Disclaimer--Rating: M, for scenes of blood and gore, suggestions of blood and gore, sexuality and sexual innuendo, pre-fade-to-black sexual suggestion, nudity, suggestions of nudity, sex, suggestions of sex, violence, suggestions of violence, torture, suggestions of torture, pain, language, suggestions of language, foreign language, and all that stuff you youngin's best avoid.
Tar pulled his leather jacket closer to his tiny frame. He had once been beautiful Tar had been the golden boy in high school, football player class president. He got good grades and could make his peers do anything he asked and in that respect he was spoiled.
When Tar went home however it was different. He was often beaten by moms boyfriends a few had even raped him when he was younger. Mommy dearest had introduced her son to heroin and kicked him out when he was 14 for being gay. Somewhere on the streets the once golden boy had hit his head, hard and forgotten all the beautiful things that he had once thought. He was dark now, and tormented.
He had no way to make a living and no place to live. No one would step up and help the once pretty boy and so the only solution was to make money the easy way, in his sleep.
Tar had been a prostitute for years, he had just done small stuff to get by and had always used protection. When he turned 18 he was employed at a fetish club as an erotic dancer. Some people enjoyed that he still looked like that hot strait high school boy that every gay man wanted to date but had never had the balls to try. These clients took their anger out on Tar’s body and slowly he grew to love the pain.
It was at that club that he had met Fabrone, a cocky well off drug dealer looking for a few new bodies to infect and pimp out. Fabrone started off sweet toying with Tar’s dark hair and gently caressing his golden skin. But that skin eventually was bruised again. Fabrone had Tar hooked on crystal meth, a cheap deadly little drug. Tar sold his body for Fabrone to satisfy his addiction His brown eyes looked up the Philadelphia streets, no longer seeing anything beautiful in the world, and offering none in return. Tar curled up in a large cardboard box he had been fortunate enough to find. He lay amongst the trash and filth that had become him and claimed his once promising life. Despite all this hell Tar still told himself he was beautiful and one day he would be worth more than some meth-head whore. Maybe one day someone would walk by his box, offer a kind work and a hand out of hell. Someone might care enough to save him someday, no matter how insane that dream was.
The only problem with Tar’s dream was that he was running out of time. His own body was killing him. Tar was infected with aids, and slowly dying from it. Fabrone knew his boys made more if they barebacked and so he swore up and down everyone on the bed was clean. The monster knew Tar was infected, now it was just a matter of wringing every last dollar out of his corpse.