Posted by PK on December 08, 2004 at 16:53:16:
"The rules of the next game are fairly simple," the host said. I nodded noncommittally. That's
what they all say. "In the next three minutes, after I sound this buzzer, you have to kill as
many girls as possible."
Sounded simple enough so far. What did I get to do it with, a machine gun?
"There are a few conditions," the host went on with what passed in his mind for a
mischievous smile. "You have to decapitate them - that's cut their heads off.."
Thanks mate, I'd never have known...
"..with this." He produced a sword of some sort from wherever. It was a kind of sabre, I'd
guess, and it looked quite serviceable. "Then you have to dispose of their bodies down this
chute - " he pointed - " - and their heads down the other. That's to make sure you do a
thorough job."
Fair enough, I suppose.
"The girls will approach you in single file and the line won't move forward until the one at the
front has been killed and disposed of correctly."
Okay, I get it. Chop the chicks, dump the remains. Beat the clock.
"One final condition," the host added wickedly. I knew this was going to be the kicker. "The
girls - young ladies, I suppose I should say," He smirked a bit more, "will all be naked." A
dramatic pause. "And so will you." He waited a couple of seconds for that to sink in. "Should
you - um - have an accident before the three minutes are up your score will be voided."
"Have an accident?" I inquired innocently. Of course I knew what he meant, and I didn't think
it was chopping my pecker off by mistake. It took him a few seconds for him to come with the
rather prim 'involuntary ejaculation' but I let him off after that. I have to say I wasn't keen on
the nudity bit, much less getting a stiffie in that condition, but you don't go on television game
shows if you're not prepared for a bit of embarrassment. I stripped off and said I was ready
when they were.
My first customer was a small-breasted redhead with freckles. Well, here goes, I thought. I
hadn't exactly had much practice at this sort of thing but I knew one side of a blade from the
other and I'd whacked off a good few flower heads with a stick; this shouldn't be much
different.
With a brief, reflexive nod of acknowledgement to the girl, I swung the sword at her neck.
Call it beginner's luck if you like, but it worked like a dream. That sword must have been keen
as a razor. Her head toppled off as her body collapsed like the proverbial puppet with its
strings cut. Well, you think of a better simile. Now came the hard bit. Popping her head down
the left hand chute wasn't too hard - it seemed odd that her eyes were still open, but I hadn't
time to dwell on it - but her body was another matter. She wasn't exactly heavy but she
wasn't light as a feather either. Headless, she still weighed around a hundred pounds and she
was limp and difficult to handle. There was quite a bit of blood, of course, but I was naked so
that would shower off easily enough. What struck me was the warmth of her and the scent of
her skin. Try as I might to ignore it, it got to me a bit.
I don't know how long it took to get her body into the chute - probably less than it takes to tell,
really - but it seemed like a long time at the time, if you see what I mean. Finally I was up
and ready, somewhat flushed, for the next one. A tallish blonde stepped forward obligingly.
My beginners luck ran out with her.
It was a bad stroke, angled slightly downwards so it caught in her collarbone. Good enough to
finish her, but not a clean cut. She fell, gurgling slightly, and I had to grab her by the hair and
take another couple of whacks to get the head off. She seemed heavier than the first one,
but I disposed of her the same way. By then I was sweating a bit. I'd have to pace myself and
get a rhythm going or I'd be knackered before my time was up.
After a couple more, I got the hang of it. The trick was not to let them fall. You make a clean
cut and step forward, dropping the sword. Easy to pick that up again. You grab the head by
the hair with your left hand and put your right arm around the body. Toss the head into the
chute - if you miss you can pick it up later - and swing the body into the other chute. Grab
the sword, do it again. Easy peasy. Well, no harder than shovelling coal.
It was probably only the hard work that stopped me having that little accident I'd been warned
about. Handling all that soft, warm, female flesh could hardly fail to have some effect and
every time my rock hard erection - yes, obviously I had one, so would you - brushed up
against them - well, it was a pretty close thing, let's leave it at that. I tried not to look too
closely as all that prime pussy slithered off into the depths. The rear view of a particularly
juicy Latina nearly finished me off, but I hung on grimly. The phrase "It's a tough job but
somebody's got to do it" came to mind and I almost laughed.
After almost three minutes of this - it seemed much longer - I was breathing quite hard, my
right arm was starting to ache and I was drenched in sweat and blood. I blinked to clear my
vision as the next one stepped forward.
Quite a cutie, I thought, despite trying hard to to notice things like that. Curly brown hair, nice
slender figure with the perkiest tits and an appealing face. She looked nervous. Well, why
wouldn't she? The wonder was what she, or any of them, was doing there in the first place.
Did they want to be on TV that badly? Were they suicidal or condemned prisoners? I hadn't
let myself worry about it much, there wasn't time. I swung back my arm to strike and she
winced slightly and grimaced but held still. Then the buzzer went. Time was up.
I nearly killed her anyway. You know, I've started so I'll finish as they say on Mastermind. Or
maybe just for the hell of it. What was one more? I didn't, though I'm not sure why not. The
moment passed. I dropped the sword and held out my hand as if we'd just played a game of
chess and agreed a draw. She took it, looking dazed, and we shook hands. The next part
went by in a blur. The girl and all those behind were escorted away and the host reappeared,
blathering away at how well I'd done and congratulations, Sir, etcetera.
No, I don't recall how many points I scored. I hadn't been counting. I'm sure they mentioned it
at the time but I wasn't listening, or maybe I didn't want to know. All that matters is that it was
enough to win a big cash prize. I was a bit dazed myself. As the host droned on, I had time to
wonder what they did with all that girl flesh. Sold it to restaurants? Logically, it would be a
waste not to. Maybe they sold them whole to necrophiliacs. The funny thing was that I went
through all the presentation rigmarole barely aware - no pun intended - that I was still dressed
in nothing but gore. It hardly seemed to matter.
"And what would you like for your bonus prize, Sir?" the host asked. What?
I couldn't remember anything about bonus prizes. My mind's eye was filled with a montage of
vivid images, as if the last few minutes were catching up with me. That may be why I asked
for the body of the latina girl. Looking back, I'm sure it wasn't on the approved prize list but
the crowd cheered and hooted approval. Maybe that was why the host granted the request, or
maybe it was because it was worth less than the Ferrari. Whatever.
"Certainly, Sir, we'll have it delivered. Would you like the head too?"
Oh, why not? I could have it embalmed or something. It would look nice on the mantlepiece.
I said yes.
What did I want the body for? I wondered as I headed for the dressing room. Was I really
going to fuck her corpse? It wasn't anything I'd done before, but they say you should try
everything once except incest and folk dancing. Failing that, she'd make good eating. I could
get the local butcher to chop her up - dress her, I think they call it - before she went off.
Various thoughts of this nature floated around my head as I showered and dressed. When I
came out, the curly-haired girl was waiting for me. My right hand clenched as if reflexively
reaching for a sword. I felt naked without it. Absurd.
The girl had clothes on now. "Hello," she said.
"Uh, hi," I grunted. Wit seemed to have deserted me.
There was an awkward moment of silence. We both started to speak at once and then
faltered. There was a bit of "You first," and "No, you", then she said "I just wanted to say
thank you for not...you know.."
Killing you? What do you say at a time like this?
I shrugged. De nada. "You're welcome. It wouldn't have counted anyway. They might even
have disqualified me."
"Still..."
"It's okay."
"If there's anything..." she trailed off. God help me, she was grateful. Stockholm syndrome
has nothing on this.
"Well," I said, "I did wonder..."
"Yes?"
"You didn't seem exactly keen on having your head chopped off. How did you, er.."
The phrase 'what's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this' came to mind but I thrust it
away.
The phrase 'what's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this' came to mind but I thrust it
away.
She looked a bit sheepish. "I answered an ad for participants in a reality TV show." She
shrugged. "I thought it would be cool to be on TV. There was an appearance fee as well."
"Didn't they tell you what it was about?"
"Not really, just that it was some kind of survival thing. They said I had to sign a liability
waiver in case of injury because there was some chance of physical harm."
A masterpiece of understatement, I thought. Those silver tongued lawyers earning their crust.
"When we got to the dressing room they told us there might be some nudity involved and
they passed out tranks in case we got stage fright. Then we had to pick numbers to see who
went first. It was all very confusing. I suppose it was pretty stupid of me. We all just went
along with it. Phyliss got the first ticket."
That would be the redhead I'd got first, I guessed. Tranks? Something like rohypnol? Bugger.
Had all the girls I'd killed been conned? Well, let's face it, they should have known better.
"I should have known better," the girl went on as if she'd read my mind. "After that show
about the sharks. Did you see that?"
"No," I said. "I don't watch game shows." Or reality TV. Load of bollocks, if you ask me. I
didn't say that as I didn't want to be offensive. Besides, she was cute, even with her clothes
on. The denim shorts didn't hide her great legs and her perky tits were still there under her
halter top.
"One of the contestants got eaten by a great white. It was supposed to have been an
accident."
"Didn't read the fine print, then?" I wondered about that. Thinking back, more than one of the
young ladies I'd sent down the chute had been, not to put too fine a point on it, pleasuring
herself before I'd chopped her. Maybe some of them HAD known what they were doing. Well,
I hope they enjoyed it. "Look, don't worry, neither did I. I was only in it for the money."
The girl nodded, looking relieved. "Um, I'm Molly, by the way." Her expression said 'if you
care'.
I told her my name. "Look, I don't know about you but I could really do with a drink."
Molly smiled wryly. Or shyly. "Are you asking me out?"
Well, she seemed nice if not too bright. What the hell. "Yes."
Was ever maid in such fashion wooed? Was ever maid in such fashion won? Something like
that. Shakespeare, I think. My memory of Richard the Third is pretty fuzzy. I thought Al
Pacino did a good job of it. Basically, I was just horny and I fancied shagging the wench.
To cut a short story even shorter, we went for a drink. Molly proved to be good company,
though I have to admit I was biased by the desire to get her into bed. Once the aftereffects of
the drugs wore off, she didn't come across as stupid, just a bit naive. She even had a sense
of humour. Okay, maybe the alcohol played a part here, along with the lust factor. I threw
caution to the winds and told her about ordering the latina girl's body. That came somewhere
after discussing the merits of Notting Hill and Pretty Woman and whether her legs were as
good as Julia Roberts'.
"Were you really thinking of fucking Julia's dead body?"
"Julia? That was her name? Did you know her?"
"No, not really. We only met today."
I could have said the same. I don't know if you'd count decapitating her and tossing her body
down a chute as a meeting. I was glad she wasn't Molly's best friend. That might have been
awkward.
"Okay," I admitted. "The thought did cross my mind. She was pretty hot."
"Colder now," Molly quipped. Graveyard humour.
"True. I do prefer my bedroom partners alive and breathing." Hint, hint.
"So, what are you going to do with her?"
This could have been the make or break moment. I could have said I'd give the poor lass a
Christian burial. But, as Polonius said, to thine own self be true. Besides, I'd had a drink or
two and in vino veritas, as they say. Is there a Latin word for beer? I shook that off.
"Eat her. I don't think she'll mind, she's dead."
"Cooked a lot of girls?"
"Not a lot."
"How many?"
"Personally? None."
"I could give you a hand."
"You can cook?"
"Yes."
"Chop meat?"
"My father was a butcher."
My dream girl. Did her mother own a brewery?
We finally went back to my place. That was where Julia's body was going to be delivered and
Molly had promised to help me cook it. Her. Whatever. We were not entirely sober at the
time, but we did have a grasp of the essentials, as one usually does when seriously drunk.
Dear reader, I'm sure you want to know if we fucked. People like to know things like that. I
could give details, but gentlemen don't. Well, maybe a few hints. You may have been here
yourself. Check:
"Put some music on."
"Where's that joint?"
"I thought I had a bottle of wine in the cupboard."
"Do you mind if I take my shoes off?"
"Oh, throw your clothes anywhere."
"I broke the glass."
"Never mind, we can clean it up in the morning. Just don't step on it."
I could expand on this but I'm sure I don't need to; you've either done this or you haven't.
We fucked. It was pretty wild stuff. Not violent, really, just abandoned. Was Molly good in
bed?
If you have to ask, you haven't been there; 'good' doesn't cover it. Anyone who says pasta or
driving a car is better than sex has obviously never done it right. Molly fucked like a mink.
Well, not really. Minks are furry little psychopathic weasels and they bite. Molly didn't break
skin, much. I give up.
Good, okay?
We snuggled up in what was left of the bed. I was fairly sure I hadn't sustained any
permanent injuries.
We snuggled up in what was left of the bed. I was fairly sure I hadn't sustained any
permanent injuries. Molly was as content as any cat who'd had the cream, the canary and a
fair bit of me. "Aren't you glad you didn't kill me?" she purred.
It wasn't quite fishing for a compliment. She didn't strike me as insecure about her sexual
prowess. "Yes," I said. I stroked her back. It was true enough. I'd won the prize anyway and
I'd never had anything against her personally. Lust slated for the moment, I had time for a bit
of philosophical reflection, the stuff you do late at night when your mind wanders. Funny how
things work out. If I hadn't botched the stroke on the second girl I'd have saved a bit of time
and Molly would be dead now. Maybe the next girl in line, whoever she was, would have
been just as grateful and just as good in bed. On balance, though, the odds were against it.
Yes, Molly was good in bed, the best I'd ever had.
Maybe I'd have ordered Molly's body instead of Julia's. Had those perky tits of hers for dinner
tomorrow. It was an idea not without some appeal. Against that, well...
This. Shagged out, quite literally, and content. My slip of the hand had worked out to my advantage. Funny how.... Thoughts go round in circles before you go to sleep. Cliches surface from the depths. It's an ill wind that blows nobody any good...
We started eating Julia the next day. Not for breakfast, obviously. Butchering a woman takes a bit longer than that and requires a hearty breakfast which in this case comprised bacon and eggs with fried tomatoes, hash browns, black pudding and plenty of tea and toast. Sex always gives me an appetite and Molly was no different.
Julia's body was delivered in a state-of-the-art meat container, vacuum sealed and adiabatic.
Pop the seal and she's fresh as the moment she was killed and still warm. Wonderful what
modern technology can do. Her head came in a separate presentation case. Molly and I
hauled her out and onto the kitchen table.
"Juicy" Molly commented. I couldn't disagree. Julia's body looked quite delicious.
"You think so?" I didn't want to make her jealous.
"I'd fuck her," Molly said. Well, that was nice to know. Whew.
"It's funny to think that if the tickets had come out another way, I'd be on the table and you'd
have been here with Julia carving ME up..."
This was dangerous territory. How to handle it? "I'm sure you'd be just as tasty," I said.
Feeble.
Molly gave me an ambiguous look. Quizzical. Sly.
No, not going to play this game. Screw that. Play it cool and throw her a bone. "I don't know if
she'd have been as good in bed as you are but now I'll - we'll - never know. Okay?"
Molly shrugged. "Okay." There was some mischief dancing on the hip of her lip but it was
okay for now. "What do you fancy, leg or breast?"