Its called a change over... you switch cameras and the audience doesn't know the difference...

I wake up, in my bed, to the sound of hard thumping and screams, loud guttural noises, the kind you hear in pornography where a lady is getting rammed by a donkey, they're popular in Mexico. But I'm well aware there is no donkey in the house, and the woman is far from a lady. Marla, that black little spot in my life. The more I think, the more I notice that Marla is coming less and less... and more and more often after he sees her, this happens.

My door opens up and he's standing there, looking in at me. Every time he asks me the same question

"You want next?"

Nine times out of ten, I say no.

This is the story about that tenth time

Tyler came closer to me, his fist dripping wet with... Well, hell if I want to know. Tyler, what are you doing.

"Shut up."

He closes the door behind him, that crappy door never stays closed. It always opens just a crack and lets in a draft I haven't cared about that since the first week. Tyler...

"I said shut up." His fist opens, running on my cheek. The hell if I want to know drips down my face, into the puckered hole on my cheek.

I start to panic at this point, he doesn't let me. He makes me lay down. Tyler, I don't know what this is

"Shut up, I thought you trusted me."

I do.

"I thought you wanted to hit bottom."

I do, but please, I don't want this. It still hurts when he punches me in the gut, that sticky fist covered in hell if I know.

"Come on, you've been through worse"

Its true, I have... My apartment, Fight Club, making soap..... what was this but another stepping stone to enlightenment. Alright, go ahead.

Covered in the hell if I know, that sticky slippery wet hand, it grabs my hip and turns me over. It grabs the back of my underwear and pulls it off, ripping and ruining my last good pair. His fingers probe against my puckered butt hole, covering it in that wet slime....

I know this isn't going to hurt, but I can't help but flinch. Its like a horse is sliding into me; not the horses shaft the whole horse, Tyler is absolutely huge. He grabs my hips, pulling me to my knees. Now I know where those sounds came from, they came from Marla. When you've got something this big inside you, you don't make human noises, you sound like a beast. Tyler sounds like a girl, he squeals and shrieks, this surprises me entirely and more than anything he's ever done. There we are, recreating the noises from a Mexican pornography, the Bride and the Burro in my bedroom, lubricated with Marla's hell if I know, the door cracked open...

/Palahniuk

It was at that time that Marla Singer decided to walk downstairs to use the bathroom and caught the sound of a man grunting and squealing. The noise emanated from a room with the door cracked, so she looked through the crack. What she saw was the man that she thought was Tyler Durden fisting himself violently while bent over, screaming his own name. That, dear readers, is how fight club should have ended. :3

first rule of fight club
YOU DON'T FIST YOURSELF

Tee hee, this is my first time writing a short story, expect more, many more disturbing ones. I'm planning one between Marla Singer and The Narrator's Spirit Animal