His gloved hand grabbed his left arm, and I stood a little straighter. I knew the signs of a heart attack. I’d watched Mr. Baker, a guy who lived down the street, have one. He’d been yelling at me for cutting through his backfield to get to school faster when he made the exact face my father was now. Fascinated, I’d walked over to Mr. Baker to see what was happening. As I’d squatted down near his writhing body, he reached for me and begged me to call for help, but I didn’t. I enjoyed watching him die far too much. I stayed in the same position like I was staring at a work of art until he took his last breath. I watched his eyes glass over as his body finally gave in and shut down. I’d never been so turned on in my life.

“Ah,” my father groaned and grabbed for the side of the pen. “Son, something’s wrong,” my father said, stating the obvious like I couldn’t see him.

My head cocked to the side as I watched my father struggle. Sweat poured off his forehead like he was in a rain shower, the glistening enhancing the lines of agony on his face. “Help, me son,” my father begged as he went to his knees.

I smiled wide. Oh, Abel was going to be pissed he missed this—the thought making my soul smile with evil glee.

“You were right, Dad. There is no fixing what I am.”

Wide, terrified eyes locked with mine as he gasped and then collapsed face-first in the pig shit. This was fucking great. I couldn’t have planned this any better, and the little bit of residual excitement from watching my mother in the kitchen was increasing steadily with his continued struggles.

The pigs that had been ignoring him now turned to his twitching body and nosed at him with their snouts. If this had happened in the baby pens, I might have been tempted to jump in and pretend to want to help, but these were the market pigs. When in a mass of fifty, the animals could devour a full-size man in a few days. People thought that pigs were cute, but they were actually one of the most dangerous farm animals other than the bull. They had massive teeth and extremely strong jaws that could crush bone. Also, they were very intelligent and happy to eat anything, like a tiger shark swimming in the ocean.

When I heard the ripping and tearing of material, my hand slid off the gate and found the zipper to my jeans. At the first sound of my father’s bones being crushed in the powerful jaws, I pulled out my cock. The scent of blood drew in the rest of the pen, and the pigs began to swarm like sharks.