Lord of the Lizards

Lord of the Lizards

“The boy with fair hair”
—William Golding, Lord of the Flies

The boy with black hair raised his school sweater and lowered his shorts for them to see. He showed the other boys what was happening to him. The effects of the Fukushima blast and deadly radiation. He was a mutant boy now.

The lizard disease had finally got to him. The mutant lizard lord was part of him now, crawling down the side of his leg. It was black and blue and slithery. It was primitive and obscene looking. It was a mutant monster taking over his lanky adolescent anatomy.

A drone robot plane flew overhead, flashing by with a witchy cry. It was echoed by the other boys, crying out in disgust and fear. They knew they were all doomed to the same thing. It was just a matter of time before the lizard lord got them too.

The boy with the black hair tried to act offhand and not too obviously interested. But he couldn’t help looking down and staring at it too. He stared at it solemnly, but the disgust of it suddenly overcame them

“Cover it up, quick!” one of the other boys said.

There were six of them, dressed in rags, boys of the radiation death. They all knew they were doomed, but they didn’t know how long it would take. The adults were all dead, Tokyo just another ghost town. The once huge modern city was now just a Japanese radioactive tomb like all the other cities.

At first, things were the same. The empty streets, the stores they raided for food, the swank luxurious skyscrapers and condo dives they slept in. The stink of death wasn’t so bad way up in the sky, but the stairs were awfully bothersome without any elevators anymore.

It was a mutant virus of some kind, perhaps some form of germ warfare that had got loose. The Fukushima fuck-job was just the beginning. Nobody knew what really happened, all the adults were gone or dead.

There was nothing to do, no TV, no Internet, no nothing. No news about Japan or the rest of the Pacific. The only thing left was their gang, who’d survived somehow. They’d been hiding down in the sewers, but when they came up everything was changed.

The boy with the black hair didn’t say anything. He knew the other boys would find another leader, not that it made any difference anymore. They’d all be dead pretty soon like all the others, and it wouldn’t be pretty either.

He could already feel it, the lizard lord taking over his body. Radioactive malignancy was really quick these days, germ warfare was different now. The doomsday machine had gone viral now, the implanted chips were monitoring everything.

But what good was it when everybody was dead. Even the people that be down in their underground tunnels and bunkers. They were the first to go, betrayed by their own praetorian robots & guards. Down it all came, and it didn’t take long.

The boy with the hair knew what to do. He gave the rest of the gang a smirk and toughie sneer. Pulling up his shorts, tightening up his gun belt. He’d crawl upstairs and blow his brains out, the Tokyo Hilton would do.

They followed him though, his gang of fellow teen mutants. They wanted to see how he’d take it, whether he’d go out screaming like a pig or brave like a fool. They all climbed up the stairs, silent and sullen, just looking for an excuse to jump out the windows.

He didn’t make it, they had to carry him up to the top floor. The mutant lizard curse was already getting out of control, slowly sucking all the life-juices out of the kid.

It was a lush penthouse that once belonged to a rich diva, the favorite of one of the local yakuza warlords. It had a huge sumptuous water-bed that seemed to cool and comfort their young impromptu leader.

The boy with dark hair had no name, he was just another orphan of the times. Another Fukushima freak, resigned to youthful diaspora. But there was no place to go, no safe haven to flee to. How does one escape one’s own mutant body?

The water-bed was warm and wavy. He had his earphones on. He’d gulped down some Quaaludes, shot himself up with the usual drugs. Even so, the lizard god wasn’t going to let him off easy.

The others stuck around. The Tokyo night descended on the city, not many people were left to enjoy the endgame. It wasn’t going to be pretty, it never was.

For some reason, the lord of the lizards went for a guy’s prick right away. Pretty soon the victim’s body became simply a morphed mutant of the guy’s schwanz. It wasn’t natural, the whole genetic metamorphosis was out of somebody’s nightmare.

Soon enough the boy with the dark hair was no longer a boy, no longer the young teenage juvenile delinquent leader that he was for awhile. He turned into a dick with a pair of legs & some arms.

The mutant monster turned everything into a nefarious creature of the Id, the soon-insignificant limbs shrinking like the rest of the body down into this horrible snake-like phallus of death.

Why was death this way—so cold-blooded, hissing like a cobra, squeezing the victim to death like a ruthless boa constrictor? Going for the young studs first, some kind of desperate diva famished for rough trade?

It was horrible, their leader the boy with the black hair. How he turned into a lizard the hard way, becoming a cobra and rearing its ugly head. Not even Maria Montez could have worshipped it, the huge King Cobra of technicolor Cobra Island.

It wasn’t campy, it was cruel. Like the living dead of old horror movies, Night of the Living Dead and I Walked With a Zombie. The boy with black hair was no longer human—he was a killer cobra with a pair of dead legs. His gang ran away, but not fast enough.

It grabbed one of the fleeing boys, the fat one who had lots of meat. The monster that was once a boy, sucked the other kid completely dry with one snort. Then like a petulant penis—it went pouty and limp.

The Lizard looked around, getting a sense for its new succulent body. The Lizard Boy was no longer simply just human, no longer the truant teenage troublemaker he’d been before. He was now the new Lord of the Lizards—at least for a little bit anyway…

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