Horror on Your Street

Fed to Death

There was a man who had two sons, fraternal twins named Samuel and Fredrick who were twelve years old. The father always called them Slim Sam and Fat Fred which didn't bother Fred, he normally laughed it off because he loved to eat but Sam hated it. One day Sam came home from school alone and couldn't find Fred or their father anywhere in the house. Fred had stayed home from school because their dad asked him to help him with a project but normally whenever Fred would skip school with their dad they would both be home by the time Sam got there. As Sam searched the home he finally came to the basement where he heard Fred and their father laughing so he ran down the stairs, he felt something catch his leg and he fell halfway down the stairs. The tumble knocked him out. Once he regained consciousness he couldn't move his legs or arms, they felt pinned down, in a panic he opened his eyes wide to find that he was bound to a hard metal chair by layers of duct tape. Frantically searching for his whereabouts he realized he was in his basement, his heart beat fiercely as he thought of the worst case scenario-someone broke into the house and is planning to harm him and his family or that it was just a nightmare of some realistic sort. It was dark but he saw a glimpse of light coming from the slightly opened door at the top of the basement stairs. Sam began to scream for help when he heard a muffled "Hey bro." He wrenched his neck in the direction the noise had come from to find Fred with a roll stuffed in his mouth trying to chew it.

"Fred what the hell is going on? Why are we down here like this, what's going on? Where's dad?" Sam cried out.

"I...ugh...I dunno." Fred swallowed the bread hard, "Dad asked me to help him with his new project he just started, all he's done so far is fed me a bunch of stuff."

The lights flipped on and their father came walking down the stairs stepping over the trip wire he had set for Sam. He had a wide wicked smile on his face as he got closer to Sam. He was wearing a lab coat holding a clip board with Sam and Fred's names on them.

"Dad what's going on? Why did you trip me? You know I'd help you with anything." Sam cried trying to hold back tears.

"Slim, I have a fun experiment for you and Fatty over there. I want to see how long it takes for you both to die. First I'm going to feed you both today as though you were eating a regular dinner, then day by day I'm going to increase Fat Fred's food intake and decrease your intake until you both die." his heinous laughter filled the room.

Sam began to scream, tears streaming down his face, his father quickly walked over to him and slapped him hard.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" he screamed trying to compose himself, "Now, let's start our project. Fat Fred already ate his dinner so he'll just have to watch you."

"This won't work dad, the school will notice we're not ther-"

"I already pulled you both out of school Slim, everyone thinks you went to boarding school because it was too difficult for dear ol' dad to take care of you two."

Sam wiggled in his hard chair trying to break the tape but it only caused a rug burn, his father started to spoon feed him but he kept moving his head away in defiance until his father grabbed the roll of duct tape and taped Sam's head to the headrest of the chair. Tears spilled from Sam's eyes as his father shoved spoonful after spoonful of applesauce down his throat.

"All done! That wasn't too bad was it Slim?" his cackle rang in Sam's ears.

Day by day Sam's rations decreased while Fred's began to double, the only constant thing Sam had was water. A month had passed and Sam was a meir shell of the boy he used to be, his cheeks had sunk in, his ribs poked out, their father had ripped the duct tape from his head since he refused to miss any form of food he received while Fred grew, always begging for one more bite of food. Their father had stripped them of their clothes since Fred out grew his and Sam was too small to fit anything.

"Day 31, Slim still is with us, his body clearly has eaten any fat or muscle he once had. He looks marvelous! I could even prop him up as a Halloween decoration, he'll pass as a skeleton in the next week or two." Their father recited into an old tape recorder. "Fat Fred is loving life! I've increased his intake from six thousand calories to ten thousand since my last entry. He looks like a bloated three hundred pound kid, it's wonderful! It helps that he asks for extra butter on his bread." His laughter filled the room.

As the time had passed Sam tried to convince Fred that they're both on the path of death but Fred wouldn't listen, he often became offended by Sam's truthful remarks and he'd yell, "Dad never liked you so yeah, you'll die but I'll live a full life. Dad wouldn't kill me."

Sam felt defeated and was ready to give up when Fred choked on a piece of his overly buttered roll. His face began to turn blue as he tried gasping for air.

"Fat Fred is dead. Hmmm...I thought all that butter would help the bread just slide right down his repulsive throat." Their father laughed into his recorder.

"He's...still...alive...help hi-" Sam attempted to utter the words but was too weak.

His father watched Fred struggle one last time before his eyes rolled to the back of his head. Sam wanted to give up, his stomach always screamed for nutrition, the weight of his head hurt his neck and the restraints cut into his wrists. His father left Fred there, whenever Sam did get any water or a teaspoon of applesauce every two days he'd puke it up from the stench of Fred's decomposing body.

"You always had a stronger will that Fatty did Slim. You're just like your mother, that's why I hate you so much." His father said circling around him. "I plan to change my experiment Slim, I want to see how much food it'll take before it kills you."

The next day his father began a regiment of fast food, at first he gave him small amounts and then more as the days progressed. Sam became adjusted to the vile smell his brother left behind and he felt his strength grow with his belly. One morning his father had come down the stairs, stopping dead in his tracks noticing Sam wasn't in his chair, the duct tape was the only thing that remained. Running down the remaining stairs he stared at the chair in disbelief.

'Sam was there for his midnight snack how did he escape?' He thought to himself when he felt a searing pain in the back of his head and everything went blank.

"Oh good, you're finally awake dad. I've been thinking a lot lately about your 'experiment' and I asked myself why is dad missing out on all the fun? So here we are."
Sam emerged from a dark corner with a baseball bat at his side, he used it as a cane.

"You really wore me out, having to knock you out like that and carry your healthy body to the chair."

His father's heart raced as he began to plead, "Slim, whatever you're planning on-"

Sam raised the bat above his head and smashed it into his father's kneecap, "Shut your fucking mouth! My name is Sam!"

Days later, "911 what's your emergency?" a feeble voice called out in-between coughs, "My house, it's on fire! My brother and dad are trapped in the basement."

As the fire department raced down the suburban street they found Sam on his knees sobbing in his hands, they heard screams for help as the house collapsed from the flames.