Posted by dolungbridge on February 04, 2007 at 09:17:37:
JOCELIN'S CHEERLEADING DAYS - PART NINE - FIELD OF SCREAMS
As soon as the bullet hit, Cherrill knew she had celebrated her triumph too soon. Of course that bitch Jocelin wasn't dead yet; like a cockroach, she'd be impossible to exterminate. Cherrill had been a fool not to admit it to herself. Oh well. Her missing pinky-toe and the permanent scar on the otherwise smooth skin of her shoulder would be a reminder for her to never again underestimate her enemy.
Jocelin came charging at her through the gap between the two burning Packards. Cherrill swung up her MP-5, but aiming had suddenly gotten tricky with her wounded shoulder. Her first volley paid Jocelin back for that injury, however. She hit the Meyers cockroach three times in the upper chest, one shot in each shoulder and one in the middle, just below her neck.
Jocelin felt only a sense of pressure, like a stiff wind pushing her back. She had her Uzi clutched in both hands, low against her belly as she ran. The fresh wounds snapped her backwards, her spine arching, but it didn't affect her aim; she walked a line of spurting wounds right up Cherrill's right leg and straight into the evil Hagen bitch's gut.
The world went into extreme slow-motion and become brightly--almost preternaturally--clear. Jocelin could see each bullet exploding the fabric of Cherrill's sweater exactly the way blood-squibs did in a war movie. The sweater rippled and twisted with each impact, as if a pack of hungry ghosts was tearing at Cherrill's uniform. A fine mist of bloody ejecta sprayed from each new crater as the bullet bit into the flesh, and Jocelin was thrilled to see Cherrill's hard-bitten countenance warp into a crumpled mask of agony.
Slowly, painfully slowly, the flashing muzzle of Cherrill's MP-5 swung back toward Jocelin. Jocelin gritted her teeth as the hail of lead punched into her ribs just below the swell of her breasts. Looking down, she could see each bullet plowing through her body-shell POOF POOF POOF, the uniform fraying and bursting in sharply-delineated gouts of her own blood like the flat plain of a battlefield being torn up by an artillery barrage.
Momentum kept her flying forward. Cherrill's shots passed straight through her, and the stabbing pain only increased Jocelin's exhilaration. She was the ultimate warrior, an avenging angel sweeping down from the sky to smite her enemy. This was what it was to be a cheerleader! All that blabbing about spirit, pride and passionate commitment, it wasn't just empty platitudes. The rational part of her mind knew that she was sustaining devastating injuries, but somehow she didn't care--didn't even feel it. If she had to die, this was exactly how she wanted to go out--pumping the squirming captain of the cross-town rival's squad full of hot lead!
Jocelin's Uzi strafed a row of six burgundy spurts into Cherrill's ample tits, neatly underlining the HAGEN lettering on her sweater. Cherrill now looked like some Teutonic crusader-knight with a red gleaming cross emblazoned on her tunic. The fusillade sent Cherrill back-pedaling, as if she was chasing a tennis ball on the court at the club. Her MP-5 spat round after round into Jocelin as she went.
For Jocelin the combination of adrenaline and pain-shock induced a weird form of synesthesia. Pain became pleasure, the impact of each bullet sending literal bolts of explosive pleasure coursing through her body. One of Cherrill's stray shots caught her in the full mound of her left breast, glancing off a rib beneath and blowing out her back--
--and she began to come at last, at last after so much foreplay, after so much time spent merely watching so many others twitch and writhe in the sensual throes of death, seeing their anguished expressions and caressing their mortal wounds!
In that instant, Jocelin experienced an incredible surge of elation, as if she had just flung herself off a high cliff. Both the sensation of soaring through space and the irrevocable finality of her impending doom produced a head-rush of sheer liberation--complete sexual release. Over the thundering pulse of gunfire and the tug of hot lead slamming into her flesh she could feel her pussy pumping her panties full of love-juice.
Jocelin slammed bodily into Cherrill and the two women flew backward, tangled together. In mid-air and at point-blank range, they continued firing into each other, skirts and bodices erupting in the strobing muzzle-flash of their guns, their twisting figures trailing comets of blood. They sprawled hard onto a heap of dead Paganettes, dropping into separate hollows among the contorted limbs of the slaughtered Hagen color guard.
A heavy stillness fell over the football field at last.
Jocelin couldn't believe she was still alive. She was sprawled face up on the mangled chests of three Paganettes. The buttons sewn on their uniforms dug into her wounded back, but she was beyond caring. She floated, basking in post-coital glow, her body numb to the pain of her terrible wounds. Her breath came in ragged gasps, bubbly with aspirated blood; it condensed into a fine cloud of mist over her head before vanishing into the cool night air.
Shifting her head sideways, she could see a multitude of spattered, skirted bodies strewn around her. Nearby to her right, Cherrill lay spread-eagled on a bed made of the bodies of countless young women whom she had led into fruitless mutilation and death. The Hagen captain stared into space, eyes glazed, mouth open, her bosom thrust at the sky, the smooth curves of her breasts disrupted by a row of serrated craters blown into her sweater. Scarlet gore trickled out of each wound like lava from a volcanic cone, flowing up the slope of her bust toward her neck.
Jocelin knew her own breasts had probably sustained similar wounds; indeed, aside from the differences in their uniforms, she and Cherrill were probably mirror images of machine-gunned feminine pulchritude. Slowly, groaning with the effort, she brought her right arm up to her bullet-riddled chest, awkwardly cupping her left breast, her fingers worrying at the frayed, burned fringes of numerous entry wounds. She gave her tattered tit a tentative tweak and felt hot streams of blood oozing out over her knuckles.
Yet there was no pain, only a pleasant tingling, like a burning itch. Jocelin was surprised to find that her state of sexual arousal was still absorbing the spasms from her shredded nerves, flipping her sensations, transmuting unbearable agony into trembling waves of ecstasy. She cried out once, a long, piercing, plaintive call of orgiastic rapture.
A response came, rising faintly over the dull roar of the flames now cremating Linda, Megan, Ariel and Erica. It was a low moan, unmistakably of pleasure. Jocelin bent her head further back, straining to see its source. There, beneath a torn Hagen banner protruding from a young woman's stomach, where the Paganettes lay thickest in death's reverie, a lithe body in a Meyers uniform shifted and groaned.
As Jocelin watched, the Meyers girl writhed on top of the supine figure of a Hagen senior cheerleader. Both women's' uniforms were streaked with blood, their arms and legs beaded with sweat. The head of the Meyers girl rose up out of the Hagen senior's crotch, and Jocelin was pleasantly surprised to realize it was her squad-mate Jessika. Jessika's mouth was open, her lips slathered in juice from the Hagen girl's nether regions, her eyes open wide in either torment or transformational bliss, Jocelin couldn't tell which.
THEWP! THEWP! THEWP!
Three flares of blood burst on Jessika's back. Her spine arched, and she let out an orgiastic shriek before her strength left her and she flopped forward, her face burying itself again in her lover's thighs.
Jessika's killer strode into Jocelin's view. Jocelin was mystified; she had never seen this person before. It was a haughty, statuesque brunette, all but poured into the skin-tight leotard of a baton-twirler's uniform. The woman's red-and-gold sequined costume glittered like a star-field under the stadium's harsh lights. She walked forward with a runway model's glib disdain, lightly clutching a silenced Glock trailing smoke from its barrel.
The Glock was the key. The truth struck Jocelin like a thunderclap. Even before she saw her old high-school flame scooting up behind the brunette, she knew Brad had set this whole thing up. Of course, he had supplied the guns, both to Jocelin's and Cherrill's squads, and to this mystery girl.
The brunette tripped daintily forward in her white thigh-boots, bent and placed the barrel of the Glock on a point between Jessika's open legs. It occurred to Jocelin that the Hagen senior's head must be there, positioned to pleasure Jessika in the manner Jocelin had seen earlier.
Jocelin heard the Hagen senior's faint, plaintive moan. "No..." It was the last sound Hortense would make on Earth.
The twirler fired once. THEWP! Underneath Jessika's corpse, Hortense bucked once and was forever still.
Brad caught up with the twirler-girl assassin. He was dressed in his Hagen varsity jacket, his hair cropped into a stylish crew-cut. Making himself into the jock he always wished he was, Jocelin thought. In his hand, he palmed a mini-DV camera.
"Come on, Maddie," he urged. "You've had your revenge!"
The twirler's painted lips wrinkled into a sneering grin. "Sure, but now I want to enjoy it! Are you still rolling?"
Brad sighed with annoyance, but he put the camcorder back up to his eye. "Yeah, I'm still rollin'."
"Good," Maddie snapped. "I can't wait to look at it later! Wasn't it fucking neat when Cherrill blew up those cars?"
Jocelin finally realized who this Maddie was. She was the mystery voice on the Lori snuff video Cherrill had sent her. Oh, god, that seemed so long ago...
Brad pleaded, "Listen, Maddie, let's just fuckin' go! Someone's sure to have heard the explosions! This place is gonna be swarmin' with cops any minute!"
"Relax, Brad, please! Let me savor this moment. Do you have any idea what fucking hell these girls put me through in high school? I wanted on the squad so bad, and they knew it, but there was no way they were ever going to give it to me, even though I could shake my ass better than any of them. But no, it was always, 'You're too ugly, Maddie'!"
THEWP! (Pilar twitched.)
"Or, 'You can't dance worth shit, Maddie'!"
THEWP! (Alexis twitched.)
"Or, 'You're not a virgin, Maddie, you're a slut'!"
THEWP! THEWP! THEWP!
She fired into Tonya and Sinead's bodies. They twitched.
"Well, dance now, you fucking elitist little cunts!"
She continued firing randomly into Hagen, Meyers and Paganette corpses, delighting in the variety of jerks and spasms her shots elicited from the dead. After putting three shots into Linda's coochie-snorcher, she sneered, "There! Not much of a virgin now, are you?"
Brad got it all on tape. "You're one fucked-up girl, Maddie!"
"That's why you love me, isn't it, Brad?" She turned to him, her gun coming up casually. Her eyes glistened with fire, reflecting the glow of the burning Packards. "You do love me, Brad, don't you?"
"Of course I do! Put the gun away, Maddie!"
Maddie said quietly, "I don't trust you, Brad."
"You don't trust me?!? Look what I did for you, Maddie! Helped you and Cherrill kidnap Lori, pitted Cherrill and Jocelin against each other--this whole thing, all of it, this was all for you, so that you could feel better about yourself!"
"Don't lie to me, Brad. You got as much enjoyment out of all this as I did-- maybe more! And don't tell me you haven't thought about seeing me dead, like these pathetic whores! I could get you the death penalty with what I know! How do I know you're not carrying a gun right now?" Maddie's voice rose. "How do I know you're not just waiting for the right moment to plug me in the back, so that you can leave me here with the rest of this trash?"
"I wouldn't do that, Maddie!" Brad's lower lip quivered. "I love you."
Maddie's finger tensed on the Glock's trigger. "You'd love to see me like this, wouldn't you? In my uniform, shot full of holes, bleeding, spread out for you to fuck with any way you please!"
"Please, Maddie, please, I love you," Brad begged. "I swear it, I love you. I only did all this 'cause you wanted it. I LOVE YOU!"
Maddie softened, the Glock lowering slightly. "You know, I believe you, Brad. I really do." She brought the gun up again, aiming at Brad's head. "But you're a loose end. Can't have that."
Even from several yards away, Jocelin could see a stain spreading on Brad's pants. His voice shook. "I thought you cared about me..."
Maddie shrugged. "Nope."
THEWP! THEWP! THEWP!
(TO BE CONTINUED?)