Posted by dolungbridge on February 04, 2007 at 09:10:32:
JOCELIN'S CHEERLEADING DAYS - PART 7 - HAGEN HOMECOMING FROM HELL
The Hagen Paganettes had scarcely been mowed down for the greater glory of their alma mater when the Hagen senior cheerleaders led by Cherrill opened fire on the Meyers squad from behind them. Several of the Paganettes were still slumping forward to the turf or sprawling across the bodies of their compatriots; many of these girls, though badly wounded, might have survived with proper medical attention--except that the fusillade unleashed by Cherrill's over-zealous squad now caught them all in the back, stitching their shoulder-blades with spurting holes. They pitched forward, perishing in a flurry of blood and shredded shakos, their final agonized shrieks lost in the throaty roar of the MP-5's that killed them.
The air above the sprawl of corpses sparked and crackled as bullets from the MP5's collided with 9mm. shells from the Meyers Uzis. Ricochets tore into freshly slaughtered Paganettes and plucked greedily at the sleeves of several Hagen seniors.
"Ow! Fuck!" whined one, a pony-tailed, statuesque blonde named Alexis. She stopped firing to inspect a bloody gash on her right arm.
Beside Alexis, Mandi was picking her way gingerly amongst the slain. The bosomy brunette stumbled over some poor girl's frayed torso, which oozed blood with an audible squish. "Eww! Gross!" she exclaimed, and let fly with a perfunctory burst from her machine-gun in the general direction of the Meyers chicks.
Cherrill sensed her squad's spirit was flagging. "Come on, girls! Let's finish those Meyers cunts! They're almost out of ammo!"
"Why don't you finish 'em yourself, Cherrill, if you're such a badass," Alexis whined.
Cherrill gave Alexis a swift kick in the ass with her Kaepa. "GET MOVING, YOU STUCK-UP BITCH!" she howled. "WHATSA MATTER? YOU WANNA LIVE FOREVER?"
Alexis squealed, half in pain and half in secret delight. Cherrill turned to her right. Beside her was her prissy brunette co-captain, Hortense, and the sultry Latino flyer Pilar, who would do anything she was ordered to.
"WHO WANTS BLOOD?" Cherrill demanded.
Hortense's voice was ice. "Let's do it."
Cherrill let loose a mighty war howl, which was swiftly taken up by the rest of the squad. They charged forward, leaping over the slain and firing as they ran.
The Meyers girls saw them coming and opened fire. Erica's gun shot twice, then clicked empty. "I'm out!" she shrieked in utter disbelief.
Beside her, Amber muttered, "Fuck fuck fuck" through gritted teeth--her Uzi was empty, too. Frantically, she glanced about. Where the fuck was the bag of clips?
Suddenly, something hammered at her belly and an intense, jolting pain flared in her guts. She looked down, bewildered, her mind not quite registering what she saw: Four jagged craters bored into her stomach, each puncture seeping gore through a ring of singed fabric.
The Uzi slipped from her fingers. Her tummy burned with ferocious agony, but worst of all, she could feel the night air inside her back; she was, in fact, effectively cut in half at the midriff, her navel obliterated, her polyester body-shell blown to rags at the waist, her pert, skirt-covered ass and the fine Corinthian leather of the Packard's back seat now spattered with her last meal (a wilted garden salad from the Meyers cafeteria) and wet pieces of the digestive tract that had contained it.
A flood of blood rushing up her throat strangled her pained scream. The blood dribbled out each side of her mouth onto the white MEYERS lettering curved over the shelf of her bosom. She slumped back into the seat, her body settling into a puddle of its own gore.
Erica ducked as the Hagen volley struck the Packards. She shouldered her way out of the car, bullets spanging off the door panel just as she flung herself to the ground. Something tore at her hip, slicing into her muscle and tearing her skirt with an audible rip. She had fallen almost on top of Sinead--and the arrows protruding from her corpse.
"God dammit!" she swore as the wound started to smart. Bullets thwacked into Sinead's back--a ricochet pinged off one of the carbon arrow shafts and nearly took off Erica's ear.
Erica tried to crawl under the car, thinking she could find shelter that way, but she found her way blocked by the crushed corpse of the Hagen frosh cheerleader who had fallen under the Packard's wheels. The girl had come to rest on her back, arms outstretched, the rear tire sitting on her collapsed rib-cage so that the generous mounds of her breasts were squeezed forward like downy cotton foothills against the sheer cliff of the whitewall radial.
"Gee, that's quite an under-wire you've got there," Erica found herself thinking. The girl's pretty, innocent eyes stared vacantly at Erica, even as another savage burst of gunfire abruptly ravished those bolstered tits. The whitewall blew with a tremendous WHUMP and Erica threw her hands over her head as the relentless barrage swiss-cheesed the cars' detailing, struck sparks off the chrome bumpers, blew jets of powdered glass out the windshields and sheared off the rear-view mirrors.
A shot shattered Ariel's left shoulder; another skinned her throat, nearly hitting her carotid artery. Hot lead zipped through the car's interior, smashing the steering column, fraying the leather. Somehow, Ariel wasn't hit again; somehow through the pain and rising panic, she stayed focused. Fixing her aim on one of the Hagen seniors, she returned fire.
Beside Hortense, Pilar emitted a series of tiny yips, staggering and convulsing as Ariel's shots burrowed through her belly and breasts. She twisted to face Hortense, her nubile body now rent with glistening wounds, her face wrenched into an odd expression of mild distress, as if she had merely contracted a bad case of gas.
Indeed, she farted now, on the verge of death, as she went to her knees. Her parting legs drew up her skirt, and Hortense couldn't help but notice that Pilar's exposed white panties were turning dark. A trickle of yellow urine leaked out the lacy edge of the panty and ran down Pilar's leg. Pilar stretched her arms toward Hortense.
"Help me..." she begged.
Hortense nearly gagged with repulsion. At the same time, she was strangely fascinated. Pilar wavered. The stain in her panties darkened to black as blood from a stomach wound seeped down to her cunt.
"Fucking gross!" Hortense cried, back-pedaling away.
A look of hurt betrayal crossed Pilar's face. Her finger tightened on the trigger of her MP-5 and the gun chattered wildly. A bullet clipped Hortense's shoulder.
"BITCH!" Hortense bellowed. She opened up with her own gun from about six feet away, and Pilar's crotch exploded. Tilting the gun up, Hortense punched a fresh line of red holes the length of Pilar's torso, blowing her back onto the corpse of a fallen Paganette. There she lay on her back, tears running down her cheeks, tits thrust at the sky and the space between her thighs a bloody ruin.
Hortense breathed deeply, seething with adrenaline. Not far beyond Pilar's corpse, she spied another interesting sight: A Paganette with a Hagen flag sticking out of her gut, and beside it, an unarmed blood-streaked auburn-haired Meyers cheerleader. Their gaze met and locked. Hortense felt her heart kick into high gear. This girl had spunk; this one was a killer--ah, but there was fear in those eyes, too. Christ, it was going to be fun to kill her, just fucking do her, no mercy, watch those tits of hers jiggle and burst as she pulped them--
Hortense raised her MP-5 to fire...
...as Megan squirmed and pulled and twisted, still trying to free herself from the arrow that had pinned her skirt to the Packard. In the midst of battle, with all hell breaking loose, bullets zinging around her, and in spite of her terrible wounds, Megan threw down her only weapon to work at her skirt zipper with both hands behind her back.
Jocelin didn't know if the girl was outrageously brave or just plain stupid, but at that moment, she was damn sexy! Working the cranky zipper down the slope of her ass, she moaned and writhed and thrust out her chest as if she was St. Sebastian peppered with arrows and tied to a stake. She's doing it on purpose! Jocelin thought wildly, moaning herself now. She knows she's turning
me on, the little minx!...
Megan got the zipper halfway down the curve of her butt, exposing a tantalizing bit of her yellow cheer brief for Jocelin's delectation; then the underwear tore open in a jet of gristle and gore as Alexis machine-gunned Megan from ten yards away. The blast flung Megan back against the car, her mangled ass now pinning her hands to the panel. Megan could do nothing but emit one last defiant scream as Alexis raked her body again, this time straight across the proud swell of her breasts.
Whole swathes of cloth erupted from the MEYERS letters shielding Megan's chest. Her lissome figure, savaged by arrow, rifle-blast and machine-gun fire, slumped sideways, leaving streaks of gore on the door of the Packard. Her legs twisted up as she fell. She came to rest with her head, trunk and arms sprawled out on the turf but her feet and thighs slung awkwardly in the slashed and bloody skirt pinned to the Packard's door.
Cherrill and Mandi caught Sara Jane in a withering cross-fire. The wounded Meyers co-captain was still on her feet, grimacing, defiant, after having been hit twice during combat with the Paganettes. She was just bringing her Uzi to bear on Cherrill when Cherrill sent a three-shot burst across her rib-cage. Mandi followed this with a sustained volley, enthusiastically expending half her clip into Sara Jane's vulnerable belly.
Sara Jane went into immediate and merciful shock as the pain of the frightful horror being inflicted on her body hit her brain. She felt nothing but a series of sharp tugs, like a rapist tearing at her clothes. Looking down for a moment, she saw great misty red geysers spewing from the flat abdomen she had once been so proud of. She kept firing through a haze of pain, though she was losing strength fast and her muzzle was drooping down.
It was enough to blow great puffy holes in Mandi's Kaepas, splintering the Pagan's metatarsals like balsa-wood. The Hagen senior screamed and went to her knees, falling through Sara Jane's last torrent of gunfire. Bullet-blossoms flowered on Mandi's thighs and then her stomach as Sara's death-twitch tightened on the trigger and the Uzi kept up its relentless fire.
Mandi kept firing, too, even as her voluminous bust was finally torn open. The burst thumped across Sara Jane's tits and she surrendered her life at almost the same instant as Mandi. The two dead cheerleaders flopped forward onto the turf, their manicured fingernails almost touching on the clipped grass.
Jessika faced Hortense, their eyes locking. Jessika knew her situation was hopeless; this girl was going to be the death of her, literally, the moment she brought her MP-5 up. Too bad, 'cause she was kinda cute in a wholesome, whitebread way.
Jessika's next move was a desperate gamble, and not totally unexpected from a cheerleader, but it nevertheless caught Hortense completely off guard. She nimbly vaulted herself into a cartwheel, aiming just to Hortense's left. Hortense snapped her gun up and fired. She had always heard that machine guns could be notoriously hard to aim; she found out now how true this was.
At the height of her cartwheel, Jessika's legs parted like scissors. She felt the bullets from the Hagen girl's MP-5 ripping her pleats, nipping at her waist and thighs, just missing her crotch. Somehow she knew she was going to survive; to triumph! One of her hands came down on blood-spattered turf between the legs of a dead Paganette; the other landed full on the dead girl's chest, fingers mashing down the corpse's punctured breasts. In passing Jessika recognized the face; this was one of the girls who, mere moments earlier, had been on the verge of gunning her down.
Jessika came out of her cartwheel low to the ground and immediately snatched up the Paganette's unfired Garand. Hortense, frustrated, twisted left and tried to fire as Jessika rose to her feet, her newly-acquired rifle already aimed. Jessika rifle barked once, and Hortense's right breast bounced crazily in her white athletic bra. A squirt of blood shot out from the cross-bar of the letter H stretched tight over the curve of her tit. Hortense jerked, more stunned by the physical punch of the bullet than the pain of her torn flesh. Frantically, she clutched at the wounded orb with her free hand, her fingers kneading the flesh as if the bullet was a splinter that could be worked out of her chest.
Jessika let loose a triumphant battle-cry and charged at Hortense. The Hagen girl's eyes flew wide as she spied the glint of the Garand's bayonet. A moment later, Jessika sheathed the blade in the senior's soft belly, ramming it so far into her guts that it came out her back, glinting now with Hagen blood.
"Hurgh!" squeaked Hortense. It was supposed to be a plaintive, "Why?", but Hortense was quickly losing the capacity for rational speech. The pain was intense, unbearable. She looked into the merciless eyes of her enemy.
Jessika merely sneered at her and forced the Garand's muzzle against her ribs, working the pig-sticker deeper into the slit. Hortense could feel the steel moving around inside her. In some distant part of her failing brain, she thought, "This is what it must be like to give birth."
Jessika, for her part, was thoroughly enjoying herself. Then, as she studied the bloody depression she had created in the Hagen slut's belly, she caught sight of the name embroidered on the girl's sweater. "Hortense!" she hooted with gleeful derision. "What kind of fucking name is Hortense?"
"Hurgh!" Hortense protested. Bloody spittle poured from her sensuous lips, onto the delicious swell of her bosom.
"What, are you from, like, the fucking eighteenth century?" Jessika laughed, twisting the rifle in the Hagen senior's gut. Hortense groaned and squirmed, the light in her eyes starting to fade. But she had enough resolve for one last act of strength. She swung her MP-5 up over Jessika's arm and drove it into the Meyers girl's cleavage.
Jessika had only a heartbeat to savor the sensation of the muzzle's hot ring nestled between her tits before Hortense blasted away. Jessika's sternum snapped; her bra blew apart under her body-shell; blood burst up the curves of her breasts. God only knows how many bullets tore through her body, most following the track of the first shot through her viscera and out her back. To Jessika it felt like an express freight pounding through her ribs. A comet-tail of red mist shot out behind her, falling in a light rain on the bodies of the Hagen girls she had killed.
Now it was Hortense's turn to laugh, her blood-stained teeth making a ghastly grin. Jeesika's face contorted both in pain and fury; almost reflexively, she yanked the trigger on the Garand. The gun went off with a muffled WHUMP deep in Hortense's guts. Gore spattered up the stock. Hortense went "HURGH!" once more as she was blown backwards, the bayonet sliding out of her flesh with a wet SLISH. She continued firing her MP-5 as she collapsed. Wild shots tore through Jessika's left breast and shoulder.
Jessika staggered, eyes bulging in disbelief. The Garand slipped from her grip and she sank to her knees, then fell with a soprano grunt on top of Hortense. The dying cheer-girls continued their mortal combat in the grass. Jessika slithered onto Hortense's cut and blasted belly, mashing her wounded breasts against the Hagen girl's brutally torn bosom. Her hips arched, her knee pressing against Hagan panties, and she wrapped her fingers around Hortense's neck, all while Hortense beat feebly on her body with her fists.
"You're coming with me, sister," Jessika hissed, blood dripping out her mouth to join the crimson streaks already decorating Hortense's cheeks. Hortense's eyes were glazing over, her tongue protruding from the blood pooled in her mouth.
Distantly, Jessika felt a warm pleasure piercing the fierce pain in her body. It took a moment for her failing brain to realize what was happening. Hortense had gently insinuated her left hand into Jessika's cheer brief and was lightly rubbing her enemy's labia with the last dregs of her strength.
"Oh, you want it, don't you?..." Jessika purred dreamily. Hortense's eyes were glazing over, but she managed a soft, sensual, needy moan. Jessika gave a choked laugh as she ground her hips in response to Hortense's caresses. With trembling hands she drew the Hagen girl's lips to hers in a deep kiss rich with the salty taste of the blood on their tongues, and together they spun in a fog of sensual pleasure-pain toward the great all-consuming void.
TO BE CONTINUED