This is a story I wrote for a collection titled Cock Meat Sandwich: A Collection of Eloquent Short Stories To Read By The Fireplace While Sipping Sleepytime Tea. It was written a couple of years ago when the Cosby shit was going down and I would say when my writing was at its most unleashed and uncensored. You can certainly tell this was the year I was discovering John Waters, David Cronenberg and David Lynch.
I would also like to mention I have published this story online before, tagged Bill Cosby’s Twitter in the link and have been blocked ever since so his assistants are well aware of me.
Camille Cosby stood in the kitchen listening to the loud thumping sound coming from her bedroom. Her husband was currently holding one of his muse auditions. She was fucking livid as she focused on the emptiness within her vagina. It was a feeling she had grown accustomed to, most of the time.
Camille couldn’t even remember the last time her husband had sex with her, and yet here he was perfecting his art of being the greatest rapist in Hollywood with more victims than Ted Bundy. Camille was filled with jealous and envy for the girls who had sipped her husband’s cappuccinos. She pictured slicing the face off of a hopeful white blonde starlet and disguising herself so her husband would drug her and fuck her brains out.
It had been too long.
In her mind, Camille dreamed of rushing into the bedroom and stopping her husband. She never would because she was an obedient wife. Whatever Bill said went. They were married back in the 1960s when it was understood that women weren’t equal to men. Whatever the man said went, or the woman got a backhand, which would result in blood being spilt over that evening’s dinner and the woman experiencing more backhands.
Times were much simpler back then.
O how she missed the days when Bill would make her dress up as a dog and urinate on their carpet. He would then roll up his erection inside of a newspaper and hit her over the head with it. Next he would rub her face first into the urine. Her pussy felt a tingle of wetness from the memory. She decided it was best to ride her vibrator that let out five memorable catchphrases from her husband’s most well known character, Cliff Huxtable.
Even though she was pissed at her husband, she couldn’t help the way her pussy tingled when she heard things such as “because we did not want five” and “Theo, your mother asked me to come up here and kill you”.
She had a single orgasm from the vibrator as she heard “And you’re going to do it because I said so! I am your father!”
Camille cleaned it up and put it away. Although she had experienced an orgasm, it still wasn’t enough. She craved more. She wanted her husband.
She needed the scent of Jello pudding pops and Quaaludes whisking from her husband’s chest to truly be sent gushing from her privates.
As she was brainstorming over how to seduce her husband, she looked at her television. On the screen was a woman by the name of Amber Rose. It seemed she was the newest woman that men were losing their minds and seed over. Camille focused on her shaved head as she ran her fingers through her own hair and wondered if the new look could be the key to getting Bill’s erection inside of her once more.
She had nothing to lose. It was a risk worth betting on.
After shaving her long flowing black hair, Camille looked in the mirror. As she looked at her bloodied bald head, she knew she was all the more seductive.
Bill could no longer resist her. Camille was certain he would foam at the mouth like a rapid dog and beg to lap at her vagina like it was a big bowl of ice water on a hot August afternoon. Camille was fairly certain she still had what it took to get Bill’s erection standing up. She just needed to remind him what he slipped a ring on all those years ago.
After she stripped down to her bra and panties, Camille kicked the bedroom door open. Currently, her husband was shoving a Jello pudding pop between the thighs of a drugged up white girl. Her thighs were brown from all of the Jello pudding pops Bill had rubbed on them. This didn’t stop Camille in the slightest. She was confident that when her husband looked at her, he would insert the pudding pops inside of her. Camille was at the point where should would even let him slip a pudding pop or two inside of her asshole.
“Look at me Billy! I look just like Amber Rose. Don’t you want to go up my yellow brick road to see The Wiz?”
Bill looked behind him for a second at his wife and rolled his eyes. These outbursts were something he had learned to deal with. Ever since strong female characters begun to show their faces in television shows and movies, Camille had begun to show a little sass with him. Bill longed for the days when she would just turn the other cheek when he was forcing himself on a passed out girl. It annoyed him whenever she spoke up, but Bill knew that the dog was always on the leash.
“Dammit Camille! I’m doing business here. I told you not to interrupt me while I’m plowing the muses.”
Camille stormed across the room towards her husband. She stopped a couple of feet away from him and the drugged up girl.
“Those aren’t muses! Those are just girls you rape for pain and pleasure. You’re never getting back on television!”
Bill pounded his fists on the unconscious girl’s chest. Camille was frightened and at the same time turned on by the anger coming from her husband. She wanted to be the one he pounded on, in more ways than one.
“Dammit Camille don’t you remember the Sandman comic I showed you? The guy raped a magical woman he kept up in his cellar and wrote masterpieces. I’m just trying to find the magical pussy genie and then I’ll have another Cosby Show.”
“Why can’t I be your magical muse? Don’t you remember how we used to fuck in the 80s when you had your television show?”
“Because you’re just a nigger who looks like a cancer patient!”
Camille felt hot tears sliding down her cheeks as she ran away from the monster she was married to.
Once she was downstairs, Camille’s sadness morphed into anger. She was pissed off she couldn’t be the one to be getting the jello pudding pop. It was her goddamn name that was on the marriage certificate; she was entitled to the delicious pudding facial! Sometimes Camille wished that she could have been a white woman with blonde hair and with no brains hoping to be the next Julia Roberts or Sandra Bullock so her husband would trap her with an audition and rape her.
Camille angrily jammed a cucumber inside of a cardboard cutout of her husband that promoted the film Ghost Dad and rode it until she had one of the most aggressive and powerful orgasms all year. As she came, she punched the head of the cardboard cutout. The head rolled into the living room. Camille looked into the dopey eyes of the cutout the entire time.
She then slid off the cucumber and grabbed a knife and sliced the cucumber into two. As she brought the blade down on the cucumber, she imagined herself to be Uma Thurman in Kill Bill wielding a samurai sword.
Camille looked down at the severed cucumber. In her mind she recalled the memory of John Wayne Bobbitt. She remembered the incident of how he was the man who lost his penis because his psychotic wife sliced it off after discovering he cheated on her. Camille imagined Bill’s penis tossed into a cornfield or an un-mowed area of land with little to no hope of ever being discovered by anybody other than a rapid dog who was very hungry.
A grin began to spread on Camille’s face. Her face was in pain from how much she was currently smiling.
Camille grabbed a knife and rushed upstairs before she did something foolish like change her mind. Today was finally the breaking point and she refused to stand by and be trampled on any longer. The adrenaline that was pumping inside of her made her feel like she was a new person.
Once she was in front of the bedroom door, Camille threw it open and charged at Bill. Bill was so lost in concentrating on thrusting into the drugged up girl that he didn’t even hear Camille. Camille kneeled behind him and placed the blade underneath his member as she placed her thumb on top of his penis.
“P-please Camille, give me another chance. I’ll fuck you! I swear. God dammit I’ll even eat your pussy if I have you and you know how much I hate seeing females receiving pleasure. Please Camille, just let my penis and I be. Just leave my Jello pudding pop alone and it’ll be yours all yours. I’ll never rape another hopeful actress again. I’ll throw out all of my Quaaludes; I’ll give them to fucking Jordan Belfort or Malcolm Jamal Warner. Please just let my penis and I be!”
Any other day, Camille would probably be gullible enough to believe Bill’s lies, he was always brilliant at keeping a poker face, but today was a new day. Camille was done being Bill’s Uncle Tom. She applied pressure and smirked when she felt the edge of the blade resting against her thumb.
At first, Bill looked up at her in confusion. He then looked down at the girl’s vagina where his penis was still inserted, it was no longer connected to him. Bill looked in between his thighs and saw a hole of bloodied gore. He then shrieked like a little girl and began backing away into a corner. A trail of blood followed him which made him resemble a slug from a Clive Barker story or a dream sequence in a David Lynch film
Camille pulled the severed cock out of the passed out girl like it was a sword lodged in stone. Once she had it in her hands she laughed hysterically and playfully licked at the blood and melted jello pudding pop dripping from the sad sausage. Camille could feel all of the pins in her brain unscrewing, and she loved it.
Whether it was from shock or loss of blood, Bill Cosby passed out. Camille looked at the sad sack of shit in the corner and wondered how she ever fell in love with him in the first place.
Camille took the penis and stuck it inside of her vagina. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as she bit her lower lip and felt her knees buckle.
“Daddy’s home, daddy’s home” Camille muttered to herself.
Inside of her mind, fireworks were going off and cars were exploding in mid air.
Camille rushed downstairs and made her way out the front door. Once she was in the street, she held her arms up into the air and laughed hysterically.
“Could you keep it down over there!” shouted Camille’s neighbor, Jay Leno from his backyard. He couldn’t see Camille because of the large fence between the two properties.
“Fuck off Jay or I’m cutting your fucking chin off and using it as an anal plug!”
Camille heard as Jay Leno rushed back into his home and locked the door. After this, she continued to run away holding Bill Cosby’s severed cock between her legs.
She wasn’t far away before she ran into a troop of girl scouts. The group of girls who were no older than ten looked at Camille who was currently nude from the waist down and dripping blood with fear. Nothing they had ever seen on Nickelodeon or Cartoon Network could prepare them for this sight. Camille could see the fear within the girls. She just smiled and shook her head.
“There’s no need to worry girls, I’ve got Bill Cosby’s cock and I’d never use it to fuck up a drugged up Girl Scout.”
The girls cried but were also cheering after hearing Bill Cosby could no longer rape.
After making this announcement, Camille continued on.
The current meeting place for Bill Cosby victims had roughly around forty five members. All of the girls sat in a circle and drank coffee and ate cookies as they listened to the others talk.
“It sure is nice drinking coffee without Quaaludes in it.” said one of the girls.
The rest of the group let out uncomfortable giggles. Some of the girls sneered at the joke and were already tweeting about it, looking for a group to shame the woman for attempting humor in such a dark environment.
“I’ll never forget the taste of that cappuccino as long as I live,” said one of the girls. “And then next thing I know, I’m waking up without my panties on and lying in the front yard of Bill’s home. It was fucking embarrassing.”
“I woke up in a bus station with a Jello pudding pop up my vagina.” said another
Some of the girls groaned at this, obviously being victims of such an incident as well.
“No matter how hard I scrub, I can feel his sweater against my bare tits.” said a girl as she hugged herself.
The front door to the meeting area burst open and the girls were taken back as they saw Camille Cosby with nothing covering her vagina or ass and bleeding from her hips. Inside of her vagina, the girls could see a severed cock.
“I CUT HIS DICK OFF!” shouted Camille. “COSBY IS DICKLESS!”
The girls jumped to their feet and celebrated. They hugged one another as they shed tears of joy.
“Wait a minute…..” said a voice in the back.
All of the girls turned towards the voice.
“Didn’t Camille Cosby say we were all willing? That we knowingly took those drugs?”
All of the smiles that were once on every face in the room turned to a look of indifference as they looked over at Camille, who currently felt her stomach twist and knot up. She could sense that her time was running short.
She too had forgotten about that moment when she talked out of her ass.
“Look girls, I didn’t really mean that. I was just mind controlled by Billy….Maybe he gave me a cappuccino to keep me dumb. You know it’s possible. Jeffery Dahmer used to drug his victims to be mindless zombies…..”
A couple of the girls threw their cups of coffee in Camille’s face. She screamed as the scalding hot coffee splashed over her eyes. As she screamed, the rest of the girls grabbed folding chairs and took turns beating Camille Cosby into a bloodied pulp. As they beat her, the cock Camille Cosby had between her thighs rolled away into the corner of the room.
After Camille Cosby was dead, one of the girls pointed out the cock. The girls took the cock and cut it up into a fine powder, which they then cut into tiny lines and snorted.