Posted by Sawney Beane on August 02, 2007 at 22:57:14:
The Collected Works of Sawney Beane: Volume #126
PLAN B
by Sawney Beane
14 November 2005
1,093 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 semi-consensual snuff and gynophagia. If you find such things offensive, please steer clear; you have been warned.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Some jobs are more risky than others.
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Jane felt and heard her nervous breathing in the silent room. She felt her heart thumping in her chest. This was what she had begged for, trained for, and wanted all her life. Now she wondered if her aspirations had been so clever.
Jane was a bombshell with ample breasts, a figure that made men drool, and long silky blonde hair. Her looks concealed her even more impressive intellect, an intelligence which included a genius for linguistics and, perhaps most powerful of all, the cleverness to know when a blonde bimbo act would get her what she wanted. Wasn't it ironic that after all her training and studying, the thing that finally got her a field assignment was the way she looked?
After three long years in Legoland as a translator and code-breaker, she yearned for a choice field assignment, but until now none had been forthcoming. Sure, she had been attached to some diplomatic trips as a translator, usually for some Arab pig who looked at her as if she were nothing more than meat. How fitting her first real assignment would be one like this!
She had met her doppelganger in the kitchen an hour earlier. It had been a chance meeting, one that was not really supposed to happen, but there was really no harm in it either. The blonde meatgirl had seemed puzzled that this other blonde woman had been brought in to stand in for her, but she didn't really mind either. She had come to be eaten and not to be fucked by a brutal dictator. The two were not exactly twins, but after the meatgirl was roasted, no one would guess that she was not Jane. Jane smiled tenderly at the doomed girl and went into the bedchamber to get ready for her role.
Now the door opened, and the big beastly man lumbered in. Diplomatic guests from civilised nations usually politely turned down the opportunity to fuck the main course before roasting, but when the guest of honour was from a decidedly uncivilised nation, the meatgirl is going to get a bit more than she bargained for. Jane was ready. Unpleasant as it was, it was all for Queen and Country, the greater good, all of that.
All that stood between Jane and the hairy man was the silky negligee she had been supplied with, and the hairy man soon ripped that from her delicate body in one violent jerk. He slapped her roughly across the side of the face...pig! With difficulty, she fought back the urge to kill him in one of the several ways she knew to do so.
He spoke to her first in Arabic, which she had to pretend not to understand. But he wanted her to understand his insults, so he quickly switched to English. She withstood it all, and when he had insulted her to his heart's content, she threw her arms around him and smiled sweetly up into his ugly face. Such masochism was not suspicious behaviour on the part of a meatgirl.
She knew how to make him talk. He wanted to talk. It was not much of a challenge. It took only a little bit of coaxing and flattering. This man did not like to keep secrets, and to be unable to tell anyone of the things he was so proud of had been eating at his insides for months. Now he spilled it all out to this fragile young blonde destined to be consumed at dinner this evening. What better confessor could he have? Soon she had been told the exact locations of all of the terrorist training camps in the man's nation and a lot more. Her mission was successful.
Once he was done talking, he slapped her around a bit more. He was impotent, so at least she didn't have to deal with the shame of being despoiled by him, but she would be hiding her black eyes for a while. She began to breathe a sigh of relief as her mission wound to an end.
Guests from civilised nations usually turn down the opportunity to fuck the meat, but even guests from uncivilised nations almost always allow the kitchen butchers to do the dirty work of actually snuffing the meatgirl. Not this one.
Jane gasped in shock as the brute pulled out the wire and wrapped it around her neck. Her eyes widened helplessly as he tightened the garrotte. All the while he laughed in her face as he strangled her. She clutched at the air, her arms flailing. She struggled an appropriate amount-not too much and not too little. It was all she could do to resist the urge to kill him, which she could easily and almost reflexively have done even in this position.
Her death was not part of the plan. This was supposed to be her first field assignment, not her last. She was as furious as she was fearful as the tingly redness filled her faint consciousness. A dark black cloud hovered behind the tingling, and she knew that this was death waiting for her. There was no escape. To kill her murderer would create an intolerable international incident. She was dying, no question about it.
It was for the greater good, for Queen and Country. Did that make her feel better about it? Yes, it did. Especially since her mission could still succeed. There was, after all, still Plan B. Jane did not like Plan B, but now she was glad it existed. Her vision went blank, she felt her struggles cease, and then the blackness was all around her. For Queen and Country, she thought at the end, for the greater good.
At the dinner, a senior operative named Smith ordered a particular portion of the meatgirl's forearm. He looked around the table at the assembled guests, an impressive list of dignitaries from many nations, the smug-looking brutal dictator among them.
It was a shame about Jane. She looked good on the platter in the middle of the table. A real dish, no doubt, and her flesh would be succulent. Still, she'd had a lot of potential. Brains and beauty were hard to come by, and at the Firm, invaluable. But she had done well, poor girl.
When his meal arrived, he used subtle moves of his knife and fork to discreetly remove the heat-resistant digital micro-recorder from his steak and conceal it in his dinner jacket. The information it contained would save many lives, and poor delicious Jane would be a posthumous hero.