An alarm sounded in the dark, and Linus Torvalds groaned and shuffled under his covers. His wife lay lazily snoring next to him, and the alarm clock bathed their forms in red light as it pulsed.
Before long Linus slapped the snooze button on the alarm, grunted, stretched, and ambled out of bed.
Linus's alarm was was no ordinary one. For starters, it was a 386-based mini-ATX custom rig with 32 MiB that ran Linux 126.96.36.199 in a one-off distro Linus called Alarmix. He used emacs to edit his alarm configuration file every night and, in the morning when alarmd woke up, it played a rather loud klaxon. But today it was far earlier than he had set his alarm, and this was a source of worry for Linus.
This klaxon was a special one, run when alarmd was remotely activated by the Git server, meant to alert the core Linux developers that someone was attempting to hack into the Linux kernel code repository. There would likely be a logfile of attempted intrusions displaying on Linus's workstation right now.
Stretching his back and cracking his neck as he wandered slowly to his study, Linus fell lazily into his chair.
I wonder who it is this time, Linus thought to himself as he jiggled his mouse, temporality blinding himself as his 50" LCD TV came on.
But before Linus's eyes could adjust, he saw stars. Something hard and cold hit him dead-center in the forehead, flipping him backward in his chair onto the floor.
Hello, Linus, a voice standing over Linus said.
Long time no see, isn't it? the voice chided.
What the fuck? was all Linus could muster as he recovered from the blow.
In case you're wondering, Linus, that was the butt of my Colt M1991A officer's model, the voice, high and whiny as Linus's ear tuned back in, said.
It's the small-frame six-shot 3-5/8"-barrel version of the classic .45 ACP design.
Linus's heart beat like a jackrabbit fucking on a hot tin roof. A gun? This was a first. His high Finnish forehead was still numb, but he could feel it swelling.
This baby's small enough to conceal but has excellent stopping power, wouldn't you agree?
The interloper laughed at his own joke and Linus's ears perked: the narcissistic sense of humor… the whiny, nasal voice… it finally came together in Linus's addled brain: his assailant was none other than Eric S. Raymond, the ruddy Open Source advocate and J&#x;ger-guzzling, gun-toting gas-bag.
Fuck you, Eric! Linus shouted. After
almost twenty years of tolerating the megalomaniacal bullshit that
Raymond served on a regular basis, Linus was more angry than scared.
You can go fuck yourself!
I'm glad you brought that up! Eric said, cheerfully.
That's exactly why I dropped in for a little visit tonight! But I won't be fucking myself…
◇ ◇ ◇
Linus's moan was muted by the thin, pale, crooked penis covered in a dark brown syrup plunging rudely into his open maw. He gasped through his nose as the skinny, misshapen prick started pumping in and out of his slick mouth.
Oh yeah… Eric said between breaths.
The room was silent except for muffled moaning and a wet, fleshy rhythmic pumping sound which reverberated off the dingy, tiled walls.
"Fuck your mouth, Linus!" Eric said. "I want to see cum and J&#x;germeister all over your pretty little Finnish face!"
Linus was crying, the eye-liner Eric forced him to apply at gunpoint running down his cheeks from his glassy, bloodshot eyes. He gagged and drool poured from his lips.
I'll need a little lube first, though, Eric said, reaching for his J&#x;ger bottle.
Your mouth isn't quite wet enough for old uncle Eric
Eric uncapped the bottle in one quick motion, not letting his Colt stray from Linus's forehead. Then, something dark and brown started raining on the festivities, covering Linus's face and Eric's bushy dick.
"This shit'll be good, Linus. Oh, fuck! Open up your mouth, you little bitch," the man said as he withdrew his cock from Linus's bitch-hole.
"Please… No more Jäger… Can't breath… I'm going to… be sick…" Linus gasped as he desperately inhaled fresh air. The scent of unwashed hacker penis was strong in his nose.
Open up and say ah, boy! Eric shouted and J&#x;er splashed around the unholy union of Linus's soft lips and Eric's gangly penis and balls.
I want you to get every last drop in that sweet little mouth of yours!
Eric's face was aglow with the last of his Jäger and his grin, leering and anxious, spread his dropping orange mustache wide.
Eric, no more. Please. I can't- Linus said just as Eric cockslapped him.
You'll do as I say or else, Eric said.
But you could use a break, couldn't you, you stupid little faggot bitch?
Eric released his hand from around his junk and withdrew his cock from Linus's worn mouth.
Gasping, Linus sat against the wall in the bathtub. Covered in various body fluids, his eyes were dark and sunken. He had scrapes and bruises here and there, especially around his jaw. This was his sixth day of being locked in Eric Raymond's bathroom.
You know, that's a good position there, Eric said. He laid his Colt on the nearby toilet tank, the metal clankingon the ceramic toilet tank lid. He took several gulps of his magic liqueur and likewise set the bottle down.
Now open up and take it like a good little bitch, Eric said with a look of child-like glee on his face.
Here comes Hurricane Eric!
With this remark, Eric turned around and pointed his ass at Linus, his shaky hands spreading his bulbous, white butt cheeks as far apart as they'd go. His yellow-brown ass crack was covered in a red fur that became darker as it neared his asshole. Eric's puckered anus shook and twitched for a second, and then the walls of the shower reverberated with a wet ripping noise.
Oh god, take it boy! Eric shouted in ecstasy.
Linus, at the business end of Eric Raymond, could do little more than cry as his face was covered in blast after blast of Eric's light brown ass-burps. One shot his him on the neck, the next shotgunned his forehead and hair, and one finally took him square in the mouth. After a few seconds the slimy assault slowed to a twitching trickle.
Linus sobbed and wiped his face with the back of his hand. He streaked the shit, but didn't remove it.
Oh, you're not done yet, Linnie, Eric said from the other end.
One more little gift for you, coming up right… about…
Eric began shitting the largest turd Linus had ever seen in his life. It was a reddish brown clay color with streaks of blood and mucus. It slipped from Eric's ass with ease even though it was already nearing a foot long and had to be as big around as Eric's wrists, which were straining to hold his ass-cheeks apart.
Oh my god, Eric cried as the
last of the dark beast left his ass. He turned to look at Linus and saw
him against the wall, eyes rolled back in his head, with the turd
halfway down his throat. He was convulsing, trying to breathe—or was he
trying to inhale it? Eric watched in a mixture of shock and arousal for a
second before stepping toward the beaten Linux developer.
No you don't, not today, Linus, Eric said as he kicked Linus in the diaphragm with his good foot.
No suffocating yourself so you can get out of being my sex slave. No siree bob!
Linus vomited the turd back up along with dinner from earlier. His hot wet sick smelled like an untended portable toilet that had seen use during an attack of dysentery. Linus was sobbing now between coughs, wishing for more than anything to die.
Okay, Linus, you're done for now, Eric said.
Get upstairs and modify my privileges in the Linux Git server.
Linus looked at Eric with weary eyes. After days of shit and rape and Linux, he was finally broken. He would give Eric what he had been after for so long and had finally earned by pooping in Linus's mouth: root privileges on the Git server that maintained the Linux kernel source code.
And remember, when you go to do it, Eric said, smiling as he turned on the shower head and began sweeping the shower curtain closed,
I am a core Linux developer!
Weeping, Linus climbed on unsteady feet and walked toward the door. He held his stomach and trembled as he went. Now that his playtime was over, he felt dread and nothing more: dread of CML2 running in Linux.