Posted by KnightStalker on July 17, 2001 at 15:49:17:
MORPHATALITY
Prologue:
While Elona had grown up as a very attractive and intelligent woman, her lack of self esteem seemed to often get in the way of her making good choices in life. At 30, she had held and lost more jobs than most people her age; had had a steady stream of men who were becoming more coarse and base as time passed; and she had no real idea of where she might be headed. In fact, she had become accustomed to living just for “today” and progressively needed more dangerous kicks in life to sustain her interest in it. Even a couple of her closest friends had advised her recently to ease up before she encountered something or someone she couldn’t handle.
Hanging out at clubs was the only thing that really juiced Elona’s joints. Although clubs were no more prolific than they had been at the close of the 21st century which was now 50 years earlier, club promoters, marketing experts, and techies had married up to create a vast array of specialty themes to lure and arouse the more thrill seeking type of club goers. This segment of our society had bulged to significant proportions over the last couple of decades and included primarily the disenfranchised and virtually all economic strata according to analysts.
The more popular clubs usually still sold alcoholic beverages and other light-impact drugs, but promoters had replaced “dancing” with “danger” in terms of encouraging personal interaction among patrons. Club Morphatality was no exception. Elona had seen a curious ad on TV about the place and decided to go there alone.
Chapter One:
It was one of those extremely humid and hot summer nights where nothing seemed to moving except an occasional short blast of stifling warm air which was caused from the intermittent traffic flow of the mass transit air buses that floated by. Summers had become entirely unbearable as global warming impacted cities as far north as Nome. Here in Seattle, it was still 102 degrees F as Elona stood on the threshold of Club Morphatality at 11:30 PM on this Friday night deciding whether she would go in. There was no cover charge for women, but men had to ante up $800 to get in. That seemed to be a bit exorbitant even in these robust times, but why were women being admitted for free she wondered?
With her sexy, bright red, sleeveless micro mini dress on, Elona gathered up her courage and ventured to just inside the doorway. She was met with a cold blast of welcome dry air from the air-conditioning. She could feel the perspiration on the back of her swan neck transform into chilly droplets and then evaporate. As the air cascaded down her bare back and bare shoulders she gave a little shiver as it cooled and dried her off. She leaned up toward the ceiling vent and tilted her head back to let the airflow stream down her beautiful throat and supple breasts. Now she was ready for action.
Like most clubs, the canned music was too loud and dimly lit to create an aura of mystery. There were a large number of men milling around and a good number of waiters and scantily clad waitresses, too. But there seemed to be only a handful of women. Why? Especially if admission was for free.
Elona cautiously moved further into the club and noticed some glass cases perched at eye level along a distant wall. There seemed to be figures in them. She explored further and walked slowly toward the cases. As she got closer she realized all at once why there were only a handful of women here. Club Morphatality was a man’s necro club. Each case had two life sized figures of wax museum quality where a sinister looking man was depicted in killing a beautiful woman. After regaining her composure from experiencing the high degree of realism in a couple of the bloody portrayals, she walked along the wall with a bit of lewd curiosity. There were seven glass cases in all, each depicting a different methodology. She stopped under the one where an attractive woman was being strangled by a man. It was easy to imagine the pain the damsel felt from his two strong hands as they crushed her swan neck. His thumbs were depicted as if they were really squeezing his victim’s neck, replete with indentations in her windpipe.
There was a small sign attached to the bottom of the case. It read, “ Stand on the small black square below this case and push the white button under this sign if you want to experience one of the Club Morphatality thrills. That is, if you dare.”
Elona was intrigued by the sign. Yet her sense for adventure egged her on. She took one step to stand on the square, but hesitated to the push the button. “Come on, Elona, “ she chided herself. “ This is a public place. Nothing is going to happen to you.” She pushed the button.
All at once a reddish light came on and cast its beam down from ceiling and completely enveloped Elona. She felt a warm and tingly feeling all over her body. She heard a low whirring noise at the same time. A few seconds later she glanced up at the case in front of her. Unbelievably, the features of the damsel started to change right before her eyes. About 20 seconds later it was apparent that the damsel was becoming Elona. Right from her short blonde hair to her sexy red dress, the transformation took all of 75 seconds to complete. Elona involuntarily gasped and felt her knees buckle somewhat as she peered at herself being choked to death by this strange man. Instinctively she grabbed her neck to make sure she was okay.
She stumbled back a couple of steps and caught herself by landing in a nearby chair. She couldn’t take her eyes off the glass case. Again she imagined the pain from those two hands…..which were now around her long neck. While Elona’s instincts told her to bolt from this place, she decided that she liked the sensation of being afraid and was some what titillated by it. She sat up and ordered a double vodka.
Chapter Two:
While Elona waited for her drink she glanced around the club to capture more of what was going on around her. At one level of experience some men crowded around video screens which shown women being killed by men much like the depictions in the glass cases, except that these were video tapes. Each screen seemed to run with a couple of different plot lines with the same methodology on a repetitive basis. At another level there were scantily clad women, presumably a few of the club’s waitresses, who were being paid by men patrons to portray the patron’s murder victim in their methodology of choice. Most men seemed to choose some form a strangulation which was far easier to stage than a stabbing. All of the “murders” took place in little alcoves on the side walls in plain site for any onlooker to enjoy.
Finally her drink arrived. Elona continued to watch how the men enjoyed themselves as she sipped her vodka, but noticed that there was very little interaction between them and the handful of women that were sitting around the club. That was an interesting curiosity to her. On one occasion she observed one woman approach a man, and then a lengthy discussion ensued. She motioned with her hands a bit, touching her neck and breasts repeatedly. She then gave him some money and the two of them disappeared through a door at the rear of the room. She did not see them return.
In the middle of all of these shows, Elona failed to notice that a man had sat down beside her at her table and was trying to engage her in conversation. It wasn’t until he touched her bare shoulder a couple of times that she realized he was there. Startled slightly, she jerked her face toward him. Again he tried to engage her in conversation, but he was not her type. He looked too refined for her taste, and that meant he would be unexciting to her. Seeming to relent to her kiss-off, he got up from the table and walked the few steps toward the glass case where Elona was being strangled. She watched him as he stood on the same black square and pushed the same white button she had a half an hour earlier.
A blue beam of light enveloped the man. Several seconds went by when she noticed that the features of the “strangler” were changing. Sure enough, about a minute later the “strangler’s” identity had transformed into that of the man. At first he stared at the case, then he turned around and stared at Elona. She became somewhat unnerved by his stare, but she almost came unglued when he began to walk toward her. Without asking, he sat down again and stated simply that he wanted her to role play her strangulation with him in one of the alcoves. Elona started to get up to leave without a word when he produced a wad of $500 dollar bills. She sat down again. She looked up at the glass case and then down at the money.
The two of them strolled over to the nearest alcove with a mini stage. She half counted the bills with her right hand as he led her by her left. When they got to the stage he assured her that he wasn’t going to really hurt, but if she thought he was squeezing her neck too hard, all she had to do was to bang his wrists with her two fists. He would then release the pressure on her throat. They told their mini audience that plot would call for her to be strangled and that they would fake her death on the stage, afterward he would carry her body off in his arms.
Chapter Three:
“Elona, I saw you with him last night! Don’t deny it!”
“You couldn’t have seen me, darling. I was staying with my sick sister, Ann.”
“No, I know you were at the club, and then the two of you went back to his place! All night!! I followed you, my lovely bitch!
“Oh, Damien! I couldn’t help myself. You’re never around. I just got lonely.” She started to smirk coyly.
“So you think this is amusing, my lovely bitch? Let’s see how amused you become when I squeeze that little laugh out of you, Elona.”
“Damien, you don’t have the nerve to hurt me!” Damien! Dam-enggh Ackghhh You’re chok –ackkkghhh megkhhh.
The audience roared with approval as Damien began to strangle Elona. His thumbs gently intruded her smooth soft throat to give the appearance that he was choking her. She, in turn, gurgled and wheezed some. Boy, this would be easy money she thought. She widened her eyes somewhat and then Damien shook her a little for that touch of realism. Again the crowd was pleased. So pleased was its reaction that it caused more patrons to come to the stage to watch.
Damien squeezed Elona’s throat a little harder, but she could still breathe and she continued to make more choking
noises. With that Damien pressed his thumbs deeper into Elona’s beautiful windpipe. It was so warm and soft to him. Now she couldn’t breathe at all or make those choking noises the crowd liked. She banged on his wrists to stop him as they had agreed. Overcome with his lust for choking her, Damien kept strangling her, but now for real. She continued to pound on his wrists and then to try to pry off his stranglehold. But he was much too strong for her to manage.
The crowd loved the action, and Damien was enjoying every moment he choked Elona . There was a glee in his eyes as he watched her suffer. Her eyes now bulged out of their sockets. Her tongue slid out of her gaping mouth as he relentlessly squeezed her marvelous long white neck. She was kneeling in front of him as her arms began to flail aimlessly. He just kept squeezing and squeezing while he rocked her back and forth. Elona’s face had become contorted and blue from Damien’s strangulation of her lovely throat. At last Elona went limp on the end of his two strong hands. The crowd was utterly fascinated by the degree of realism they had seen.
Damien quickly picked Elona up in his arms and carried her through the crowd to the door at the rear of the room. He got a standing ovation. Then they called for an encore, but Damien and Elona never returned through the door. In fact, no one ever comes back through that door. Elona had found out the hard way why women rarely frequented Club Morphatality. Damien would be back soon, through the front door, with the same wad of $500 bills.
KnightStalker