Sweet dreams are made of screams

Get down on your knees

Twiggy's P.O.V:

I was sleeping soundly, somewhere off in the fucked up reality of dream land when I felt something hit me in the side of the head. I rolled over, rubbing it not really giving a fuck.

Slap! That one hurt. I opened my eyes to see an angered Brian dressed in his corset, ripped stockings, platforms with his stage make up on and contact lenses in. I furrowed my non existent eyebrows. Was I still dreaming? He then slapped me upside the head. "Twiggy! Are you fucking listening? Get up!" His voice bawled.

I sloppily got up and sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed my head, yawning. "I told you to be ready by the time I got back! You said 'Okay, Mari I'll make sure to be dressed'" he babbled, "What are you talking about?" I sighed, not remembering. "We have to be onstage in ten minutes! Do you understand?" My eyes went wide as I leaped out of bed and rushed to the bathroom. Manson threw my clothes at me and stormed out the hotel room. I quickly put on my long, beige, plain dress, tied my hair in pigtails, put on shin high combat boots and rushed out, not bothering with makeup or anything 'important' and rushed out.

I was now in the street outside the hotel. I was panicking, too tired to realise what was going on. "Twiggy, over here!" I heard Pogo yell. I quickly darted across the road infront of cars and ran into the gig. It was opposite the fucking hotel how did I forget.

By the time I was in, it was time to go on stage. I needed to piss, my breath smelt of rotting meat and I felt nauseous without any food or water inside of me. I dizzily stepped on stage and onto position. I stared up to the ceiling as my hands started to strum at my guitar automatically.

Deformography, Mr. Superstar, Lunchbox, and now we were playing cake and Sodomy. I was barely moving, my head ached, my insides felt like they were clenching and twisting, ceasing me from any sudden movement.

"Cash in hand, dick on screen. Who said God was ever clean?" Marilyn whisper-screamed into the mic, charging over to me. He yanked my dreads, causing me to yelp a little and slammed my mouth into his clothed dick. "White trash get down on your knees! Time for cake and sodomy!" He screeched. My mouth moved on his cock, mouthing it through the fabric. I moaned onto it for more effect, it suddenly twitched into my lips. He was getting hard. He then harshly pushed me off and began prancing around stage again. I smirked to myself, continuing playing.

Last song, the reflecting God. Cold sweat was now seeping through my clothes, I was spaced out and had no idea what the time was. "When I'm God everyone dies!" Marilyn screamed before dropping straight to the floor, onto his back. His microphone came smacking down onto his crotch again and again as his tongue stuck out of his mouth like a dog. Was he...getting off to that? He then rolled over and finished the rest of the song on the floor before smashing up Gingers drums and walking off stage.

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Pogo's P.O.V:

Something happened on stage today. For one, Twiggy was Completly out of it and looked like he was on deaths door and it definitely wasn't the effect of drugs and Marilyn seemed more active? I don't know...but when Manson pushed Twiggy's face into his cock, Zim Zum turned around to look up at me with a strained, worried look on his face. I shrugged it off as them being horny but when we got back stage they were talking! They were fucking chatting and laughing with eachother. Zimmy told me he saw them kiss at some point but I didn't believe him.

For the first time in years Brian looked soft just like he used to be and a part of me hated it. He was a fearless leader now, a monster. He was the Antichrist and I won't let some twink teenage crush make him weak.