!

Phil stood up and chucked me on the shoulder. "You're a good guy Chuck. Glad I can count on you. These reports need to be finalized and on my desk by tomorrow noon. OK?" I nodded my head, still with the silly grin on my face.

Phil said he was taking the Sales Team out on a team building exercise for the rest of the day. He reminded me of the deadline and walked out of my office.

So, with Phil and the Sales Team out of the office, I was left on my own in my little corner of the office. I reached out for the stack Phil had dumped onto my desk and with a sigh, opened the first folder. What a load of crap! This report was not even due to the Home Office for another 3 weeks! With another sigh, I started to look through all the folders. I soon realized that these reports were left over from the 50's if not earlier; they each asked for much of the same data from report to report and ALL the data being asked for was already in the SAP system.

I turned to my computer and opened up my RGP (Report Generator Program, for those of you who don't remember COBOL) client. In a couple hours, I set up automated forms for the reports Phil, and the Home Office, demanded.

I entered the RGP taskings into the system and saw that it was going to take a few hours to grind through the database. So there I was; it was 2:30 with nothing to do 'til tomorrow. I looked out through my window and said to myself, screw it! If everyone else can take time away, so can I! I locked up the office and headed for home.

As I was pulling up to my house, I was a bit shocked to see the driveway filled with cars; maybe Becky was having some friends over or something.

I opened the door and was starting to say, "Surprise, Becky, I'm home" when the smell hit me; Reefer, Pot, Mary Jane, call it what you will but nothing smells like burning cannabis does. I stumbled a bit further into the entryway and looked into my living room. God what a sight! Becky was standing there with her back to me, wearing nothing but a black bustier, stockings and heels. She held a stripper pose, hip kicked to the side, hand on hip. There on the couch was Phil and two of the salesmen from the office. Standing next to Becky were the other salesmen and two strangers. The only things all these people in my house had in common was they were naked and had erections.

Becky looked over her shoulder at me; or at least towards the noise of the door opening. She didn't look scared or upset or anything other than determined. She walked towards me with that exaggerated hip swing that only a woman can do. I saw cum dripping from her pussy and running down her thighs.

With a smirk on her lips, Becky placed her hand on my chest and said that I should go out for a bit and come back late in the evening. She said she would explain how things were then, but right now, she was going to fuck my boss, the sales team and a bunch of the company's clients. She pushed me back until she could close the door; with me on the outside.

I stood there as it all became clear to me. Becky was the company whore. She was the "Team Building exercise." The improvement in the branch numbers was not because of my work but due to Becky's fucking the clients. Shit! My head dropped to my chest, my eyes filled with tears and I turned away from the door and began to leave.

As I walked away from my house, I realized that everyone in my life had lied to me. Becky of course. Her vows to me, to us, meant nothing. My boss; saying "good job" while knowing he was going to fuck my wife later that day. My co-workers; backstabbing bastards! Even me; she loves me, do the right thing, work hard, make a life for her. All liars.

Then it felt that time slowed down. Everything stood still. Sounds went away. I could see a leaf caught in midair as it fell from a tree; it just hung there. My life WAS a lie! There was no right or wrong, good or bad. I was free to do what I wanted and that was OK! In a snap, time started again. Things stood out in sharp clarity. Colors were vivid, sounds, crisp and clear. My body surged with life.

My keys were in my hand and my body running across the lawn to my car before my mind was done glorying in this new-found wonder. Starting my car, I sped down the road, making plans; formulating actions, refining alternatives. There! A "Big Box Store" (You know, food at one end, clothes, housewares and stuff at the other). I grabbed a cart and began collecting my supplies; five large plastic gas cans, a pump-up garden sprayer and a few household products.

Next, a quick stop out front of the store for gas (see, they have EVERYTHING you need) and I was off again. Pulling up in front of my house, I had to park even further away as two more cars were added to the previous bunch.

I unloaded my purchases and began to assemble what I needed. I added my household product to the gas in the cans and shook the cans vigorously. Abracadabra! A poor man's NAPALM! (God, the things you remember from High School Chem Lab when your mind finally wakes up). I had to hustle now; I didn't want to spoil the surprise for all the people in my life! I filled my sprayer and pumped like mad. When I had maximum pressure, I grabbed it and one of the full cans and ran to the parked cars.

I poured the contents of the can over the first car and under its rear end (where the car's gas tank most likely was). Letting the can dribble a trail on the ground, I ran to the next car and then the next; repeating my actions at each and every car. I left my sprayer up next to the house and ran back for another two cans. Setting one can down by my front door, I took the other around back. At the back door, I emptied about half the can through the doggy door and the rest on the porch. I ran back to the front and repeated my actions, this time using the mail slot built into the elegant wood door my wife insisted I install last summer.

Now, I grabbed my last two cans! Using my sprayer, I began coating the walls of my house. The improvised NAPALM sticking to the siding like thick snot! I needed to stop periodically to refill my sprayer and I was getting anxious that someone inside would smell the gas. I guess they were too busy fucking my wife, and the smell of all that sex and pot masked the smell of my surprise.

Finally, I had sprayed the entire house. Everything was coated; the roof, the walls, the windows.... especially the windows. I moved my sprayer and the last, partly full can back from the house and pulled my car's emergency kit road flare from my waistband. A sharp tug on the cap and I struck it into life. The red color was lost in the daylight, but the sizzling sound and heat were obvious to my heightened senses. I rolled my wrist to look at my watch and was shocked to see that only a bit over an hour had passed since I had woken up to the real world.

Standing there, listening to the sounds of the neighborhood, I savored the moment. I could hear kids playing. An ice cream truck was playing "The Maple Leaf Rag" somewhere off in distance. Cicadas buzzed in the trees and the flare buzzed in my hand. With an underhand toss, I threw the flare at the nearest car. With a "woof" the car ignited, the flame followed the NAPALM to the next and the next, daisy-chaining all the cars and then to the house. When the flame reached the house, there was a huge "WHUMP"! The wall of heat and pressure almost blew me back.

I stood there with my sprayer at my side and watched the house carefully. After a few seconds, the screaming started. The doors were effectively walls of flame so no one was getting out that way. That left the windows! I watched them like a hawk, waiting. Finally, a body hurdled through the picture window in the front. Unfortunately for them, they got hung up for a few minutes in the shrubs my wife had me plant so many years ago.

I ran up and saw it was Phil, he was doing the "drop and roll" that we were all taught in safety classes.

I looked though the now destroyed window frame into my house. My wife and her lovers were screaming and running towards the opening. Our eyes locked! Time stopped again. She saw me, with hatred etched into my face. I saw her, naked, covered with other men's cum, hickies on her breasts and thighs. I saw the lie of everything I had been promised. Promised by my parents, my teachers, my community, everyone. Be good, do the right thing, look out for the other guy and things will be good for you as well. Then everyone came flying through the window, knocking me down and started rolling on the lawn, trying to put out the flames.

I got to my feet and had just hobbled back to my car, looking for where my sprayer had gotten off to when the fire department showed up. They thought I was a neighbor trying to put out the fire with my little sprayer and helped me off to the side. They quickly set up and began a fog fan spray on the front of the house to push the flames back. Two firemen in turn-out kits and Scott packs entered though what was left of the entrance to my house while the others ran to Becky, Phil and the rest who were scattered across the lawn. Immediately radios began yelping and voices were shouting for the EMTs. The first approach teams blew water in through both the entrance way and the busted window. The firemen appeared in the doorway supporting a body which they handed to the EMTs. The EMTs got the barely conscious victim onto a gurney and began checking vitals. The other firemen got to Becky and the rest and were beginning First Responder support just as more ambulances pulled up. The new EMTs quickly ran over to the other burn victims and repeated the actions of the first team.

Now, it got real exciting! The cops had come in with their sirens screaming and began talking to the EMTs. After a bit, one of the firemen called his chief over to where my sprayer sat and was waving his hands and pointing to me. The chief lifted the nozzle, gave the end a sniff and all hell broke loose.

The chief called to one of the cops and I took off into the woods behind my house! People were yelling and running after me. Crap! Why did I not just get in my car and drive away earlier? Double crap! I'm no runner and the woods were full of lumpy stuff on the ground! Next thing I know, I feel a sharp stinging in my back and then the world exploded. My arms, legs, everything twitched and I was down, hard, on my face. Darkness enveloped me and I was gone.

I woke up in a hospital bed, handcuffed to the rail. Two uniformed cops were in the room and when they saw I was awake, one of them yelled out the door. A nurse and a doctor came in and began to check my vital signs. After a bit, they finished up and asked if I knew where I was. I said a hospital, the doc made a check mark on his pad and both left the room. As they were leaving, a big man and I mean BIG (at least 6-4 and 300 pounds) came into my room. He talked quietly to the doc for a few minutes then nodded his head to the two uniforms. He turned to me and said he was Detective Joe Friday and that he was pissed because it was supposed to be his day off. He sat down in a chair next to the bed, read me my Miranda rights (just like on TV) and said I was under arrest for arson, attempted murder, maiming, assault, battery and if he could make it stick, jay walking. He was PISSED!!

He asked me for my statement so I told him about finding out about my wife's activities and how it opened my eyes to the real world. I chatted away about everything for a bit until he held his hands out and said he needed to get a court stenographer in there to record my confession. CONFESSION!? What confession? Here I am trying to explain how the world works and he thinks I am confessing to a crime.

Well, long story short, I was released from the hospital and taken over to the county jail to await arraignment. Pretty sweet! They gave me a lice/flea dip and a new orange jumpsuit. Then they gave me a nice cell all to myself.

I plead not guilty to all charges! How could I be guilty of a crime when my wife told me flat out that rules did not matter? The arraignment judge did not think my logic was sound and ordered a court appointed psychiatric evaluation. HA! I spent more than a week talking to Dr. John Goober, PHD, explaining to him my newly awaken understanding of the real world. I think I impressed him, because he told the Judge that I needed to go off with him instead of playing with the Judge anymore. Well, I would have none of that!

I got a note out to the Judge telling him that I understood the difference between right and wrong and that setting fire to people was not good in most peoples' minds. However, due to the "get out of jail free card" my wife had given me by her actions, I was exempt! I suggested that he let me out and save the time and expense of a trial.

Dr. Goober and the Judge were ready to send me away to the State Hospital (read "Nut House") after my letter. I was getting worried about what the consequences of such an action would be, so for the first time I began listening to my state appointed Public Defender. He explained what an insanity plea meant, and the various prison sentences for what I had been charged with would add up to. None of this worked for me! If I got sent to the hospital, I could be found "sane" at some point in the future but the chances were not good, what with my new-found enlightenment. Jail time added up to more than my life expectancy and that would not allow me the opportunity to "visit" the rest of my wife's "little friends." I was stuck; what to do. Life sucked!

The trial was pretty neat, however. The reporters were everywhere; everyone wanted to see me, ask me questions, get to know the "real" me. The highlight of the testimony was when they brought my wife to the stand. Yup, they had to "bring" her since she could not walk or even stand up. She was confined to a wheelchair as her legs were useless. The heat had destroyed the muscles and tightened the tendons to the point her joints were essentially fused. The scars from the second and third degree burns covered most of her once lush body. Her hair was gone, her ears were gone and from what I could tell, most of her "feminine charms" were gone. When I first saw her, I could not help myself from shouting out, "Looking good babe!" After that, I had to wear one of those Hannibal face masks. It was starting to look like a slam dunk for conviction with a total of 120 years behind bars. Even with good behavior and all, I was looking at 30+ years.

Then Dr. Goober was called to the stand. He testified about my state of mind after discovering my wife's whoring activities. How I suffered a "dissociative event" and was not "sane" by the legal definition of the law. I could see the jury; they were buying into his line. CRAP! I could not let that happen so I told my PD to contact the Prosecutor on a plea.

Over the weekend, my PD and the Prosecutor reached a deal and took it to the Judge on Monday. I would change my plea to guilty of arson and one count of felonious maiming, sentences to be served concurrently. As part of the deal, I would undergo psychiatric counseling while in prison. Further, my parole clock would start only after the prison doctor said I was back to "normal," whatever that is. I was sentenced to 25 years and bundled off to the state pen.

At first, I was put into the prison hospital. I began working with my therapist and after 20 months, he reported to the court that I was back to understanding "right from wrong." Even though I was transferred from the prison hospital into general population, it was not bad. The guys in the pen are really swell! Word had already gotten out that I was a "firebug" and knew a whole lot of shit. I became a protected species; no one was allowed to touch me 'cuz they ALL respected what I had done. They all wanted to ask me questions about this, that and the other thing. So, I have plenty of time to keep my nose clean and work towards early release. I still see my therapist every week and he is very happy with my progress! I am learning all sorts of new things from my prison buds; locks, alarm systems, hot wiring cars; really neat.

I can hardly wait for my time to be up; to get out and breathe FREE air again. I plan on taking a lot of trips, after all, I have LOTS of people to visit and offer thanks to for opening my eyes.

Yup, my therapist, Dr. Mengele, says writing about it will help; it really truly does!

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There you go. Remember, murder is NOT sexy, this is just a story and Becky and Phil are alive and well in my mind. Also, if wise-assery were a crime, I would be doing 25 to life rather than enjoying a fine microbrew craft beer right now.