The Homies

Fang Fang would've thought it was creepy for any human to settle a debt by handing over their step-brother's corpse. But what he didn't know was that doing this was just another day for an ant. They did all sorts of creepy shit with corpses.

Thus, United World Organization had slammed a ban hammer on any sort of disco with corpses; fucking, fun police. Every law they passed had been a hot mess, a dumpster fire, which only kept warm the dormant population of the world: humans.

But, Fang Fang did not know any of it yet.

All he felt was his body being pressed in the bottom of a pond. He could not open his eyes, let alone move a finger. However, over the past few days, he had been hearing voices that made it clear he was being referred to as the 'step-brother corpse,' and he was going to be used as repayment for a debt.

Unaware of his physical surroundings, his thin body lay inside a wooden casket wrapped up in dry grass. His black hair, untouched by scissors for over two years, created a stark contrast against his pale snow white skin. He looked like an innocent teen vampire sucked dry.

His virgin skin had never seen the sun. Even now the casket top cover was sealed by metal nails, preventing any invasion of sunlight. Inside the packed box, he heard an indistinct sound of rotating circular metal gear instead of his heartbeat. Yet the sound lacked the ominous aura as an antique clock; instead, it was gentle like a small bamboo waterwheel rotating in a brook deep within quiet woods.

'I don't comprehend my situation. As an immortal practitioner, my soul was qualified for rebirth but according to the laws of our universe memories do not get passed to the next life.

'So why do I remember the mountain range which was shaped like five fingers? My Five Fingered Sect and my cave at the bottom of the middle finger?

'That said, this world is a dilemma with baffling vocabulary. Even after listening to ideal chatter, I cannot comprehend the most used word: fuck. Where in fuck are they taking me?'

. . .

A few feet away from the casket, Lil Marquis was lying on a deadbeat sofa which was patched with dull colored squares. The room had termite-infested walls and patched-up windows that smelled of decay and age. However, the environment was the least of his concerns. Fuck UWO (United World Organization), he thought while remembering all the rules imposed on ants.

It should be clear that his actual name was Marquis Young. He was a young man, a homeboy, edging closer to his 20s. The worn out t-shit on him revealed his lousy biceps and the pants gripping his thin waist showcased how a rope could be used as a belt. That mentioned, he was a tanned man with a reverse triangular torso and a 90 degree sharp jawline but still he wasn't considered sexy in society because most ant-humans were shaped like that.

Among all the differences from average human appearance, what stood out most were his short nose and thick braids atop his head that were hiding ant antennas. But people don't talk about differences under UWO as ant-humans have the same rights as humans, almost.

Anyway, Lil Marquis was glad about two things. First, the uneven surface that snugged his body in peaceful warmth; buckled springs of the sofa pushed from below, pressuring his neck, lower back and ass. Especially the ass.

Second, his dead mother, god bless her, violated the UWO's 'no-corpse-disco' rule by never burying or cremating his step-brother. All the reason there was a wooden casket a few feet away from the sofa. He was going to use the corpse to settle his debt.

One of the few things Marquis knew about his dead 'step-brother' was the corpse was so fucking frail and cute to be a man, but it was a man; he had made sure.

"Thank you, ancestor. Thank you, queen mother, for blessin' me with a step brother whose corpse I can give away to erase my debts. May yo' soul rest in peace."

After the brief prayer, Marquis had felt an immense sense of gratitude for being an ant-human. His rough hands instinctively moved to wipe away the tears that had welled up in his eyes. Ants were social insects; family first. If he was a true human in a similar situation, with the worst loan shark of the city chasing him, then he would have to suck cock for the rest of his life along with his business partner.

He sat up, his gaze fixing upon the solitary bed positioned at the far end of the room, expecting to see his partner. His thoughts turned suspicious as the bed lay empty except for a loosely spread blanket, which appeared bright because orange midday sun rays fell on it through the thin window curtains.

Naturally, his eyes turned towards the locked door opposite to the window. It was the only bathroom in this one room motel. A nagging feeling crawled by his brows for a quick second but it didn't stop him from speaking.

"Daniel, we gotta get ourselves a real job after this. I heard some folks got crazy rich workin' in them mines."

There was no answer from the bathroom.

He frowned.

"What the hell you doin' inside, chinna?"

His eyes immediately scanned the faded colored bag lying at the foot of the bed. Its zip was open. And he could swear he didn't hear it open, nor there was a sound of the bathroom door opening and closing. When did his partner sneak into the bathroom?

Perhaps, he shouldn't have disturbed his homie in such a vulnerable time.

. . .

Not long after, a resounding and extended flushing sound resonated through the air. Following the sound, the door swung open, revealing Daniel as he stepped out. His expression was solemn.

He was a year older than Marquis and taller. His outfit was similar, but the t-shirt wasn't tucked inside. He looked like two parallel lines because of his lean figure. A racist could immediately judge that he was a true human based on his messy brown hair and rather common face.

In that moment, Daniel's cheeks seemed to have sunk, giving an impression of a tired individual. There was an awkward silence in the air as he didn't speak for a while. It was as if they were already standing in front of the loan shark Marcello Riina.

"I-I-I had to… y-y-you kno-w, shit."

"We ain't eaten nothin' in two days." Marquis said. "And you out sneakin' to play with yourself. Marcello gon' fuck our ass in two hours."

"F-f-f-fuck you m-man. I wasn't j-j-j-jerking off alright? It's called dual cultivation, asshole. Mae-mae-makes me think c-c-c-clearer. And I will re-re-remind you again that th-the DualMax68 has up to 2 times more yin energy than an average human female."

Daniel stuttered when he got nervous. He snorted and took out a flashlight shaped object. It was tucked in the back of his pants, concealed by his t-shirt. Seconds ago, his dick was inside this device, the DualMax68.

This device was so popular that it was single-handedly carrying the practice of dual cultivation.

Dual cultivation was a practice in which by having intercourse the practitioners could increase their stamina. But most young men had no hoes so such devices overtook the world like 'milf-magnet' medicinal pill; people might not want them but they needed them.

Daniel's gaze did not waver, showing confidence that couldn't be tackled by words such as 'jerking off'. He wanted to get the bag but breaking eye-contact with Marquis meant loss. So, he channeled his will, which made a soft green glow emerge from beneath his t-shirt. In a span of a few heartbeats, his garment began to ripple as if stirred by a paper fan. He lifted his hand and pointed towards his bag.

A gust of wind draped in green lifted the bag from the foot of the bed. The miniature vortex of green hues brought the bag closer to Daniel's hands. With deliberate care, he put the DualMax68 inside it while still staring at Marquis.

The tense standoff demanded an end, so he prompted the topic that held the power to shape their fate. Today, they would either be buried in the sand or continue their journey back to the city.

"La-la-last time. You sure gi-giving your brother's co-co-corpse to Ma-Ma-Marcello is a good idea?"

"Homie, this is how we ants are." Marquis said. "If my corpse could settle my brother's life and death debts, I'd wake up and tell him myself."

"La-la-let's go then. We will fuck that rat's ass if he doesn't let us off."

As the wind currents around Daniel settled, dust blew away from his feet and splattered on the sealed casket.