Story: SB091 Outsourced


Posted by Sawney Beane on November 05, 2006 at 23:49:15:

The Collected Works of Sawney Beane: Volume #91

OUTSOURCED

by Sawney Beane

8, 11 June 2002

2,610 words

DISTRIBUTION NOTICE and DISCLAIMER: Sawney Beane requests that any distribution of this work of fiction remain within the realm of social responsibility. This story is suitable neither for minors nor for the seeming majority of adults who have difficulty distinguishing fantasy from reality. It is pure fantasy, which means that, for whatever reason, someone has found it interesting to think about the events depicted herein. It does not in any way mean that the author would like to see this fantasy become reality, so if you are the type of person who might be swayed into doing something irrational by reading a work of fiction, the author respectfully requests that you decline to read further.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Sawney Beane, originally a native of Edinburgh, lived for twenty-five years in a cave on the coast of County Galloway, subsisting on the flesh of unfortunate travellers, roughly a thousand of them all told. He and his wife raised a large family of eight sons, six daughters, eighteen grandsons, and fourteen granddaughters. Eventually, the family was captured, and the whole lot was brutally and unjustifiably tortured and executed without trial. Since his death in the early 17th century, Beane has reformed his ways and now confines his atrocities to his literary endeavours.

WARNING: This story contains scenes of snuff and implied gynophagia concerning a consenting female victim. If you find such things offensive, please steer clear; you have been warned.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Sort of a quickie based on some images that seemed appealing. The situation is more chilling than thrilling, but it has its appeal.
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Kristy knocked on the door with a trembling hand. Her heart was in her throat, and her mouth was suddenly dry. It had all seemed like such a good idea an hour earlier in the recruiting office, but now she was wondering if she had made a mistake.

The kind-faced manager of the restaurant had, after filling out all the requisite paperwork, handed her a card with an address printed on it. "Be there at 2:00 this afternoon, and you'll be on the menu by this evening," he had said with a friendly smile that seemed incongruous with the gravity of his words.

Kristy had assumed the address to be that of an off-site processing facility, but it turned out to be a somewhat isolated suburban house. The taxi driver had let her out and watched her go with a facial expression that seemed to say "What a shame!" She had ignored him; there were other things on her mind, and she didn't notice the taxi backing out of the driveway and fleeing back to the city.

Before knocking on the door, she adjusted her tiny black miniskirt and belly-revealing black tank top, more out of nervousness than out of any desire to improve her appearance. The door opened slowly after several minutes. The sight that appeared from out of the dim interior of the house shocked Kristy.

The man was fairly short, balding, and somewhat overweight, but he had a jolly smiling face, and he beckoned Kristy to enter his home. He wore a white apron streaked with red. There was no doubt what had caused the stains on his apron.

"Welcome, welcome," the man said. "You must be Kristy!" He offered his hand for her to shake, but suddenly noticed that it was covered in shiny red blood and hastily wiped it somewhat clean on the edge of his apron before again offering it to shake. Kristy shook his hand feebly, noticing a slight stickiness on his skin.

"Thanks," she murmured. "Yes, I'm Kristy." She exhausted the last of her eloquence and resorted finally to "Who are you?"

The man smiled embarrassedly. "Sorry, sorry, I'm being so rude. I'm Jack Carlson, at your service."

"Why am I here?"

He smiled indulgently. "That I couldn't tell you, but I'm sure you have that information in the packet of papers you are carrying."

Kristy narrowed her eyes and replied somewhat impatiently, "I know the restaurant sent me, but why did they send me here?"

"Because I'm going to prepare you for them, if you're still willing, that is."

"You work for the restaurant?"

"Yes, more or less. But I'm an independent contractor, freelance, you know."

"Freelance what?"

"Separations consultant."

"What kind of separations?"

"Mind/Body separations, in fact. I'm a snuff specialist. I handle all of the conversions for your favourite restaurant: Garcia's House of Gourmet."

Kristy was having difficulty digesting this information. "You mean you're a freelance murderer?"

"Snuff artist. Murderer is such a nasty word."

"You kill women for money?"

"And men too, but I much prefer the women," he said with a friendly but strangely wolfish smile.

"That's your job?"

"Sure, someone has to do it. They don't kill themselves...although you're welcome to snuff yourself if you'd prefer."

"No, thanks. Why doesn't the restaurant do it?"

"Well, for a small or medium sized restaurant, it doesn't always pay to have an in-house snuff department. Sometimes it's more efficient to outsource. Also, the liability in case of an improper snuffing is huge, and some restaurants don't want the responsibility."

"And you do?"

"I'm fully licensed and insured."

"How long have you had this job?"

"I've been in business full-time for about fifteen years now. I did it part-time for seven years before than. Also, I did some as a hobby for a few years when I was a teenager, but we probably shouldn't talk about that since it wasn't legal in the strictest sense of the word." He said this with a conspiratorial smile and wink. "Do what you enjoy! That's my motto."

Kristy felt a sense of emptiness in the pit of her stomach, a kind of aching dread. But she couldn't help liking this strange little man with the lethal vocation. She stepped into the sitting room from the entryway and gasped as she saw what came into view.

In the kitchen, just beyond the sitting room, a naked girl was hanging upside down from the ceiling. She was behind the counter, but Kristy stared fixedly at the long, pale-skinned legs and shapely buttocks dangling motionless before her.

Her host gasped as if he'd forgotten something crucial. "Oh, I'm so sorry about that. It's just that you came half an hour early, and Holly there was half an hour late for her appointment. I'll be done with her in just a few minutes. If it makes you uncomfortable, I have a small chapel and waiting room just down the hall; you can wait in there."

Kristy barely heard him. She was walking dazedly toward the kitchen, fascinated by the bare helpless flesh displayed therein. She reached the end of the counter and reached out and placed her hand on the soft warm feminine rump before her. The suspended girl did not react to her touch, and Kristy looked down to see that the pale girl was missing her head.

Kristy felt the kind of terror that had driven her to enlist at Garcia's. It was the kind of terror that started in her head, travelled down her chilled spine but didn't find its full realization before lodging in her genitals. She almost fainted from the terrible pleasure evoked by the sight of the decapitated girl.

One shock led to another as the late Holly rotated slightly for Kristy to see her violated front. The large breasts hung upside down but yielded attention to the large gash dividing the belly from waist to breastbone. The slightly concave abdomen and darkness inside showed that Holly had been deprived of all her internal organs. Then Kristy noticed the pile of viscera on the kitchen counter next to the sink. Some of the organs were packed neatly in a styrofoam cooler to the other side of the sink, but Jack had apparently been occupied cleaning Holly's innards when Kristy arrived early for her appointment with death.

Kristy looked down at the counter next to her and saw a smaller styrofoam cooler. Inside this one, she saw the face staring up at her and recognized Holly as the tall blonde with whom she had shared the waiting room at Garcia's for half an hour that morning. Being distracted by their missions, the two girls had shared only a few moments of half-hearted conversation, but now they would apparently share a common fate.

Holly's face seemed to reveal a mixture of emotions. At first glance it looked like wide-eyed terror. But Kristy also noticed the mixture of nervousness and excitement. Deep in Holly's blue eyes, Kristy could also see the erotic pleasure underlying the fear. Kristy knew that her brown eyes would mirror all of the same emotions all too shortly.

"I'm sorry," fretted Jack Carlson, "You shouldn't have to see that. Please wait in the chapel. I'll get you as soon as I'm done with Holly here."

Kristy answered with a shaky voice. "No, I'm OK. I want to watch you finish her."

"OK, but sit down in the parlour and try to relax."

Kristy obeyed and felt much better when she didn't have to worry about standing up. Jack returned hastily to the sink and tried to complete his work between worried glances over his shoulder at his next customer.

The cooler eventually filled up with Holly's cleaned guts, and Jack turned to the suspended body. The corpse had already been cleaned and was almost completely free of blood. Jack took her down and spread her headless body out on its back on the kitchen counter. He found a roll of plastic wrap and began mummifying the pale girl beginning with the delicate feet. The legs were wrapped together, and the girl's hands were wrapped with palms flat against her long thighs. Jack paused as he reached the dead girl's waist. He filled the body cavity with crushed ice before continuing to wrap the body in plastic. When Holly was completely consumed in clear plastic wrap, Jack lifted her carcass and placed it in a cooler that resembled a large styrofoam coffin. There was room inside the coffin for the two coolers containing the girl's head and organs, as well as a clear plastic jug containing a gallon of thick red fluid. Jack filled the rest of the space with ice and closed the lid before turning his attention back to Kristy.

Kristy's body tingled as she realized that the focus had shifted back to her. All that Holly had been through was about to happen again. But the difference was this time it would be Kristy's neck on the chopping block. The bizarre mixture of pleasure and terror again flowed through her small body.

"Ready?" Jack asked her gently. His pleasantness seemed out of place in the demeanour of a cold-blooded killer.

"What do I have to do?"

"Not much," smiled Jack Carlson. "Just relax, and I'll take care of everything."

Jack was peering through the file folder Kristy had brought with her. It contained her paperwork from the restaurant and her driver's license. "Hmm....you're on for tonight, so we'd better get you ready pretty quickly." He said this almost to himself but then looked up and said to her in a reassuring voice, "but don't worry, we've got plenty of time. You and Holly are going to be the specials this evening, so we'll have to do a great job on you!"

Kristy smiled nervously. "What will they do with us?"

"Hard to tell, but I should imagine they'll stuff the both of you and roast you together in the big oven. Usually they serve the specials on the buffet and let people select their favourite parts."

"What about my head?"

"Oh, sometimes they sew it back on before roasting. Gotta be careful about that though 'cause they sometimes get the heads on the wrong bodies."

Kristy suddenly imagined her head sewn onto Holly's shoulders and vice-versa. She didn't know if it made her happy or horrified. It was definitely one or the other.

"Shouldn't be a problem with you two, though," Jack was saying almost to himself and pointing to Kristy's dark pubic hair. "Holly's is blonde. Of course, sometimes I think they do it on purpose. Anyway, are you ready now?"

"I guess so." She didn't know what else to say.

He led her trembling body up the stairs to the large bathroom. She undressed easily, sliding the skirt down her shapely tanned legs and pulling the top over her spinning head. She wore no underwear. She had been told to wear as little as possible and to leave all jewellery at home. Her clothing and sandals were added to a small pile of feminine clothing in the corner of the bathroom, and Jack and Kristy got down to business. He took a half hour to shower her and scrub every inch of her body. She sparkled when he was done with her, and she felt a little bit calmer. He tied her longish brown hair into a tight bun before leading her back downstairs.

They passed through the living room and out the back door to the high-walled back yard. Kristy's relaxation melted when she saw what awaited her there. It wasn't anything surprising, but it brought back the reality of her impending doom. Despite it all, she didn't fail to take pleasure in the cool wet feeling of grass between her bare toes.

But Jack led her on, and she stopped and stared at the blood-stained stump before her. A large wicked axe was lodged in the wood. No question what this was for.

But Jack didn't immediately put her into position. He pulled out a camera and asked her permission to photograph her. She said that they'd already taken menu photos at the restaurant. He told her that these were for him. She agreed to his request, and he snapped photos as she tried her best to look sexy for him. It wasn't easy, all things considered.

Finally, he got back to business and got out the ropes. First, while she was standing next to the stump, he tied her ankles together tightly. Then he tied her wrists behind her back and then secured them to the back of her thighs. She thought it was all somewhat unnecessary but remained quiet, allowing him to do his work.

Then he helped her to kneel next to the stump. The pleasant terror was sliding over her in waves now. Her frail vulnerable body was alternately washed with fear and eroticism with increasing frequency until they blended into one another, and she was lost in a sea of surreal emotion. Everything he did seemed unreal, but she didn't forget that the end she was rapidly approaching was very real.

He placed her neck across the stump. With her hair tied up, her slender neck made an inviting target. She waited for the axe to fall, thus ending her confused emotional tension. But nothing happened. Instead, she heard a harsh grinding noise.

"Sorry, Kristy, I usually try to do this before a girl gets here, but you came early." He was grinding the axe on a wheel, honing it to razor sharpness. "Your neck is slender, so it shouldn't be a problem to get through in one blow, but it's always best to be sure."

"Thanks," she replied lamely.

The grinding noise stopped after a few minutes, and Jack whistled appreciatively at the sharpness of his tool. "It's time now, Kristy," he said, kindly as ever. "Are you ready?"

She hesitated only a moment. "Yes." It was a faint reply, soft and far away.

The flow of terrible excitement increased to new heights in that last moment. She knew that her future was growing ever shorter, but it was as if her present were trying to swell to fill the void left by her evaporating future. All her emotions exploded in the last few seconds of her life and created a sensation she had never felt, nor would ever feel again.

Suddenly, everything stopped. The last few sensations seemed out of order. First she felt like she was falling, then there was a mild sensation of pain, and finally she heard the loud "Thwoomp!" sounding close to her ear. Her vision exploded to red and then faded to black. Then there was nothing.

The petite brunette's head landed gently on the soft grass, and blood began to spurt out of her body. A rope she had not noticed parallel to her neck had been severed by the axe, and the weight attached to her ankles had been released, jerking her body upside down into the air. Jack quickly grabbed a clean bucket and placed it under her freshly-severed neck to catch the sudden red torrent of blood.

As the inverted tanned body drained and faded to a much paler hue, Jack picked up the head and looked deeply into the staring eyes. He smiled as he viewed her frozen emotions. He enjoyed the moment for a while and then laid the head on the stump and sighed as he thought of the work still ahead of him that afternoon. The truck from Garcia's would be by at 5 o'clock to pick up two styrofoam coffins. They'd be ready.